Mt. Sinai is on the Asian side of Egypt, the Sinai peninsula, and stands at about 7,500 ft. Sinai, which separates Africa and the Middle East, has long been a land of conflict; ruled by Egyptians, Ottomans, Britain, and Israel; but it’s part of Egypt these days.

The drive (from Dahab) took over an hour, and there were police checkpoints on the way. We arrived at the carpark by 1am, met our guide, and started out on our pilgrimage up the mountain — in the middle of the night.

Have you ever been hiking up a mountain in the middle of the night? I haven’t, until now. I thought there’d be torches, or something. There wasn’t. It’s hard to climb up rocky paths and winding steps in the dark, and freezing cold.

It’s exhilarating though, climbing Mount Sinai in the middle of the night, under a starlit sky, passing camels for hire and tea/coffee kiosks all the way up. It’s quite unsettling though, not knowing exactly where you are stepping, relying heavily on your guide, knowing that a couple of feet in the wrong direction and you will be sent tumbling down a cliff in the pitch black darkness. I looked to the summit, or where I thought it would be, but couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. So I just stepped cautiously, and tried to keep as close to my fellow hikers (with torches) as possible.

We took the slower, windier camel trek, as it’s safer to hike in pitch blackness; we reserved the 3000+ stone-carved steps (by Monks) for the daytime hike down.

Before you climb Mt. Sinai, you will more-than-likely have your bags searched and passports checked, and have to enter through a metal detector: common practice in Egypt. We were lucky, being the middle of the night, the security was a little more relaxed than usual — not that I had anything to hide.

The trek up the mountain took hours, I was prepared with scarf and ski jacket, but it wasn’t enough. The temperatures must have been around zero, or just below (with wind, as we ascended higher-and-higher). Looking behind us as we ascended, we could see tiny white/yellow dots in a trail scattered like fireflies; the hundreds of tourists making the same pilgrimage, a race to the top to beat the rising sun.

Most of the group I hiked with were couples, over to Egypt for 10-12 days taking advantage of the low-season and low prices. We discussed travel plans and itineraries, but I didn’t really click with anyone to join up for future travel. It’s a bit like that sometimes with short-term holiday makers. It wasn’t important, I was there for the experience of climbing the legendary Mount Sinai, where Moses received the 10 commandments from God.

I’m not much of a religious person, but I don’t think it matters. Myth, legend, or fact, it’s still something worth doing. Climbing to the top of the mountain to watch the sun come up, descending down the 3000+ steps to Saint Catherine’s Monastery (one of the oldest in the world) to see the ‘Burning Bush‘ that God used to appoint Moses the leader of the Israeli evacuation from Egypt.

We reached the summit before 4am, and the sun wasn’t expected to rise until 7am, so we used the opportunity to gather in one of the few huts near the top, drink Bedouin Tea, and huddle under blankets for warmth. I managed to get 30 or 40 minutes worth of sleep, while trying not to freeze to death.

As soon as the first red light started to appear over the horizon we made our way to the best viewpoints with some other 250+ tourists to watch the sunrise, and what an experience it is; whether Moses stood here to announce the 10 commandments, or not.

Right at the summit is the Chapel of the Holy Trinity, built in 1934 — I can’t but help wonder how. All those bricks.

At 7:15am my small group made our way back to our guide for the pilgrimage down the 3000+ steps to the Monastery. The hike down was difficult on the knees, but the views and photos were worth it.

At the Monastery itself, once you got passed the touts selling their religious merchandise and geodes, you could enter the grounds and the church, which has a lot of religious significance that I won’t go into here.

Let’s just say its worth the hike, the cold, and the Egyptian entrepreneurs trying to sell camel rides.

I’ve been staying at a budget ‘camp’ just on the edge of Dahab before the bridge and all the shops, cafes, and restaurants after having it recommended to me by a couchsurfer. I really can’t fault the place for the price, and they help me in every way possible maximising my travel dollar and time in Dahab to get the best value from my holiday. My first night was in a basic but comfortable double bed room with indoor bathroom and airconditioning.

I sit here writing this, in the restaurant overlooking the Red Sea, sipping Bedouin Tea around a fire, and counting down the minutes until my overnight tour and climb of Mt. Sinai (or ‘Moses Mountain’). I can’t wait. To summit the mountain where Moses claimed the 10 commandments, and see the sunrise.

I might change my accomodation tomorrow night though, as good as the camp is, there just isn’t anyone staying here. I spent the evening wandering around after a cheap meal in a local restaurant, and buying supplies for my overnight trek; and I didn’t find much backpacker life.

Sure there’s tourists, but not so many that I can easily approach. Even the tourist bars are a little empty. They promise “come back after 10pm, that’s when there’s life”. But its 9:37pm, and I have to be at reception for the Sinai tour at 11pm. At least the beers cheap, 10LE (Egyptian Pounds), or $1.50 (Australian).

Diving the Canyon

Today was awesome. I dived the Canyon, a famous coral reef in Dahab. Next to the Blue Hole, one of the most saught after dive sights. I can’t dive the Blue Hole. It’s for experienced divers only. And today was my first dive. Really I should have been diving the Lighthouse like all the other beginners, but luckily my dive shop had 4 Japanese tourists (more advanced than me) diving, and didn’t want to make 2 separate trips, so they tacked me onto that dive.

All-in-all I got 2 dives at the Canyon, the first just to learn the basic manouvres and get the hang of breathing under water and swimming amongst the fishes. The 2nd down to 10 metres, as deep as I was allowed to go without starting a PADI course.

What a day though. I see why divers are attracted to the sport. Except its a lot of effort for just under an hour dive each time. So many health concerns to take into account too.

* flickr header image credit Craig Grobler

I couldn’t print my boarding pass for Marrakesh ahead of time, so had to check-in at the counter with my 20kg of luggage.

The attendant at the desk asked if I had any alcohol or liquids in my check-in luggage.

“Yes, I have alcohol” I replied.

“You have to take it out. We don’t allow alcohol in the hold on EasyJet flights” he said.

“But I didn’t buy it in Morocco. I bought it in Europe, it’s gifts for my family when I get home” I gasp.

“If you want to check your bag in, you must remove the alcohol” he repeated.

So, I unzipped my bag, holding up the line of waiting passengers, and removed the Schnaps I bought in Vienna, and the Absinthe I bought in Czech Republic; both bottles I’ve been carrying around since my December BusAbout trip.

“What do I do with it then?” I asked.

He motions for the trash can sitting next to him.

The mistake I made was not asking to see it in writing. I’ve just checked the Carriers Regulations on EasyJet, and no where does it mention that alcohol is forbidden in check-in luggage. Actually, it only says

Alcoholic beverages exceeding 70% by volume

I’m pretty sure the Schnaps was 60% and the Absinthe was less than 70%. Not that the EasyJet staff even read the label to check.

Furious!

Especially when passing through Duty-Free I noticed that alcohol was available to purchase on many of the shelves.

Thanks for nothing EasyJet. 60€ lost on a flight that cost less.. and no (delicious) souvenirs for my friends.

* images credit 1, 2, 3, 4

I’ve been chasing the sun around Europe for the best part of the last 10 months, and in that time I’ve had the pleasure of seeing some of the greatest beaches on earth (following closely behind our own beaches in Australia, of course). I’ve scootered along the Amalfi Coast of Italy, spent days lazing around at Praia a Mare, partied on the Greek Islands and again in Ibiza, explored the Croatian Dalmatian coast with a lover.

But one of my most memorable holidays was the two weeks I spent in Phuket, Thailand with my girlfriend.

The Birthday Gift

I bought us two tickets to Phuket for her 21st birthday, a surprise. It was her first time leaving Australia, and I wanted to be the one who got to share that experience with her. I remember it vividly because it took months of preparation, five months before the holiday I had to assume we would still be together, and went about organising with her mother to get her a passport. Now, she was a smart girl, my girlfriend, so she cottoned on pretty quickly that she was getting this passport for something big, and something to do with me. But that’s all the information she got until the day of her birthday party.

It was a few years ago now, so the memory is a little bit cloudy, but from what I do remember, I printed the itinerary and showed it to her at her birthday party (which we moved forward a couple of weeks) in front of her friends and family. Two weeks in Phuket, Thailand. Not all-inclusive of course, I was younger then, and didn’t have a lot of spending money. But I booked us a few nights in several places along the island so we had the opportunity to explore everything, most importantly the beautiful beaches.

Stopover in Siloso Beach, Singapore

Our first stopover was in Singapore, where we explored Siloso Beach, Sentosa Island, Singapore. It was summer, mid-November, so it was really humid. I remember the humidity was up near 90%, so much so, that 15 minutes outside and my shirt was sticking to me with sweat. But the beach on Sentosa Island was lovely, busy with locals and tourists. Too bad about the coarse sand though.

Karon Beach

Once we made it to Phuket, our first nights were in Karon Beach. I remember Karon well because we stayed in a guesthouse above a Pizzeria. The rooms were so dodgy we spent all day at the markets deliberately. The lovely staff at the guesthouse threw in a free meal though, to consolidate us for our poor accomodation. I wouldn’t rate Karon as the best place to stay in Phuket, unless you want to be close to the shops and markets. You’re better suited staying in Patong (party beach), or more secluded Kata (resort beach).

Patong Beach and Bangla Road

Then the very touristy Patong Beach, Phuket, Thailand. Where we stayed escapes me, but Patong Beach is one of the most famous ones for nightlife and Bangla Road (and lady boys).

Bangla Road just starts up as the sun goes down, and its world-renowned for being Patong’s liveliest party zone. The nightlife is raunchy, the music is loud, and the party goes all night most nights of the year. Due to the large volume of bars in the area, it’s easy to walk around without fear, you will be approached often by bars competing for costumers.. games of pool, free shots, dances with the ladyboys, you name it.

Kata Beach Resorts

For the big finish, on her birthday night, I booked us a night in a 4 star resort overlooking a private beach. The room had its own jacuzzi. Candles, and complimentary bottle of Champagne. Romantic, huh?

Kata is just a few minutes from Karon beach, and it has lovely crystal clear waters and white sands, and plenty of opportunities for cocktails and massage on the beach by day. It’s popular amongst couples and some families though, maybe because of the palm-lined beaches and restaurant scene.

Phi Phi Islands

During the trip we also took day trips to Kho Phi Phi Islands, some of the most magnificent beaches I have ever seen. The sand is a pure white, the water is a crystal clear blue, so blue you can see the rocks at the bottom and the fish swimming around.

We also made a stop off at the famous Phang Nga (James Bond) Island, the tourist photo mecca.

And the equally as famous “Monkey Beach” where the monkeys are quite aggressive at getting food from the tourists.

Phuket is a whole other experience. Inland you have the amazingly friendly Thai people, the crazy scooter drivers, the worn down mountain roads. Then you have the contrast of the beaches. There’s the touristy party beaches, with cocktail bars and merchants all along the sand. There’s the more secluded romantic getaway beaches, where you might only see one or two other couples off in their own little universe. Few islands in the world can boast such an abundance of sandy beaches and clear waters as Phuket can. Whether its the party lifestyle that comes with Patong, or the more remote stretches of beaches in the north, Phuket has something for all sun-seekers.

If you haven’t been to Phuket, or Thailand. I highly recommend it. Some of the best beaches I have ever seen. Do you have your own Thai love-story to share? Or perhaps you know of some amazing beaches somewhere else in the world? Comment below, I’d love to hear from you.

This post is part of Tippando‘s and Travel – Moments in Time‘s contest about “Beaches”, first prize being a week at Hotel Le Acacie (B&B), Isola D’Elba, Italy. For details on the contest, see here. Competition closes Jan 20, 2012.

* flickr header image credit le_mulot

Well, how easy is it to manouvre while throwing yourself down a mountain with a plank of wood strapped firmly to both feet? I thought I would’ve taken to it easily; after all, I’ve been water skiing, and Skateboarding.

I found myself sitting at the top of the beginners slopes, with all the boys from tour, one foot strapped in, the other still dangling from using the Ski-Lift T-Bar — at least I mastered that; whereas a lot of the others hadn’t — just a matter of balance, and staying on the board.

I strapped my loose fot into it’s bindings for the 100th time, and stayed on my ass (numb now from many hours of falling on it).

Having the best Ski gear money can buy

And these $40 ski pants are supposed to be waterproof? We just found out last night the Ski Resort (in Zakopane, Poland) doesn’t hire gear beyond boards, and googles. So we hit up a Shopping Centre in Krakow and bought the cheapest Ski pants we could find. I already had my Primark jacket, and looked a treat wearing my Christmas Day Santa cap. festive spirit and all. I didn’t think of getting Ski gloves, I thought I could save money and go with my wollen gloves from Spain. They lasted a whole 30 minutes; as soon as they touched the snow it started to form clusters of snowballs and really fnck up the gloves until they were useless. So I bit the bullet and bought a pair of gloves for $20 from the sports store on the mountain.

There I was, like a real boarder, decked out in googles, Santa hat, waterproof Primark Ski jacket, and waterproof Ski pants — sitting on the beginners slope, waiting for all the other boarders and few skiers to go before me so there was a clear path in case I couldn’t turn, stop, or just fall down.

Invaluable Ski instruction

I had to lie face down in the snow, on my belly, and stand up backwards. Everytime I tried to stand up facing down the mountain the board would start to slide out from under me, and I would end up on my backside once again.

The 2 hours of instruction I signed up for should’ve probably covered standing up; but with over 30 people to train, all complete newbies (Aussies and Kiwis), the instructors had their hands full. So much so that I felt like the invisible man, with almost no instruction at all except for the couple of minutes they spent going over basics with the group (including how to tie laces).

Girls in the group were getting guided down the mountain (of course, male instructors, ex olympic coaches and pro boarders). Any opportunity to help the girls out, and get their hands on them in the process. I remember the few times I asked for help — usually after a massive stack when trying to stand — the instructor just said

“take your feet out of the bindings, and walk back up the slope”

…yeah, I’m a pro at walking dude, I wanna learn how to Snowboard.

I’d given up on any advice from the instructors, so thought I’d just keep throwing myself down the mountain until gravity taught me.

1.. 2.. 3.. up I get, Woah!, down I go.

Getting the hang of the sliding motion and the balance is difficult at first. Just like those mornings down at the beach watching new surfers take massive stacks into the baby waves.

1.. 2.. 3.. again. I’m up! I’m up! …but I’m heading towards the fence! *Dive* I’m down.

Sometimes I got lucky and managed to turn around so I faced down the hill, lean my heels into the slope and slow the speed to a manageable pace before getting the balance right, turning my hips to a normal stance and picking up speed down the mountain. The problem was, at the bottom of the hill, near the Ski-Lift the snow was compacted by the crowds, and ice-like. Braking here for a beginner was difficult. I managed to switch the board back to face down the mountain, and lean back slightly so i cut up the ice into a nice Rooster Tail spray in front of me. I could only keep this up for a fraction of a second, before losing balance, stacking, and sliding down the ice on my butt.

But at least I stopped, and didn’t hit anyone, or anything (other than snow); and I was back at the bottom, in line for the Ski-Lift.

Master of the Ski-Lift (T-Bar)

Unstrap the back foot, grab the T-Bar rope, and up I go.

There was always one of the tour who lost balance on the lift, or drifted towards the fence. At least a dozen times I saw someone get dragged up the hill on their belly, too stubborn to let the rope go. It was only 1-200 metres of hill after all — the baby slope — once back at the top, some of the other guys were getting the hang of it fast, and bunny hoping to the start point before clipping in and heading down the slope. 3/5 would get over-confident, lose balance, and take a dive into the snow.

There were a couple of big tumbles, but everyone always laughed it off, got up, brushed off the snow, and continued. It must have been hilarious for the locals, and parents watching their 5 year olds out-Ski us.

Ski-Lift Dave earns his name

While i was waiting for my turn, we discussed strategy and war wounds, as I noticed Dave take yet another dive on the Ski-Lift. Was this his 5th time today? But he never gave up, unlike some of the girls — who would walk their board up the hill — and he kept going back to that T-Bar for another attempt. Usually ending up on his belly being dragged up the slope laughing.

This time he took a dive and headed straight for the fence. Whats this? hes got tangled in the fence, and he still hasnt let go of the rope. the fence is wrapped around his legs and board, and he’s still hanging on for dear life.

Now he’s being pulled up the slope on his back, with the fence being pulled up the slope with him “let go of the bloody rope dave, you’re destroying the fence” …and then the Ski-Lift stops, the staff has seen his epic blunder, they are running towards him… probably to give him a beating for being a stupid tourist.

Soon he is untangled, unclipped, they are repairing the fence, and all the other boarders and skiiers are left holding onto their ropes at different points on the slope, unable to go anywhere until the lift starts, unable to let go because they are beginners and will fall and make a mess like Dave.

Dave’s walking up the hill now, board under his arm, to the laughter (and cheers) of our tour bus crowd. We applaud his handy-work. No one has captured it for YouTube, so there will be no evidence, but I managed to get these few pictures to immortalize the story on the interwebz.

And thats the story of how Ski-Lift Dave was born: the Snowboarder who never gave up, even when he destroyed a fence and brought the Ski-Lift to a halt for 15 minutes. He spent the next 10 minutes saying sorry to every boarder and skier who got off the lift; and the next 5 days retelling the story to everyone on tour.

Bucket List item #35 crossed off

I never did get the hang of the front start, or Snowboarding. But I wasn’t the only one on tour. I had a bloody great day though; out on the mountain, in the zero degree temperature, and sunshine. My butt, and knees were purple with bruises from the number of times I wiped out.

One time I was sure I was going to break something (bones). I had built up a lot of speed, and was heading towards a couple of skiers paused in the middle of the hill. I tried to turn around them, but panicked and lost balance and took a dive face-first into the snow. I almost put my hands out to stop me, but gut instinct told me to use my forearms. Luckily. Lots of breaks happen from putting wrists down wrong in the snow. I would have known this if I’d been given any instruction from the coaches. I hit the snow with great force. 95kgs at speed. “Ooof!” I winded myself. A few seconds passed then you could hear my laughter echoing across the slope — a sign not to call the ski-do ambulance. Laughter means everything is ok.

On the slopes that day the ambulance was called at least once; not for anyone on our tour, thank God. We just had bruised backsides, sprained wrists, and bruised egos.

How did you spend Christmas Day?