LAST OF EGYPT -- SHARM, DAHAB, ST. CATHERINE’S AND MT. SINAI

Sharm el Sheikh (simply called “Sharm” to regular visitors) is located at the southern tip of Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula, parting the Strait of Tiran and the Gulf of Aqaba.  In the same way Mexico’s Caribbean resort of Cancun appears to be a sawed off piece of US tourist coastline that has simply been floated further south, Sharm feels out of place.

The city of 35,000 is really more Baja Peninsula in character and Mexican than it is Egyptian.  This includes its whitewashed architecture, its cuisine, and its mode of dress.  Casual is the operative word when referring to Sharm.  That and “packaged holiday.”  There are more Russians here at any given moment than in Red Square on May Day.

Sharm was a sleepy fishing village for years, until it was developed by the Israelis after taking over the Sinai following its capture from the Egyptians during the 1956 Suez War.  It was relinquished to Egypt the following year, and recaptured by Israel anew following the 1967 Seven-Day War.  Egypt has had permanent possession since 1982 after a peace agreement with Israel was signed in 1979.

The Egyptians have developed the flat local desert landscape into a resort magnet and governing administrative hub known for its nightlife, fishing, windsurfing, parasailing, golf, snorkeling, and scuba diving.

Terrorism attacks in 2005 depressed the tourist industry temporarily, when Muslim Brotherhood sympathizers killed 88 people and wounded 200 others.  Somewhat quizzically, most of those murdered were Egyptian.  Access to the area is very controlled now, and presently Sharm is considered one of the safest areas for travel in all of Egypt.

I was here for the scuba diving.  Sharm is legendary among certificated divers for its wall dives, coral reefs, sunken wrecks, and colorful fish.  I particularly wanted to see The Thistlegorm, a British cargo vessel sunk in 1941 by German aircraft while waiting to queue up with other transports for the long run to North Africa via the Suez Canal.  It rests in close to 100 feet of water about a two hour ride from Sharm by boat.

The ordinance dropped by two Luftwaffe bombers returning to Crete landed amidship in her ammunition locker, ripping the stern section off the cargo bays and folding some of the deck back on itself. The ship went down rapidly and yet somehow bottomed out upright.

The Thistlegorm was first explored by Jacques Cousteau (inventor of modern scuba equipment) in the fifties. Since then it has become one of the best wreck dives in the world. The holds are open and easily accessed.  They magically display a full range of military cargo that includes trucks, motorbikes, plane wings and engines, trains and tenders, ammunition, and an assortment of armored vehicles.

The wreck is exposed to strong tidal currents and difficult surface winds, which can make descent inadvisable at times. These conditions and the depth of the wreck allow access only for experienced divers.  I was unable to visit, because of being on a tight schedule for Sharm and boats departing for the location only every other day.  Since I had not dived for three+ years, a time-robbing checkout dive was required of me that ruined any chance of experiencing this superb site or any other wreck due to their depth.

Instead I dove at Ras Mohammed National Park, at the extreme southern tip of the Sinai and forming the headlands of Sharm el Sheikh.  The park was established as a marine sanctuary soon after Egypt regained control of the peninsula, for the protection of fish and terrestrial life (dynamite and large nets at one time were accepted means of fishing).  Halting the spread of urban sprawl encroaching from the fast developing city only 8 kilometers away was a secondary consideration.

I was attracted to the site due to its reputation for being the home of over 1000 species of fish, and over 220 varieties of coral.  As might be expected, I found the coral to be not quite as colorful as advertised in diving rags.  The fish however were plentiful and very vibrant.  I enjoyed my two-tank afternoon at Ras Mohammed with first a wall dive, and then a reef dive.  Both were quite satisfying, if not in line with tourist board promos.

Dahab, a little more than an hour along the coast road headed north, is more laid-back than condo and time-share oriented Sharm.  It started as a sleepy Bedouin fishing village and has evolved very little from there.  Today it is a backpacker type burgh where you can easily obtain your own alcohol or weed, frolic with hippie squatters, dine without cost considerations (though many tony dining spots directly on the waterfront are poised to bleed your wallet quickly), snorkel at will, or traipse out to the desert --on camel or horse if you wish -- for both day and overnight trips.

This tightly clustered but geometrically ordered hamlet is really at its best for its just-plain-fun shopping.  A mixed lineup of markets and stalls (a disproportionate number of them being dive shops) with exceedingly well-mannered vendors line the main street on the way north to the primary scuba dive sites.  They offer casual finger food with specialty crab and fish and shrimp dishes, sandals, beach clothing, handicrafts, shells, and jewelry for every budget.  Amusingly, virtually every store offers tours and tickets as a sideline, no matter how far removed their primary business is from the tourist trade.

I am introduced to my local handler, Jimmy.  He has been assigned to me by the incredibly efficient Mostafa Hashed back in Cairo – my Egypt organizer sans peer.  Jimmy is adroit at marketing.  His business card simply says “Jimmy Dohab.”  Everybody in town knows him.  We stop along the street on the way to dinner, stopping every fifty feet for him to chat up another local.  Instead of being annoyed, I revel in his personality, and his connections.  Like Mostafa, he is marvelously efficient.

Jimmy is used to operating a fleet of businesses, operating multiple vehicles, and handling hundreds of tourists at a time.  That is not possible in present-day Egypt.  Perhaps President Sisi will inspire enough belief in the new Egypt and her security improvements that visitors will return to their pre-2011 levels, prior to the Egyptian revolution.  For now, he operates on 10% of his normal income.  I am impressed he does so with a grateful heart.

Jimmy is sufficiently engaging that I invite him to dine with me at a local shop he has recommended.  It is one of a handful of restaurants in Dohab where you pick your newly caught seafood from ice trays on the display floor, have them grilled in the back kitchen, then run upstairs to you still fresh.  My selection includes red snapper and six huge scampi. Cool cross breezes and a view of the Gulf of Aqaba encourage relaxed dining.

Like every other Egyptian I have talked with in the previous two weeks, Jimmy is very optimistic about President Sisi.  He puts complete faith in his promises for an improved future for Egypt.  For virtually all who speak to the situation this starts with diminishment of the Muslim Brotherhood and the return of international confidence in Egypt as a tourist destination.  Like most, he remains mystified why the Islamicists have no regard for their country, and would deliberately engage in activities (both legal and terror related) that chase off foreign investment and visitors and jobs.

Jimmy sets up a pair of dives for me about ten kilometers north of town at spots known internationally as The Canyon and The Blue Hole.  The Blue Hole has a reputation as being the “world’s most dangerous dive site” – aka “The Divers’ Cemetery.”  Usually this is not a place to scuba for one who has not dived in over three years, save for the previous day.  I never dive without a divemaster however – even when employing the buddy system – and feel quite safe.

The Blue Hole is an underwater sinkhole close to 130 meters deep. There is a slit opening around six meters deep known as "the saddle" which funnels the blue hole out to sea near the surface, and provides access to dive walls outside the hole.  Another 25 meter long slit known as “the arch” connects the hole to the open sea at a much deeper level.  Its highest point is at a depth of 56 meters – well below maximum allowed depth for recreational divers.  One can already see the temptation, and the problem.

Since records have been kept, Egyptian authorities admit to 40 deaths at the site.  Local divers report the number is over twice that.   All but one of those deaths has been male, leading one female dive guide to observe "the most dangerous substance in the Blue Hole is testosterone,” referring to a male proclivity to occasionally respond foolishly to extreme challenges.
  
The problem begins as divers elect to gain the open sea at the danger level arch instead of the near surface level saddle.  Visibility is dim.  At times precious air is wasted just finding the arch opening.  If it is missed, continued descent to greater depths can easily be fatal. If divers find it, the arch can be misleading -- clear Red Sea water makes it appear smaller and closer than it really is.  Extra effort is expended on the mirage.

Current also pushes in to the arch tunnel from the open sea, slowing divers in their crossing.  Most are probably not specialty certified nor do they have the proper equipment for such depths.  There are no reference points as the arch descends toward the open sea, leading to disorientation.  This, combined with extreme depth is a very bad combination all told.

Luckily my divemaster is a prudent man.  We do not attempt the arch or go anywhere near it.  I bask amidst the saddle exit, wall diving outside, and multiple hues of layered blue at various depths both inside and outside the hole.  The most fun comes from watching heavily weighted free divers descend without air deep beyond my vision into the blue hole depths, then rapidly ascend in a sport crazier than any other I know.

Mt. Sinai and its rocky desert approaches has always been known as the domain of monks, mystics, madmen, ascetics, prophets, lepers, and now terrorists.  The south-central Sinai mountain is known of course worldwide as the site described in The Torah and The Bible where Moses received The Ten Commandments from God in the form of stone tablets.

The excellent quality inbound road from Dohab takes two hours, starting a bit short of midnight.  Multiple security checkpoints along the way scrutinize our faces, our passports, and our bags.  Arrival at the peak departure point parking lot takes place without incident.  A brief orientation is provided by our excellent English speaking guide.  Once again, his name is Mohammed.

Starting close to 2 AM, a group of ten of us follows Mohammed uphill over a rocky trail strewn with ribs of rock, shallow trenches, and camel dung.  We have flashlights.  He does not.  He has made over 100 ascents of the mountain, and knows his way in the dark.  The trail is very mindful of the hiker’s path leading to the summit massif of Mt. Whitney in California – highest point in the continental United States.  In daylight hours later, the summit rocks and escarpment prove to be eerily similar as well.

Along the way about every 20 minutes are relief huts, offering cookies, candy, chocolate, soft drinks, the proverbial Arab tea in one of its concoctions ... and blankets.  The trail is very uneven.  Not much looking ahead is attempted, though the lights of each successive rest hut above beckon reassuringly.  Luckily, the trail is not lengthy.  It is six kilometers to the top.  We have made good time, and arrive 90 minutes before sunrise.

Time enough to hunker down in a cave on a crumpled chaise lounge cushion, wrapped by a rented blanket twenty feet from the summit temple.  I awake from my nap just in time to catch the sunrise, peeking in over the horizon from Saudi Arabia.  Once again, there are more Russians here than can be found in Pentagon utility tunnels.  I am the only American present.

There is nothing spectacular about the sunrise.  Or the assorted gathering of 100 witnesses.  It is really an experience that allows you to say “I was there, part of that tradition going back 1000 years before the time of Christ.  I’ve joined a good fraternity.”  Another check marked off somebody’s Bucket List.  The descent is still hell on the knees.

Waiting at the bottom just short of our parking lot is St. Catherine’s Monastery --  otherwise known as “Sacred Monastery of The God-Trodden Mt. Sinai.”  The compound is one of the most continuously occupied monasteries on earth, tracing its roots back to 330 AD when the Roman Empress Helena ordered a chapel built beside what was believed to be the burning bush from which God spoke to Moses.

It was later expanded into a fortified monastery somewhere between 548 and 565.  Today approximately twenty Greek Orthodox Monks remain in residence at the monastery.  Throughout its storied history, the monastery has been a pilgrimage destination for Christians taking advantage of military escort available from Crusaders, among others.

The site is sacred to both Christians and Muslims and has been selected by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.  According to oral tradition, Catherine of Alexandria was a Christian martyr sentenced to death on the racking wheel. When this failed to kill her, she was beheaded. Legend says angels then took her remains to Mount Sinai, where monks from the Sinai Monastery are said to have found them around the year 800.

There are many attractions at the Monastery.  These include paintings, an ancient religious manuscript collection second only to that of the Vatican (in multiple languages), icons, a mysterious protected well, magical bone fragments, and something as obscure as the world’s oldest surviving roof truss.

The real star, however, is clearly The Burning Bush.  As a famous religious symbol the  bush represents many things to different faiths.  Jews, Christians and eventually Muslims came to see it in turn as a representation of God's divine energy, sacred light, revelation, knowledge, and a searing symbol of purity, love and cleansing. From a human standpoint, it also represents Moses' reverence and respect before God’s divine presence.

There are theories that the Burning Bush as witnessed by Moses, may have been a more permanent flame from another source that was merely proximate to the bush, may have been Mt. Sinai itself (which appears to be burning in certain lighting conditions), or resulted from flammable odors given off by seedpods and flowers of the local plant dictamnus.

Under certain conditions, when a match is introduced, odors from this plant ignite spontaneously in flame but quickly extinguish themselves from rapidly diminished fuel.  Some even go so far as to suggest Moses was under the influence of hallucinogens when encountering what has passed down in history as The Burning Bush.

I do not contemplate the mystery for long.  A two hour ride remains to the Sinai port town of Nuweiba, and from there another hour and one-half ridiculously priced ($80 US) ferry ride to the Jordanian port of Aqaba.  Traveling freestyle has its demands, even if it is spontaneous and opportunistic in nature.

Overall, I have found these Egyptians to be almost too helpful at times.  They have a tendency to not listen well, and to frequently interrupt.  They can be a bit pushy at first, mentioning tips just a little too often in an admittedly very tip dependent society.  But they defer quickly to a desire to be left alone and not hounded by vendors.  They are very respectful people.


I found them delightfully friendly, warm, hospitable, generous, open to other cultures and dress modes, talkative, helpful, and quite curious regarding the United States.  This is an area I very much look forward to returning to at some stage.  The people (and not the antiquities) is the reason I rate Egypt among my five most favored countries on this journey.