December 29, 2002

Our Sinai hotel with the mountains in the background.

We left our salt water hotel behind, catching the bus towards our original destination of St. Catherine's and Mt. Sinai. Among our fellow travelers was a British national who was biking his way around the Middle East (apparently not on this leg of the journey). He had been in Syria, Palestine, and Israel recently, and had biked his way down through the West Bank. The bemusement with which he was met surely rivaled our experiences.

We walked from the center of town to our hotel, spread-out stone bungalows perfectly camouflaged in the shadow of impressive mountains that surrounded the slowly tilting plain. It seemed like the hotel's designers wanted a peaceful get-away with a kinder, gentler Stone Age atmosphere. We half-expected Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble to come out of the next bungalow.

Another view of “Bedrock”.

As night fell, the mountains disappeared from view and the heat gave way to bone-chilling cold. We're beginning to wonder about the wisdom of a late-night mountain climb.