 In
March 2004 an international team of climbers set out to develop
new climbing areas within the hidden wadis of the Sinai desert.
The team were heading for an area first climbed in 1978 by a team
of Germans, since then no one had climbed there and the area held
rumours of perfect unclimbed granite walls. This is just one story
from that adventure:
The
taxis dropped us off at the small village of Zeituna as the sun
was reaching the horizon and the morning haze was starting to
lift. We unloaded the bags and food onto 5 camels, then within
30 minutes five camels 13 climbers and Mohammed our guide were
packed and weaving our way through the boulders leading us into
a narrow valley seldom visited by the other tourist masses from
the St Katherine’s area. My rucksack was weighing me down
and the walking was taking its toll on my half dead flip-flops.
The rest of the team had walked on ahead with the steady pace
of the camels. Mohammed, Mel and I ambled along at our own happy
pace discussing where the next water will be coming from. We rounded
a corner in the wadi and yet again my flip-flops gave way on the
smooth granite beneath my feet. As I crawled up I noticed a few
fields of crops ahead of us. Mohammed saw my quizzical look and
smiled uttering only one word. “Opium”.
Sure
enough the fields ahead of us were crammed full of poppies in
various states of growth. All enclosed within barbwire and bush
fences. I was surprised that any guards had not confronted us,
or perhaps that was just my Hollywood side coming out of me. I
turned to ask Mohammed why the fields are not guarded, only to
find he had hitched up his clothes and had jumped the barbwire
fence.
No
he was not shot down in seconds but was kissed on each cheek by
a blackened tooth worker who had awoken from his siesta beneath
a palm tree. It turned out that in true Bedouin style they were
good friends. Within minutes the other growers were collected
around us, the fire was stoked and the tea was stewing to viscous
strengths masked by an equally evil amount of sugar. As I reached
to take my cup of tea, Mohammed held my hand back and made an
excuse why I could not accept their tea. From Mohammed’s
face I could only assume that the tea was not a normal cup of
tea. The rich aroma emanating from the blackened tea pot/bean
can confirmed this. The tea over boiled and kicked up opium infused
smoke. I strained my eyes to avoid the acrid smoke and they focused
on an electric display of pinks, purples and reds. The field on
the opposite side of the wadi was in full flower. I asked if I
could photograph the field, encouraging them by saying how they
would not be in the picture. Their initial hesitation soon made
way for excitement as they wrapped their faces to pose for the
camera showing their batch of harvested opium. Two, a guard and
head grower even asked to be photographed without their headscarves.
One
thing led to another and we were instructed to return tomorrow
afternoon for the start of what can only be described as a factory
tour of a small opium plantation.
Later
on in the day we had joined the others and had made base camp
in the shade of the East face of Jebel Banat (mountain of the
lady). After an evening of first class bouldering the team drifted
off to sleep with tired arms and bellies full of Kushery. (An
Egyptian dish made from rice, pasta, lentils, chickpeas and fried
onion).
The
next afternoon exactly at one I was met and escorted back to the
plantation where we saw the first part of the opium harvesting
process. A razor blade was used to make three thin cuts down the
sides of the poppy head. The plant is then watered, as this is
done in the heat of the day the plants hydrostatic pressure is
at it’s highest, and milk begins to flow from the cuts.
After I had had a go at this and declined their kind offer of
trying their wares we packed up to go back to camp. The man asked
us to return tomorrow morning to witness the next stage in the
production.
We
returned the next morning to find the milk light brown and sticky,
this was scraped from the head and moved to a pot for storage.
The same area was then revisited after a three-day crop rotation
and stages one and two were repeated. This process would have
been achieved seven times before the heads would have been cut
off and kept. Over an area the size of two football pitches a
total of three kilos of opium can be harvested worth only £12,000
to the farmers. I walked back from the plantation, in my sorry
excuse for flip-flops, to camp
We
had reached the top of a small rise in the valley, and Mohammed
stood still staring up at the ridge high above us; something had
caught his attention. At first I did not see anything but then
a man moved and his position was revealed. In one hand was his
AK-47 and in his other he began to wave a white scarf. We followed
his stare and to our amazement on the other side of the valley
another guard acknowledged his scarf by a wave of his own. We
counted four guards completing the procedure until Mohammed told
me it was safe to continue. He explained that as the crop was
coming into harvest the amounts of guards are increased. With
a group of 13 other climbers I was immediately concerned that
we were in danger and at risk of being shot at. Mohammed smiled
and said “No the guns are for the police and official looking
people. Bedouins and tourists are perfectly safe as long as they
keep to their own business. They fire the guns as a signal as
well as a weapon. On seeing the police the shots are fired and
all the workers drop tools and hide in the hills until the ‘heat’
blows over.” The sun was high in the sky now and beat down
upon us even though we were in the depths of a narrow gorge. Mohammed
continued to explain that it is the DEA and the American forces
that are their real concern
I
returned to camp with a great new understanding of the flora in
the Sinai desert, little did I know that soon I would get a crash
course in some of its fauna. The day passed and soon others were
returning back to camp triumphant from a hard days climbing. The
rock glowed orange as the sun set. The dusk gathered in close
and soon night had enveloped us within the globe of space illuminated
by the dying embers of the fire.
The
climbing in the area had turned out to be stunning. Over the next
few days we had established 20 new routes and 30 new boulder problems.
A classic route established by Richard Pike, Alex Nicholson and
Mat Jones was called “walk like an Egyptian”, for
a very worrying reason. The first pitch was a traverse along the
top of a giant very sharp and very hollow flake. To hand traverse
this was out of the question as any outward force would surely
break the thin edges. Instead it was completed by walking along
its razor topped edge, in the style of an ‘Egyptian’.
My
distractions from climbing had ended; I was now longing to see
what routes still were left to get amongst. The large slab above
the camp seemed the easiest objective, and with distinct lines
splitting the face it seemed an easy test to try ourselves on;
little did we know the route was to be called “feet are
for dancing, fists are for fighting, blood is for loosing”.
After
a breakfast of fresh bread and fig jam our hopes were on a high,
even as we stood at the base of the route we still saw it as an
easy line. 6m up and I had changed my mind; I was faced with an
unprotected awkward smeary rock over onto a sloping ledge that
was more then capable of spitting out unwanted climbers, like
a cherry stone, into the dirt below.
So
began the pitch that took an hour and a half to lead starting
with an arm pumping half an hour unprotected hand drill bolt placement.
Using the bolt as protection I managed to squirm my way onto the
ledge and climbed to the base of a hanging flake. The flake finished
at a traverse that would lead us into the crack corner system
that runs continuous to the top of the face. I thought the worst
was behind me as I placed the last bomber bit of pro before the
traverse. I looked across and realised I had made my second gross
underestimate; the next 8m was an unprotected traverse on a slab
that looked too steep to allow my weight to be held by the rubber
on the sole of my feet. Again I was wrong and a few tentative
steps had me committed on the blank friction traverse. 5m in I
found a desperate nut key placement; this gave me the blind faith
that the swinging grating fall back into the flake had gone. After
a further three metres I shouted down to Mel and Rich that I was
safe and that I hope they had their dancing shoes on. They were
about to second a pitch with footwork more complex then a tango
on ice. I looked up to inspect the next pitch and found myself
looking into the eyes of a flared trench with any chance of gear
hidden behind a filling of crud. Once Richard and Mel were both
next to me on the belay it was the turn of Richard to wage trench
warfare with the crack above. This although frustrating to lead
came out to be a classic HVS in comparison to the brutal E3 5c
pitch below us. The third pitch the crux of the route took as
much effort out of me as it did blood. The off-width crack overhung
onto a glassy smooth slab and threatened to rip your left arm
out from its socket. That is of course if the skin on your fist
managed to stay on your hand and keep you from slipping sadly
back down to the start of the crack. Eventually the three of us
sat atop of the crack triumphant. Two more pitches of E2 four
star climbing took us to the ledge that marked the end of the
route and the start of the descent.
The
expedition continued in a similar style, route after route of
perfect climbing, and with various visits from random opium lords
bearing gifts of firewood and drinking water all under the blissful
sunshine that drenches the Sinai desert. Oh I almost forgot. The
run in with the local Fauna was a 7cm long scorpion inside my
trousers on the back of my knee, who knows how long it had been
there for.
After
the four-week expedition a total of 35 new routes and 45 boulder
problems were completed. Thus finishing an amazing epic that has
opened the true potential of the Sinai desert. Thus the expedition
is returning in Easter 2005. To find out more or to become a part
of this expedition contact me on davelucas@postmaster.co.uk or
phone 07884392675. The expedition would like to thank The North
Face, The Lonely Planet, HB Climbing, Entreprise Climbing Walls,
Scarpa and all others that took part in making this expedition
what it was.
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