The last ray of sun disappears behind the reddish mountains, and I trade the pavement for the sand, a common exchange on a Jordan adventure. After hours spent roaming along the King’s Highway—a vital biblical trade route connecting Egypt to Mesopotamia on Jordan’s western shore—I have reached an extraterrestrial terrain: Wadi Rum, also known as the Valley of the Moon. This Mars-like desert in the south of Jordan captured my imagination when I first set foot here seven years ago. I’ve been coming back ever since, not only for its vast landscapes but also for the people who have inhabited this desert for centuries.

　　Other travelers sometimes get puzzled when they hear that instead of exploring a new destination, I choose to return to Jordan, a small Middle Eastern country about the size of Maine. I haven’t done the exact count, but by now I must have traveled to Jordan close to 20 times, with my latest visit ending in February of this year. Sorry, rest of the world, after so much time there, my passion only grows deeper. Here’s why.

　　Wadi Rum Giant granite and sandstone mountains in whimsical shapes rise to the left and right as I approach the gentle slope of a mountainside that, over the years of coming here, I’ve learned to instantly recognize. Ahmad Mara’yeh is standing at the entrance to his traditional Bedouin camp. I’d spent numerous days here climbing the nearby rocks to catch sunsets and hearing Mara’yeh speak about Bedouin traditions like astronavigation or camel husbandry. I rush toward him, feeling like I’ve returned home after a long absence. The silence of the desert envelops me. I don’t have to turn off my iPhone to preserve this silence; there’s no reception out here.

　　“Ahlan wa Sahlain. Welcome,” says Mara’yeh. Together with his family, Mara’yeh runs Rum Planet Camp, a leading camp in the desert that’s pushing the boundaries of sustainable adventure tourism forward for the entire Bedouin community, a group of desert-dwelling people known for their fierce hospitality and strong connection to the land. At Rum Planet Camp, plastics are banned. In place of fuel-guzzling generators, the camp is powered by solar energy, abundant in the desert. Instead of air conditioning, insulated cabins covered with traditional woven goat-hair fabric trap warmth in winter and stay cool in summer. “It’s our duty to protect this desert,” says Mara’yeh, “and to ensure that its beauty will last.”

　　Wadi Rum is my favorite place in Jordan, but I love to trek across the rest of this diverse land. Inside its relatively compact area, Jordan holds plenty of jewels: the Mediterranean forests of northern Ajloun; the saline shores of the Dead Sea, the lowest point on earth; the steep canyons of Dana Nature Reserve, an expanse of rugged landscapes alongside the Great Rift Valley that holds three different microclimates within it; the basalt-black eastern deserts; and the pastoral central Jordan. This natural bounty is connected by the 400-mile Jordan Trail, a series of long-distance hikes that link the Roman settlement of Umm Qais in the north to the Red Sea diving hub of Aqaba in the south.

　　The Jordan Trail Wherever I go in Jordan, I feel at peace and welcomed. This strong tradition of hospitality and warm embrace of guests perhaps explains why nearly every traveler I’ve come across in Jordan over the years has been a return visitor.

　　Hiking the northern section of the Jordan Trail, I hopscotch between ancient cities and wild open spaces. Near As-Salt, an important regional trade hub in the 19th century that has a central market still thriving today, I leave the town’s historic limestone homes behind and head into the countryside that in spring is abloom with fire-red poppies, delicate flowering almond trees, and black iris, the country’s national flower. I step on the same paths that merchants from Palestine, Syria, and Lebanon walked when they arrived in As-Salt to purchase famous local exports: livestock, grains, and dyes from native plants like maroon-rich summaq or deep-blue neileh.

　　On the southern part of the Jordan Trail, I cling to the side of a cliff on the short but rigorous Nawatef Trail. This circular trail inside Dana Nature Reserve winds through multicolored rock formations—some look like mushroom tops and others like giant chimneys—and settlements of Nabataeans. It was this mysterious civilization of traders and builders from the 1st century BCE who built Petra, their rock-carved pink capital and now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, for us to marvel upon.

　　“Jordan Trail is important because it shows the diversity of our landscapes and allows people to discover local communities and visit their homestays,” says Eisa Dwaikat, an expert Jordanian guide with more than 20 years of hiking experience who started working on what eventually became the Jordan Trail system in 2010. “When I’m out on the trail, I love the serenity of it and the continued change of scenery,” he adds.

　　Back in Wadi Rum, Mara’yeh echoes this sentiment. “It’s in our blood to be connected with the desert. Even though we live in the village, we have to be outside in the desert from time to time,” he says as we gather around a nightly fire. The red giant Betelgeuse, one of Orion’s brightest stars, shines above us, reigning in the sky at this time of year. The desert quiets. Our conversation fades.

　　The People, Past and Present  This silence of the desert is contagious. Remarkably, it is devoid of noise, not sound. Falling asleep here is akin to putting noise-canceling headphones on life’s many distractions and stresses. I have yet to experience greater joy than waking up to a chirping of finches or an occasional camel bellow. “We want our guests to experience Wadi Rum the way we have for centuries,” says Mara’yeh. For him, that means wild camping in the desert, rock climbing on the craggy cliffs that at times resemble the hump of a camel, trekking with camels at sunrise the way the Bedouins have always done it, or sharing a meal of mansaf, a heaping plate of rice and meat cooked with dried fermented yogurt called jameed.

　　On the early morning Little Petra hike, an eight-mile trail that connects Petra’s smaller outpost to the main city complex through a backcountry path, Bedouin shepherds, goats, and sheep are my only companions. I choose this route to Petra for its monumental landscapes and the chance to avoid the crowded main entrance. I walk past Al Beidha, a nearly 10,000-year-old housing structure considered to be one of humanity’s first settled villages. I pass a few Bedouin tents, small dots of black and white against the landscape of crimson and green. I descend into the sharp gorges of Wadi Araba, the mighty extension of the Great Rift Valley where copper, iron, and manganese deposits iridesce under the midday sun. High on oxygen and fresh sage tea, I enter one of Petra’s most legendary sites, the imposing Monastery carved high into the sheer canyon walls. I’ve walked through millennia of human history—all before lunch.

　　This is what keeps bringing me back here year after year. Whether I’m rappelling into the massive Wadi Mujib, stargazing in Wadi Rum, or spending the day with the shepherds of Wadi Feynan, in Jordan I only need to step outside to feel connected to this land, its people, and its ancient memories.

　　Traveling to Jordan is an opportunity to experience a wide range of outdoor activities. In a matter of days, travelers can go rock climbing in Ajloun forests or Wadi Rum mountain ranges, hiking while visiting homestays throughout the Jordan Trail, sandboarding, riding ATVs, free camping, and desert trekking in Wadi Rum, canyoning in gorges like Wadi Mujib or Wadi Musa, cycling the Jordan Bike Trail, scuba diving, parasailing and windsurfing in Aqaba, and much more. The Meaningful Travel Map is an opportunity to experience renowned Jordanian hospitality by visiting numerous community tourism projects along the Jordan Trail.