Mu­san­dam. It’s a name like no other I’ve heard of. Un­til very re­cently, it wasn’t a place I’d been to ei­ther. I’ve been in Oman for 27 years, but had never had an op­por­tu­nity to travel to this ex­otic sound­ing re­gion. To me, the name ‘Mu­san­dam’ con­jures up


When I did get the chance to go there, though, it wasn’t one I was go­ing to pass up in a hurry, not, at the very least, when Oman’s most pres­ti­gious re­sort asks you to drop by. Be­cause just like Mu­san­dam, Six Senses Zighy Bay is also a world like no other. Lo­cated on the far reaches of the town of Dibba, which is split, by the way, be­tween three gov­ern­ments – Oman, Sharjah and Fu­jairah – Six Senses Zighy Bay named af­ter the se­cluded vil­lage it is sit­u­ated next to, over the daunt­ing moun­tains of Mu­san­dam, on the other side of a wadi. Get­ting there may have been te­dious, but I’ve said it be­fore, and I’ll say it again, it was so, so worth it.

Six Senses Zighy Bay have earned their place as the best re­sort in the Sul­tanate of Oman be­cause of the su­perb hos­pi­tal­ity they are now known for, and are surely the gold stan­dard in lux­ury tourism.

The Jour­ney

It’d taken quite a while for me to as­sem­ble this most mem­o­rable of jour­neys to­gether, but as the old adage goes, noth­ing that’s ever worth do­ing is ever easy. Nurhay­ati Mo­hamad – SSZB’s su­per-friendly and awe­somely lovely man­ager of com­mu­ni­ca­tions – had de­vel­oped an ex­cel­lent work­ing re­la­tion­ship with me since I had re­turned to Mus­cat from my two years in Dubai, and hav­ing heard so much – all of it good, I prom­ise you – I couldn’t help but go all aflut­ter when in­vited to check out this awe­some prop­erty.

My bestie (who af­ter this point will be named bestie) and I piled all of our stuff into our four-wheel drive – lent to us that morn­ing by the good folks at Sixt Rent-a-Car, part of the Travel Point tourism net­work in Oman – and we set off on this epic 400 kilo­me­tre jour­ney, with the sun at our backs and hope (and our GPS sys­tem) point­ing the way for­ward.

As evening turned to night, we’d had to nav­i­gate the dan­ger­ous hair-pin bends and precipices of the moun­tain path into Zighy Bay, ne­go­ti­at­ing it at no more than 20kph, with no guardrail and only the oc­ca­sional light to guide our way, but as we trun­dled into the wel­com­ing gates of the re­sort, there was a cer­tain in­tan­gi­ble, ex­citable rush we felt at what we’d ac­com­plished, and what lay ahead.

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