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:
