We are at Nuweiba Resort and diving centre – our first unscheduled day in the program and we are already 17 days in. Breakfast any time between 7 & 10, lunch between 1 & 3. Astonishing. We can just show up. We’re like 32 lost souls wandering around waiting to be told what to do as if we’d all lost our ability to make our own decisions.
Our night in the desert on the hard ground, the cold wind blowing sand in our faces seems like a lifetime ago. We’re all grateful – especially the ladies – for the porcelain toilets instead of ladies on the right of the rock and men on the left – and matches for the toilet paper. The silence of God’s Cathedral and the bright light of the night sky against the blackest backdrop – only three nights ago but another lifetime in my memory.
From the desert we went to St. Catherine’s monastery at the foot of Mount Sinai. The mountains in the Sinai desert are so different from the Judean. The Sinai is mountains of rock where as the Judean looks like mounds of sand. We had hiked a lot during the day in the forty degree heat so after having not really slept during out night in the “ten thousand stars hotel” the accommodations seemed five star when they were really only two – and one was for the location. To bed early and sleep came easily in preparation for the 3 AM wake up knock on the door.
Those of us who had chosen to make the trek up the mountain gathered in the courtyard at 3:30 AM to go to our camels. We were bundled up against the cold – 2 pairs of pants, 2 shirts, one hoodie, one jacket and one Bedouin Kaifa. There was silence mixed with nervous laughter as we walked the 50 metres to where the camel drivers waited. They negotiate and one by one they take us by the hand and guide us to our camel that will be our companion for the next hour and twenty minutes. Getting on the camel that is lying down was not too hard but there is no warning when the stand up and you are thrust forward sure that your nose will soon meet the ground. And then suddenly you’re up on the this magnificent beast with the safety of the earth far below.
There are no stirrups for your feet so the challenge is what to do with your legs. The moon is high in the sky so the shadows are long and the only sound is the drivers who walk along beside chatting to one another. Thankfully someone had told me that you could wrap your legs over the camels neck – my right one goes up easily but I have to lift my left with my hand. I can feel the strong shoulder muscles of my camel moving beneath my ankles. For part of the ride I bend my knees backward as if I’m riding a horse bareback – anything for a change of position – and there I feel the power of this beasts hips moving slowly, slowly with each step.
Although we are moving slowly up the mountain it is clear that my camel is used to being in the lead and we pass any who dare to go in front. My driver drops away almost immediately so I am on my own and my view is unobstructed. We meet empty camels with drivers coming down the mountains that click and cluck at my camel so he speeds up. I am afraid to make a sound in case I accidentally tell him to start to gallop. The front horn of the saddle digs into my diaphragm and my near empty pack feels heavy on my shoulders but as the temperature drops and we rise in altitude I am elated that I am here – doing something that I didn’t think I’d be able to do. Not for the first time on this trip I give thanks for the pharmaceuticals that made this possible.
When we arrive at the top my camel enters the “parking lot” and immediately sits down before a picture can be taken. He turns his head towards me and growls and snorts to clarify in no uncertain terms that the ride is over. My legs feel like jelly and I have to get a driver to lift me down. We go through a pass in the rock and enter a tea house to eat our bagged breakfast. The owner has to wake the guides who are sleeping on the benches under thick wool blankets. Most of us realize that our legs are shaking too much to hold them together to create a stable lap to unpack our breakfast.
Out we go to watch the sunrise and prepare the Eucharist. Ronda had decided not to travel up the mountain so I was able to take her place and assist Betty Piowar at the service. It was very meaningful for both of us as Betty lead my pre-ordination retreat in 2007. Surely we shocked some of the Eastern Europeans – not that there was a Eucharist but that there were two women presiding. There was music and prayers and a profound sense of the magnitude of where we were. When Betty and I consumed the remaining bread at the end (a very crumbly bun) we decided that we were on sacred ground and let the crumbs fly.
Some chose to continue up the remaining 800 or so steps to the summit but I knew that even with pharmaceutical assistance my hip would never make it. We see at a point just below there is an oasis – unusual at this altitude. One of the reasons that this is thought to be the place where Moses received the Ten Commandments on the Mount of Sinai is because of this oasis. He could have sustained himself for a long time up here by himself with the precious gift of water so unusual in the desert. We did not find any more commandments while we were there so we began our descent.
Dean Houghton and I maintained a good steady pace on the trek down. As camels and their drivers passed and asked if I wanted a ride down my legs screamed out “No!” About two thirds of the way down I became aware of my hip and as we had our first sighting of the monastery I was sure that I couldn’t take one more step. But I did, one foot in front of the other, and I was elated beyond belief. I celebrated with Doug with a beer at 9:00AM but considering all that we had done since 3:00AM when we woke it seemed appropriate.
I must ask for the details of St. Catherine’s monastery again. At the time we went through the exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks. I recall being really impressed by how the conquering Muslims dealt with this place and allowed the monks to stay and the for the Christians to remain. At some point they built a Mosque within its walls – a minaret for all to see – and charging armies would not attack. Very clever indeed. It was one of the only churches (Greek Orthodox, incidentally) that they did not allow visitors to take picture and no talking was allowed. Even with the hundreds of tourists that travelled through every day the monks were able to maintain a prayerful space amidst the insanity.
I sleep on the bus between the monastery and the resort at Nuweiba. We are on the shores of the sea of Abaca and even though the internet is down and I can’t make a phone call to Canada it is nice to rest, if only for a day.
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