Retreat to Dahab & The Orange Tube of Terminal Boredom

Returning to Dahab we checked ourselves into Mishmishi for the remaining five nights of our vacation.  Much the same as before, we spent our time at Dahab snorkelling, catching the 30C+ sun, eating, drinking, sleeping  and generally chilling out. 

Over the first two days, and thanks once again to Waleed (and Zoe's patience), I completed my PADI Advanced Open Water certificate - a deep water dive to 30 metres at the Blue Hole, followed by a navigation dive at Eel Gardens and a night dive off the Lighthouse.  Two weeks earlier I could not have thought of anything worse than doing a night dive.  It was a breeze.  It's as if the nitrogen bubbles create a euphoric feeling of invincibility.

Once I was done with the diving course, we spent our days on the sun lounges at the front of The Bedouin's Son; reading, drinking fresh juice and beers, eating pizza and going snorkelling on a reef just metres away.  The snorkelling was as good as The Blue Hole.  Drifting along the edge of the magnificent coral reef we saw Lion Fish, Stingrays, Clown Fish, Puffers, Trigger Fish, Morays, Groupers and hundreds of other species.  It's a shame that the tourists and locals treat the reef with such disdain - breaking off coral, walking on the reef, littering and even poaching (from a national park) would occur in full view.

As far as activities went, there were a few highlights and one lowlight:  We went on the world's worst sunset camel safari - crossing rubbish dumps, passing a dilapidated prison and conveniently missing the sunset.  It was so bad it was hilarious.  Although, at the time I had to contain myself because I thought Zoe might have exploded.  Despite his bumbling, we liked our fourteen year old guide.  He proudly announced that I was riding the oldest camel in Dahab.  And didn't I know it.

The horse-riding was much, much better and awesome fun (and less impactful on the nether regions).  I'd never ridden a horse at full speed before.  Zoe came close to disaster on one gallop as she slipped from her saddle and only saved from a fall by her foot being caught in the stirrup.

At night we ate out at a lamb barbecue place on the main street.  It served the best lamb sharma, kofte and shish I've ever tasted.  The chicken was top notch too.  Dinner, with a few beers, would come to USD12.


Slowly but surely the days, then the hours, slipped by.  I can't speak for Zoe don't think I've ever loathed the idea of returning to London so much.

More ugly, arrogant Russians at Sharm El Sheik airport confirmed to us that we'd made the correct decision in staying in Dahab.  The pushing and shoving in at security and checkin was so ridiculous it was laughable.  And it was a consolation that they were returning to shitholes like Kharkov and Smolensk.  My revenge was their very existence.

Romantic Sunset Camel Ride in Dahab.  Without the Romance or Sunset.

Lubbly jubbly.  Feasting in Dahab.

Completing the Advanced Open Water with Waleed at Dahab.

Horse riding on the beach, Dahab

Last day

Last photo...booo...

We'd boarded our EzyJet flight to London when I discovered that I'd forgotten to get a book for the journey.  So for the next five hours, forty-five minutes and six seconds I stared at the seat in front of me.

One last thing: We enjoyed the Sinai hugely.  It was a nice, relaxing end to our adventures.  The drawcard is the beauty and accessibility of the reef, and the inexpensive food and accommodation.  Biggest drawback was the ludicrous chauvinism on the part of the a large portion of the locals.  Our mates at The Bedouin's Son and The Sphinx tour company, our horse and camel guides and the taxi drivers from Mt Sinai and to Sharm airport were all nice and respectful guys.  Many of the rest were disrespectful to Zoe.  Their behaviour ranging from simple rudeness to criminal.  Mostly it was just pathetic.  It's of no surprise that 98% of female foreign tourists in Egypt suffer some sort of sexual harassment.

Holy Russian Hordes

The following afternoon, the cast and crew of Twiga loaded up, drove out of Dahab and headed West into the heart of the Sinai Peninsula.  The Israeli built highways carried us across the desolate Martian landscape toward our destination at Mt Sinai.  As we hurtled along, I lay face up on The Beach, drinking a beer and admiring the colours of the sunset while Zoe knelt chatting with Anthony and Lena; all meerkat-ting above the roof of the truck.  Wonderful stuff.

We arrived at the foot of Mt Sinai in the early evening.  Immediately we set about our evening chores.  Scotty
and I cooked up a peppered vege pasta which was a bit overdone on the pepper front...to say the least.  It was popular and moreish but the amount of coughing and spluttering was cause for minor concern.

Following dinner, we loaded up our day packs, put on some warm gear and, led by a Bedouin guide, began our trek to the summit of Mt Sinai. It was a three hour walk and very steep; the peak is at 2285m.  We reached a Bedouin camp just short of the summit at about 1am.  By this time we were bursting for the loo.  The loo was located at the edge of  a sheer drop.  Luckily it was pitch black otherwise I think I just would have wet myself.  As we returned to the camp a Bedouin emerged from under a pile of rotting blankets to demand money for using his thunderbox.  These people never miss an opportunity.

It was a very, very, very cold night.

At about 4am we were awoken by some activity down the mountain.  At first it was just the odd distant voice of an excited Russian and the shuffle of footsteps on the loose gravel tracks .  Over the next half-hour it crescendo-ed to a cacophony.  As the freezing wind rose, thousands of Russian pilgrims emerged from the pre-dawn twilight.  They crowded on top of and clambered around all the vantage points to watch the magnificent sunrise.  With a fair bit of urgency we rolled up our sleeping bags and fought for a position.  Being a wuss who's afraid of heights, I spent more time worrying about my companions falling off a cliff than watching the sunrise.  I spent a bit of time trying to work out how to get inside the small chapel which is apparently built around the rock from which God carved the tablets containing the Ten Commandments.  Unfortunately we couldn't get inside as the followers of the RoP would vandalise the joint and so it remains almost permanently locked.

Immediately following the show we set off back down the mountain to St Katharine's Monastery.  Allegedly it takes 2 hours to descend.  However, we had to contend with a single file descent which was being delayed by ridiculous Russian women walking down a stone and gravel mountainside in 4-inch heels.

Bloody Russians.

By the time we returned to the truck, ate our breakfast, packed our kit and said our goodbyes it was too late for a proper tour of St Katherine's before our scheduled taxi journey back to Dahab.

Bloody Russians.

What we did see of St Katharine's was quite impressive.  The monastery had been located on that spot since the sixth century.  It is surrounded by huge stone and earth ramparts to defend from Muslim Arab raiders.  The monks are self-sufficient: the courtyards contain olive groves, grape vines, vegetable patches and livestock.  Unfortunately, we did not have enough time to view enter the chapels or the library (which contains the most important set of Christian religious texts outside of the Vatican).

Bloody Russians.

Departing Dahab for Mt Sinai

Road to Mt Sinai

Troy, Scotty amd Andy prepping history's most pepper laden meal

My privacy being respected by Zoe as dinner starts causing issues

Effin' freezing

The Russian Horde arrives

Sunrise, Mt Sinai

Jason giving me a heart attack, Mt Sinai

Zoe & Andy, Mt Sinai

Let there be light!

The queue down the mountain

Acute ass...and a donkey

Bye Twiga

Bye Twiga

Anyhow, it was a bit sad saying goodbye to Twiga and the team.  There was a bit of regret that we didn't continue on the long journey across the Suez to Egypt proper.  We'd made some good friends on the truck.  However, we reminded ourselves that Egypt would be part of our big trek through Africa and its cultural sites would be there as they had been for thousands of years.

Chilling Out Above and Below The Waves

About two hours south of Nuweiba the road finally breaks out of the desert mountains onto a thin strip of coastal plain.  In the distance, nestled between piles of trash, abandoned construction sites, a major service road and the sea sits Dhahab.  Colin drove Twiga through the world's most useless military checkpoint, past a paramilitary compound constructed by a mad Dutchman and up the main street of Dhahab.  We pulled up outside our hostel and unloaded.

For the next three nights we ate, drank, slept, swam , snorkeled and sunned ourselves beside the Red Sea.  On the first day we jeeped it to world famous the Blue  Hole - a circular reef section about 5 miles north of the town.  The sea life was captivating and beautiful.  A tinge of envy overcame me as I snorkeled above the teams of divers 20 metres below.  Sensing this, experienced divers Tanzin, Mike and Brad, along with keen beginner, Maarten, convinced me to do a beginners dive course.  I'd always been irrationally petrified of diving - the very thought made me feel claustrophobic.  Zoe signed up as well but then decided against it.  So, it was with great trepidation and much fumbling that I began the course the next day.  To my amazement, and self-amusement, it was easy.  Our instructor Waleed was calm, controlled and friendly.  For the next two days I spent morning to dusk learning the ropes of diving and studying the theory while Zoe frequented the reefside cafes, chilling out, taking in sun and lots of fresh juice.   Both Maarten and I passed our open water certificate without much trouble at all.  If anything, I regret not doing diving earlier in life.  It's very relaxing and very satisfying.

All in all we were pretty satisfied with the place.  It was cheap, there was plenty to do and, aside from constant unwanted attention visited upon the girls, it was safe.  At night we ate at a few of the many restaurants along the esplanade.  The food was standard fare - burgers, kebabs, pizza, seafood, pasta - but it was good value and the local beer was cheap at about USD1.50 for a pint bottle.  Accommodation was simple but clean, comfortable ,convenient and quiet and cost a paltry USD per person per night, including breakfast.

We were due to leave Dhahab to go to Mt Sinai when Zoe and I decided to can our planned trip to Naama Bay.  We figured, after talking to Ian and Colin, that even with the cancellation fee it was cheaper and more satisfying for us to return to Dhahab instead of continuing to Sharm after Mt Sinai.

A Bit Like Moses...Well...Not Really...

After a lazy, if not slightly wasteful, poolside afternoon at Aquba we rode Twiga to the ferry port for our excruciatingly boring crossing to Egypt.  It was at this point that I recalled the Australian Army maxim of "Hurry up and wait!" - our journey of 48 hours from Wadi Rum to Dhahab would be long periods of insipid nothingness punctuated by moments of excitement and urgent activity.

Our arrival at the ferry port invoked a wave of curiosity from our fellow ferry passengers with lots of pointing and waving.  First task was to secure our visas from officious Egyptian border control officials located inside the compound.  Second, was to wait at the truck for a few hours, playing hacky-sack; at first amongst ourselves, then with some of the large number of Arabs who had congregated around the truck to check out Twiga, our game and, last but not least, our female companions.  At about 1am we re-boarded the truck and were loaded into the hold of the ferry.  The group congregated in the 1st Class Passenger lounge.  As a group we were separated from the other passengers as Arab males apparently cannot be trusted to not sexually assault Western female passengers.  While most of the group set up camp in the lounge, those of us who had pre-booked the privilege were assigned dank, dirty and smelly state rooms deep in the belly of the ship.  Zoe, quite understandably, was seriously unhappy with the quality of our accommodation.  Our four hour "sleep" was constantly interrupted by Arab passengers, who banged on our door calling out "It's time to go" in the hope that we would vacate our room (in the false belief that we had reached Nuweiba) so they could lock the door behind us and squat.  The deceitful puerility of many locals was starting to get fairly annoying.

At about 7am we reached Nuweiba in Egypt and unloaded on foot.  For the next three hours we waited in the immigration compound while the famously lazy and corrupt Egyptian officialdom swing into action; first to deliberately delay and frustrate tired passengers, then to demand extra payment to release vehicles.  In the meantime we put together some breakfast and did some admin.  Finally at about 10am, we were on the road across the searing desert moonscape of the Sinai to Dhahab.