SUNRISE AND SUNSET FROM MOUNT SINAI 



1263 



Gulf of Akabah were visible in several 

 places, but the sun was setting behind 

 the Gulf of Suez, veiling it in mist ; the 

 African mountains were crowned with 

 gold, and over a golden sea crimson 

 clouds were sailing. A broad band of 

 green half encircled the northern sky, 

 while the earth and the mountains about 

 us were clear violet, darker in the hol- 

 lows, more opalescent on the heights. 

 Then the peaked shadow of Mount 

 Sinai crept slowly out of the valley up 

 the slopes of the other side ; it fell upon 

 the hills beyond, and then, stretching out 

 . to the horizon, it fell on range after 

 range until it left the earth and threw its 

 pyramidal shadow on the clouds. 



In turn the other mountains rose, flung 

 their shadows upon it and blotted it out. 

 A.S the sun touched the horizon rim, 

 George threw himself on his knees and, 

 facing the setting sun, with eyes closed, 

 poured out his soul through the reedy 

 notes of his flageolet. The story of the 

 "Jongleur de Notre Dame" crossed my 

 mind. No sooner had the sun vanished 

 than we started homeward, for the de- 

 scent, difficult enough by day, is posi- 

 tively dangerous in the dark ; but rapidly 

 as we went the light faded faster. 



In that deep gorge between the high 

 walls the night seemed to creep up out 

 from the rocks below rather than to fall 

 from the skies above, and soon we gave 

 up the attempt to see our path and 

 trusted to the feel of the ground beneath 

 our feet. A turn in the path and the 

 plain of the cypress tree came in sight, 

 lying far and almost sheer below us, for 

 from this point begins the steepest part 

 of the descent ; but we could see our 

 tents, the camels browsing, and the light 

 of the camp fire, promising coffee, sup- 

 per, and rest. 



The stars were all out, brilliant and 

 pendant as you never see them except 

 very far from the cities of men ; the last 

 gleam of the daylight had faded as we 

 stepped out of the gorge, passed the 

 Chapel of Elijah, and came into camp. 

 Before we slept that night, I left the tent 

 and crossed the valley. The moon was 

 just rising above the cliffs, throwing gro- 

 tesque images of ogres and of primeval 

 beasts upon the moonlit walls opposite ; 

 the shadow of the cypress fell black upon 



the face of the still waters. The silence 

 was intense. No frogs sang to us out of 

 the marshes ; there was no voice of in- 

 sects among the rocks ; no call of night 

 bird sounded in the air. 



I awoke a little after 3 and dressed. 

 The moon was still shining on the valley ; 

 the camels lay here and there, one close 

 to the tent. George and the Bedouin were 

 asleep around the ashes of the fire. They 

 sprang to their feet as I came up, and 

 George went for water,while the Bedouin, 

 uncovering a few dull embers from under 

 the ashes, nursed them into a blaze. The 

 air was cold and the warmth most pleas- 

 ant, and I glanced about. The desert 

 shrubs burned fiercely, sending trails of 

 sparks flying into the night; the firelight 

 flickered on the walls of the tents, on the 

 dark face of the Bedouin, and on the 

 camel as he lay with his long neck 

 stretched out along the ground toward 

 the blaze. We had coffee and a cigarette, 

 and then started again up Sinai for the 

 sunrise. Passing the Chapel of Elijah, 

 I heard the voice of the priest, rising and 

 falling in weird cadences as he intoned 

 the services of his church. Here, alone, 

 in a monk's vigil he had passed the night. 



We entered the gorge and began the 

 climb. The moon had set in this crevice 

 and our path lay in the shadow, but the 

 moonlight was falling upon one side of 

 the gorge and the rocks reflected it upon 

 the path. Still its light was deceptive. 

 It foreshortened distances, modulated the 

 shadows and misinterpreted them ; it cre- 

 ated a false perspective, and I was con- 

 stantly misjudging distances and stumb- 

 ling, even though the light seemed ample. 

 However, we climbed rapidly, and with- 

 out stopping, for I was anxious to be on 

 hand for the first glimmer of the dawn. 

 In 28 minutes we stood upon the summit. 



Sinai bears the name of the moon god 

 "Sin," and "Sin" was reigning now ; his 

 light fell on the circle of granite moun- 

 tains, smoothing out their cracks and 

 scars and exalting their huge masses ; 

 here it left a valley in the darkness, and 

 there it fell shimmering upon white sands. 

 Overhead moon and stars hung brilliant 

 out of a black vault of heaven, and the 

 distances above the stars seemed vaster 

 than the distances below. 



I wrapped myself up in a steamer rug 



