Whale Watching in the Sahara

Mud-mounds and bluffs overlooking Wadi Al-Hitan

We are heading out this morning, two passengers on a whale watching expedition to the Wadi Al-Hitan, a part of the Eastern Sahara. Meghan, one of the teachers with whom we work, put this expedition together a couple of weeks ago, and she has issued a 100% guarantee that we will see whales today, albeit dead ones. Very dead. Millions of years dead.

50 million years ago, most of Egypt was submerged beneath a shallow sea, a sea that was home to an abundant amount of marine life including a primitive type type of whale known as a basilosaurus. A cross between a small whale and an alligator, a basilosaurus could grow to 20 meters in length, and it swam alongside tortoises, crocodiles, and sharks. The waters teemed with life with the basilosaurus floating happily atop the food chain. The fossilized remains of the basilosaurus' lush marine environment can be seen in the eastern portion of the Sahara Desert. Located a couple of hundred kilometers southwest of Cairo, Wadi Al-Hitan is a part of this area and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. This is our destination.

Including Hany, our very experienced guide, and his two compatriots, there are fifteen of us traveling in the caravan this morning. Dana and I have shared previous adventures with several of our fellow travelers. Sarah, Rick, and their two children, Matthew and Emily (who speak better Arabic than all of the rest of us put together), joined us on trips to Luxor and Old Cairo. Joe and Rosanna trekked to Luxor, too. This morning, we gather at a local market just before clambering into our ships of the desert. Were we to make this journey a century ago, we would be climbing onto comfortable camel perches adorned with brightly colored Egyptian woolen blankets. Today, we climb aboard dusty Toyota Landcruisers.

The drive there proves fascinating, however. We exit the main highway just outside of Giza, off-roading across hard-packed sand for many, barren kilometers. Our driver, Hamdy, is a tall, handsome man that hails from a remote village in central Egypt. He wears a keffiyah (checkered headdress) and an alabaster galabiya (traditional men's robe). As the blackened rock and firm sand under our wheels give way to shifting ochre dunes, we discover that Hamdy has two wives and three children. I note with interest that the wives live in separate towns. We also learn that Hamdy likes American R&B. He is particularly passionate about R Kelly, and we listen to the first four episodes of Trapped in the Closet. Treading a fine line between jocularity and horror, Joe sings along. He knows a disturbing amount of the lyrics. Hamdy is (sadly) impressed by Joe's singing and films one of Joe's impromptu segments; coming to an Egyptian YouTube channel near you.

After two hours of coursing through the dunes, we drop precariously. It is as if all of the land fell at once, a broad valley stretching as far as I can see. Here and there, copper colored mesas rise above the shifting sands. The horizontal striations along the sides of the mesas tell a story of  millions of years of receding water levels, the story ending with a dead sea and an ocean of dust and sand.

When we arrive at Wadi Al-Hitan however, we grasp that there is more here than dust and sand. Hany leads our caravan of three Landcruisers into the site parking lot. UN funding has ensured the maintenance and upkeep of this place. Several one-story buildings, domed structures made of sun-dried brick, provide visitors with shade, modern toilets, and even an area to cook meals. Hany, purchases tickets for our group, gives us a brief introduction about the park, and then leaves us to enjoy the hike on our own.

The hike takes one to two hours. We see ochre, toadstool-like rock formations, mud-mounds that are millions of years old. Our path meanders through these magnificent features. Beneath some of the mud-mounds lay the preserved skeletal remains of basilosaurus. Some of the best specimens from the park have long since been taken to museums for further inspection, but 15 or so fine examples have been demarcated and preserved. The best skeleton, a relatively small basilosaurus, is encountered about halfway through the hike. The creature's crocodile-like head and snout still have some teeth intact. The animal's fins and spinal column are easily discernible; the intact fossilized remains of an ancient whale in the midst of a desert. Incredible.

I would love to stay longer, but today is hot. The midday sun hammers down on us. Our water goes quickly; lips begin to feel baked and crispy. We head slowly back towards the park entrance. An hour-and-a-half later, we are sprawled out under one of the site's shelters, Hany serving us a cooked lunch of okra and tomato stew poured over a bed of rice. Also incredible.

Ged rockets down the dune

We regain our strength and pack up. The day is not over yet. Hany leads our caravan out of the park and toward a nearby shifting sand dune. We park at the base, the dune rising several hundred feet above us. Time for sandboarding. Imagine snowboarding except on sand. That's sandboarding. No helmet, no pads. Just you, your board, and the dune.

The kids take to it immediately. It takes us adults a little longer. Matthew and Emily, the youngest of our troop, bound halfway up the dune and glide down. At first they sit on the board, but then they muster the courage to stand, surfer-style. Before long, they are asking Hany to wax the bottoms of their boards so that they can go faster. Once the adults get the hang of it, they are pretty good, too. Ged, the tallest of our group, manages to make it the farthest up the dune, and he summits with a freshly waxed board. He slaloms down at quite a speed, making it look easy and oh, so much fun.

The trouble with sandboarding though is that it is such a trudge up the side of a shifting sand dune. Step ... slide down, step ... slide down. I make it about a quarter of the way up. I am panting, thighs burning from the exertion. In the time it takes me to amble  up, Matthew and Emily have been up and down and are on their way back up again. Ah, to have that much energy again.

The sun begins to set, our sandboarders casting impossibly long shadows down the slopes of the dunes. The kids take a couple of more runs, and then we need to leave. Hany tells us that foxes and jackals roam these parts after dark. What he does not say is that we are also in a relatively conservative part of the county, and that it is best to be back in Cairo before it gets too dark. So we pack our boards, climbing back into our modern ships of the desert.

We drive out of the dusty, barren valley. The land looks gaunt and thirsty. Driving away, it is difficult to believe that ages ago, this place was very different. That once upon a time, this area teemed with life; that the valley that once was a sea bed and home to millions of sea creatures.

*This week's photos by Dana Purpura.