MONS CLAUDIANUS

John Hunt

Apart from the Sinai peaks, which my wife and I had climbed early in 1948, the highest summit in Egypt is the Gebel Shayib (7,170 feet). It stands, a noble mountain despite its low stature, amid a spectacular array of granite satellites which compel the eye of the ocean voyager as he passes the head of the Red Sea. The mountain chain of which these peaks are a part is the northern extremity of the so-called Red Sea Hills, and forms a watershed between the coast at this point and the Nile valley at Qena.

Early in December 1948 we had the opportunity, in company with Dr. and Mrs. Bangham, to visit this interesting region. While our main intention was to make an ascent of the Gebel Shayib we were also keen to see the Egyptian Government's Marine Biological Station at Hurghada, and to visit the dead Roman town of Mons Claudianus, situated in the hills not far from our objective.

Travelling, perforce, in two vehicles—an old motor-cycle combination and a Standard-8 Tourer—ill-suited for the 250-mile journey to Hurghada, which can be very rough going, we set out on the afternoon of 3rd December. At dusk we stopped to 'brew up' beneath the high rugged Gebel El Galala, some 40 miles south of Suez, in a sheltered cove littered with driftwood which made an excellent fire. Our only mechanical defect thus far had been a broken motorcycle chain, but later that evening more serious trouble developed when the same vehicle burst a tyre beyond repair. Owing to various misfortunes prior to our departure no spare wheels or inner tubes had been brought for the machine, and an anxious two hours were spent in extracting and fitting the tube from the spare wheel of the car into the motor-cycle tyre. The problem was the more difficult in that the respective dimensions of the two wheels bore no relation to each other. Here again we were lucky to find, by groping on the shingle in the inky darkness, enough driftwood to build a fire, to provide light for our operations. Late at night we passed in succession the lighthouses of Abu Darag and Zafrana, and towards midnight we found a sheltered hollow in the sand-hills south of the latter place, where we huddled for a few hours' sleep.

Next morning, after further mechanical adventures, we ran on into the busy oilfield settlement of Ras Gharib. As we approached over the good oiled road which runs for 40 kilometres on either side of this township, we had magnificent views across the Gulf of Suez to the Sinai peaks, bathed red in the morning sun, and were able to pick out familiar summits. Nearer at hand, to the west, the fine dark mass of the Gebel Gharib rose abruptly from the sand plain some 40 miles distant. At Ras Gharib we refilled with petrol, which we were disappointed to find was more expensive on the oilfield than in the Canal area. The Shell Company officials were most kind in making available spare parts.

Gulf of Suez

Gulf of Suez

Soon after midday we set out to complete the 100 remaining miles to Hurghada. Much of the track has a good oiled surface, and with a strong following wind we made good time over this final stage of our journey. Before we reached Hurghada, the sun was setting behind the Gebel Shayib, throwing the long serrated chain of peaks into a fantastic silhouette of sharp and tortured forms.

The oilfield officials had been informed of our arrival by telegram and the guest-house was placed at our disposal. We were pleasantly surprised to find it a well-appointed bungalow, with electric light, gas cooking, and running water—a strange luxury this, in a place entirely dependent for fresh water on a weekly tanker from Suez. An excellent dinner was served in a style almost embarrassing to our travel-stained selves, after which we settled down to make arrangements for our two-days' stay in this area.

Part of the next morning was spent at the Marine Biological Station. The Director, Dr. Gohar, was absent but we were shown around by his clerk. Among the many fascinating live specimens at this observatory were sharks, giant rays, and sea turtles, and hanging from a hook was a recently killed bull walrus, a rare catch in these parts, though cows are fairly common. In a glass-bottomed boat we rowed out to a coral reef, and gazed in amazement at the myriad shapes and colours below us.

In the early afternoon we started across the desert towards the mountains, driving fast over the sandy stretches to avoid 'bogging down'. After the first 20 miles we were in the foothills, while the higher peaks began to rise impressively from the flat sandy wadis ahead of us. After a further 20 miles, and over the watershed, we turned off into a remote wadi and suddenly, round a bend, came into sight of Mons Claudianus. It is built within walls about 100 yards square, the dwellings forming a veritable honeycomb of cubicles inside. Although the roofs had collapsed, the walls are in a remarkable state of repair, and on the rubble and sand-filled alleys and floors we found several domestic objects of obvious historical interest. It was tantalizing imagining what must lie buried in this as yet unexcavated city.

The Gebel Shayib and the Wadi Abu A bid

The Gebel Shayib and the Wadi Abu A bid

Mons Claudianus

Mons Claudianus

A little above and beyond the town is a temple similarly well preserved, and in the surrounding hills we found amazing evidence of the industry which had attracted the Romans—the quarrying and dressing of the local red granite. Wedge marks in the rock faces showed where great slabs had been split off by the action of water on wooden wedges. Tablets and cubes of granite lay around in profusion, some of them inscribed. Most interesting of all were the pillars, in every stage of completion, from the rough, unfashioned 'log' of rock to the perfectly rounded and polished column ready for export. One such monster measured no less than 50 feet in length and 8 feet in diameter; its weight, we were later informed, was 122 tons. Completely finished, this work of art had split across the centre, presumably while the craftsmen were endeavouring to move it from its horizontal bed of rock. In one wadi were numerous high stone cairns or platforms, where the slave-masters used to sit and supervise the work of the Egyptian slaves. The sun was already setting when we turned to go, reluctant to leave this remarkable relic of life as it was led nineteen centuries ago.

That night we bivouacked on the watershed at about 2,000 feet, and at dawn next day we set off to cover the 10 or more miles and 5,000 vertical feet which separated us from the summit of the Gebel Shayib; we had first to cross an intervening ridge to reach the great sand-stream of the Wadi Abu Abid, which runs beneath the south face of the mountain. Moreover, we had misinterpreted the sketch- map of the area in Murray's article in the May 1947 number of the Alpine Journal, and as a result wasted precious time and effort in seeking a way over this ridge; a maze of shallow wadis and indefinite stony hill-sides barred our view of Shayib and made navigation a difficult problem in the half light. It was not until 7 a.m. that we stood on the crest, and looked down on the upper reaches of the Wadi Abu Abid, and across it to the south face of our peak. About 1 ½ miles wide, this sand-filled valley reminded me forcibly, both in appearance and scale, of some Karakoram glacier: it was not the only reminiscence of the Himalayas which I was to experience that day. From this side, the mountain presents a complicated structure of deep twisting couloirs and bold dividing buttresses. It was clear that a number of routes to the foot of the final ridge were offered us, but with a bare minimum of available daylight, and with only this one day to spare for the peak, we elected to follow a proven route to the top rather than explore an alternative of our own, and followed Murray's footsteps via the head of the great wadi below us to reach the north face.

Dropping 600 feet on to the level sandy surface of the wadi, we made our way upstream and in 45 minutes reached another low col, giving access to the steep stony gully forming the head of the Wadi Abu Abid. In this we picked up a faint cairned track, and laboriously made our way along; Dr. and Mrs. Bangham dropped behind, and as agreed, we went ahead without them. It was already past 9.30 a.m. before we emerged from the gully into a sheltered amphitheatre beneath the westernmost peaks on the summit ridge, which towered, by now not more than 1,000 feet, above us. I was beginning to feel the effects of a heavy rucksack—we had come prepared for a bitter wind—and lack of training, so we abandoned most of our paraphernalia, and began the climb up the western flank of the ridge with our objective a gap between the summits.

From here at last we had a view of the highest point. It rose, a smooth square tower of grey granite, depressingly high above us and a considerable distance away, probably more than 2 miles. Weariness grew as we plodded on beneath the summits and above a great deep wadi, and the ascent of a final boulder-filled gully leading to a col on the ridge immediately north of the peak taxed us to our outmost. From this col, however, only about 150 feet remained of apparently unscaleable rock, but by making a short descent on the far side we were able to skirt the smooth uncompromising walls and attain a gap dividing the tower into two distinct turrets. A few minutes of moderate scrambling took us up the smooth sloping dome, and on the stroke of midday we sat down to rest on the summit, beside the cairn built there by Murray twenty-seven years before.

The day was somewhat overcast and in the dull light the magnificent panorama lost some effect. Despite this, we were rewarded by a very extensive view, ranging from the Sinai massif 130 miles to the north to the ground below the Nile valley 100 miles to the west. The coast-line could be traced for miles and beyond it could be seen the tapering apex of the Sinai peninsula, a dark shadow on the deep-blue ocean. Below us, 4,000 feet down, the Wadi Abu Inn bounded the eastern foot of the crags on which we stood. The day was still, and it was difficult to realize that only 30 miles away on the coast a high wind was blowing.

Minutes passed all too quickly, and we knew scant time remained to reach our camp site in daylight. In 1J hours we were back on the little plateau beneath the western summit; I was suffering severe cramp in my thighs and we were both greatly parched. The descent of the long stony gully to the Wadi Abu Abid turned out as hard a trial coming down as it had been on the way up, but worse lay ahead. The 600 feet which had to be climbed to leave the wadi proved to be as great a nightmare as the climbing over 23,000 feet above Camp 6 on Peak 36 had been nearly fourteen years ago—we were nearly on our hands and knees with fatigue by now. Once up, however, I found my final reserve of energy, and with less than half an hour of daylight remaining—it was now 4.30—could push ahead and reassure the remainder of the party. In the failing light I could just see two cars waiting at the end of the wadi where we had camped, and by 5 p.m. the party was reunited, and we were being plied with the mugs of hot coffee that we had been thinking of for so many hours past.

Ours was the sixth recorded ascent of Gebel Shayib. Throughout the day we found abundant traces of wild life: ibex, of which we picked up a horn, gazelle, marmots, and what we were informed later were wild asses. Once again we regretted the lack of available time to watch for and observe the creatures of the wild, parched, and desolate land.

The return journey occupied the last two days, not without its mechanical woes. On the second day my wife and I stayed behind to admire at our leisure the splendid stretch of coast north of Abu Darag, dominated by the great escarpment of the Gebel El Galala. We called in for water at one of the Camel Corps Outposts where watch is kept for contraband along this famous smugglers' coast, and were shown a giant ibex horn which dwarfed our own cherished find—we were surprised to find that these animals range so far north. On 8th September we arrived at Fayid in the evening, wearied from the long hours of motoring across the desert, but greatly refreshed in spirit by our visit to the fine mountains that surround Mons Claudianus.

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