How to Do the Omani Desert Right
Forget Insta deserts. This is the real thing.
By Chad Teixeira
There are deserts, and then there’s the desert, the kind of place that doesn’t care what sandals you’re wearing or how many followers you have. Oman’s Sharqiya Sands is one of the last true wild places left on the tourist map. No thumping beach clubs, no juice bars, and (praise be) no bloody infinity pools.
Just towering dunes, ancient Bedouin tracks, and a silence that makes you wonder if your ears are broken.
Oman is not the first place your average Brit thinks to go. It doesn’t have the smug wellness vibes of Bali or the “I’m in finance now” shine of Dubai. But that’s exactly why it’s worth going. It’s still unspoiled. Still under-the-radar. And still has enough mystery to make you feel like you’re doing something your mates haven’t already posted about.
Welcome to the Sharqiya Sands (Formerly Known as Wahiba, But Let’s Not Get Into That)
This part of Oman, about 200km southeast of Muscat, is where the country stops pretending to be polite. No coastline, no manicured cities, just endless dunes shifting like slow waves, sculpted by wind and time. It’s what you think the Sahara will be like, until you actually go to the Sahara and realise it’s full of blokes with selfie sticks and locals charging €50 for camel pics.
Sharqiya Sands is different. It’s the real desert: raw, vast, and weirdly emotional. There are actual Bedouin tribes here, still living semi-nomadically, still raising camels like it’s 1725. You can spend the whole day without seeing another soul, and the stars at night hit like a brick.
It’s not pretty in a filtered, Pinterest kind of way. It’s better. It’s powerful.
Doing the Desert Without Doing Your Back In
Now, let’s be honest. As tempting as it might sound to channel your inner explorer and hike out with a bedroll and a goat, you’re probably not built for it. You want the experience, sure. But ideally with a mattress. And some cold drinks.
That’s where Luxury Desert Camp comes in.
You arrive via 4WD, because let’s face it, nothing says “I’m ready to disconnect” like getting your kidneys rearranged on a sandy road, and just when you think you might die of either heat or boredom, it appears: a camp that feels like something out of Mad Max crossed with The English Patient.
Canvas tents, woven rugs, a campfire crackling in the wind. There’s no Wi-Fi. No bar. No spa menu. It’s deliberately analogue, and that’s the charm. Instead of scrolling, you sit in silence. Instead of ordering an espresso martini, someone pours you cardamom coffee from a battered pot. And weirdly, it works.
Your brain slows down. You notice things, like the colour of the sand changing with the light, or the sound of a camel snorting 20 metres away. You become, if only briefly, a slightly better version of yourself.
Eat, Sleep, Don’t Shower Too Much, Repeat
The tents are comfortable without being ridiculous. You won’t find a plunge pool or Egyptian cotton sheets, but you’ll get a proper bed, working shower, and the kind of quiet you didn’t know you needed.
Food? Rustic but decent. Think grilled meats, rice, and bread cooked in the sand. You eat around the fire with the other guests, most of whom are either starry-eyed couples or weary solo travellers trying to write a novel. Don’t worry, they’re mostly alright.
You can go sandboarding, take a camel trek, or just climb a dune and sit at the top until your thighs give out. No one will judge you.
At night, it cools right down. You wrap yourself in a blanket, sip sweet tea, and listen to your guide tell stories you half-understand. It’s magic. No LED lighting. No ambient spa playlist. Just wind and starlight and the faint groan of camels settling in for the night.
Why This Place Matters
Here’s the thing about the Omani desert. It’s not just scenery. It’s a place with history and weight. This land has seen spice caravans, pearl traders, explorers, and empires. The people here don’t play up their culture for the tourists. They don’t need to. It’s just how they live.
In a region where cities are trying to outdo each other with skyscrapers and fake ski slopes, Oman stays cool by being exactly what it is: quietly proud, stubbornly traditional, and ridiculously beautiful.
It’s the kind of trip that recalibrates you. You won’t come back with a tan. You’ll come back with dust in your bag, sand in your shoes, and a strange desire to live slower. You might even miss the silence.
The Final Verdict
If you want to do the desert properly, not just play at it for Instagram, Oman’s where you go. And Luxury Desert Camp is how you do it without losing your cool or your passport. No fluff. No BS. Just you, the sand, and the stars.
Don’t overpack. Don’t overthink it. And whatever you do, don’t bring a drone you lame tw*t!