Mt. Sinai and the Sinai Peninsula
At 1am, we depart our extraordinarily dusty hotel to begin our hike to the top of Mt. Sinai. We have been told that by 2am the hike is crowded, and it is best to get a bit of a head start to avoid traffic on the many Steps of Repentance. The hike begins at St. Catherine's and rises some 1500 feet, including the 750 stone steps at the top, to the summit of Mt. Sinai . It was here that Moses received the Ten Commandments according to Biblical tradition, and viewing the sunrise from the peak is a critical component of any visit to the area. We begin the ascent by way of a twisting, slowly rising path at about 1:30am. Over the next few hours we encounter almost no one, and in fact even the little shelters on the route are closed and their owners still asleep. The climb is not particularly hard, and even the large, uneven stone steps are a minor inconvenience after the Inca Trail. The biggest issue, I find, is the darkness. I've never hiked in darkness before, and it's very difficult to determine whether light is helpful or not. The moon is bright, so you don't really need the light to see most things. If you turn it on, then you can't see anything that isn't directly in the beam. If it's off, you sometimes have to go slowly due to odd shadows, but at least you're not entirely blind. There's clearly a technique here that I don't have.
We reach the top at 4am, almost the first to arrive. Our guide probably underestimated our ability to climb the mountain. I don't blame him -- we don't look particularly good at this. However, it is now quite cold and there is nothing to do for 90 minutes before the sun rises. We take shelter in one of the many little rooms and borrow some blankets. A few cups of instant coffee and some dozing later, it is time to make the final ascent to the top. During this time many other groups have arrived, so when we get to the top there isn't much free space. One end of the summit is taken up by a large and very devout Korean group. The other end is a pile of rocks on which all the remaining (not terribly pious) tourists are perching. We opt for the rocks.
Between the two groups is a very small one-room chapel, now closed and in some disrepair. Apparently in times past there would be sunrise services. Now the chapel serves mainly as a way to anchor the fence and barbed wire that guards those clambering on the rocks from a swift and painful descent down the other side of the mountain. We jockey for a moderately comfortable position sheltered from the cold wind, trading off the view (right now of blackness) with a relatively flat stone to stand on and something to lean against. The Aussies entertain themselves by trying to leap from stone to stone and daring a vicious God to strike them down. The French quietly fix their tripod and debate F-stops. A few other nationalities are represented, all quiet and cold.
After about 30 minutes, the sun rises over a vista of rough mountains, slowly turning from deep blue to red. Only one of these peaks is higher than Mt. Sinai, so we can see for quite a distance. It's red rocks and rough crags as far as the eye can see, as St. Catherine's is behind us. A desolate and lovely sight. As the sun rises, the tourists snap photos and tiredly admire the view. The Koreans startle us all by starting to sing hymns in lovely harmony. Eventually we all figure out that there's really nothing else to do and there will be quite a crowd on the steps, and we leave. Steve and I, somewhat unimpressed by the sunrise, are among the first to go.
In Peru we learned that I have a certain talent for rapid descents. I'm not a particularly strong hiker, and on ascents I certainly value the occasional rest stop, but on descents I can move. As before, I take off down the steps and trail, stopping from time to time to meet up with Steve and our local guide. The guide, who refused to allow us to take the hike on our own for some odd and annoying reason, takes some offense at my skill. He proceeds to try to beat me down the slope to spare his masculinity. This is merely one of his many annoying activities, but it seals the fate of his tip as far as I'm concerned. sigh
We return to our hotel at around 7:30am, to be met by a mediocre breakfast and more dust. The hotel is a vestige of the Israeli ownership of Sinai, and it's actually rather nicely designed. It could use some further attention to maintenance, but it serves. For an isolated hotel in the middle of a desert, it has plumbing, which is really all I can ask. After a few hours of reading and desultory napping, we drive to the beach town of Dahab for lunch and a look at another part of Sinai.
Dahab is a small, diving-oriented town on the eastern coast. It's a cute little place, perhaps reminiscent of Sharm 20 years ago. The infrastructure is primitive, but it's really just a place for committed divers, so it has that feel that all small sailing or diving towns have. We dine in a cute little place right on the beach (literally), with a family of cats stealing our food and a few beach camels wandering by in the charge of small boys. It's a lovely day, the sky is blue, the beach is gorgeous, and the food is simple but excellent. The breeze is just strong enough to keep you cool. I slightly regret never learning to dive. We stay for a while over coffee, enjoying the wonderfully restful atmosphere.
After lunch we head back into the interior a bit to a Bedouin camp , our lodging for the night. Now, I'm not the most outdoorsy person, I admit. I would never consider camping unless there's an exciting ruin or safari involved. Even so, I managed five days of camping on the Inca Trail pretty well, all things considered. My true needs are few, particularly since we were in a hotel the night before, and are heading to Cairo the night after. However, the Bedouin camp does not meet my somewhat low standards. First, there are no actual tents. It's just a big open square of sand with some blankets hung on poles to create walls. There are no dividers, no screens for privacy, no shelves, nothing. The ground is covered with a pile of truly filthy rugs, some equally filthy pillows, and a few more rugs rolled up for warmth. No sleeping bags, not even a clean blanket. Great.
I was pretty tired after the hike, since we only got a few hours sleep before the 1am departure. I decided to take a little nap before dinner to try to ignore the surroundings. Unfortunately, the dust and dirt embedded in everything at the "camp" was so thick that I couldn't put my head on anything. I rolled up a jacket and used my backpack, but it certainly wasn't the most comfortable of positions. After some punching and complaining, I found a semi-comfortable napping position using Steve as a pillow. Such a sweet guy. Unfortunately at some point they served dinner. At this point, I was tired and testy and not at all hungry (lunch was big as well as delicious), so I demurred. My pillow went away, though, and I was left trying to find a spot on the ground. There were only a few people at the site, all men, and the Bedouin who served dinner were not the most friendly folks we've met on our travels. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling, particularly once I realized that we were just going to sleep out in the open on these rugs all night, no privacy to be had.
It was at this point I took matters into my own hands. I quietly got up, gathered my backpack, my book, and my jacket, and made for the van. Closing the curtains and keeping the van dark allowed me just enough privacy to change my now very dusty outer clothing for something that didn't make me wheeze. I then created a nice little nest in the backseat and settled in for the night. A Claritin and some Aleve for my back completed the cure. Ahhhhh. I woke up early, snuck behind the van to brush my hair and teeth, found the facilities, and started to feel slightly human. Unfortunately, my departure from the group was noted and much commented upon. I was trying not to cause trouble, but wound up spending most of the day explaining my actions. I found this a bit ridiculous, as I later learned that most groups don't overnight at the camp, they just come out for dinner. Also, earlier groups had complained about the lack of camping gear or warning about the conditions, and one had even insisted on going to a hotel. So on the diva scale, I thought I ranked at most a 5. I'm sure there's a nasty note in a file somewhere, though. Harumph.