Mt. Sinai sits in the middle of the Sinai peninsula, the "great wilderness" of the Bible and the chunk of land that connects Africa with Asia. The peninsula was the site of several wars and was occupied by Israel from 1967 until 1982, but today -- as with most of the last 6000 years -- it rests under Egypt's control. The triangular-shaped peninsula is bordered on two sides by the Red Sea (the Suez Gulf to the west and the Gulf of Aqaba to the east) and it is the string of resorts set along these clear waters that draws most visitors here today.

About a week ago Sarah and I hopped a bus from Luxor to the coastal town of Hurghada. From there we took a took a ferry. It was one of those fancy new high-speed catamarans, a big boat that even held a couple dozen cars, but just a few minutes out from port we began rocking in waves that were hitting us sideways. Within minutes people were throwing up, women and children were crying, and the crew was frantically running down the aisles tossing out puke-bags like they were peanut vendors at a baseball game. Sarah and I didn't get sick, but for about 30 minutes it was touch-and-go, not so much from motion sickness as from the sound (and, worse, the smell) of everyone wretching in such close quarters.

Thankfully, the crossing was brief. Before we knew it, people were dabbing spittle from the corners of the mouth and disembarking. We had arrived at Sharm el-Sheikh, a town on the southern tip of the peninsula.

"Sharm," as us cosmopolitan types like to call it, is sort of like an upscale version of Cancun for Europeans. It has its own airport, so droves of Germans and Italians fly here directly from Europe for a week of sun and scuba diving. There isn't much of a town. It is mainly a collection of 5-star resorts lined up one after the other.

From the ferry dock we hopped a cab to our resort, and for the next four days we rarely left its welcoming embrace. Days we spent by the pool, evenings in the excellent Thai restaurant. The hotel was a huge complex terraced into the hillside. Dropping down to the sea were an elaborate network of pools and waterfalls and shaded patios, so our main task each morning was to decide which pool to lay near. Sarah's favorite was one called the "Lazy River," a ring-shaped pool with jets that created a gentle current to float you around and around.

Sinai is a land of contrasts. Inland, the steep rock mountains rise from behind a dry, dusty plain. It is absolutely barren. No trees, no life. But when you reach the shore and dive under water, you enter a teeming marine park, a jungle of underwater life.

Looking across the Red Sea from high on the shore, the waters are a deep lapis blue that shimmer and swirl like the surface of a dragon's eye. I have never seen a color like it. When you don your snorkel gear and jump in, the water is so clear it feels like you are flying -- it's so clear you can't see what is holding you up off the ocean floor. Without a doubt the coral is the best I have ever seen. There are huge colorful formations just offshore, accessible to even the casual snorkeler. This is what draws most visitors here, and its reputation as one of the world's greatest dive sites is well deserved.

After 4 days in Sharm el-Sheikh we headed north to Dahab, another seaside town about an hour up the coast. While Sharm belongs to the package tourists, Dabah is backpacker through and through. Rather than huge mega-resorts, Dahab is a collection of small hotels and "camps," nothing more than reed or cement bungalows with basic shared facilities. The town has all the usual things we recognized from the Asia backpacker trail: cheap restaurants, internet cafes, used book stores, travel agents, and lots of young people walking around with tanned skin and mangy hair. Lining the waterfront were a string cafes that were sort of wierd bedouin/arab/coffeeshop amalgam. You take of your shoes before entering, and then sit on the ground on carpets, leaning on pillows. From the looks of things, many travelers spend all day in these places, alternately eating, reading, smoking sheeshas, drinking tea, and sleeping.

One of the "things to do" from Dahab, according to The Book, is to climb Mt. Sinai in the middle of the night, catch a quick nap on top, and then be there for the splendour of sunrise. That's great, but shivering the night away under a goat-hair blanket on top of a bare mountain didn't appeal too greatly to us, so we booked a van that was leaving at 8 AM and returning after sunset.

The next morning our van came right on time at 8 o'clock. It would break all rules of third-world travel if we actually pulled out of town in an efficient manner, so we spent the next hour circling the town, picking up people, and stopping by the side of the road so our driver could argue with random people about who-knows-what. Eventually, at about 9, we looped right back to where we started, picked up a few more people, and then drove to the edge of town. Just when I thought we were free we pulled up next to another van and because neither van was full (yet another unforgivable sin of third-world travel) they packed all of us into one. It was a record for us, actually. Fifteen people in one van.

We drove north and then cut west, straight into the heart of the peninsula. Dramatic mountains of red rock surrounded us, but the landscape was as dry and barren as the rest of Egypt. Every now and then we would see a Bedouin woman or child chasing a herd of goats. What the goats ate or drank I have no idea. A few more mountain passes, some low dry valleys, a military checkpoint or two, and we were there. St. Katherine's Monastery.

The monastery was founded in the 4th centry when (if I understood the guide I was evesdropping on correctly) some Christians found a rock with a pattern that resembled a burning bush. This rock apparently passed for scientific proof at the time, and it was declared that the mountain rising above was in fact the same Mount Sinai where Moses got the Big Ten.

The monastery has grown over the years and today it resembles a small castle or fort. Inside its tall outer walls are an ornate Greek Orthodox chapel, living quarters for the monks, the actual burning bush (which I must say looks pretty good after all these years), and the very rock with the bush pattern that started all the hubbub. The monastery also houses about 5000 tourists, all of whose tour buses arrived at the same time and all of whom were frantically trying to snap the same pictures of The Bush and The Rock before their buses returned to Cairo or Sharm or wherever they came from.

Sarah and I elbowed our way out of the monastery and escaped to the quiet slope of Mt Sinai. Our trail rose gradually. We switchbacked up the rocky slopes, seeing no one. With all the red rock and lifeless landscape, it could have been Mars. As we gained some elevation and began to look out on the neighboring peaks we were surprised to see mountains of different colors. Most were red, like Mt. Sinai, but nearby we aw mountains that were distinctly different -- muted green, yellow, one was almost black.

It was windy and there were few sheltered places to stop. We didn't see any other tourists, but every 20 or 30 minutes we passed a small stand selling tea and candy bars. Near the top our smooth path ended. From here we began climbing straight up a rough staircase that had been built into the rock. Another 20 minutes, up up up, and we were there. The summit. At 2285 meters not the highest point in Egypt, but maybe the holiest, right?

So here I sit. I am tucked behind a stone out of the wind, baking in the sun. There is another tea-stand here and an ancient boarded up chapel, but not much else. A few other hikers have made their way up, but they are sitting in silence as we are, waiting for the sun to set and looking out over Egypt.

This is my last sunset in Egypt. Tomorrow we will cross the Gulf of Aqaba into Jordan and I can't say I will shed too many tears about saying goodbye. I have probably been a little unfair to Egypt in these last dispatches. Many of the discomforts weren't Egypt's fault; after all, our colds were probably compliments of the Minnesota winter, and those sleepless nights in Cairo could have been remedied with a hotel upgrade. Had we come with a package tour with its pre-arranged travel and air-con buses we would have had a very different experience. Egypt isn't something to be scared of, just to be dealt with differently.

Despite my whining, most of Egypt was better than I expected. The temples were bigger and the tombs brighter than I could have imagined. The food was good and most of the people were friendly. So thinking about what disappointed me, it must boil down to this. . .