Category: History of Sinai

August 23, 2015

Bedouin navigation in Sinai

The Sinai has a reputation for being tricky to navigate. It’s the spot Biblical legend has it Moses got lost for forty years. History books report pilgrim caravans disappearing in the wilderness. Monks from the Monastery of St Katherine have gone wayward on mountain trails in recent times, as have hikers and inexperienced tour guides (who shouldn’t be guides at all). I often hear the Sinai described as a maze or a labyrinth (never by the Bedouin, always by outsiders) and I’ve heard people wonder awestruck at how the Bedouin navigate it, as though they must be possessed of a navigational sixth sense. At times, with the best Bedouin navigators, it can feel like they do have a sixth sense; but I’ll try and demystify exactly what that is in this blog post and how they do it.

There are a few things to say at the start. Firstly, although the Bedouin know the Sinai better than anybody in the world, they don’t all know it. The ones who know it exceptionally well and the best navigators are a small minority.

Most Bedouin know the Sinai averagely well at best (but it’s important to say this is still significantly better than the vast majority of outsiders).

It’s also important to say it’s still a lot better than most younger Bedouin. Many Bedouin – especially those under 30 years old – know the Sinai much less well than the generations that went before them. Many of the younger Bedouin would get lost if they walked far today and I’ve been with some who have done exactly that, relying on their camels to guide them the remainder of the journey (camels, incidentally, are all-too-often unfairly denigrated creatures with an incredible memory of routes they’ve walked in the Sinai, but this is another story).

That’s the reality of Bedouin life in the Sinai today. Most Bedouin – especially the younger generations – live in a more modern world where knowledge about how to navigate – as well as knowledge on how to use plants for food or medicine or to track animals or even knowledge about their tribe’s own heritage and history – is becoming increasingly irrelevant to life and thus forgotten.

The 21st century is the great age of attrition for Bedouin knowledge.

Second, it’s important to say that – even with the most knowledgeable of Bedouin navigators – their knowledge is usually confined to their own tribal territory. Take them to the territory of another tribe and they’ll know it much less well. A tribesman of the Jebeleya tribe from St Katherine won’t know the lowlands of the Tarabin tribe half as well as he knows his own high mountains. He may know the main wadis and mountains of the Tarabinian lowlands and may be able to navigate these but he’ll certainly miss a lot of the detail in between. This plays out on a smaller scale too. Often Bedouin will know a specific part of their territory – such as the one where they grew up – better than other parts.

Most Bedouin navigation – at least in South Sinai – is done from memory.

The Bedouin grow up walking; they walk with their parents, then increasingly on their own or with friends seeing the same landscapes repeatedly over many years and developing a deep familiarity with their small details and secrets. Over the years they build up an exceptionally rich mental picture of their territory; of what’s where and how to get there. Its mountain peaks, wadis and basins all act like gigantic reference points. These never change: they remain constant signs and waymarks for a Bedouin finding his way. Similarly, smaller, permanent signs in the landscape – a rock, or a fig tree; or a mark in a cliff – give more subtle reminders about where to go, where to turn etc.

Sometimes, in places where navigation is tricky – e.g. a rocky, sandy areas across which there is no path – the Bedouin build trail marking stones called rojoms. You can see one rojom from the next, following them in a line through the difficult section. The best navigators won’t need these rojoms but they’ll be extremely valuable to the Bedouin who know the landscape at best averagely well. Following these is just like following a path (and of course there are plenty of paths in the Sinai, some of which are easier to follow than others, but all of which simplify navigating the mountain landscape considerably).

What about ways the Bedouin use to navigate indepedent of memory though? Independent of what they know from the ground itself?

In some parts of the Middle East the stars were key to Bedouin navigation, including parts of North Sinai. Here the stars and sometimes the horns of a crescent moon were important for navigating at night. Two stars were of special significance: Polaris (which the Bedouin call Al Jidi) and Canopus (which they call Suhayl). You’ll often hear references to these – and how they were used for navigation – in poems and stories. Polaris was a constant guide to north, visible all night, all year, whereas Canopus – which indicated south – was less constant; it wasn’t always visible and when it was it’d often remain on show just a couple of hours. But this was mostly in North Sinai.

Things were different in South Sinai. I’ve never seen a Bedouin use the stars in the south and although many older Bedouin will know how to find north and south from the stars I’ve only heard of the stars being used to find the way here in the most exceptional of places and circumstances.

There are several reasons why North and South are different in this respect.

Generally, the stars are best for navigation in landscapes that can change – e.g. vast sandy deserts like the deep Sahara, where the wind can alter the shape of dunes, cover rocks and outcrops and blow any trails away. Or in landscapes that look the same; ones that are bereft of good landmarks and where it’s difficult to distinguish one part from the next, such as plains and low dunes common in North Sinai. The visual appearance of the land or at least human judgement of it can’t be taken as a good enough indicator of the way to go in these places which forces us to look outwards for other, more constant elements that give us more reliable guidance, like certain stars.

That’s different to South Sinai though. Unlike the North, this is chiefly a landscape of mountains and stony, rocky deserts with outcrops. It has a rich supply of markers that remain unchanging between the generations and which are ample to guide any good Bedouin navigator where he needs to go.

The Bedouin of South Sinai would have about as much reason to use the stars to navigate as a resident of Cairo would going between Zamalek and Maadi.

Simply, it’s unecessary. Better, easier things tell you the way.

Navigating with the stars also has serious limitations in a landscape that’s as intricate as South Sinai. Navigating here isn’t simply about identifying north and going for it in a straight line, like it might be in open deserts or plateaus or out on the sea. Big mountains get in the way in South Sinai. There are deep wadis to cross. There are high cliffs you can fall off. In landscapes like this the stars and the moon are more useful for the light they can throw over the landscape when they’re shining brightly rather than the directions they indicate. Getting through places like this is about micro navigating the intricate terrain of the mountains on routes that are winding, tricky and difficult to follow.

When I hear people say the Bedouin use the stars to navigate in South Sinai – especially now, in the 21st century – I know that i) either they know very little about the Sinai or the reality of navigation in it or ii) they do but they push this myth anyway because it sounds romantic and plays into outsiders’ – and especially Western outsiders’ – fantasies about who the Bedouin are and how they live that for whatever reason they want to capitalise on; it makes them sound exotic, with magical, esoteric skills, and an air of oriental mystique. I see this orientalising drive in bad travel writing and dodgy full moon party ads about the Sinai and – as appealing as it is to the imagination – the bulk of it isn’t true. Today, the reality is that many Bedouin – including some of its best navigators – are people who listen to mp3s, have smartphones and Facebook accounts; they watch TV shows, download stuff off the internet and spend hours on YouTube. And indeed why shouldn’t they? Why should this make them less Bedouin? Why should we maintain a description of the Bedouin that outsiders find romantically pleasing but which is out of date (assuming it was ever accurate at all)? Describing them in a more accurate and up-to-date way bursts the romantic vision many have but perhaps that isn’t a bad thing.

Up until now then it’s clear that – in South Sinai – the Bedouin navigate chiefly by getting to know specific areas exceptionally well; by building up a very rich mental map over many years that out-competes what anybody else could have and recognising the signs that mark the way.

It all sounds very visual and most of the time the vast bulk of it is.

Perhaps what sets the very best Bedouin navigators apart is their ability to use other senses – ie senses apart from sight – to know the way. Sometimes, this is necessary; especially in the high Sinai mountains, which can be hit by poor weather. Sometimes, mist and cloud whip across the mountains, reducing visibility; even so, visibility is very rarely so poor that a Bedouin navigator wouldn’t be able to see what was needed to make judgements about where to go. The worst conditions I’ve seen in the Sinai were on top of Jebel Katherina in freezing weather at night when visibility was just a few metres ahead.

Weather like this makes navigation much more serious. It makes it harder and it introduces a more unknown element into the equation which can spook some people and lead them into making bad decisions.

Nevertheless, a good Bedouin navigator would still be able to get through this. He will be slower; he will need to think and focus more, but the very best will nevertheless be able to deal with it and find his way through.

So how does he do that if he can’t see where he’s going?

Again, it all comes back to that exceptionally rich mental map a Bedouin has of a particular area: without sight, he needs to rely on other senses to interpret that map and locate his position on it. Whilst he might not see the ground he’s standing on, as he moves over a mountainside he’ll be able to feel the contours of the slope he’s on with his feet and balance: he’ll be able to feel where it gets steep and where it becomes flat; similarly, where it gets smooth, or rough, or where he walks onto scree. Each of these pieces of information is key and he will be able to use them to locate himself and proceed correctly. If you closed your eyes in your house and focused, you might be able to slowly find your way to the bedroom, feeling your way, using the same basic principles. It would’t be as easy as doing it with your eyes open, but it would be possible.

As well as the sense of touch the best navigator – again through his experience of having walked these landscapes so many times will have a sense of distance and timing built into his mental map. He will know how long it takes and feels to walk from one part of it to the next, even when doing it more slowly – for example in bad weather – and will be able to get a sense of where he is.

These techniques are similar – if less formal and exact – to the ones we’d use in the West to navigate in low visibility conditions.

When you wonder how the Bedouin navigate the Sinai – and I mean South Sinai here – remember, it’s chiefly about an extremely rich mental map. It’s about building up that map over many years and being able to interpret it intelligently through different senses as required. The way the Bedouin seem to ‘know’ the way even in the night or difficult weather might seem magical: but I hope this shows a bit of how it’s actually done. As for how outsiders in the Sinai, for all but the most experienced navigators you’ll generally need to use other methods (guidebooks, maps, GPS, Google Earth or a combo of these). Really though, the best plan is to use one of the best Bedouin guides/ navigators; because when you really need them, they are about as good as it gets keeping you safe through the Sinai. Nothing else comes close.

July 20, 2015

Old ways to St Katherine

Stand by the Monastery of St Katherine today and look around – swivelling through the full 360 degrees – and you’ll see high mountains locking you in on every side. Leave the monastery behind and venture up these mountains, heading for the very highest tops, and another – even more spectacular – view unfolds. A vast desert wilderness stretches out all around you, merging into the haze of faraway horizons. Sometimes, you can even see the high places of Africa and Asia. It’s a view that gives a sense of the Sinai’s epic isolation – the great no man’s land between continents – and of the Monastery of St Katherine; which stands in the most isolated part of the Sinai itself. Visiting the monastery today is easy – you can drive right up to its front gate – but getting here once required a long, gruelling camel expedition through remote stretches of wilderness.

The monastery might have been isolated, but it was still accessible. Travelling routes converged on it from all sides; some from Cairo, others from El Tur – an important port – and others from Jerusalem. Pilgrims, traders, travellers, warriors and poets all followed these ways before. And you can do exactly the same today.

Here are my five favourites – the best hiking routes to St Katherine.

1. WADI ISLEH One of three big wadis that cut through the gigantic chain of mountains that run down the Sinai’s west coast. It’s spectacular from the start – a canyon whose walls rise vertically to the sky. Waterfalls gush and palm trees stand buried to their heads by the sediments of old floods. This was the way from the old port of El Tur – (today’s capital of South Sinai) – and the main route upon which supplies reached the monastery. It became important after the Islamic Conquest, when other routes became difficult. It takes 3-5 days and is best done in spring, so you see the waterfalls at their fullest. Water in the desert always has a magic about it.

2. WADI MIR This gives an alternative way through the massive chain of mountains on the west coast. You soon get to a junction in the wadi where two routes diverge. One goes to Wadi Sig – my favourite wadi in the Sinai – whilst the other crosses a high pass known as Naqb Umm Seikha. This was the fastest, most direct route and as such the one along which post travelled to St Katherine (it was called Darb el Bosta – The Post Road). It’s another way in from El Tur – and to save your energy, you can even get a jeep a few kilos up the wadi. It takes 3-5 days to St Katherine but – be warned – it’s tougher than Wadi Isleh.

3. WADI HEBRAN The third of the big three wadis cutting into the Sinai’s huge western chain of mountains. It’s full of greenery and was the wadi through which Abbas Pasha – an old ruler of Egypt – planned a road to St Katherine. Today, talk of making a new modern road has resurfaced, which is all the more reason to walk it now. You have two options: you can exit the wadi on a route that connects to the old pilgrim route of Naqb el Hawa: Pass of the Winds. Alternatively, you can continue to Wadi Kabrin – a beautiful red rock wadi with Christian graffiti and hermit cells. Either way, give it 3-5 days start to finish.

4. DARB MUSA – the ‘Way of Moses‘. This is the legendary way to the Monastery of St Katherine from Suez, re-tracing the way it’s said Moses escaped the Pharaoh Ramses. It was the major route upon which travellers walked to the Monastery of St Katherine in times past and is recorded in several early guidebooks. Travellers would visit ‘Stations of the Exodus’ on the way – where it’s said Biblical stuff happened. Today, it’s best not to start in Suez; but in Wadi Gharandal, where Wadi Wutah gives a beautiful passage through the Wilderness of the Wanderings to Wadi Feiran and St Katherine. Give it 7-10 days all the way.

5. THE JERUSALEM ROUTE The route carried a steady flow of pilgrim traffic – connecting two major Christian sites in the Middle East. It entered the Sinai from the Negeb – the Sinai’s Bedouin sisterland to the north – and ran into Wadi Watir (which has a tarmac road today – but which is still beautiful). There were two routes into Wadi Watir – one down the coast from Taba – and another from further north. Thereafter the main route passed Ein Hudera; a green oasis with pilgrim graffiti. Today, a variation on this route is being re-made as the Abraham Path and will soon be ready. Give it 10-12 days to walk the whole thing end to end.

Remember all of these routes are walkable but they go through remote, isolated stretches of wilderness where help can be a long time coming if needed – so a good, experienced Bedouin guide is key to success. Going with the Bedouin is the smart move and it will add a whole new dimension to your trip. You won’t just get to know the way – you’ll really understand the desert and how to survive it. As well as a guide you’ll need to take a jeep to the beginning of most of the routes marked here. For the first three wadis the best place to start from is El Tur. For the fourth, you’ll need to get the jeep to Wadi Gharandal. Check out the best guides and jeep drivers in my Directory of the Best. Most of them will know the routes here and if they don’t they should be able to link you up with other trusted guides who will.

June 13, 2015

The Sinai: cool places to sleep

‘Spread a blanket beneath an apple tree and it’ll only gather apples’ wrote French author Antoine de Saint Exupery in Wind Sand and Stars. ‘Spread a blanket beneath the stars’ – he carried on – ‘and it’ll gather the dust of stars’. Like the Bedouin, he was a man who loved the desert; especially at night. He liked to lie back, face to face with the universe, gazing up at the glittering heavens and immersing himself in a picture of eternity. I’m sort of like that. Sleeping under the stars – out in the open, without a tent – is about as good as it gets for me. The Bedouin call it the ‘million star hotel’. And I’m totally with them. When I go back to sleeping inside I feel trapped with a roof over me. Tents can be good sometimes – like in winter – but I still don’t usually carry one. Neither do the Bedouin. They like to travel light, finding shelter if they need it. And sometimes, you DO need it. Sometimes it’s cold or windy or raining or whatever.

Luckily, the Sinai has plenty of shelter. A cave, an old shepherd’s house; a hermit cell, a rock with a hole under it. Basic – yes but with a beautiful, epic, lost age feel.

So here are the COOLEST places to sleep if you’re on a hike:

CAVES – there’ll always be something cool to me about sleeping in a cave. I actually enquired about renovating and living in a cave near St Katherine once (alas, it didn’t work out). Sleeping in a cave puts you inside the landscape. It makes you feel part of it. Caves are always atmospheric, especially with a fire at night. The cave in the pic is Kahf el Ghoula – The Ghoul’s Cave – on Jebel el Rabba. It’s OK but a bit damp and if anything too big to really get warm. My favourite caves to sleep in are in Wadi Maghara, near Wadi Feiran; actually, they’re not caves, they’re ancient mines from Pharaonic times. They’re great shelter and gaze out over a beautiful sweep of mountains.

HERMIT CELLS – these might be the Sinai’s best spots to sleep. They’re basically boulder houses built over a thousand years ago by Christians seeking refuge and solitude in the wilderness. Some are more advanced than others, like the one in the pic. You can see my red bag next to the door. Walk in and there’s a big porch where you can leave your stuff and make a fire. Crouch down and a little wooden door lets you into the main chamber which has sleeping platforms, shelves and air vents. It’s near Jebel Bab el Dunya and I slept here for two nights in a heavy snowfall in December 2013. There are other good ones on Jebel el Deir, Mount Sinai and in lots of other secret mountain spots.

HOLLOWS & HOLES– go to the desert parts of the Sinai and you’ll find landscapes with a surreal, Salvador Dali type vibe. Some of the rocks look like they’re melting in the sun, with strange droops in their sides and psychedelic swirls of colour. It’s all because of the way the sandstone erodes here; occasionally, the erosion creates bigger hollows into which you can crawl and use as sleeping pods. Some even have holes in the side, like windows. The best are on Jebel Mileihis. But they’re hidden well – so you’ll have to hunt. Higher in the mountains, you don’t usually get the same sort of thing; the closest equivalent are holes under big boulders, like in the pic above.

BEDOUIN SHELTERS – the Bedouin built an extensive network of shelters in the Sinai. They’re like hermit cells but they’re not usually as ancient and the Bedouin didn’t live in them long term either. They were built for Bedouin travellers or for ibex hunters – who still use them today. There are also old storehouses, which the Bedouin used for storing brushwood and provisions for when they needed them. They’re well hidden and just look like a small door in the cliff. Storehouses are usually a bit small; but if you really need shelter you can still squeeze inside and use them. My favourite shelter is near Jebel el Thebt; a totally hidden boulder house in a remote, windswept wadi.

HUTS, HOUSES & RUINS – OK, a hut doesn’t have the rugged charm of a cave, but these are still pretty cool places to sleep. Some huts are owned by the Monastery of St Katherine and usually have a crucifix on the door. There are old Bedouin houses too; four stone walls with a palm fond roof, still sometimes used. If you find people inside, they’ll always welcome you the Bedouin way. I reckon the best are in Wadi Sigillia, a wadi with waterfalls. Finally, look out for old ruins. Few have roofs but they give good windbreaks. And you sleep inside history itself. Not many folks can say they’ve slept in a Byzantine monastery or Ottoman Palace – unless they’ve been to Sinai…

Finally: an obligatory word to the wise. Shelter in the Sinai isn’t always easy to find; often, it’s hidden, because the Bedouin like it that way. You can walk past an amazing shelter, mistaking it for any old rock. Most of the Bedouin know where shelter is because they know the area. If they don’t, they know how to find it. Or make it. Before hiking without a tent – which gives cover anywhere, anytime – check the weather forecast and know where the shelters are. As well as knowing where the shelters are also know how to find or make one in an emergency. There’s nothing better than a good Bedouin guide to keep you safe – so do your research and use one. Finally, remember to leave shelters as you find them; and, if you can, to leave some useful stuff behind – e.g. sugar, tea, wood – because you never know, the people who follow you might really, really need it…

February 2, 2015

Five holy peaks of the Sinai

Mount Sinai is the spot they say God spoke with Moses, giving the 10 Commandments. It’s the Sinai’s holiest peak. You could make a good case for it being the holiest in the world too. Holier to more people, in more parts of the world, over a longer time, than any other mountain on earth – which is really something. It isn’t the Sinai’s only holy peak though. There are plenty of others. Some of them are holy because – like Mount Sinai – they’re on the Biblical map. Others, because of later miracles. And some were holy in much more distant eras, to much earlier peoples of the peninsula, whose religions we know little about today. Here are five holy peaks of the Sinai you rarely hear about:

1. JEBEL SERBAL Jebel Serbal looks amazing. If you had to say any peak in the Sinai was holy based on looks alone, it’d probably be this. And for a long time, people did say it was holy. Some scholars reckon the name Serbal comes from ‘Baal’, a pagan God who was worshipped in these parts of the Middle East in ancient times. There’s a little ruin on the mountain top that dates from a later era, which archaeologists reckon was a Nabataean temple. Later still, in Christian times, Jebel Serbal took on a whole new association. Early Christians believed it was the real Mount Sinai of The Bible – i.e not the peak we call Mount Sinai today. The ruins of the Sinai’s first episcopal city, plus hermit cells, chapels and crumbling stairways, still stand around the mountain today.

2. JEBEL KATHERINA Egypt’s highest peak. Legend has it angels carried the body of St Katherine here after the Romans killed her in Alexandria. The exact whereabouts of her bones remained unknown until one day in the 9th century when, claiming all had been revealed in a God-given dream, a local monk wandered up the mountain and found them on this summit (the lower of the mountain’s two high points and the second highest point in Egypt 2637m). Ever since then, this peak has been hallowed ground. There’s a small chapel on top but the bones of St Katherine are now in the Monastery of St Katherine.

3. JEBEL TAHUNA A little peak in Wadi Feiran, local legend has it Jebel Tahuna is the spot where Moses watched the Battle of Rephidim, raising his magic staff to spur the Israelites on to victory. A 1500 year oratory crowns the summit, with a near-perfectly preserved water cistern dug into its foundations. Small chapels, whose walls, columns and altars are all still visible, stand by the path up the mountain. Hermit cells are dug into banks along its lower slopes and the higher hillsides are scattered with ancient Christian tombs. Travellers have been climbing this peak for centuries, and you should too. As much as the history, it’s worth it for the beautiful views you get over Wadi Feiran – one of the Sinai’s biggest, most beautiful wadis – and of Jebel Serbal, towering up like a castle.

4. JEBEL MONEJA A lot of tourists climb this, making the mistake of thinking it’s Mount Sinai. Actually, it’s just a smaller, sister peak, half way up. It’s also called Jethro’s Mountain, after Jethro, the Biblical figure, whose daughter is supposed to have married Moses. Monks say God spoke to Moses here, beckoning him further up the mountain, and it’s another of the Sinai’s holiest spots. With a chapel on top, this is a brilliant peak with what is – in my opinion – the best view of the Monastery of St Katherine in the Sinai; the classic viewpoint from which artists sketched it, huddling below Mount Sinai, for centuries.

5. JEBEL EL AHMAR Sometimes also known as Jebel Moneja – like the peak above – this is a little-known summit in the northern foothills of Jebel Serbal. It isn’t as dramatic-looking as the other peaks here, but all the same, this was one of the Sinai’s holiest summits for a long time. Early explorers recorded it having a special place for the local Bedouin of Wadi Feiran. They’d make pilgrimage trips to a shrine on the top, tying rags, beads, camel reigns and other offerings to the stones. That’s stopped today, but I’ve still heard people talk about it in the past. If you go you’ll have a spectacular view over Wadi Feiran, with its big palm grove; and one of the best views of Jebel Serbal. You can also visit the tomb of Sheikh Shebib, a holy saint of the Gararsha tribe, at the foot of the peak.

December 24, 2014

The Ghoul’s Cave: Merry Xmas

Kahf el Ghoula – The Ghoul’s Cave – is a dark, foreboding cavern in the side of Jebel Rabba. It looks like a black eye on the mountain, peering down on the wadi below. Legend has it a ghoula – an evil witch type creature – used to live here. She’d spy out travellers in the wadi. Then she’d capture them; and eat them, leaving a pile of bones. Bedouin mothers still tell young children stories about the ghoula to stop them wandering into the mountains alone. Anyway, it’s a beautiful, atmospheric cave, and we went to celebrate Christmas there this year; it feels sheltered, faraway and mysterious, deep in the mountainside. Definitely a hideout fit for a ghoul, if ever I saw one…

Getting there is easy – its about half an hour’s walk from St Katherine.

You just need to walk out of town through Wadi el Arbain. About 10 minutes along a ravine runs up into the mountains on the right hand side: this is Wadi Abu Heiman and Kahf el Ghoula is on the right side of this ravine, about a 15-20 minute climb.

There’s a spring in the cave, where water seeps out of the mountainside; green maidenhair ferns grow around it. They call it Ein el Ghoula – Spring of the Ghoul – and you can still drink its cold, fresh water today.

Look out for the small, cubby-hole type cave near the main one. It’s a person-sized cave where people say the ghoula would keep her victims before she ate them; a sort of larder to keep them fresh. You can climb up to to have a look, but it’s a little bit tricky.

Anyway, there aren’t many caves in the Sinai so whenever you find one – especially one this big – it’s worth a look. Merry Christmas from the Sinai!

October 11, 2014

The Sinai: in five travellers…

Travel writing about Egypt stretches back thousands of years; the Greek historian Herodotus was writing about travel here in the 5th century BC. Over history, it’s probably been one of the most written-about travel destinations in the world. But the Sinai’s different. Faraway from the Nile, out on Egypt’s frontiers, it’s always been hard to reach. Things changed a bit in the 19th century, with travel becoming easier, and plenty of intrepid types made the trip to Mount Sinai. A golden age of travel writing followed, with lots of travellers keeping diaires; some of which are still brilliantly readable today. Since then, few folks have written about the Sinai. I wish we had accounts of Bedouin travellers. But, being a people of the spoken word, they never recorded their journeys. Anyway, here are five of the most interesting travellers we DO know about.

1. EDWARD HENRY PALMER Palmer grew up an orphan, spending a lot of time with Romany Gypsies and developing a love of travelling, nomadic peoples. He was diagnosed terminally ill aged 19 – with just a few months to live – but recovered and went on to study langauges at Cambridge University. He finished with a 3rd class degree, the lowest possible. But his brilliant language skills outshone the exam results and he was soon made a professor. Soon after, he was employed as the interpreter on the 1869 British Ordnance Survey of Sinai. Through him – his Arabic and his way with people – his colleagues put together the best survey ever made on the area. He wrote The Desert of The Exodus – a beautiful account of his travels – before being killed here in 1882.

2. ISABELLA BIRD Most stuff about the Sinai is written by men. Isabella Bird was one of the few women who wrote anything. She was fiercely independent and adventurous with a wanderlust that drove her all the way from the Rocky Mountains to Tibet and Kurdistan. She covered thousands of kilometres in her lifetime, a lot of them on horseback. She visited the Sinai in the 1870s, swapping her horse for a camel and following the old route of The Exodus to Mount Sinai. She captured the beauty of the Sinai and its people as well as anyone, all with a cutting, self-deprecating humour.

3. SIR JOHN MANDEVILLE Held up as a travelling hero through the Middle Ages, Sir John was an English knight who penned his memoirs in retirement. Or that’s what he said, anyway. He was branded the ‘greatest liar OF ALL TIME’ a few centuries later. Honestly, nobody really knows if Sir John existed. Or who the author of his stuff was, if it wasn’t him. The likelihood is his memoirs were written up from a mishmash of other diaires. Whatever the story, I can say that the Sinai bits ARE very evocative. That they DO capture something of a much, much more distant time here. Also that – whoever wrote his stuff – compiling such a huge, complex narrative was a feat surpassed only by the epic chutzpah of passing it off as his own travels for a few hundred years.

4. JEAN LOUIS BURCKHARDT Burckhardt was born into the Swiss aristocracy; he moved to Germany when he was young, before travelling to England, becoming almost destitute in London and landing a dream role as an explorer in the Middle East. He spent a couple of years in Syria, perfecting his Arabic so he’d really understand the region. Later, he won immortal fame as the first European to see the ancient Nabataean city of Petra, before going to the Sinai, making notes upon which later explorers built and which are still brilliant to read today.

5. GEORGE W. MURRAY Hailing from the Scottish highlands, George Murray took his love of high places all the way to the mountains of Egypt. He worked on the British Survey of Egypt, mapping the Red Sea Mountains from Hurghada to Jebel Elba, moving south at a degree of latitude every year; he also mapped the Sinai’s mountains. Without a doubt, he climbed more mountains in Egypt than any traveller before him. I’d say probably more than any since too. The Sinai was one of his great loves and he walked far and wide, seeking out its hardest peaks and its most little-known wadis, even when he wasn’t working. He’s one of the great unsung heroes of mountaineering in Egypt and you can read his memoirs in the beautifully-titled book Dare Me To The Desert.