Largely-unknown caves are being examined for their tourist potential
Owing to the sensitivity of both the cave ecosystem and the as-yet not unveiled plans of the Ministry of Tourism to develop it for tourists, we have been asked to keep the name and location of a cave in Dhofar’s Jebel Qara a secret. We are instead referring to it in this article as the bat cave, after its most prized inhabitants.
The bats might be the heroes, but the real concern the moment we stepped into the outer chamber wasn’t them – it was their guano, accumulated on the floor over thousands of years, now a soft, grey, uninviting powder a few feet thick. So we are heel-deep in bat excreta, dripping perspiration in the steamy Dhofari
summer, breathing deeply into our face masks, treading extremely softly so we don’t kick up too much guano.
Now guano might be a polite word, but no matter which animal it comes from, it isn’t pleasant, and walking through it is even less so. But bat guano, while sparing you the smell of other kinds, is particularly vile: inhale enough of the right variety and you could contract a nasty disease called hystoplasmosis. This is a fungus that attacks the lungs, and could be fatal if untreated.
This is all generally fine, till you get to the part where you have to crawl through the narrow passage, from the outer cave open to the world into the underground chamber that is the real highlight. This is where you have to get down on your hands and knees, claw at the guano, and lower your head as you work your way down. All I could think of was the tailless whip scorpion allegedly found here in 2002, and the ticks that feed on the bats, now crawling through the powder.
Such delights will have you peering desperately through the beam of your headlamp, the only source of light in the cave. In its light, and in the excitement that comes from the darkness at the edges of your beam, the bat cave will come alive. This is a much more raw experience than the ready-for-tourism Hoota cave that caters to thousands who romp over its concrete pathways and stare at cave architecture in theatrical lighting. Far away from mass tourism, air conditioned visitor centres and admission tickets,
the bat cave is definitely the real deal, from the moment you kick up your first cloud of guano dust to the end, when you crawl up the passage into the light.
There are mammal tracks in the dust outside, leading you down the hole, indicating something like a wolf, a dog or a big cat. Judging by the marks, it had young with it, and had perhaps brought the cow bones you will find inside. It had fed in the dark, underground chamber, under the stalactites, leaving behind only bones – and a reminder to humans that they are not the first ones here, even if they do feel like pioneers in the dark.
Drew Gardner, associate professor at Zayed University in Abu Dhabi, is in the process of submitting a report to the Omani Ministry of Tourism, after inspecting the cave with us. From the bones and other traces of inhabitants he found, “Some interesting things have shown up,” he says. “I am now fairly convinced that the majority of the bats in the inner cave are Persian leaf-nose bats (Triaenops persicus) and only a minority are Trident leaf-nosed bats (Asellia tridens). These two species are very similar in size, and both are variable in colour. However the tail emerges from the membrane by 3-5mm in Asellia but not Triaenops, and Asellia has longer ears. Careful study of the photos in the cave suggests most are Triaenops, which tend to have a mantle of dark reddish brown on the chest and shoulders anterior to the wing. Of the six bat skulls I collected from the floor of the inner cave, five are Triaenops and one is Asellia. In the roof holes at the back of the large outer cave are lesser mouse-tailed bats (Rhinopoma hardwickii), a new record from the cave. I also have a single mandible collected at the cave entrance of a naked-bellied tomb bat (Taphozous nudiventris), a much larger insectivorous bat. So there is evidence for at least four bat species.”
The outer chamber of the bat cave is also home to many birds, which nest on its inner roof. “There are old owl-pellet remains near the outer entrance of the cave. The skulls I collected from here are as follows: nine Somalian white toothed shrew (Crocidura somalicus), eight Spiny mice (Acomys cahirinus), three Nile rats (Arvicanthis niloticus) plus some mandibles of the House mouse (Mus musculus), three crag martins, ten weavers plus one unidentified bird skull. The Somalian white-toothed shrew is quite interesting as it is only the second record as far as I know of this species in Oman. The Nile rat is also not well known from Dhofar.
In the inner cave, I photographed skulls of a cow, camel and goat, and collected material of hyrax, a wolf puppy, a large cat (smaller than a caracal, but bigger than a domestic cat – I am puzzled by this one) and porcupine quills. This is a total of 15 mammal species at least! Quite remarkable, especially as I am sure the cave will also occasionally get visits from other species such as foxes, leopards, caracals and genets.”
The bat cave obviously has enough to keep a biologist engrossed, but what does the tourist do in its dark confines? You couldn’t possibly let loose khareef visitors through it – they’d be coughing bat guano all the way home. A more interesting possibility is the idea of unmanned cameras placed strategically inside, beaming video to a visitor’s centre located in the vicinity, but far enough to keep both tourists and cave dwellers safe. Such a centre might have a three dimensional model of the actual cave, bat exhibits and interactive information systems – the possibilities are endless, and depend on which way the ministry decides to move over the coming months and years.
Andrew Lawrence, a specialist on karst tourism and an advisor to the Ministry of Tourism, says, “The limestone hills surrounding Salalah in the Dhofar region are noted for their high cultural and environmental values. The caves and sinkholes of the region were traditionally used as a vital source of freshwater and as seasonal shelters. A diverse range of flora and fauna exists in this habitat, enhanced by Dhofar’s wet environment. The intricate relationships between the people, the climate, the caves and their wildlife reveal some fascinating stories. Developing innovative ways to interpret these stories to visitors in an environmentally friendly manner is an exciting prospect for the Ministry of Tourism.”
The bat cave is particularly exciting, for its namesake occupants have fascinated man for ages, inspiring everything from vampire
stories to comic book heroes. Indeed, even Andrew stood deep in bat guano, staring spellbound as the ceiling exploded in a hysteric flutter of bat wings. “Little is known about the life cycle of bats in Oman,” he said. “It is currently assumed they mate in spring here and give birth to their young in July or August after a gestation period of 100 days.
Insectivorous bats species (micro chiroptera) tend to be small – around the size of a mouse or smaller. These can fly at up to 50km an hour, they use a high-pitched echo locating call to hunt and catch insects. They always catch their food in flight by scooping up insects with their tail membrane then using this to transfer it to their mouth in one fluid motion. As they only eat in flight, it is not unheard of for bats and spiders to happily co-exist on the roof and walls of caves. Normally their high pitched squeak (too high for us to hear) is given out at around 25 times a second. However, just before catching their prey this can rise to up to 250 times a second.
They often hunt around dusk, they are very efficient hunters and can catch a full days supply of food in around 40 minutes. Their echo location can also differentiate between tasty inspects and not so tasty ones.
Because their echo location is so good it is unlikely that bats will fly into people’s hair, however sometimes if you disturb a lot of bats in a small area in a cave one or two may bump into you as they tend to take off all at once and sometimes avoiding each other, the cave walls as well as yourself is an impossible task.
Bats often migrate thousands of kilometres each year, returning annually to the same maternity sites where they can roost in colonies of many thousands (although it is not known if the Dhofar bats do this), the young are often born within a few weeks of each other. They are born without fur so need a warm environment initially; they are ready to fly within a few weeks. Bats communicate with each other with a slightly lower squeak, they are very communal and often most of the bats will leave the cave in the evening to hunt for food while a smaller number stay at home to mind the babies in a crèche.”
Of course, the bat cave isn’t Dhofar’s only underground attraction. You could, perhaps, abseil down the famous Tawi Attair sinkhole in the years to come, down its prehistoric painting-bejeweled shaft, or be shown numerous other, lesser-known fissures.
We had trekked to a little known cave not far from Salalah (identity kept secret, like the bat cave) hidden around a couple of jungle bends, steamy in pre-khareef heat. Its outer room was filled with guano, but the inner room you slithered into was more rubble than dust. We had come here in search of water that had once made the cave precious to the local tribes, but found only a hint of a drip, the source perhaps dammed by a rock fall. Local legend says that no one knew of water here until a goat wandered in, and came out wet. It was then that the people investigated, and discovered the source. When we visited, though, it was free of such charms, and the best we could manage was the little toothy skull of a hyrax outside, a couple of porcupine quills at the entrance and the occasional millipede rolling itself into a ball on the wadi slope.
Such sources of water lost their appeal when the government built wells in the 1970s, and people didn’t need to stay out so far from cities. A family would usually use the cave in winter, moving to the plains during the monsoon, and then would move to higher ground after the khareef, always following the water. These people were goat herders, typically just one extended family that would occupy a cave when it was cool and had water. In time, caves and other locations were understood to almost belong to the family, and others would ask permission to use it if they needed to.
Once you start to dig a little deeper than the surface of guano and creepy-crawlies, caves really begin to come alive with stories they tell – of bats, bones and people of long ago. If handled properly, they might still keep their charm, and add to what has been until now the extremely seasonal uni-dimensional draw of Dhofar.
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