The mountain of Moses

In a melancholic mood we cycle away from the Red Sea into the Sinai. A tarmac-road leads through a broad valley and thanks to the slow slope we have - after two weeks of rest - no trouble making the altitude-metres. The big adversary today is the wind, that becomes stronger after we've cycled about 25 kilometres and tries to blow us back to Dahab.

The surrounding make us forget about the wind somewhat: sandy plains, sanddunes, curiously shaped rocks in all shades of sandstone eroded by wind, cold and heat. At one moment the wind increases to force six and also because of the bad road-surfacing we decide to stop after seventy kilometres. We put up our tent behind a sanddune and make our camp for the night. At an improvised campfire we escape the evening-cold, accompanied by a Bedouin-family that thinks we're a great attraction.

Our second cycling day through the desert-mountains isn't our favourite one. A cutting wind on a road that slopes ever so slight and a terrible road make sure our day-average isn't more than ten kilometres per hour. After fighting for four hours we're both exhausted and fed up. In an old and run-down military camp we find a sheltered place for the tent, make another campfire and go to bed very early.

With a lot less headwind, hospitable soldiers at the umpteenth checkpoint and the ever friendly waving and hooting car drivers we reach Saint Catherine the next morning. At 1.500 metre this old Bedouin village lies at the foot of Mount Sinai, the mountain where Moses over two thousands years ago received the Ten Commandments from God. The wind makes everything cold, so we get our winterclothes out of our bags. We put up our tent at the Fox Desert Camp and prepare for the nightwalk to Mount Moses to watch the sunrise from there. For one reason or another all travellers do this, we have chosen to adjust.

When our alarmclock gets us out of our dreams at two a.m. the tent is white because of the ice and the water in our bottles frozen. With four layers of clothes, gloves and cap we walk to the monastery where the path starts that Moses supposedly walked so long ago. It's a clear, starry sky, the moon is nowhere to be seen. Just past the monastery it's pitch-dark. We're not the only people who fancy to see a beautiful sunrise. In front of us we see a large group of South Koreans with the same intention. Once we've begun the long climb we see dozens of lights moving on the hills in front and above us. It's a silly spectacle, so many people that climb a mountain in the middle of the night and the freezing cold. The higher we climb the more often we encounter groups of Bedouin that offer camelrides. They walk without lights and it's amazing that they don't sprain or break their ankles. Once in a while small wooden and stone stalls loom up in the dark, with very expensive hot drinks and snacks. The whole thing is quite surrealistic, like a strange dream. The cold however makes sure we know we're awake. After a coffee- and cocoa-break we walk the last kilometres. These are much steeper and consist of steps that are made out of rocks and stones. It must have been a hell of a job to get all those stones up here and to create a stairway like this. Our speed is a lot slower now, mainly because we have to walk in queue now. We tourists are really crazy!
The summit of the mountain is smaller than expected and is for the major part occupied by a small chapel on the spot where once Moses and God had their meeting. All around it people jostle each other for a good viewpoint. We're just in time and sit on the highest point next to the black abyss. Apparently not a lot of people dare to sit here. Traders in warm drinks, candies, biscuits, nice stones but mainly blankets and mattresses do have a lot of business tonight. It's even before five a.m. when we settle down, over an hour and a half too early, just like most tourists. During the climb we didn't really experience the cold, now it's getting awfully cold. The temperature is over ten degrees below zero, we are lucky there is no wind.
Slow, provocatively slow it's getting lighter in the east. The big black hole in front of us slowly changes into dozens of mountains and rocks and gets more and more shape and colour. Then, when toes and fingers are about to die, we catch a glimpse of the sun. The horizon seems to light up yellow once in a while, until the bright-yellow ball spreads her light and warmth. Camera's click, video-camera's hum and there is giggling and cautious cheering from the Asians around us. The view is phenomenal.

After three minutes it's suddenly over. We take a look at the Japanese choir that's singing religious songs and start our way back. This time we take the stairway-route, over three thousands rocksteps back to the monastery. Tired but content we're back at our tent at half past eight. Tomorrow we're going to cycle again!

Cheerfully whirling with a light tailwind and a slight sloping road in the right direction we meander through an eroded wadi over reasonably good tarmac direction Gulf of Suez. We pass small and bigger Bedouin-villages where life seems to have come to a standstill centuries ago, but the jeeps that have taken the place of a lot of camels betray this image. It's fascinating to cycle through a jungle of palms, stared at by children and adults that never see tourists other then in busses and jeeps that pass very fast. On a long straight stretch of road we cycle behind each other and dream away in the beautiful desert landscape when a pick-up beckons Peter to stop quite urgently. He presses his breaks, my response is a lot slower: I can't avoid him, hit his rear-panniers, loose my balance and ride full speed into the sandy verge. Jolting and bumping I come to a standstill. Five Egyptians tumble out of their car, roaring with laughter because of the capers they caused. Luckily I'm not hurt. The men jeer at us and enjoy themselves immensely when Peter blames them acting angry. Our stop served no other purpose then to satisfy their curiosity: who are you, where are you going, why by bicycle, are you married and so on. As a reward they give us four big oranges.
After having cycled almost 130 kilometres our day ends under a giant black sky with millions of stars, our tent put up at a short distance from the road on a secluded place. We packeall of our food in our waterproof bags against obtrusive desert-rats and -mice and go into another long night.

The last two days of our journey through the Sinai are signified by the extraordinary fierce wind that's ahead of us the first and in our back the second day. Villages on our map sometimes just do not exist, which causes us to replenish our watersupply at an ambulance-post where the staff is playing dominoes very loud. They're sitting on their post the whole day between a lot of flies waiting for a call for help.
The eastern coast of the Sinai is littered with oil-refineries and oil-pipes and therefore not very attractive. Despite the ugliness huge holiday-prison-camps are being build here by large firms as Sheraton and Hilton, far away from the scary local people, poverty and the lack of organisation in this country. Hopefully these tourists will make some trips to the Sinai, because the friendly Bedouins and the beautiful nature are very much worthwhile.