Mons Claudianus – a trip to the Roman quarries

The Arabian Desert between the Red Sea and the Nile is not only rich in sand but also in gems, gold, minerals and stones. Appreciated by the old Egyptians, the quarries supplied them with pillars, sarcophagus and other building material for the pyramids and temples and with gems for all the jewellery and decoration we still can admire.

The Romans as well resorted to these treasures and improved the art of quarrying. In Wadi Hammamat, between el Quesir and Quena, lies Mons Claudianus, allegedly the best preserved Roman settlement amongst several quarries.

No matter whether you’re standing aloft the fort or inside: whatever the visitor gets to see is simply fascinating: In the middle of the mountains, in the middle of the desert, in the middle of nothing and under the unforgiving blazing sun lie the ruins of the settlement. Apparently, Mons Claudianus was not just a simple temporary dwelling, but rather a luxurious home for well-paid craftsmen, who lacked for nothing. The one, who takes his time for a stroll between the laneways, will marvel even more: walls made by perfectly piled up stone slabs and well preserved mud bricks, water basins and bathtubs with steps, alcoves and water channels. Thousands of shards lie about – what was once stored inside?

Redsea Mountains in winter

It was very cold. It was stormy. It was an unusual opportunity, to go to the Redsea Mountains. I was allowed to join a group.

Robbyguided us to a small hidden oasis and I betook myself. I walked over debris and rocks, upwards, across and headed away… away from the people, out into seclusion and silence. It was not completely silent, however; the wind sang, danced over the rocks and whirled up the sand. Not a sandstorm yet, but rather stormy it was.

Upon my return to the oasis, I was brought back to the here and now: the others were hungry! So, off we went to find a somehow protected place for a barbecue. A barbecue in that stormy wind? Robby made the impossible possible. Yet the sunset afterwards did not happen; mountains, sky and desert blurred into an indefinite grey. Since we had departed way too late (the others wanted it that way), we ran out of time; gazing at the starlit sky far away from the light pollution was out of question. We had to get out of the desert.

I will never forget the next two and half hours: the two light beams of Robby’s jeep shone into the dark night, over car tracks whose sand grains had already been swirled up by the storm. We crossed tracks, guessed skylines of mountains, discovered a lost star. I was wondering about my fellows’ thoughts. Doubts? Fear? No idea… I trusted Robby. Indeed: at the same moment as I recognised a wall of rock in the twilight, Robby asked me, whether I knew where we were. This was a fantastic performance; this man really knows “his” desert.

I hope I will soon have another chance…

Here are some impressions:

Bedouin's cemetry

German

The lost people II

(posted on my German blog 19 July 2014)

In May I posted an appeal for help. It was about helping the Bedouins living in the Red Sea Mountains after they had lost all their belongings due to the torrential rains in March. Thanks to all of you who contacted Robby Schropp and to all my friends for their confidence and support.

Off the lorry tracks, Robby and the Bedouins built a market place between 2009 and 2011. Here, producers from the interior met with purchasers from the coast who sold cheese, eggs, meat and wool. A huge water reservoir stored the most precious good in the desert.

Before choosing the site, the council of elders was contacted and none of them remembered having seen deluge of water in this area. The site was considered as safe – however, nature decided differently.

Please have a look of what has become the market place:

Whether the site can be rebuilt any time in the future is unclear for lack of funds. If you wish to help, please get in touch with Robby or with me.

The Sound of Silence of the Red Sea Mountains

(posted on my German blog on 16 June 2014)

There it is again, this insatiable longing for landscape: wideness, altitude and void. While the jeep is racing across the sand track and brown, pink coloured and light grey rocks approach, my thoughts linger in the past.

*****

As a young girl, I used to devour books of adventure stories. TV did not attract me. I had my own movies in my mind that I created out of the letters and lines I read: camel trains crossing the Sahara, pilots surviving a crash in the Kalahari Desert thanks to their knowledge, and all those made-up fairy tales about Kara Ben Nemsi… That was my world.

Later then, I saw the „real“ desert: first in South America, then here in Egypt. On my first trip heading from Luxor to Hurghada in a tourist bus, I opened my eyes wide in surprise: there were mountains in the middle of the desert! Unconsciously, I memorised the journey. Some years later, on my second trip in the reverse direction, I recognised the rocks and curves again – it was my landscape.

*****

Robby is steering the Jeep through a narrow river bed, to our left and right rise layers of sandstone in a gentle beige, light yellow and rose on top of each other. Seemingly petrified waves bear up in the silence, betray their treasures and tell their history to those who may listen and look there: corals, fossils and nesting places for birds. Amidst this furnace there is green and flowering: three months after the devastating rain floods last March, the desert is still in full blossom. I’m excited about the coloured flowers, green herbs and bushes. My mates however, are bending over fossil figures in the coral block – 40 km linear distance from the Red Sea shore.

The tread pattern leaves ephemeral traces on the wide open plain. In the distant mist, some Red Sea Mountain Peaks soar; now and then, somehow in the middle of nowhere, stands an acacia. After a while, there stands another one, as if connected to the first one by an underground water channel. Between them thorn bushes grow or there’s only stone desert. The rain has washed away, down to the coast line, all the sand scattered by the wind. The scree and pebbles are left over. Soon, Robby says, the scree and pebbles will sink into the sand and the ground will become soft again.

How long have we been on the road? I’ve lost all sense of time; fortunately. Here, there is no noise, no garbage, hardly any human traces – so why should we care for the time? The sun is high in the sky, the air becomes clearer and we drive into a valley. Granite gleams brightly in the heat, brittle black rock is apparently steadily on the move. Yellow ochre sand lies among those sculptures. We follow the direction of the wadi until we can’t go no further. Robby guides us across boulders up to a little saddle, where we have a breath taking look on more landscape: beneath our feet spread the Red Sea Mountains: rocks, peaks, valleys, rocks, peaks, valleys… westbound to the Nile, southbound to North Sudan. I’d love to continue walking, hiking, further, onwards… Yet, now in summer, it’s too hot, I would not even be able to carry all the water needed. But in winter, it’s possible, at least for a couple of days…

We leave the narrow valley behind us, and head deeper into the mountains… Sometimes the ground is soft and there is wheel spin, however, Robby reliably steers the Jeep back on solid ground.

Asking „stop!“ is what we agreed to halt the car and take pictures; yet Robby reluctantly wags his head. Gradually, he slows down and stops the car behind the sixth or seventh acacia above the invisible lifeline. This is where we’re going to have lunch and a rest, in the shadow of “his” acacia. Within a moment, Robby prepares a barbecue and treats us with cool, fresh salad, grilled chicken, potatoes and vegetables. To our surprise, there is also fresh fruit and tea. Lazing about is not difficult with a full belly and in this heat.

We decamp; roll out of the valley, around a hill, into another valley where the rocks gradually retreat; we’re leaving the mountains, but first, the Jeep climbs a steep sand slope until it gets stuck. We scramble on foot for the remaining meters and up there, we stop breathlessly: we look across the huge sand plane between sea and mountains, discern a slim white line and behind it the vaguely blue glimmering sea. What a final for this day!

*****

And, Robby looks at me questioningly. My answer: There it is again, this longing for landscape that can never be satisfied, but only keeps on growing.

This journey is a day trip by Jeep with Robby Schropp from iQ-onTour. Robby organizes trips and trekking (one-day or several days) as requested for individualists and nature lovers, inquisitive people and outdoor freaks. The trips are organised and conducted meticulously and with much blood, sweat and tears. More details at iQ-onTour.

Some impressions:

German

Cycling from Hurghada to Marsa Alam

(originally posted on my German blog in November 2013)

I’ve already described the journey from Hurghada to El Quesir twice (here and here). In October 2013, we finally did a two-days-trip to Marsa Alam.

*****

I’m awake even before the alarm clock rings – I didn’t sleep well, as usual, when I have to get up early. A glimmer of dawn is peeping through the curtains; I jump out of bed, quickly grasp my camera and tear open the door of the bungalow. A few steps only take me to the beach, just in time to watch a blazing fireball rise from the sea, dyeing the sky from a pale twilight into a bright red. Overwhelmed do I stand and watch this natural spectacle, listening to the quiet wash of the waves. Can I ever get enough of this?

Yet, I have to hurry, my cycling mate wants to climb the bike at six; so I go back to wash myself and brush my teeth. However, the tap stays dry – do they think here that we don’t need any water at night? – and I help myself with the remaining mineral water.

Moments later I’m standing in full cycling attire in front of the breakfast buffet or rather where it is supposed to be; because there isn’t any.

*****

We finally leave at half past six; the fire ball has metamorphosed into the well-known sun. Temperatures are still pleasant, it’s still cool and we mutely are rolling on for an hour. I need some time to get awake, my legs are tired.

Suddenly, I’m getting aware of anything moving on my right hand side and I give a jerk: a dog is striding silently beside us. Normally, dogs bark and try to catch us – but this one here, it’s a she by the way, seems to have great fun accompanying us! She doesn’t let go, runs on the asphalt or changes the side of the street looking for a better terrain just to keep up with us. I watch her fascinatedly: her forelegs lunge out and her body stretches athletically… 

After a couple of kilometres we stop; I want to give her a biscuit and she gladly takes the refreshment. Yet, we have to go on, it’s getting warmer and we’ve only cycled a small part of the 135 km. We vigorously continue pedalling and the dog joins us, however, she increasingly falls back. She can’t keep up with us any more although she doesn’t give up for a long time. Again and again, I turn my head to see if she’s still there… eventually, I can’t make her out anymore. I’ll possibly never forget this encounter for the rest of my life.

*****

I’m pedalling and pedalling. My legs move up and down, my hands are trying to find another position on the handlebar. The long asphalt line stretches in the sun, bends to the right and to the left, ascends naughtily in order to cling to incredibly steep hills, only to drop down boldly on the other side of the hill. I don’t notice the desert anymore and there’s hardly any traffic. All I can see is this long sordid asphalt line, the countless hills in front of me and the sparkling sea far to my left. 

From El Quesir on, there are street signs indicating the kilometres: Marsa Alam 85km, Shalateen 335 km. Marsa Alam 80km, Shalateen 330 km… I feel as if the distance decreases at slow motion only, whilst I’m pedalling with all my strength. Only much later, actually just before Marsa Alam, we find out that the distances given are inaccurate. The distance between El Quesir and Marsa Alam is 137 km; from Hurghada to Marsa Alam it is in total 270 km.

*****

Does the street really have to climb and fall steadily? Since we’re at the sea! I feel terribly hot and am longing for some cold water. Stupidly, we didn’t cool down our stock of mineral water during the night and I have to count the costs… Cooling form inside is what I wish right now. On the way uphill short before Port Ghalib, I can see a petrol station. “Cold water” crosses my mind. Yet neither in the petrol station shop nor in the coffee shop beside can I get hold of the sought after liquid – although there are piles of boxes full of mineral water outside the coffee shop. The display refrigerators are locked and inside of the coffee shop I can’t find anybody. Well then, yes, it’s Eid El Kibir, the most important Muslim holiday and the guy might be having a nap somewhere… I’m disappointed and climb my bike again.

*****

We pass by the turning to Port Ghalib and I console myself with the idea that tonight, I’ll be sitting there with a cold beer. For now, we roll down to the next plane and climb up the next hill.

I’m so tired that I actually should be falling off my bicycle. Yet the music in my head phones encourages me and as soon as I am on top of a hill and see the next valley ahead of me, I joyfully and boldly precipitate… just to climb up again a few minutes later. At every ascent, I fall back further behind my cycling mate – a clear sign that I’m at the end of my rope.

*****

Suddenly, Marsa Alam is ahead of us. No “Welcome to Marsa Alam” sign, completely unspectacular, almost disappointed we arrive at our goal. We stow away our bikes in the escort car in a side street and I gulp down ice cold coke and water to cool down my working temperature.

*****

We drive back to Port Ghalib where I stay two days while my cycling mate returns to Hurghada.

I frankly admit that the day after, I was so extremely tired, that I didn’t want to move at all but rather sit somewhere or even better: just lounge around. And eat. For two days running, I had two breakfasts and two lunches!

On my way back to Hurghada I honestly wondered how I could have cycled those 270km within two days – it’s still a miracle to me! But I made it and I’m proud of it.

(German)

Luxuries in the desert

Luxury is something different for all of us; here in Egypt it might signify that a family gets hold of enough food every day. For others, to allow themselves to eat meat once per week, to send their children to a good school or to wear a new jacket on feast days.

Luxury might connote going on a two-weeks-holiday to Rimini once a year, to own a car or to call a yacht one’s own.

Those managers, housewives and other highly committed citizens, who rush from date to date, quickly do their shopping after work, hurry to the gym in order to be at home just in time for the late  news, set their alarm clock for 6am so that they can continue to hurry next morning… All those might declare “having time” as their luxury.

For me, it means to do something at that moment when I feel like doing it. This has really become a luxury good in our consumption stricken affluent society. It’s kind of a liberty that we hardly grant ourselves.

Yet, there is something even rarer to find in the era of technology:

Utter silence

Where can it still be found? Far away from civilization, i.e. on top of a mountain peak. In the sea. In the desert.

I’ve missed this absolute silence since I lost the mountains in the Alps. Here in the desert, I’ve found it again for a moment. To halt… amidst this infinite vastness… to stay motionlessly… to breathe deeply and listen. To listen and take in the absolute quiet: it was a wonderful experience.

I was surprised about the vastness: I underestimated the distance between the Sea and the first rocks of the Red Sea Mountains. In fact, the sand plain extends up to 40 km into the West, before reaching the black, light grey and pink rocks – far enough from the noise of the civilisation.

The one who thinks he will be ready for the uncertainties of the mountains or the desert, just because he can afford the up-to-the-minute brands and technical achievements, might be deceived. Just remember the numerous avalanche victims of this winter. Owning a Barryvox doesn’t protect you from an avalanche or the avalanche death! Just as little as one doesn’t climb a mountain off-handedly, one doesn’t enter the desert off-handedly. Some experience, reason and prudence are necessary in order to be able to face unwelcomed surprises or life-threatening conditions. It is recommendable to engage a specialist, a mountain guide in the mountains and a desert fox :) in the desert.

My long cycling trips on scarcely used highways bestow me somehow with this silence. Yet I felt happier on a mountain bike on the sand tracks (although it does need some stamina)! Hence, just because I was further away from civilization and because there was no sound at all. Just silence.

My luxury.

Deutsch

Once again on the way to El Quesir

In November, we once again cycled to El Quesir, my cycling mate and I. The trip was quiet, the tail wind helped us once more and we arrived at our goal again after about four hours riding.

We had a shower and relaxed in a very simple camp. I can’t imagine how divers can endure staying here for a longer period of time, because the facilities are actually rather basic. There are reed huts covered with palm leafs, joint sanitary installations with running water; when we were there, there was a power cut. On the beach are huts as well and I imagine how romantic it might be, being in love, to spend a night in such a hut listening to the sound of the see… as long as mosquitos can be kept afar. The location is impressing and the view on mountains, desert and sea are gorgeous. Here are some pictures:

My desire for change and alternation, knowledge and culture pushed me to see more from El Quesir this time. I’ve known some time before, that phosphate was exploited here and that Italians had invested in the mining. I wanted to see the premises that were built by the Italians around 100 years ago (today, the phosphate mining is situated around 25km north of El Quesir). Two Germans who live in El Quesir led us through dusty lanes to the area.

We cautiously entered the mouldering factory hall with curiosity, surprise and amazement, peeked through broken windows, crossed the huge square between factory, administration, villas and the church. Nowadays, it’s a ghost city, hastily left as it seems; but I imagined how this place must have been bustling, Italian language and culture, Egyptian labourers, balmy evenings on the veranda with a glass of red wine, arduous heat in the day. The administration building still shows some stuffed dust covered hunting trophies exposed to decay. I was especially taken with a Tuscany villa: high rooms, verandas, a bright yellow façade, palm trees, a big garden, sea view… The only building that has been renovated and is still in use is the church, now Coptic. Here are some impressions:

I was delighted to have finally received some “brain food” and once more felt convinced, that this region has much more to offer than only sun, beach, sea and diving. This day was exactly to my taste: sports, culture, nice people and a fish dinner on the beach under a starlit sky to wrap up the day.

By the way, El Quesir used to be an important port in the ancient world and in the middle age, and here and there are discoveries waiting to be admired…

Away from the daily routine

Cultural live in Hurghada is a bit dreary. There are lots of bars, cafes, restaurants, night clubs, beach clubs and discos.

That’s not enough for more ambitious minds. There is no theatre, no classical music, no ambitious cinema, no reading and so on.

Yet now are feast days (Eid el Adha) and there are exceptions.

El Gouna
I was in the Marina in El Gouna, where live bands play music, comedians cause you laughing and artists thrill with their skills. In El Gouna, the crème of the Egyptian’s society romps about (tourists from all over the world as well, of course) and it did me extremely good to see neat, civilised, well-dressed people. I couldn’t get off my eyes from an elderly man with huge old-fashioned glasses and a horrible hairpiece. Where have I seen him before? When a young man had a photo taken shaking hands with the elderly man, I asked my colleague, who this was. Moufid Fawzy, a TV presenter, interviewer and journalist, who had his own TV show that was critical towards the old regime. And this here, pointing to an elegant gentleman, is a famous Egyptian actor… I smiled and somehow felt good and cosy, a bit like at the Côte d’Azur in summer. The smart yachts some meters behind us and an immaculate starlit sky intensified this feeling.

Sahl Hasheesh
This is another wonderful place outside of Hurghada, where I’ve recently been to a festival. The exceptional thing there is the setting: the event takes place in a captivating oriental building with water gardens, sea view and an astonishing starlit sky.

Mohamed Mounir live
Was it the most beautiful experience? Yesterday, Mohamed Mounir - the “king”, as Egyptians call him – gave a concert in Makadi Bay, about 25 km outside of Hurghada. When I got to know it, I wanted to attend by all means; I love Mohamed Mounir’s voice. He has a special status with Egyptians: he is aware of his responsibility as a famous and popular star and his songs deal with all the present problems, call for temperance, patience and solidarity. His music neatly combines traditional Egyptian instruments and rhythms with Jazz, Reggae and African rhythms. In addition to that comes his strange voice singing in Arabic and Nubian.

I went with low expectations and was all the more surprised: there was security; there were ambulances, a fire engine, chemical toilets and food booths. The parking ushers made big efforts and most of the cars were parked correctly. The stage décor, light- and stage-show and cameras were as it is supposed to be at big concerts. Remarkable? Somehow yes, since I’ve seen only little quality in Hurghada up to now.

Again, the setting was exceptional: a huge sandy place, lightly sloping towards the stage, outside a holiday resort a bit uphill, starlit sky, an almost full bright moon and a cool breeze.

 

Yes, it was the most beautiful experience I’ve had since I settled down in this country three and a half years ago: for two hours I forgot daily life and enjoyed the music, fireworks and the peaceful ambiance…

And shortly before the end of the concert we quickly went to the car to avoid the upcoming traffic jam.

Albeit, I stayed away of the crowd and that was good; as I got to know today, unfortunately, there were again harassments.

El Gouna, Sahl Hasheesh and Makadi Bay have lots in common: they are groomed, expensive and far away from Hurghada – being without car. I was invited by friends and colleagues and I joyfully accepted.

Away from daily life – it did me extremely good and I’m still dreaming…

 

For those who wish to know more:
www.elgouna.com
www.sahl-hasheesh.com
http://hurghadablog.blogspot.com/2011/05/orientalischer-traum-sahl-hasheesh.html
http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mohamed_Mounir

On the road to El Quesir

The sun is rising from the sea, the air is still fresh and streets are empty. We are cycling… out of Hurghada, up to the checkpoint and passing by the well-known junctions: Makadi, Soma Bay, and Safaga.

Since I’ve never been to Safaga, we drive through the long-drawn-out village and what belongs to it. Our saddle has become a cinema chair to watch the scenery: vegetable stalls and shops, in front of which men dressed in kaftans stand, walk, read the newspaper and women dressed in black balancing their shopping on their head, alternate with typical local coffee shops, run down schools and buildings. Garbage is everywhere and I remember Egyptians being excited about how clean Hurghada was. Europeans judge differently though.

We continue cycling. The streets lead us up and down across the foothills of the Red Sea Mountains. Its usually golden-yellow colour has changed into a grey-black since we let Safaga behind us. Like a dark grey stripe, the asphalt strap lays unrolled in front of us for many kilometres and gets lost somewhere in the shimmery horizon. The ascents offer us variations and motivation: after having reached the peak with the tail wind, we pedal even stronger and plummet down eagerly in order to cross the next well in a dash and to climb the next ascent with less effort. The street is ours alone since we left Safaga.

 

 

 

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous?” was a justified question by friends whom I told about our plan. No, it isn’t because a) I don’t go alone, b) we leave early in the morning and c) we have an escort vehicle.

 

Emad, our driver, goes along with us in a caring way: he stops at open spots, supplies us with cold water, takes pictures and unmistakably enjoys the air condition and the high-quality Hi-Fi of my cycling mate’s car.

Still cycling. The grey-black mountains have withdrawn; the well-known golden-yellow colour dominates. The scenery is monotonous: no hills, only gentle elevations. It is very hot and although I keep on drinking water, I never have to relief myself (which was not a good indication as I had to learn three weeks later). I eat an apple, some date biscuits, some nuts. I can’t eat a lot whereas my mate is continuously busy with eating.

The air is glistening in the heat. I can’t stop looking around, I take in the view of this strange, captivating scenery, which it still is for me although having lived here for more than three years. My eyes wander towards the sparkling sea and I discover… cyclists?... people on two wheels?... mountain bikes?... I fear having a hallucination or seeing a fata morgana. I call attention to Michael and yes, he sees them as well, they are real. We stop, shout and wave. They come towards us: mountain bikers from a hotel nearby biking with their guide. We are far more excited about seeing other bikers than they are. We don’t meet like-minded people as easily but contrarily are rather exotic in and around Hurghada.

A short while later, the road merges into one lane only and the asphalt strap follows close to the sea and the fine sandy beach. Now and there people enjoy themselves with a bath in the sea. We continue cycling towards our destination and come closer to a transhipment point for phosphate. A huge phosphate cloud cloaks us. A cargo vessel is being loaded with phosphate and lorries loaded with the precious dust start their journey to Cairo. I imagine the conditions under which the workers do their labour here and that sooner or later, they all end up with a black lung.

 

It’s getting hotter, sweat and dust sticks on the face, on arms and legs. We continue cycling silently, every one of us being busy with his/her thoughts, impressions and sufferings. A short exchange of words cheers us up. Mountains and hills become more varied and I feel again this longing for mountain biking in the Red Sea Mountains one day in the future.

 

We pass by the mining company which means: 15 km to go till El Quesir! I send a sms to the General Manager of the Hotel Mövenpick to announce our arrival. Shortly afterwards, we arrive at the hotel entrance and let Emad take another picture from us.  Tired but proud and full of joy we stow away our bicycles and after a shower, mingle unobtrusively with the hotel guests. Moving between shower, beach, bathing, eating and swimming pool is almost a bit tiring - we want to enjoy the beautiful hotel facility ;). Thank you Mr. Mehdy.

 

 

At dusk, we get on the car and go home with plenty of exhilarating impressions and heavy legs, with above us a beautiful desert sky full of stars.

It is thanks to Michael that I could undertake this journey. At present, this trip is not recommendable for a single woman, yet together, further trips are possible. For me, this signifies a new quality of life.

Key data: 130km, 4 hours cycling, tons of water