The 4.30 A.M wake-up call after a fairly sleepless night was ambitious at best,
but I knew I had to meet my pick-up at Go Bus in Downtown at Tahrir Square at the joyful hour of 0540. This meant I needed to be on my way by 5.10 from Maadi, according to Google maps.
I was apprehensively excited - I did not know who I was going with or what the next couple of days held in store for me, other than I was going to see the Black Desert, the White Desert, Crystal Mountain, some cave and camp in the desert.
I needed a nature fix and I was also hoping for some hiking; to move my body was top on my list.
I had stagnated, almost crawling to a complete halt since I arrived in Cairo.
I met Yasmeen the tour organiser from Travelya and together with four others we boarded a luxury van and headed inland - Western Desert bound.
Cairo is sleepy on a Friday morning, so the empty roads meant we cleared the city boundaries quickly, and soon apartment blocks gave way to sand and dead-straight roads, seemingly headed into nowhere - forever.
The Western Desert of Egypt is an area of the Sahara that lies west of the river Nile, up to the Libyan border, and south from the Mediterranean Sea to the border with Sudan. To put it simply - its a massive expanse of sand and rock.
The surreal landscapes of the Western Desert
Every now and then a mosque would punctuate the empty landscape, or a fuel station with promises of toilets and bottled water.
The toilets were worse than disgusting in some places, but beggars can't be choosers. The more inland we went, the worse these basic amenities became. I learnt when I arrived in Egypt the importance of taking a pack of tissues with me everywhere - public toilets, if in a usable state, almost never had toilet paper in them.
I also started to wonder if hand sanitizer should be in my bag also.
As we progressed further into the barren wasteland ocean of sand, every stop in small villages became an opportunity for the “stare at the foreigner” game. I hated that game. There was only ever one winner and didn’t appear to be any rules apart from they get to stare and laugh and gossip about me, while I scurried about quickly gathering necessities, avoiding eye-contact and offering shukran’s and other time-of-day appropriate greetings. Most of these places were totally devoid of females, so not only was I a female, in a sea of testosterone, but I was a LONE western female wearing pants out in the middle of nowhere with a group of clearly not western people.
I found myself at times become quite irritated by this.
Also everyone assumed I was fresh off the boat and would proclaim “American! Welcome to Egypt!”.
I know they meant well, but I just wish my Arabic was good enough to say “hey, I live here!”.
Not wanting to be rude, I didn’t poke my camera in anyone's face and held off taking photos. So many wasted opportunities to capture life here - old men attached by hose pipe to the Sheesha; puffing away in their long bedouin attire with cloths wound atop their heads; flies swarming around plates of traditional Egyptian food while a smoking indoor kitchen divests glorious smells of spices which waft through a tin shed “cafe”; fuel stations with no fuel; tick-ridden dogs looking longingly at some guys pile of bread; backgammon games inside dark stain-walled rooms between men on low chairs and tables and lets not forget the obligatory 7-year old boy running the local store whilst smoking a cheap cigarette, with filthy long fingernails and yellow teeth, eye-balling me while I shopped for chocolate. Cadbury’s none-the-less.
Hazem’s weapon of choice - the trusty Toyota!
The van trundled on with loud what seemed like prayers played on loop, until we pulled up at another of these mid-desert roadside ‘pit-stops’ strewn with garbage and tangles of machinery. Yasmeen told us all to get out and to put all our things into the heavily laden 4-wheel drive we had parked next to and to all squeeze into the seats along with our packs and bags.
At this point I felt like that useless tourist who turns up with the biggest most awkward bag to stow. Yes, I was that person. I had brought a backpack (only a quarter full) and my camera pack.It was proving a right pain in the arse and I saw Hazem eyeing up the roof-rack to attach my pack to. “Oh no ya don’t”, I thought, with imaginings of personal paraphernalia flying down the road out of my pack, behind the vehicle as we took off at what I expected to be break-neck speed. The pack ended up in its own seat and I ended up nursing my camera bag on my lap.
All good.
It was a squeeze though and no sooner had the driver Hazem (what an awesome name), shut the door than we were off and no time was wasted in making haste either.
A sea of solar panels in the outskirts of the Black Desert.
By the time we had swapped vehicles it was late in the morning. We stopped in at a small village where we ate breakfast along with several other tour groups. Sitting on the floor around low tables draped with colourful cloths, we ate lunch and chatted.
Amongst the chatter my ears suddenly tuned into a familiar twang.
I went over to a group of three and knew instantly I was amongst Kiwi’s. Two were over from Wellington visiting their friend (the third person) who just happened to be the consulate at the New Zealand Embassy in Zamalek. He gave me his card and said he was happy to help if I ever needed anything. Of all places - in the middle of nowhere in a branch covered mud shed. Coincidences.
After food, we were off on a fast camel - so to speak.
Hazem had his foot right in it down the highway and then a sudden veering off the side onto the sand took us into the Black Desert. Even though Hazem was telling the other passengers all about this place in Arabic, I got the gist.
Volcanic remnants from a millennia passed.
It’s one of the natural parks that make up the Saharan area in Egypt, (we were by now about 4 hours from Cairo) and tends to be considered a bit of a ‘passing through’ area to get to the much better known and possibly more highly regarded White Desert, where we would be camping for the night.
According to experts, some 180 million years ago –in the early Jurassic- the region was under the sea, but the intense volcanic activity which affected the entire planet changed its geology, raising ocean land, from where peaks gradually emerged, resulting in the formation of basaltic rocks.
During that process, what was later known as the Al-Marsous Mountain emerged, a magnificent crater covered by volcanic veined marble, whose layers fill wrinkles marked by time, in its old rocks. It certainly made for a mars-esque landscape and also oddly reminded me of the organ pipes in Dunedin, with basalt columns emanating all the way around the sides of the ancient volcanic mounds. It was a geologists wet-dream.
The next stop saw us pulling up at Crystal Mountain, an unusual formation thought to be a subvolcanic vault, which emerged probably during the Oligocene age, resulting in Barite and Calcite crystals protruding from the earth in such a manner that they can be broken off - another bucket list place no doubt for geology aficionados.
It was amazing to see these crystals literally sitting on the ground, rather than buried deep in some subterranean cavern. I quietly stowed one or two in my pants pockets and wondered if I would be struck by bad ju-ju.
After some interesting excursions into surreal topography via narrow steep-walled canyons and precipitous sand dunes (which were used for a short sand-boarding ride), we arrived at the White Desert (Sahara el Beyda).
Gradually smaller tufts of white chalk and limestone gave way to larger animalistic rock formations, taking on different characters as the sun became lower in the sky.
The white rock formations of The White Desert
As far as the eye could see, white outcrops were dotted throughout the terrain like irregular apostrophes. The White Desert is a National Park and covers an area of 3,010 km2. The highest point in the park is at El Qess Abu Said at 353 m (1,158 ft) above sea level, and the lowest is at Wadi Hennis at 32 m.
Under Mushroom Rock
It was hard to imagine how any life could ever exist here - especially in the searing heat we had experienced that afternoon. As the sun slunk away though, so too did the temperatures. Life does indeed manage to eek out an existence here, with the park serving as a refuge for various animals, including the endangered Rhim gazelle and the vulnerable Dorcas gazelle, as well as Barbary sheep; jackals; Rüppell's, red and Fennec foxes; and the sand cat.
It was also going to be home to the endangered, hungry and tired Kiwi wanderer for the next 24 hours.
Assigned a pop-up base for the night, I gratefully parked my sweaty body onto my sleeping roll and gazed out at the view from my door. A large lion-shaped rock dominated the scene as the sky changed from golden light to pink to blue. The first star emerged. A clear sky promised an uncompromised cast of pinpoints and I began to get excited about what the heavens would look like from Egypt compared to the bottom of the planet in New Zealand.
The lion rock view from my tent
Our group had joined another and the two bedouin guide drivers began to organise the area for dinner. A fire was lit, chairs emerged from inside one of the vehicles, and various blankets, port-a-loo and other basic comforts were set up ready to experience a night in the desert.
The sky grew darker and I wandered away from the camp in order to take some shots before moon rise, which was expected to be around 9.30 pm. I was hoping to capture some Milky Way but alas that wasn’t to be as dinner intercepted my planned photography time. Dinner - a WONDERFUL feast - won out and we gathered around the fire to be entertained by drumming, clapping and singing. What an awesome vibe.
The moon appeared HUGE above the horizon, lighting up the entire vista, and the chalky outcrops took on an iridescent glow as if someone had turned the lights on, reflecting the moon's light out into the void. It was so bright that headlamps were not required. I felt as if I was in a meringue landscape with fairy lights dangling above. It was surreal.
I cursed not having my astro lens, but decided to make the most of where I was - in this incredible terrain - and capture what I could anyway.
Gazing high, I could make out what I knew as the Matariki cluster in New Zealand, only it was flipped up. We do not see this cluster until winter, down in the Southern Hemisphere, so it was novel to see it so high in the sky. I also noticed Pleiades, or the Iron Pot as we call it back home - again flipped up (something I had seen numerous times in USA).
The sky was not especially black, due to the large moon, but with no light pollution apart from the moon's light, it was a sight to behold - almost as good as the night sky in the South Island of NZ - almost - especially against the whipped egg-white environment around me.
Even though we had experienced searing temperatures during the day, then evening rapidly became cold, and I donned my puffer jacket - which I ended up sleeping in. I also brought my own sleeping bag which I was thankful for, as I needed it! The safari provides a sleeping bag, very thin bed roll and a heavy blanket. I was just right with all this layering AND my puffer, but one German man from the other group complained that he was cold all night and didn’t sleep as a result.
I woke at the fart of sparrow (or I should say, the cry of fox), to wander in the glow of a pre-dawn colour-fest. The sun took its own time to get high enough to poke over the edge of the planet and an instant temperature change penetrated out over the surrounds when the first rays poked through the gaps in the eerie landscape.
I knew I had slept well when the German told me the howling and barking dogs had kept him awake, along with being too cold. I had stuffed my ears full of earplugs and didn’t hear a thing. I slept well, for about 6 hours - enough to claim back some energy for another day of feasting upon the stunning sights.
Dogs? Hmmm… I knew there were foxes out here but we were an awfully long way from civilization to attract dogs, I would have thought. I did though spot some prints in the sand before we vacated the camp site though.
Dog prints?
Heading back to Cairo we had one detour which was to Djara Cave. This cave was literally an unassuming hole in the ground - a dark pit in an otherwise pancake landscape.
You would miss it if you blinked - or fell into it! We were able to walk almost upright though into the entrace and once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could see we were in a massive cavern pierced by stalagmites and stalactites. It was approx 30m wide, 60m long with a high ceiling of around 8m high and various off-shoots that receded into darkness like the mouth of some undersea monster.
Looking up to the entrance of Djara Cave
Our driver had taken in some candles and placed these around the outer edges of the cave, casting an ethereal glow about the void. I cursed not bringing my tripod down with me to capture the beautiful light (hence the borrowed image below).
Borrowed image
The cave is the natural result of pure water coming in contact with the dry desert climate, over millions of years. It also contains animal engravings dating back from the Neolithic Period. It was discovered twice; initially by the German explorer Gerhard Rohlfs, and then forgotten for a millennia, and recently re-discovered in 1989 by the German adventurer Dr Carlo Bergmann, who was exploring the area by camel.
Cave profile
This cave remains as one of the most stunning examples of the effect of chemical activity over millions of years, and a unique treasure of nature's own version of cave art, with its natural version of hanging chandeliers. It felt like being inside an ancient cathedral, as shafts of golden light penetrated the spaces. Archeological study concluded the cave was inhabited at some point in history. You can read more about that here if interested. Today it is classified as the second most important Stone-Age settlement in the Western Desert after Nabta Playa, by the German Archaeological Institute.
It was a welcome respite from the pressing heat outside and we lingered, savouring the cool haven. Outside the cave, just prior to piling back into the car, we spotted a Fennec Fox - a female, as evidenced by her full teats, attempting to scavenge any titbits of food she could. I wondered how any creature could survive in such dry desolation.
Fennec Fox
At least there’s one good thing about driving in the desert in Egypt; the roads are dead straight - there’s no wasted driving energy on turning corners or negotiating mountain passes.
I did worry though that our driver would nod off - it was almost hypnotising, it was so straight.
I tried to follow along on google maps, becoming excited when I saw an intersection, but then slumping back into resignation when I was told we had another four hours of the same. We rolled into Tahrir Square (which is a circle), at around 8pm; the throngs of noise, taxis, people, smells, horns beeping, lights, and general civilisation reminded me how much I needed a shower, and I hurriedly found my uber - apologising for being stinky - and fell into the backseat, happy to be heading home to running water and a soft bed, but with my cup full of amazing pinch-myself experiences.