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Lucy writes about her trip to Jordan in April 2025. Travelling with a group of keen adventurers, her blog guides us through the 9 night Footsteps of Lawrence itinerary. Starting in Petra, then riding for 6 nights in the Wadi Rum, and finishing for a relaxing swim in the Dead Sea.

“Above my desk is a large map of the world – the type where you scratch off each country as you visit them. I look at each area scratched, with the colourful underlay shining through and I realise how lucky I have been to travel so extensively. Having ridden in many of these countries, makes the memories even sweeter.

I have always favoured riding a trail as it often allows for long hours in the local saddles travelling on forgotten tracks. Encouraging the discovery of remote routes and treasures usually missed by the average tourist. In Kyrgyzstan, I returned home telling stories of nights in family yurts, welcomed by Kyrgyz culture and kumis. While guiding in Argentina, I learnt the way of the gaucho, moving cattle in the cool mornings, with a game of polo at sunset. With too many tales of Africa, I am grateful I can escape through my travel journals.

Jordan has always piqued my interest. Seeing pictures of strong Arabians cantering through an empty desert, the blue skies clashing with wind-swept rocky peaks, rising from deep red sand dunes. The idea of sleeping wild under huge dark skies. The stars above my own suburban life look beautiful, so my imagination of the unpolluted air of the Wadi Rum locked me in.

My adventure began in April.

A quick kiss at the designated drop-off zone before walking into the terminal building; I was conscious of the parking cameras recording every second to charge. I waved my family goodbye and enjoyed the familiar sounds of my suitcase wheels and airport announcements.

Arriving in the dark and full of excitement, my driver happily answered late-night questions about Amman, the people and why it was still thriving so close to midnight. His laugh and descriptions of his country was my first introduction to the Jordanians – friendly, so welcoming and with a wicked sense of humour. Everyone I went on to meet, the hotel staff, shopkeepers, and stable workers, to the guides in Petra, our camp chef, and true Bedouins – I would come away with confidence that somebody’s faith, upbringing or stature was irrelevant in Jordan. A country that maintains neutrality within its borders, and across them.

Meeting my fellow adventurers the following morning, while discovering the archaeological riches of Petra allowed for a skip past awkward small talk. By hour three, we had shameless selfies together, posed in front of the ancient mausoleums. Capturing proud tourists by a decorated camel, while trying to include the treasure of Al-Khazneh in one take was a challenge, and a strong start to this trip.

Heading South towards the Wadi Rum; or what the Bedouins referred to as ‘Mars,’ was fascinating. Palace-like homes fencing in a mini oasis in otherwise ploughed land, worked by hardy donkeys with their dusty workers pushing behind. Our air-conditioned bus slows for a procession of goats and sheep, with their Canaan dog guarding behind.

Leaving Petra, the landscape changed fast. The built-up districts became wide spaces with dusty roads and open-air fruit markets. Farmers slowly outnumbered by camels in the near distance; silhouettes in the sun. On arrival at the stables, having entered the most perfect natural sand ménage, we met the horses waiting in their tack. They looked ready, keen to explore a wilderness to us, but a playground they knew well.

Osama led the group on freshly allocated horses. I had the pleasure of a small chestnut gelding, Sultan.

‘We start slow; the horses don’t know you yet,’ Osama half joked.

We briefly followed a railway, heading south to Saudi Arabia if followed far enough. Crossing a lone tarmac road, the sand became deeper and a variety of colours. Just a scattering of litter – abandoned plastic bottles and sun-bleached cans; humanity letting us down.

The horses made light work of this unique terrain. Strong Arabians, living up to their reputation of endurance, speed, and beauty. Sultan’s personality matched his name signifying strength and independence. We happily positioned ourselves leading the pack, his ears pricked forwards. Equally as content, we would detour off the route to take in the peace of the desert. The group in eyeshot, but the vastness of the dunes absorbing their chatter.

With the horses fed, watered, and tethered by a stablemate, I watched from my mattress as each rolled and rubbed their bridle-free heads in the sand. As the stars lit the immense sky, I made sure to position my sleeping-bag in view of the herd. Waking up with the sun warming your face is a memory, but to open your eyes and see your boy lying in the desert, catching a final nap before travelling deeper into this protected area of beauty, is quite unique.

As each day passed and we rode closer to the southern border, so to evidence of the 21^st century drew thin. Ancient petroglyphs and inscriptions carved in sandstone portrayed armed men and exaggerated camel humps. Dismounting the horses one morning, we negotiated a small mountain to a fresh-water spring. The success of submerging my scarf into the fresh cave water, escalated to dunking my t-shirt to be worn wet. A short refresh as I dried within the hour, just in time for our picnic lunch.

As the horses rested, we ate. The food of Jordan cannot be overlooked. One special evening we gathered around a suspicious mound of sand just a short distance from our camp. The smell of herbs and sweet chicken amplified when our chef Sayeed swept the sand uncovering a metal lid. As he pulled the handle, a tower of food stacked underground emerged with applause. An underground BBQ chicken, roasted seasonal vegetable on top and rice at the bottom. Our Bedouin dinner was ready.

By mid-week, everyone had settled into the schedule. Breakfast; hard boiled eggs, the ever-present farasheeh bread, and fruit. Next was the horses. Preparing your horses is a great warm-up and strengthens the bond, enriching the entire riding experience. Brushing the sand from earlier rolls, checking their legs for marks and swells, and lovingly preparing for the day ahead.

Sayeed had a second talent; finding the most perfect lunch stops, hidden in valleys with a mixture of shade for sleeping, and suntraps nicely out of the sandy wind. Once taste buds satisfied, we would fall into deep conversation comparing world health services or past experiences while travelling different continents.

When Saleem joined us in the evenings, he welcomed all our questions with transparency and the humour I found so abundant in this part of the Middle East.  Around the flickering fire, lit purely for the aesthetics, I listened to Saleem describing his business, the love for his family and children. I admire his pride when talking of his upbringing in a Bedouin tribe, followed by insights into the trade and racing of camels. Our trust in the success of this trip relies on him, and I am glad to have spent time with him.

One evening, music drifted from the dining tent, draped with embroiled red fabrics and chandeliers twinkling. A treat awaited as Osama broke into song while playing his Oud and Darbuka.

The Wadi Rum is a unique equestrian playground, and the horses know it too. We flew across the sand. I deeply appreciated the skill and fitness of my horse when I had to lead him the short walk to their tether. Leaning on Sultan, panting as I took his bridle off. Dragging my feet in the sand, I am greeted with Bedouin Tea and barazik.

Cantering up sand dunes, traversing canyons, and gorges. Stopping at famous landmarks in this protected area, dismounting to explore further. At Um Fruth bridge, we became the attraction as the few tourists visiting via truck snapped us with our horses. A standard day for us, but very Lawrence of Arabia for them.

Their paces quickened as I absorb every detail, we turned for home. The shapes and different sized mountains; the changing colours of sand hitting hooves. I searched for one last lizard to dart across the track, kicking sand in their hast.

Focusing on the sounds; the wind twisting through his mane and the saddle creaking as we walked. Licking my cracked lips, I taste the familiar flavour of baked sand and dry air.

From previous trips, I recall the extreme gallops and standout moments. In Jordan, all the places I have seen, the people I have met and everything in between has had its own special spark. My diary full of inspiration, lists of poems, and facts learnt along the way… and it was not over yet.

I have never been a sentimental adventurer; I opt to look forward and seek out the next destination. When saying goodbye – the horses, chef and the full riding team, time did not stand still. Our taxi arrived far too quickly, and civilization took us back, to a shiny hotel featuring large beds, fresh linen, and hot water.

With no horses to tend, I wandered Madaba like it was my hometown. Feeling comfortable and clean of sand, I browsed the loud streets passing fragrant spice shops. A rainbow of powders, bunched herbs, and nuts. Car-horns all around; so quickly a world away from Mars.

My nose leading me to a bakery, I hesitate. Watching men create an abundance of shapes from freshly kneaded dough, moving from one workstation to the next. Unrecognised spices and sweet treats thrown onto swirls of light pastry. Finally entering, knowing full well this is not the type of establishment you walk out of empty-handed.

I could blame the three-hour time difference buying a sweet, honey-smothered swirl, so late in the evening. The same evening of our final farewell dinner, and the first alcohol since arriving.

Waking the following morning with a headache, I slipped into my swimwear ready for the Dead Sea. Chaffing through the Citadel was an unexpected twist, especially on such a warm day. The Seven Hills of Amman are clear from this viewpoint, and behind me an archaeological site deep in history. Getting the best angles in 360° beauty is a fun challenge, made easier by a local tour guide. Once again proving the abundant humour here.

For lunch, we arrived at a beautiful resort at the North end of the Dead Sea, with views over this fascinating expanse of water to Israel. With free access to at least three pools, I head straight for the coastline. Where the lifeguard sits. An easy job when 422 metres below sea level.

Colder than expected, I tip-toed into the murky water, already feeling a bizarre sensation. Once up to my thighs, my feet became unsteady, rising in the mineral and salt cocktail. I sat with a bounce into the water, laughing as I flip onto my front, bobbing like sun-dried driftwood.

Eager to embrace the mineral rich sediment, we cover our bodies in the dark-grey, claylike mud. The perfect rest and exfoliate after the heat of the Wadi Rum, and the perfect way to unwind before journeying home.

Feeling happily exhausted, the final attraction 700 metres above sea level to Mount Nebo, and the Memorial Church of Moses. A welcomed quiet as I skirted the huge modern building, taking in the view of olive trees and dry land.

Sitting in peace, taking in the stained-glass windows shinning over remarkably preserved mosaics. Finally stepping outside to changed skies, I experienced my first wet weather in Jordan. The rains did not come this past winter, and the landscape is thankful for rain. And tourists.

Since war broke out in neighbouring Israel, guides explain how tourism has dropped by 95%. An industry that was just starting to recover from the global effects of COVID. Second to the mining of phosphates, tourism is a huge part of this country. I experienced the welcome hospitality of the Jordanian Culture; from the big cities to the wilderness of the Wadi Rum, I felt comfortable and safe.

Flying home I look back through my notes, the daily poems and journal. My words must light-up this country. Even the photos of a professional would not do Jordan the justice it deserves.

For more information, or if you have any questions about riding in Jordan, or if you would like to check availability for 2025 or 2026,  please do get in touch with me by email or phone.”

Email rides@inthesaddle.com or phone +44 1299 272 997.