Desert and bike: two things that usually do not like each other. A pity, because we love desert. Being in absolute silence, only the wind and the own breath in the ear, monochrone colors in ocher and brown, in which a little plant becomes a miracle, nights without light pollution, but sleeping under the bright Milky Way and countless shooting stars. But the ground is soft, hours of pushing under the hot sun transforms the fun factor into a battle and a desert bike trip can quickly become a harsh (bike) relationship crisis. So how could we satisfy our desert hunger without cursing all the time?

"Could you google what are the deserts in the world?" I suggested. And there they were, the twenty-seven major deserts of the earth. From the 9,400,000km2 Sahara to the 12,000km2 small Negev, they were all represented in the list. Room enough for a bikepacking adventure, just - the cursing.

But with a bit more research, we tracked down the Jordan and the Israel Bike Trail. The partnership between desert and bike seemed to work there, and the destination was also fitting harmoniously with our plan to spend Christmas at home once again. A short stop-over in the Middle East, currently a dead end anyway, before the onward flight to Switzerland. Twenty-four hours later, we were sitting in a plane to Amman.

But Jordan - is that not dangerous? Sandwiched between the civil war countries of Syria and Iraq in the northeast, bordered by the problem kids of Saudi Arabia, Palestine and Israel in the southwest? Reception center of more than one million refugees? No, Jordan is safe. Despite the challenges of the present and the difficult situation in the Middle East, the country has been able to maintain its structures. Unfortunately, only few people know that and therefore Jordan is suffering from a massive decline in tourists. The queue at the tourist visa desk at Queen Alia Airport was short. Only a few young backpackers and we were standing there.

Amman is not exactly like a town out of an Arabian nights tale. With a strong air pollution, garbage piles in the sewers and a huge traffic jam on the streets, Amman is clearly in the 21st century. And yet while strolling around in downtown a little later, we could find a few leftovers from days gone by: fragrance mixers that were creating a personal perfume out of hundreds of transparent glass bottles, then generously sprayed it on the customer and other passersby. Juice sellers who squeezed pomegranates and lemons, mangoes and melons to delicious fruit juices, curiosity shops selling piles of spices, one or two dried-up mouse skeletons or holy water from Mecca in plastic gallons. And above all, the call of the muezzin from the nearest mosque called to the evening prayer. That is Amman: Past and modern Arabic day life mingled together in one city.

After a hearty breakfast with falafel, hummus, pita bread and sweet black tea with fresh mint leaves we were ready to go. With filled water bottles and provisions for two days, we seeked our way out of the city and into calmer areas. After all, we were looking for desert and solitude. The sun was blazing and the headwind strong. Especially the latter would hardly change during the next four weeks and we decided not to forget the topic "prevailing wind direction" in the next route planning. Soon we left the suburbs and turned off onto a narrow track connecting us to the Jordan Bike Trail.

The Jordan Bike Trail. It did not live up to our expectations. Maybe we had become too picky, but we could not shake off the feeling that there would be more potential for a bikepacking route in Jordan. It was developed by a biketour travel agency  and this was obvious when riding the trail. Boring sections on paved main roads, mostly climbs, which were probably covered by vehicles on the guided tours, alternated with great downhills on rough tracks. Jordan consists of a plateau and a jagged rock wall that plunges down from around one thousand meters into the Jordan Valley and the Dead Sea to minus four hundred meters. Deep valleys called wadis cut into the high plateau and although our route on the map led in a rather direct line to the south, the reality was different. One thousand meters of climb on a fifty kilometers long stage was usual. But as "Very Hard" or even "Extreme" we did not perceive any of the tracks, rather a bit tedious, when we whizzed down several times a day into one of the deep wadis, then worked our way back to the plateau a little later on the opposite side. No support bus with an ice cold Coke was waiting for us down in the valley... Towards the south we finally found a track that followed the contour line for a long time as a spectacular ridge road and eventually led us into the world-famous Wadi Rum.

Yes, the Wadi Rum. It would be nice, if only not so many would drive around in this valley... The oasis itself was a bitter disappointment. Building ruins, whirling garbage like everywhere in the country, apocalyptic mood. Once again we were asking ourselves, in which pocket the entrance fee of the UNESCO natural heritage landed. Certainly not among the local population and in building infrastructure (apart from the monstrous visitor center at the entrance of the valley). Each of the resident Bedouins has equipped the back of his Toyota pickup with two wooden benches, set up a camp with a diesel generator and LED lighting somewhere in the desert, and is now carting desert-hungry tourists through the natural monument day after day. Not only an old way of life is destroyed, but also a sensitive vegetation, which will hardly ever recover from the intensive jeep traffic. As we stood at the end of the tarred road and on the edge of the desert, a charismatic young Bedouin approached us. "You can not get in there by bike, that's way too difficult. Better book a tour, I can bring you to my camp by car tonight“, he suggested. Rejecting his offer politely while releasing some air from our tires to ride on the soft ground, he felt compelled to continue: "At the end of your life you will notice: It does not count the money, but the experiences you made!" Boom - hit the mark. But this trick would not work with us, or at least not in the way as the young Bedouin was hoping. Yes, it's not about money, it's about experience. That is why we have been cycling around the world for more than four years.

Still amused, we followed the tracks into the desert. Pretty soon first conflicts were nibbling on the previously harmonious bike - desert relationship. Despite almost flat tires we were skidding around and soon we found ourselves pushing. Pushing through soft deep sand, that was also nibbling at our own relationship and first muttered curses came over the lips. This f... sand! However, the closer we got to the mountains, the ground became more solid and with a little bit of balance, we managed to stay in the saddle again. On a small hill with a fantastic view over the sandstone cliffs in the red dunes, we set up our camp. The evening sun transformed the desert into a kitschy painting in orange and pink, before the velvet black shadows of the night blurred the contours and the first stars came out. We felt like we were alone in the world.

With the city of Aqaba we reached the Red Sea and crossed the border to Israel. A little culture shock. When was the last time we were in such a modern and developed country? When we shopped in the 24 hour supermarket, a price shock was added. Gosh, with the amount we spent here for a simple picnic, we usually travel two days! Something shaken by the realization that we had switched again to the side of the poor fellows, we hit the startpoint of the Israel Bike Trail. And immediately we realized: This also played in a completely different league. With a tremendous effort, a nearly three-hundred-kilometer long single trail was built through the Negev Desert. We were blown away. On a narrow track we rode through the no-man's-land: stony wadis, steep cliffs, over wide plains, past sand dunes and acacia trees. An artistic work with small hairpin bends and just with the right gradient to be ridable. In this project professionals with a lot of lifeblood were involved who show that desert and bike can be more than a purposeful relationship. Riding the Negev this way is absolutely awesome!

Also beside the trail it was exciting to experience Israel. A country that we knew mainly from the news but surprisingly little besides the headlines. Entering a Kibbutz to stock up with food was like entering a town in one of the apocalyptic moovies from Hollywood: A massive wvideo-monitored gate, a last shelter within destroyed territory, surrounded by extraterrestrial ennemies and guarded by walls, mines and fences....ok, this is nonsens and yet the settlements reminded us somehow of it. Or the wall to Palestine: an insurmountable obstacle between cultures. And we could not stop thinking about how in other parts of the world the construction of new walls is discussed.

Reaching the plateau after a long climb from the Dead Sea, the beautiful part of the Israel Bike Trail was over. On dirt roads we rode quite unspectacularly through wide agricultural land, orchards and pine forests to Jerusalem. Inwardly, we had already said goodbye to the country, sad that the trail through the Negev was not longer. But we wanted to see Jerusalem before our departure. Nowhere else in the world do three world religions and their monuments meet so closely: The Western Wall of the Jews, the Dome of the Rock and the Al Aqsa Mosque of the Muslims, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher of the Christians. And a huge rip-off all around. After two days in a lousy fleabag, our budget was feeling as if it had fallen into one of the many fruit juicers. Squeezed to the peel and sour as a lemon-mint juice without sugar. Time for the flight home.

Now we are sitting "at home". When we look through the window, we see snow, the temperature has fallen by about thirty degrees. Thanks to Israel, we have already become familiar with the Swiss price level. And everything else? We will figure it out in the next weeks.