2006 Egypt

8 January 2007, Monday; Farag Fox Desert Camp, St Catherine’s, LE40

Today we climbed Mt Sinai – and I am finished!

We had arranged through BishBishi to be driven to St Catherine’s by “tourist” bus (LE120) – anxious that the bus from Cairo via Sharm el-Sheikh to St Catherine’s might not be running – in which case we would have to spend another day in Dahab.

So we found ourselves for the first time exclusively on tourist transport. In a vehicle that seats 15 plus the driver. And this was the first time we came really close to having an accident. As usual the driver pushed the car and road hard. And on one long downhill curve I believed he would lose it. Then we approached a place where several large tourist buses had pulled off – some partially in the approaching lane. Despite which our driver decided to overtake a slower minibus – and had to screech to a halt to avoid a tourist bus pulling out on the opposite side. Way too close for comfort. Scary.

The bulk of the passengers disembarked at St Catherine’s, planning to visit the monastery, climb Mt Sinai and return to Dahab – a two-hour drive. The driver then dropped us and a young American couple at Farag Fox Desert Camp where we had a room for the night.

On the bus we met an American family who have been living on Panang, Malaysia, for nine years. Both parents teach at a (religious?) school there. They plan to stay another three years until their younger son graduates, then return to California and their aging parents. Their daughter is starting a four-month course at Cairo Uni in Arabic language, culture, politics – as part of her studies. She is clearly having a love affair with Egypt, and was defensive when either her mom or I said anything negative about the bureaucracy or excessive police presence. I wanted to tell her she could love Egypt and see it clearly ie criticise the things that are wrong with it. I guess (young) love is indeed blind.

Anyway, by the time we dropped off our things, negotiated our room rate and walked back to St Catherine’s, past a woman tending sheep on the barren slopes in a long turquoise skirt, it was nearly 11h30. And the monastery closes at 12h00!

St Catherine’s sits at the foot of Mt Sinai (unless Mt Sinai is actually in Saudi Arabia as some claim). It is the oldest continuously-inhabited monastery in the world and was founded in 527 by emperor Justinian. It replaced a chapel built in 337 on the site of the burning bush and was renamed after St Catherine who was born to a wealthy Alexandrian family, tortured on the “Catherine” wheel and beheaded for her beliefs.

The place was unbelievably crowded. Partially because there were lots of people; partially because the viewable sections are very cramped. We admired the original elevated entrance high above our heads – access being gained via a pulley system. And the dark and crowded church with its ancient icons and worshipful visitors. Also the bell tower, built in 1871 and containing nine bells donated by Tsar Alexander II of Russia; the bush supposedly grown from the same stock as the original burning bush – and reverently touched by busloads of hushed visitors. But most of all we loved the icon collection – over 2000 icons – in the excellent and considerably less crowded museum upstairs.

And then began our “easy walk up the camel path”. There are two paths up Mt Sinai: The camel track and the 3,750 “stairs of repentance” constructed by a resident monk. Lonely Planet talked of “where the camel path meets the stairs…”, but did not say that the final ascent of both paths is up the last 750 steps (which negates the whole “easy walk” story).

The first part of the walk was very pleasant. Up a dusty stony path with, indeed, the odd camel thereon bearing aloft some hapless tourist (most camels turned back early on, the ride being obviously too uncomfortable and slow for those on board). With the monastery dwindling gradually in its valley as we trudged slowly up the 2285m high mountain, and shadows creeping down the cliff face to encompass it as the sun sank in the afternoon sky. With women tending sheep on barren slopes yonder. With blue sky and fresh air and mountains stark and jagged all around us. With strange hidey holes constructed against giant boulders (for shepherds?), and patches of snow from last week’s fall. With the odd overpriced stall selling much-needed Coke and chocolates and tissues. With a vast silence blanketing us.

Very pleasant until the camel path met the stairs and I was daunted to find not only 750 stairs, but that “stairs” is a misnomer. I would be reluctant in the extreme to tackle 750 normal stairs under normal circumstances. These were not normal. Just rocks packed to form stairs. Not smooth underfoot. No consistent risers. No safe handrail. Many of the stairs were almost at my knee height – meaning I had to hoist my bulk up each and that each became a monumental chore. My guide book’s easy two-hour walk turned into almost four (we had bargained on three) with us finally reaching the summit just before sunset.

I did not have much energy left then to admire the little Greek Orthodox chapel. Or really take in the breath-taking views. And in fact started down the stairs before the sun actually set – frightened I would be caught on them after dark. Charl caught up with me after a while, and soon all those who had been on top of the mountain overtook us – clumping down the giant steps with confidence and ease in their youth and mountain boots. And I was caught up there after dark and had to do the last 200 or so steps clutching my inadequate cycle LED light in my hand.

And soon Charl and I were entirely alone on the mountain in the dark. With my light just picking out the uneven surface and a gazillion stars above us and the cold bearable.

Soon after we passed St Catherine’s we were offered a lift to our camp. Where we collapsed in the communal dinner tent with its smoky fire, ate our dinner and chatted to the young man running the place and our fellow guests. The young man told us that his sheikh (sheg) was wealthy and that foreign girls fall in love with and marry Bedouin men in this barren backwater!