In the Steps of St. Antoni, Part 1

In the southwest portion of the Great Eastern Desert, almost halfway between Cairo's sprawl and Hurghada's seaside opulence, lies the Monastery of St. Antoni. Founded over 1700 years ago, this ancient place is one of the oldest monasteries in the world. The buildings and small plots of farmland that make up the monastery are nestled comfortably and safely within a crooked arm of the Red Sea Mountains. According to the traditions of the monks that reside in this oasis community, it is here, during the late period of the Roman occupation of Egypt, that St. Antoni gave away his lands and all of his possessions to lead a life of solitude, prayer and asceticism.

He lived in a small cave high up in the mountains, climbing down everyday day or two to replenish his water skins from one of the three fresh springs bubbling up in the nearby valley oasis. Presumably he also descended from his mountain perch to hunt and eat. After a few years, rumors of his holiness spread throughout the desert communities, and he began to attract a following. A monastic community was thus born in the oasis below Antoni's mountain cave. The community was one of the firsts of its kind, a precursor to the monastic communities that would become common throughout the Christian world.

Father Rawais Antoni

We are here on this hot, late September day, pilgrims of sorts, hoping to walk in Antoni's steps; to experience just a little of a life of monastic seclusion in the majestic panorama that is Egypt's Eastern Desert. We are greeted by the venerable Father Rawais Antoni. White beard and black robes flowing, he meets us at the great gate in front of the monastery, and he suggests that we first climb the 1200 or so steps to visit the cave where Antoni spent more than 40 years of his life. After this struggle to get up to the cave, he says, we should then be ready to tour the monastery below.

We travel to the base of a nearby, rocky mountain. Pausing in the heat of a direct, Saharan sun, we survey the metal-framed stairway zigzagging up the side of the mountain and ending in cement perch hundreds of meters above us. This will be a long and sweaty climb.

Steps leading to St. Antoni's cave

And it is.

Twenty years or so ago, I would have reveled in this kind of thing. Trudging up a thousand steps on a hot, early afternoon was just the kind of challenge I would have liked when I was 27. Now that I am 47, out of shape and with a bad knee, the challenge seems more like survival. I am one of the oldest in the group, and I take my time, lagging behind the rest. Although the sun is scorchingly hot, a cool, desert breeze swirls around us, making the climb a little easier. 

During frequent rests, Dana and I stop to take in and photograph the scenery. The wild and empty expanse of the Eastern Desert opens up before us as we slowly climb higher and higher. Maybe it is the altitude or the steps, but the oasis and the broad, arid valley below make for a breathtaking sight. Along the way up and at odd intervals, I notice that past pilgrims have walked off of the path and onto nearby rocky outcroppings to "cairn" piles of rocks. Others have staked make-shift metal crosses into the unforgiving, stony ground. Crosses that have been here the longest now lean in a gravity-defying way just like many of the weary would-be pilgrims struggling and stooping to make this climb. 

The view from the halfway point

At three-quarters of the way up I stop, red-faced and huffing from the exertion. Discomfited, I am amazed by the thought that Antoni lived to be 105 years old and that he had to have made this climb every other day for over forty years. Being half this age and much better fed, I don't have much of an excuse. Divinely inspired, I force my way up the last few hundred steps.

I am not disappointed. Dana and I finally make it to the top of the stairs, walking out onto a cement stage that the monks have built just outside of Antoni's cave. We are 300 meters or so above the desert floor, and we are looking out over miles and miles of ochre, barren valleys and the dusky purple crags of distant ridges. Far below, the monastery looks like a small model made for some museum display in Cairo. Gusty Saharan winds carrying fine grains of sand roar in our ears, buffeting our clothing and covering us all in a fine layer of golden silt. We have to yell to make ourselves be heard, although conversation here is at a minimum. Most of us are perfectly content to stand in the solitude letting the desert wilderness consume all that we see and hear. 

It is a powerful and humbling experience.

The view from St. Antoni's cave

This week's photos taken by Dana and Kyle Purpura