Discovering Echoes In The Sand In AlUla

The land remembers,” the Rawi tells me, his voice steady against the desert wind. “Even when we forget, the rocks whisper, the sands shift, and the stories rise again.” AlUla is a landscape of rediscovery. Here, history is not confined to the past—it is still being excavated, revealing its layers to those willing to listen. For thousands of years, this valley in northwestern Saudi Arabia has been a meeting place of civilisations— Nabataean traders, Lihyanite kings, Ottoman pilgrims—all leaving their imprint on the golden sandstone. But AlUla is not just a relic of what was. It is a place still becoming.

A Crossroads Of Civilisations 

For centuries, AlUla stood at the crossroads of global trade, a vital stop along the Incense Route, where merchants carried frankincense, myrrh, spices, and silks between southern Arabia, Egypt, Mesopotamia, and the Mediterranean. The Nabataeans, famed for their mastery of water conservation, controlled these routes, transforming AlUla into a flourishing oasis of commerce and culture. Greek, Babylonian, and Assyrian influences shaped its inscriptions; Roman artefacts left behind whispers of an empire that once reached its borders. Even today, AlUla’s ancient tombs bear the marks of this past—a palimpsest of cultures layered across millennia. 

Yet AlUla was more than a trade hub—it was a centre of knowledge exchange. The Nabataeans were not just master traders, but master builders, known for their engineering feats, from elaborate water channels to vast caravan stops that sustained merchants across the Arabian Peninsula. Its tomb inscriptions showcase a fusion of South Arabian, Aramaic, and Greek influences, revealing that AlUla was not just where goods passed through—it was where ideas, languages, and philosophies converged. Some of the engravings hint at astronomical navigation, suggesting that the stars not only guided traders but shaped early understandings of time and space.

The world has long known its wonders—Hegra, Saudi Arabia’s first UNESCO World Heritage Site, its monumental tombs carved with inscriptions that still confound historians; Dadan, once the seat of a powerful kingdom, where colossal statues of its rulers stand sentinel over the past; Jabal Ikmah, an open-air library, where thousands of rock inscriptions stretch across time, waiting to be deciphered. Yet, even in 2025, AlUla is still revealing its secrets. Recent excavations at Khaybar and Tayma have unearthed ancient burial sites, petroglyphs, and evidence of long-lost trade links, challenging what we thought we knew about preIslamic Arabia. But the Rawi shakes his head at the idea of “new discoveries.” “The stories were always here,” he says. “It is we who are only just learning to listen.”

Where Art Collides With Nature 

But AlUla is not only a place of excavation—it is also a canvas. If history is being uncovered here, then the future is being painted in bold, sweeping strokes. The vast expanse of Wadi AlFann— the Valley of the Arts, is unlike anything else in the world. A 65-square-kilometre desert museum, where monumental artworks blend with the landscape as if the earth itself is part of the composition.

James Turrell’s vision sculpts light itself, carving chambers into the cliffs that transform with the shifting hues of the desert sun. Michael Heizer etches colossal geometric forms into the sand, marking the land much like the ancient traders once did. Manal AlDowayan’s Oasis of Stories is a labyrinth of engraved words, a physical monument to the memories of AlUla’s people.

But AlUla’s artistic identity isn’t a new invention. Much like the petroglyphs and rock inscriptions left by past civilisations, the artworks of Wadi AlFann are a modern continuation of storytelling traditions—etched not by chisels but by sculptors of light and form.

“This is not new,” the Rawi tells me, watching the shadows stretch across the valley. “The land has always been shaped by those who pass through. The only difference is that now, we see it as art.” Beyond Wadi AlFann, AlUla is evolving at an unprecedented scale. The mirrored façade of the Maraya concert hall reflects the golden dunes like a mirage, merging past and future in a single architectural breath. Sharaan by Jean Nouvel, an extraordinary resort carved into the cliffs themselves, redefines luxury—not by imposing on nature but by becoming part of it. The expansion of AlUla’s International Airport, conservation projects, and an ever-growing cultural movement signal one undeniable truth: AlUla is no longer just a city of the past. It is the future.

The Land That Never Stops Speaking 

As the sun dips behind Jabal Ithlib, casting the last light over Hegra’s tombs, I turn to the Rawi, “Do you ever feel like the land is speaking?”. He smiles, “It always has. Some of us just know how to listen.” AlUla refuses to be a relic. It breathes, evolves, and shifts, as it always has—one foot in the past, the other stepping into something yet to be written. “The land does not forget. Every brushstroke, every excavation, every monument carved into the rock is a reminder that AlUla’s story was never lost—only waiting to be retold.” “Come back in a year,” the Rawi says, his voice carrying into the evening as we sit beneath the stars. “There will be more to tell.”

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