In almost any other country Gebel Musa, which many believe to be the legendary Mount Sinai, would have a chairlift to the summit, a panoramic viewing restaurant and a multitude of gift shops; perhaps selling Burning Bush snow globes and the Ten Commandments paper weights, but this being Egypt, means things are a little different.
To reach this biblical mountain I’m crammed into a small taxi with seven other backpackers, taking the two hour journey from the laid back, Red Sea resort of Dahab, where ex-kibbutzniks and weary travellers go to relax. I am both the former and latter.
After a little bargaining with the driver. he agrees to wait for us until the morning. We pay him half the money he is owed before we set off from the small car park close to St Catherine’s Monastery, where the Burning Bush still grows strong.

There are two routes to the summit; one involves climbing 3,750 steps, which range in height from a few inches to over a foot; an effort going up or down, the guidebook tells me. After a brief discussion with my fellow passengers we opt for the second option; a gradual path which snakes its way to the summit over the course of a few miles.

It’s just past 11 pm and a sliver of the moon is high in the sky. The mountain tops, reaching over 7,000 feet, are silhouetted against a black, star filled sky. The eight of us walk towards the only path that is visible from where we are and head off into the blackness of the mountains. We can see torchlight on the hill to our right, but our own lights do little to illuminate our path, except to confirm that we are still on level ground.

It is only a few minutes into the walk before we hear a shout from behind us.
‘Excuse me, excuse me’ an Egyptian man shouts as he runs towards us.

‘What you think he wants to sell?’ I hear someone ask. Hardly a moment passes in Egypt without someone trying to sell gifts, tours, guides or other services and I wonder what this man will offer.

‘Wrong path, wrong path’ he tells us as he approaches.
Looking around none of us can see further than a few meters, shining our torches shows that there are only rocks and dirt to our left and right.

‘I show you right path’

We all stay silent waiting for the next line
‘Backshish’ meaning a small tip
We all delve into our specially reserved backshish pockets, where we keep a few small notes for such occasions.

‘ Five pound each.

There are murmurs from the group ‘that’s what I already gave you’ someone shouts.
‘Five more’ we all look around again and are reminded we have little choice.
There are more murmurs as the correct money exchanges hands. The man gestures for us to follow him; about five meters from where we had been standing, just out of the reach of our torches, the man points to the path.

‘Good path’ he says.

We move onto the path without a word and continue our climb, wondering if men wait at every turn for the opportunity to guide visitors.

The path climbs steadily and the group soon begins to break up, only the beams of torches indicate their presence. Despite temperatures of almost 30 during the day, I find myself getting cold on the climb and dig into my bag for another top. Knowing that the desert can be cold at night I have brought all my warm clothes, however this extends to just a pair of pants and a jumper; I walk faster to keep warm. The path switches back as I walk higher, the night seems to have got darker now and the mountains are no longer silhouetted against the sky, I am walking in a black bubble, seeing noting except the torch light in front of me, that indicates I am still on the path, or a least a path.

After an hour or so, I see a small light on the hill to my right and as I follow the path, see it leads to a small tent, selling tea and snacks. I poke my head in and see some of the walkers from the taxi; wrapped in scarves and hats they are clearly more prepared than I am.

I buy a sweet tea from the man tending a small stove in the corner and join the others. Everyone has a similar story: Erica and Maurtiza from Sweden have been on a kibbutz for three months and wanted a break in Dahab. Jonathan is from Germany and has been travelling Egypt for a month. Sara is with her boyfriend from Denmark, ‘he’s up ahead somewhere’ she thinks, indicating she is not enjoying the temperature.

‘The last thing I expected from Egypt was to be cold’ Erica says. We all laugh in agreement; the man in the corner looks on deadpan, as if he hears it every night, but as we finish the last of our tea and leave the tent, he calls after us; ‘enjoy the cold’.

As we reach higher ground, the gradual path becomes steeper and less pronounced. We meet other walkers, standing in the dark waving their torches, wondering if they have taken a wrong turn; only the presence of torchlight up ahead confirms we may be on the right track.

A few steep steps and a scramble between rocks and we see the light of another small tent in the distance. Close by, the silhouette of a building, the Chapel of the Holy Trinity, indicates we have reached the summit.

The tent is packed with frozen walkers hugging cups of tea (the price of which seems to grow according to the height above sea level) and I squeeze in, glad of the warmth, but within minutes we are asked to leave to make way for other patrons. I buy another tea in the hope of staying ‘bring cup back’ says the man as he waves me to the door, only after I have paid my money. My initial idea of staying in the tent until sunrise was obviously not going to work.

It is only 2 am and the summit of Mt Sinai is already crowded. We wander around to find a place for our sleeping bags and appear to have found a deserted area; as I settle my head down on a rock the smell tells me we have in fact walked into the latrine area. I try to ignore the softness underfoot as we rapidly make my way back to the crowds.
Just below the chapel is a level area of land and we climb down to discover a small cave in which we can settle down for the night. The crowds above us are all facing in this direction and I guess this is the perfect spot.

‘Freezing isn’t it’ says Jonathan. ‘Sure is’ say Erica and Maurtiza as they lie down next to me. After a cold breeze blows across the summit the four of us huddle together as close as possible as we shiver the night away.

Just as I begin to think I will shiver my teeth loose, the first glimpse of dark red light comes over the mountain. The black peaks of the mountains ahead of us rise jaggedly against the glowing, slowly changing palette of the sky. I nudge the others and the sound of teeth chattering stops briefly as we let out a communal sigh of relief. We rearrange our huddle so we all have a good view and shiver until the dark red band stretches across the horizon. The sky turns from black to dark blue, then to a lighter shade as the colours of dawn reflect in the few clouds that are on the far horizon. Minutes later the valley is bathed in light and the bleak desert mountains become visible for the first time. Rock and sand disappear into the distance in a series of jagged mountains. A small Chinese choir standing just above us begins to sing as a series of camera flashes go off across the summit.

A sigh of relief comes as the sun finally rises above the horizon and my face can feel the warmth. I stare at the desert scenery for just a few more minutes before I move away from Jonathan, whom I realise has been huddled against me. We exchange a little blank look before he says ‘you didn’t do a very good job of keeping me warm ’. We share a laugh and a last look across the mountains of Sinai before we begin our descent, via the steps where within minutes, we are sweating with the heat of the morning sun.