Mount Sinai

The traditional way to visit Mount Sinai is to trek up in the wee hours to catch the sunrise view. So we piled into the minibus with our posse at midnight, trying to sleep just a little during the two-hour ride. When we arrived, we met our bedouin guide Hassan, who insisted on calling us "Dahab Group" despite our best attempt to go by "Killer Cobras." We would follow the "camel path," the gentler of the two ways to the top. J and a few of the guys initially wanted to hire camels for the climb, but we talked them out of it, and a 30-minute ride later in the trip proved it to be the wiser (less painful) choice.

I think the climb took about three hours, though I really lost track of time. As it got colder and colder (between elevation changes and desert climate), I wished I hadn't forgotten my sweater in Cairo while feeling thankful J had loaned me an extra shirt, but they cheered me on with the promise of blankets available for rent up at the top. In retrospect, the ideal system would be to wear several layers (and gloves!) starting in the beginning, shedding most of them after warming up with the hike to avoid sweating, and adding more again as it gets colder, especially at the top.

Have I mentioned the killer cough and insufficient clothing enough? And J wasn't feeling so well either. We were quite a pair, neither of us certain we would live to post pictures of the event. Still, our twenty-something-ness got the best of us, and for the sake of not having to wait for the seventy-somethings, more than a few times we were scrambling up places not really meant for scrambling up. All the while we were calling out "Dahab Groub? Killer Cobras? Killer Cobras!"

Nearing the top, we enjoyed a hot tea, rented a blanket and a pad to sit on, and moved toward the top to find a spot with a good view. And then we waited. And waited. And dozed. And coughed. And waited. And even with the blanket, I thought I was going to freeze to death. Then the sun started to come up from behind the rows and rows of mountains, and the view was enough to make me forget that I couldn't feel my fingers or toes.


On the way down, we took the second path - the Steps of Penance - set by a monk at St. Kat's Monastery and definitely steeper than the camel path up. Taking the road less traveled offered the advantages of fewer crowds and the ability to set our own pace, though fatigued muscles led to a few slips and trips by the end. Reaching the monastery at the bottom, we went inside to see the burning bush*, which - if I may say so - was a little underwhelming but still not to be missed if you're going to the trouble of climbing up and down the mountain.

*Disclaimer: said bush claims to be a descendent of the original burning bush. Note that the bush, pictured here, is not burning, nor does it change colors, nor do much else of interest. One hopes that said bush may bloom red, orange, and yellow at some time of year, but the present visitor witnessed no such phenomenon.