24 November to 27 November

Images of the White Desert, of which I knew nothing, came to my attention while looking for destinations in Egypt. The desertscape was hauntingly beautiful and unlike anything I’d seen. When I looked into visiting the area I saw strict “Do Not Travel” warnings had been issued by the U.S. Gov’t. However, I’ve learned to weigh such warnings carefully. If I listened to all of them, I’d have been tempted to never leave home, which would have been problematic, since my hometown of NYC has received its share of travel advisories too.

I contacted a company, with glowing reviews, that arranges overnight camping trips in the desert. I was pleased to speak with the owner, Hamada, and learn that he himself takes the tourists on the trips, with a driver. We spoke at length and feeling assured I booked two nights with a possible third in the White Desert. The first night would be with another couple and the remaining night(s) I would be alone with Hamada and the driver, primarily to hike.

It was arranged that I would be picked up at 7 am and driven to the Bahariya Oasis, four hours from Cairo, a Bedouin settlement and the hometown of Hamada.  The driver was courteous, quite handsome, and spoke little English. I got into the back seat of the Land Rover as he carefully navigated the crazy Cairo traffic. After leaving the city, the road straightened and became monotonous except for road construction sites and occasional shops/cafes where men gathered to drink tea. There were few communities. Trucks transporting produce, particularly tomatoes, and livestock made up most of the traffic. I stretched out on the seat and closed my eyes.

We stopped at a service station. Several Land Rovers, like ours, with tourists pulled up. The tourists came from Asia and Europe. We shared some travel tales and were soon back in our own vehicles. It was unclear if we would see each other again.

It would be another long stretch of barren sand before we arrived at the Bahariya Oasis. The monochrome brown landscape was suddenly enlivened with green. We pulled off the major two-lane highway onto a dirt road lined with simple, unadorned one-story white brick and cement homes. The street, sparsely populated, was dusty. Donkey carts and motorcycles were the main means of transportation. Shops were few and goods were limited, but there was no shortage of fresh produce in the area– the green I’d seen on arrival was acres of date, orange, mango, and olive trees.

Women walked, with infants in tow, wearing black burkas. The children old enough to entertain themselves looked well and happy.

As my driver pulled into a driveway Hamada, who had waited at the oasis, was there to welcome me. He wore the traditional Bedouin attire of robe and headscarf. 

We walked over to an outdoor cafe with cushioned seats and carpet on the floor. I took off my shoes and was soon seated next to the young couple I would be spending the first night with. Although they were both born in Southeast Asia, they now lived in NYC. We hit it off immediately. The wife had come up with the idea of camping in the desert. The husband confessed his initial and ongoing concerns. I’d thought it was because of the travel warnings, but he was far more preoccupied with the lack of any bathroom facilities.

After lunch we loaded our bags into two different 4×4’s and set off into the desert. My initial driver was already on his way back to Cairo.

I was in the 4×4 with Hamada, the driver, and Sliwah the cook/entertainer. We drove to a recently built highway that lacked any curves. Sand had blown and sometimes covered half the roadway. However, with virtually no traffic it made little difference. 

Soon we were visiting the aptly named Black Desert and Crystal Mountain.  Each offered a unique display of the desert’s beauty. And then we arrived at the extraordinary White Desert. It seemed as if we’d left the warm climate behind. The desert was covered in white chalk that looked like snow.  It was decorated with forms carved from wind and sand over the ages.

It was here on this magical terrain where we set up camp for the night. We opted to forego tents and sleep under the open sky. While dinner was prepared for us, the couple and I edged away from the small camp to take in the blanket of stars and blackness of our surroundings. We stood in silence while a timelessness filled the air. The warmth from the day was fading and a fire was built. As we came close to warm ourselves a bright red orb ascended in the distance. The full moon rose along its path. The reflected light upon the white sand brought day to our night.

The seven of us enjoyed our dinner around the fire. Warm and sated, the music began. Sliwah led the songs, punctuating the rhythms with a handheld drum. The couple and I quickly learned the choruses, despite having no idea what we were singing. The music, our voices and laughter were the only sounds for miles. And the only visitor was a desert fox encouraged by the dinner scraps purposely left nearby.

When we were ready for bed, mattresses were placed on a carpeted area with sheets stationed vertically to block the wind. The couple and I, under piles of warm woolen blankets snuggled into our sleeping bags.

The following morning the husband claimed that he hadn’t slept well. His wife and I, who had been kept up part of the night from his snoring, assured him that he had slept much better than he thought. Still wearing our clothes from the day before we took water from a large container to wash our faces and brush our teeth. The temperature rose with the sun.

I was soon saying goodbye to the couple, who were heading back to Cairo for a flight, Sliwah, and one of the drivers. Hamad and I set off on foot with plans of meeting up with Assad, the other driver, for lunch.

During our walk we would encounter no one. Besides the sturdy brush, there was little sign of any other life at all. The terrain was easier to walk on than I’d imagined. The sand was not deep and the surface was sometimes rocky.Once again the desert offered its unique beauty.

That night there would be no singing, nor visits from a desert fox. But the stars, rising moon, and sleeping close to a fire for warmth provided ancient splendor.

By day three, we were returning to civilization. I was reluctant to do so.

Hamada proposed a soak in a natural hot spring and suggested I wear a bikini–which I don’t own.