ROCK CLIMBING IN THE SINAI DESERT

Nicky Spaldin

It was Easter and I was in Israel. The ’local crag’ in Jerusalem was so overrun with tourists and terrorists that I decided to go climbing with the Israeli Alpine Club at St. Catherine’s in the Sinai Desert. Attracted by the thought of 1000 foot granite domes and miles of unclimbed rock, Adrian flew out from England to join me.

After persuading the border guard that our climbing gear wasn’t part of a secret military operation, we found an Arab taxi, which, for the extortionate fee of £250 each, drove us the 200 miles from the border to St. Catherine’s village in the middle of the Sinai desert.

Campsites were plentiful - we just had to select a suitably large boulder to pitch our tent behind and escape the attention of the Egyptian police. Local bedouin each own a walled-off tree indicating a water source, and rubber pipes run for miles from there to their homes. Shortly after we arrived, one came and unscrewed a pipe near our camp, letting us collect water and indicating general approval of our presence.

The next day started with great confusion. Nobody seemed to know which mountain was which, and the map was in Hebrew. To save trying to find an old route, we decided to open a new one instead, so picked a tempting blank face and wandered up that. Or rather, Adrian wandered up, and I staggered behind indicating my discontent with the complete lack of handholds, footholds and gear to hang onto. In fact we had found a good quality, five pitch HVS/E1 which included some technical and exposed face climbing as well as strenuous cracks. This was my first new route and had I not been too exhausted to appreciate it, I’m sure I would have been very excited.

Day two saw us on the six-pitch ’Pharoahs Chimney’, an excellent VS and a welcome respite from the previous day’s exertion. The route was opened by two English climbers in 1977 who wrote an article about Sinai for Climber and Rambler in March of that year. We climbed with an American who had a house in the ’Gunks. Fortunately, he soon forgave us for having spoken to him in pidgin English till then, and we were all too happy to exchange addresses.

A shopping expedition followed, and the baker tried to swap us a camel for our ropes - to tie up his other camels with. Instead we gave him two and a half pence for ten pitta breads, and he was amazed at the generous tip. A mud hut in the town centre announced itself as the supermarket by having a Coca-Cola sign outside. Here we bought cans of tuna to vary our diet of pitta bread, pitta bread and pitta bread.

Very few climbers are known to visit St. Catherine’s. Apart from Israelis, only a handful of Europeans have recorded new routes or been seen in the area. However, many pilgrims go there to walk up Mt. Moses (Jebel Musa) where the Ten Commandments were allegedly received, and to visit the seventh century Greek Orthodox Monastery at its foot. We decided to walk up, despite offers of a lift on a camel, passing a hollow where Elijah is supposed to have slept, and visiting the small chapel on top of the mountain. The monastery contains the Shrine of the Burning Bush, and much Renaissance art - somewhat out of place in the middle of a desert, I felt - as well as being as being a beautiful building in its own right.

The following days were spent climbing many more excellent routes an good rock and enjoying the emptiness of the place. Probably my favourite route was ’Stolen Mirror’ on Jebel Serrai, so named since the first ascensionists had the mirror removed from their car while climbing it. Being less privileged, we had to walk for two hours through a desolate wadi to reach the mountain, before spending a third trying to locate the start of the route. A lousy photocopy of the topo meant that we opened a four pitch variation start, before following the rest of the intended route to the top.

There are approximately 120 routes in the St. Catherine’s area, and although no guidebook exists, a log-book of first ascents is available. It is extremely cheap to live there, as food costs almost nothing and, being a Muslim country, there is no beer. Although it probably helped to be there with the Israelis who could speak the language, we were met with great friendliness and some amusement. I only hope that climbing will never become popular here, and ruin the unique atmosphere with an influx of flowery tights.