Definitely best viewed large!
Egypt seems exotic enough to me - until now I’d only travelled outside Europe just once in my life. But then there’s Saudi Arabia, just a handful of miles across the Straits of Tiran. It seems like another world entirely, a mirage at the horizon, cloaked in mysterious secrets. In the blinding white sky of the hours around lunchtime, only Tiran Island is visible, but as the afternoon marches on, the Saudi coastline slowly reveals itself, bold yellow dunes backed by the faintest silhouettes of imposing looking mountain ranges. The straits are a regular highway for a sequence of container ships, lying low in the water as they transport their cargoes along the Gulf of Aqaba. At the northern end of this easterly pincer arm of the Red Sea lie three ports, separated by just a handful of miles, yet they’re in three separate nations that sit uncomfortably alongside one another. Taba in Egypt, Eilat in Israel, and Aqaba in Jordan. Travelling south, those freighters are heading around the bottom of the peninsula, making for the Suez Canal, the Mediterranean and beyond, or maybe down through the Gulf of Aden, past the Horn of Africa, with Yemen on one side and Somalia on the other. Rather them than me. Not everyone in this part of the world is quite as pleased to see us as our Egyptian hosts. Too much of the world is run by angry old men controlling younger men who could do with stopping and thinking who they’re supposed to be angry at. Somebody needs to make them stop. Even here on the beach, security guards stationed by every hotel watch the coast, night and day, keeping their eyes peeled for troublemakers. Thankfully it’s been peaceful in Sharm el-Sheikh for a while now. I hope it stays that way. The people who live here and look after us sunbed lounging westerners for a week or two are so gentle and welcoming. Full of human warmth. I’ve never experienced service quite like it.
It was the last full day of our time in Sharm el-Sheikh, and this was my fourth sunrise visit to exactly the same spot, just a five minute walk from the apartment. The forecast had proved to be accurate - not a cloud in sight - just a soft band of orange lighting up those Arabian mountain peaks across the water. On the other three early pilgrimages, they hadn’t been visible at all, thanks to the hazy clouds on the horizon. But today, they appeared, soft and warm, clustered in groups, rising from the sea to heights that were impossible to measure with the human eye. As I watched, an empty ship headed north, rapidly approaching the scene in front of me. Just my luck. In the time it took to pass, the light would surely change and the chance to zoom into those enigmatic peaks would be gone. It needed a few moments to register in my slow witted morning brain that it might be an idea to include the ship. I ramped up the ISO and opened the aperture a little bit more. While holidaymakers overdose on the all inclusive in the hotels of Sharm el-Sheikh, the rudders of commerce grind their way along the gulf, on the last hundred odd miles of their voyage to those neighbouring ports.
For once I’d remembered to wear enough clothes to deter the resident mosquito population. Jeans, a long sleeved top and socks inside my shoes. My feet looked like a childrens’ “join the dots” colouring book after the first few days here - except for the fact that the dots were red rather than black. Ironic then that a stiff breeze was keeping the little airborne monsters quiet for a change. I pulled up one of the two plastic chairs for the last time and sat, watching the ever changing light. Each of these four mornings had been quite different from the last, and this was the only one to deliver a completely clear sky. The photographer’s curse. But then again, those Arabian lumps of land and the passing ship had given me something new as well.
Coming here each morning was fun, but at the same time all of the security measures meant it was quite a restrictive kind of place for landscape photography. And while we enjoyed our stay, being waited on as if we were royalty isn’t something that left us feeling entirely comfortable at times. We’re used to doing our own thing, and travelling under our own steam. No hire cars here, and only very limited opportunities to point the camera at the landscape without drawing unwanted attention. Only during that memorable trip to Mount Sinai did I feel as if I was getting into my stride, and that lasted well under an hour. But it was still a very rewarding experience, and gazing across the water into this mythical Arabian landscape was something I hadn’t really expected. It’s a big world out there.
