RIVIR SAWYER FILMS
HEDLEY_BC_RS-11.jpg

WADI RUM

HEDLEY BC // I had a quick afternoon stop in Hedley BC in mid-October, 2018, and a week later I got word that the Hitching Post Restaurant burnt down. Damn. Always hate see a little bit of history lost. 
I wasn’t planning to stop at the hitching post as I was trying to make the most of the daylight as I travelled through, but as I wandering through Hedley I realized it was too cool of a building not to step foot indoors. I had a beer and read the back of the menu which, like any good restaurant should, had the history of the building written down. Here’s what I can recall: 

It was built in 1903 as a one story hardware & mining supply store, and shortly after a second floor was added which became the dance hall. Old timers tell tales of dancing until 4 am and knocking glassware off the store shelves below on account of the building shaking. 

After the mine closed in 1955, the store followed suit. However, in the 70’s a young fellow set about fixing up the place and turning it into a restaurant. Several other buildings had ceased to operate, and so many of the materials were acquired from the community to refurbish the place. The floor came from an old gymnasium, and the kitchen counter was a slab from the bowling alley. 

Sad to know it’s gone, but I’m glad I got one last beer in.

WADI RUM // JORDAN

// The desert is a shapeshifter. I spent time in the middle east in the winter of 2015. My dad was in the midst of writing a novel on the life and times of David, but before he could render it complete he needed to set foot on the land he was writing about. I had time on my hands between fire seasons, so it was decided that I should head over a few weeks before him to get the lay of the land. As it turns out, Israel isn’t much bigger than Vancouver Island, and I didn’t want to become too well versed in the geography before dad showed up as to not spoil any of the discovery, so I jumped next door into Jordan for a spell.

I arrived in the village of Wadi Rum early in the morning, and met with the bedouin man who I had spoke with on the telephone about doing a little sight-seeing. After getting acquainted over some tea in a tent, he paired me up with his cousin, a young teenager, to take me out and about in his truck. He was sixteen, and had himself a respectably banged up Toyota 4x4, simply perfect for the task at hand. We grabbed some crackers and banana’s from a local merchant, and took off into the desert.

The weather was marginal, but that didn’t bother me much as I was ready to embrace whatever the desert had to offer. We sailed out on the red sand and the young man took me to all his favourite spots. His english wasn’t elaborate, but we enjoyed each others company and I believe he appreciated my awe and wonder at this incredible place he called home. I told him about my truck, and if he ever made it to British Columbia I’d do the same for him as he was doing for me.

The weather declined, and rain started to pour. It ran off the rocks and before you knew it waterfalls cascaded down the brilliant cliffs every which way you looked, pounding into the sand down below. Rivers rushed out of the cracks in the rock wall and cut across the desert, becoming wider and more accomplished with every passing moment. Old tire tracks filled up in long straight lines like a giant grid on the desert floor, and deep pools occupied any low spots in the sand. It was all I could have ever wanted and more.

We continued all around, stopping to admire the recently established water falls and plowing his truck through rushing rivers. At every new location he would stop and let me run around the wet sand and climb up the rocks as high as I saw fit. This offered me no end of entertainment. I was soaked to the bone, but happy as hell.

Suddenly without any warning at all, the clouds broke like a show was about to begin. A deep blue sky became our backdrop while the hot sun devoured the red sand. The waterfalls cautiously receded in the same manner they had arrived; their time had inevitably come to an end, and the rocks and sand greedily sucked up any remaining water, as if they knew it would be their last drink for a long, long while.

The colours of the desert had caught my attention the moment I showed up in Jordan, but with a little sun on it’s back to saturate the scene, it created the most incredible display of vibrant, rich colours I’ve ever seen in the natural world. The red’s and oranges and brown’s were so astounding I could hardly speak.

I spent the remainder of the day riding around in the box of the truck so as to properly get aquatinted with this landscape in it’s new light. As the sun got lower and our time together was coming to a close, the young man drove me to a camp where I would spend the night.

We said our goodbyes and he headed back to the village. Before I had a chance to put one foot in front of the other, I was ambushed by three young boys, and one young goat. Everyone, besides the goat was thrilled to have a visitor. The boys ran all about, giggling and laughing, and generally showcasing to me just how it is that they get about business in this desert home of theirs.

I joined in as it looked like good fun, and it was. We laughed and played in the sand outside their home. They’d trip and fall and laugh, then do it all again. Their laughter was contagious, and I don’t think anyone in the world could participate and not have the time of their life. Once that task had been taken care of in its entirety, they took me by the hand and showed me around their piece of real estate. It was a commanding spot, nestled against a collection of giant rocks, with cloth tents down below all neatly in a row and the wide desert beyond as far as you could imagine. The boys showed me their collection of goats, and even let me hold one, which promptly shit on my sweater in all the excitement. We saw the water truck, explored a small cave, and climbed to the highest point on the rocks we were able to before their mother spotted us and shouted in Arabic. If I know anything about mom’s, it was a safe bet that whatever she said could only be interpreted as ‘get back on the ground you little heathens!’

Eventually, to both their immeasurable disappointment and my own, my new friends had to head into their family home to tend to whatever it is children in the desert need to tend to before bed. other travellers arrived from their respective journey’s through the desert, about a dozen representing a good assortment of the nations. This catered to some interesting conversation over dinner, followed by many games of cards.

The one thorn in a day of many roses was this: the desert gets very cold at night, as there is no vegetation to hold heat. I had not sufficiently thought this through before arriving, and as the sun wrapped further around the backside of the globe, I thought I may or may not become a solid version of myself as every internal organ began to freeze. A fire was lit, but firewood is a commodity in a place with no trees. This wasn’t a roaring pallet fire I had grown accustomed to back home. No, a single root found growing in the rocks was the source of this fire. The way roots grow in the desert is not like those in the western world, which shoot out in every direction at their leisure, growing long and happy. No, desert roots take time, and they become thick, dense, hardened by the constant burden of the sun and wind. When it becomes employed as firewood, its value is that it burns for hours, sometimes days. Slowly, methodically, the fire makes its way through years of knotted toil and labour, at the same rate that it would take me to solve a 10-sided rubix cube. This wood is valuable in the desert, however the downside is that the radiant heat it gives off is not much greater than a bowl of jello sitting on the kitchen counter.

I finally made my way into my tent and piled about fifteen blankets on top of my fully clothed body. Nevertheless it was the coldest sleep of my life and my jaw was sore for three and a half weeks afterwards on account of all the shivering. Nevertheless, magical time, magical place.

Wadi Rum I will be back.