‘I am Akbar, your escort out to the mountain.’
Akbar’s pale brown eyes were intense and mesmerising. His olive skin, and the long black curls that extended around his neck from under his head covering, made his light coloured eyes all the more striking. ‘I thought Andre was sending a helicopter?’ I wondered why I should need a guide.
‘Foreigners are forbidden to leave the main roads unescorted,’ he explained congenially, and lifted my two heavy suitcases with such ease that, had I not hauled them off the luggage belt myself, I would have thought they’d been emptied. ‘Our transport is this way.’
I followed him out into the hot sun, placing a scarf over my head and around my shoulders, a wide-brimmed hat on top, and, of course, sunglasses, as I never slept well on planes.
Over the top of my long loose trousers and long-sleeved shirt, I wore a neck to calf length, heavy-weave cotton top that was done up all the way down to the knee. Made from beautiful Indian cotton, this clothing was the coolest outfit I owned that was also modest enough not to give offence in these parts.
The chopper pilot was an American guy, employed by the project to run errands. He introduced himself as Marty and seemed a cheery, confident kind of fellow.
My guide took a back seat in the helicopter while I sat beside our pilot in the front and strapped myself in.
‘Here.’ Marty handed me a one-litre bottle of fresh spring water. ‘Courtesy of the C & M Excavation. Don’t go anywhere without it and keep drinking constantly, as you’ll be surprised how fast you dehydrate.’
‘Thanks.’ I followed his advice gladly and drank down a quarter of a litre before coming up for air. ‘Who does the C and M stand for?’
‘James Conally, who is on-site and heading the excavation,’ Marty replied as he raised our transport into the air, ‘and Christian Molier…he’s the money.’
The stone at my neck began to itch my skin. It hadn’t bothered me before now, I thought. Perhaps I was having a reaction to the stone due to the extreme heat? Whatever the cause, I removed it, and placed it in my pocket.
The flight out to the Serabit site was spectacular. Marty flew by Mt Sinai, which was still widely believed to be the mountain where Moses had received the Ten Commandments, despite the fact that there was not a trace of archaeological evidence to support that belief. In the shadow of the mountain was the impressive monastery of St Catherine, a centre of religious life in the Sinai. We also flew over the Pearl of the Sinai at Feiran, the largest oasis on the peninsula, which has a spectacular and extensive sprawl of palm trees. Legend has it that Moses struck a rock with his staff at this oasis so as to bring forth a spring to save his people.
But, for me, Mt Serabit was more awe-inspiring than all of the above, for it had sheer drops from very dizzying heights and I was thankful to see that this was not the case all the way around the mount. The pillars of the Temple of Hathor dominated one side of the mountain and, as construction dated to around 2900BC, this building was far more alluring than either a monastery or an oasis. The mountainside was also dotted with ancient turquoise mines which had inscriptions in an early proto-Sinaitic script. Now I ask you, what could possibly top that in my eyes?
On approach I could see the layout of the excavation. Atop of the mount were the remains of the Hathor Complex. A dirt road, wide enough to cater to tourist buses, extended down from this and where it circled around the mountain a second excavation was taking place—Andre’s mysterious entrance no doubt. Further below was base camp.
The helipad was on another dusty plateau that was apart from the excavation sites, and a dirt road led to a T- intersection with the winding mountain road that you could follow upwards to the Hathor complex, or downwards to the new excavation and base camp. As my transport took position over the landing site I spied Andre waving up at me, and I must admit that I was pleased to see a familiar face.
‘Mia!’ Andre kissed both my cheeks in turn as soon as I was in range and then held me at arm’s length to admire the rest of me. ‘You look fantastic!’
With Andre
‘I know I look a mess.’ He looked down at his clothing and shrugged. ‘I’ve been working. Come, let me show you.’
As I was urged to follow Andre’s lead, I looked back to see Marty handing my bags to Akbar. ‘But—’
‘Akbar will see your luggage to your tent.’ Andre waved off my concern. ‘We have better things to do.’
Akbar didn’t seem the bag boy type to me. As I said, I’d mistaken him for an assassin on first sight. ‘I very much appreciate it,’ I called back to him over the sound of the chopper, and Akbar merely nodded. He was not the expressive type either.
I followed Andrew down the road from the helipad to where it joined the mountain road, and then turned right to follow this to the new excavation site, which had been fenced off to keep any nosy tourists at bay. C & M Excavation had unearthed a large disc-shaped feature that appeared to be constructed of normal white gold. The large disc was inset in walls that were composed of the same mysterious polished precious metal as the inner disc and the wands discovered here early last century.
‘Where is everyone?’ I’d expected to see work in progress.
‘After we uncovered the doorway, we dropped back to a skeleton crew until we knew what we were dealing with.’
The hieroglyphs I was here to translate were inset in a circular band around the central disc—this band appeared to be of dense, polished black rock.
‘What makes you think this is an entrance and not a decoration of some kind?’ I inquired, awe in my voice as I briefly touched the smooth surface, but as it was extremely hot my fingers recoiled.
‘Well, besides the inscription allegedly mentioning a door, we’ve taken readings to gauge the thickness of the surrounding wall…it is five feet thick, and then hollow.’ Andre raised his eyebrows to heighten the sense of drama. ‘But this central circle is only one foot thick.’
‘So drill it,’ I suggested.
