Departing from our hotel at 11pm on a minibus, the two-hour ride took us along climbing, winding mountain roads site of St. Catherine’s Monastery and the trailhead for our trek summit of Mt. Sinai. The 14-person minibus would have comfortably fit about six people so the 12 weary passengers squeezed into it looked (and felt) like tightly-packed sardines. The high-speed ride was an adventure in itself that included police checkpoints with repeated passport checks and is best characterized by our driver’s apparent desire to set a new “land speed record” through the Sinai mountains. In general, Egyptians drive with reckless abandon of speed limits and safety measures (like seatbelts) but this driver was a maniac in comparison and our lives flashed before our eyes each time he took a curve at what seemed like 90 miles per hour. Our hearts raced for the duration of the ride and no one got a wink of sleep.
When we finally arrived at the base of the mountain, a Bedouin guide led us in our ascent along the “camel trail”. It is called the “camel trail” because the Bedouins, reminiscent of the Sand People from Star Wars, earn a living by soliciting camel rides up and down the mountain, selling refreshments at designated oases along the path and renting out blankets and mattresses at the summit. The trail is narrow, rocky and strewn with camel dung, which is difficult to avoid especially in the moonlight. It is shared by hikers and camels alike so when you heard the familiar “Be careful! Camel!” you had to quickly move aside to let the camel caravan pass because even the 21st century camels aren’t equipped with brakes. The hike was much more rigorous and grueling than we had anticipated. The terrain was steep and jagged. We carried head lamps but it seemed as though the moonlight better illuminated the angles of the rocks. The bright half moon and stars gleamed against the blackness of the sky and, as we climbed higher, we could see the winding trail outlined by the torches and flashlights of the hikers below us.
As we reached the summit, after a three-hour climb, our under-layers of clothing were drenched with sweat and the cold night air chilled us bone. Huddled together between a mattress and two of the Bedouin blankets, we still shivered beneath the stars for almost two hours before the orange sun began to rise from a purple haze. It slowly ascended, brightening the horizon and melting away the chill of the night with its warm, revitalizing rays. We stayed wrapped in the blankets as long as we could but finally laid them on a rock and groggily followed the quietly stirring crowd. We descended a different path, a long stone stairway, which afforded us a different view of the landscape. Our host at the Penguin had told us that there are 3,750 stairs; we don’t know if that figure is accurate but it sounds about right. It took us about an hour and a half to climb down. As we approached the bottom, we got a fantastic view of St. Catherine’s Monastery but the view was deceptive because we still had about 800 stairs to descend. Aaron’s knee had begun to bother him about an hour into our ascent and my legs were trembling from exhaustion and overexertion but we made it to the bottom relatively unscathed. In hindsight, the Mt. Sinai hike was a box to be checked but we would not do it again. We’ve seen more impressive sunsets in Tucson with much less effort. The most valuable insight gained from the primitive and punishing sojourn was the realization of the faith, dedication and physical stamina that Moses had to endure such a desolate, rugged climb to receive the Ten Commandments. I suppose that, had we heard the call of God beckoning us to reach for the summit, we might have toiled less begrudgingly. That thought calls for a little more soul searching for which we must definitely budget some time.
St. Catherine’s (the oldest Christian monastery still in existence in the world) opened to tourists at nine o’clock so we had almost two hours to kill. In the courtyard of the compound, a small coffee shop was open so we grabbed a couple of coffees and sat at a table in the courtyard. There were quite a few people there – a lot of Greek yiayias – waiting for the church to open. We had pulled out some snacks that we had packed and munched quietly. There were several children running around the courtyard, who seemed to belong to the monastery, and one of the boys approached us and asked for the rest of our orange cake. We gave it up and he hungrily walked away. The monastery is located in such a desolate, isolated spot that the children, if in fact they live there, don’t see a lot of packaged treats. When 9:00 rolled around, we lined up in the heat of the morning sun and eventually got in around 9:30.
The church was gorgeous and, as we entered the narthex, the familiar aroma of incense permeated the air and we immediately felt at home. We listed our names and the names of our family to be included in the prayers for the Orthodox living and nonliving. We venerated the relic of St. Catherine – a surprisingly large piece of bone, displayed in a glass case with ornamental trim. The icons were old and beautiful, some of them dating back to the 6th and 7th centuries. The chandeliers were all gold and the paint on the walls was a pale shade of sky blue. We paid an extra fare to enter the Library, which houses the treasures of the monastery. The price of admission into the Library is 25 Egyptian pounds per person but when Aaron greeted the monk at the entrance and told him that we were Orthodox (and conveniently presented his Orthodox Christian card that Father Michael had given to him); we entered for the “Orthodox price” of only 10 Egyptian pounds each. The treasures inside were magical! The unique and awe-inspiring icons were among the most beautiful that we have ever seen. There were old, handwritten manuscripts in Greek and Arabic with colorful, hand-painted depictions of Biblical scenes and the most gorgeous red vestments, adorned with gold and pearl detail and delicate embroidery. There were crowns, staffs and other priestly accessories of equal decadence and we wanted Father Michael there to share that powerful experience with us…and to impart his knowledge of the significance of it all. We had so little time inside because our minibus was set to depart at 10:30; we wanted to spend hours inside that magical treasury. As it was after 10:15, we left the Library prematurely and ran down the dusty road for about 10 minutes with backpacks thrashing against our backs to catch our bus. We did also see the Burning Bush, which was inside the courtyard of the monastery, and broke off a couple of pieces to take away. We didn’t realize until the next day, as we were thumbing through our souvenir book, that we had missed the skull room – a small cell which houses a huge pile of skulls from all of the monks who have prayed and died there. We would LOVE to have seen that – how mysteriously beautiful and haunting! We have learned our lesson about doing our homework before visiting places of such powerful historical significance!
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