Kharga & Dakhla Oasis October, 1980

UPDATE (October 2020): Exactly 40 years have elapsed since this very first venture to what at the time was considered the deep desert, and very much the unknown. Armed with a fully manual Yashica camera, taking along a 36 and a 24 frame roll of Kodacolor negatives, this was also my first attempt at photography. With film being such a precious commodity, I have managed to squeeze out 38 and 25 shots respectively, and surprisingly all (save for one blurred) came out reasonably well. I have re-scanned and to the extent possible colour corrected the resulting prints (with the typical pink Kodak hue), all of which are now presented here, not just a selection like previously (thumbnails are the original scans, the slideshow contains the higher resolution corrected images). Also the narrative was updated with more detail.

In the late seventies I was living in Egypt with my parents, starting my first year at the American University in Cairo in autumn 1980. In the library of the Deutsches Archäologisches Institut in Zamalek Caton Thompson's Kharga Oasis caught my eye, followed by several other books and articles on the monuments of the Desert Oases. With two fellow Egyptology classmates, Arunkumar from Tanzania and Chris from the US, we slowly started formulating a plan to visit Kharga and Dakhla Oases, mythical places that were really off the map at the time. The oasis circuit road was non-existant, asphalt stretched only till Dakhla which was 'the end of the road' in all sense. Prior to that the deepest desert journey we have ever done was to tackle the sandy track in our good old Peugeot 504 till Quasr el Sagha and the roman temple and town of Dime along the northern shores of Lake Fayum. I knew of noone who has ever done the 'extreme' journey to the remote Oases, but with some asking about we could learn that there were regular shared taxis between Assiut and Kharga, and there was a Hotel in Kharga, so at least reaching the first looked feasible. The Eid al-Adha long week-end at the middle of October offered a perfect opportunity, Arun and Chris were game, with a somewhat anxious nod from my parents, we were ready to depart from Ramses Station on the eve of the Feast.

The only available train to Assiut was packed with people returning to their families for Eid, we had a rather adventurous overnight train ride in 3rd class to Assiut, standing all the way as there was not even enough room to sit on the floor. Arriving after midnight, we spent the rest of the night at the rather dilapidated only hotel of the town, followed by a rather lengthy wait to have our passport registered at the police before we could continue. At the local taxi station we were directed to the far corner of the grounds, where we indeed found a battered Peugeot 504 station wagon waiting for passengers to Kharga. There were already a couple of people, so on seeing the three of us Samir, the driver decided to wait no more, and by the mid-morning we set out for the roughly 200 kilometre distance to Kharga on the desert doad. The drive was rather uneventful, and we only met a single other vehicle, overtaking it about half-way. With a couple of rest stops we reached the edge of the Kharga escarpment by mid-afternoon. We descended by the old Yabsa pass road, unfortunately at the time I knew nothing about Operation Salam, so I have no memory of whether the "Dangerous descent" sign was still there or not. We found the only hotel in town full due to the feast, but the staff were very helpful, they directed us to a government rest camp a short distance away where we could find basic but perfectly acceptable accommodation in some clean but very hot plywood barracks. We still had some remaining daylight, so we went to explore Kharga city. Kharga was already the capital of the 'New Valley' governorate, but the grandiose project was very much at the beginning, with only a few modern buildings spoiling the original oasis landscape. However the old town was nothing special, it appeared very much like any remoter Egyptian village.

Early the next morning we set out on foot to explore the cluster of monuments just outside Kharga city while it was still relatively cool. We climbed the hill to the temple of Nadureh which at the time was well outside the inhabited area, then visited the clutter of lesser monuments at the foot of the hill before crossing the fields and dune covered palm clusters to El Bagawat.

The early Christian cemetery of El Bagawat (one of the earliest surviving in the world) stood totally abandoned and lifeless in the barren desert, many kilometres from anything. The tombs, built like small mudbrick houses, stood all open to the elements, some with fragments of frescoes still visible, we even found an abandoned mummy in one of the tombs.

By this time it was becoming very hot, we turned back towards town and the temple of Hibis, the main sight of Kharga, the only major standing munument in Egypt that dates to the Persian occupation (the temple itself was mostly constructed during the 26th Dynasty, but the decoration was completed by Darius I.). The temple was restored by the 1909-1911 Metropolitan Museum of Art mission, the protective scaffolding left there by Herbert Winlock was still there untouched (it was finally removed after further consolidation in the late eighties).

After spending the afternoon (mostly under the shower, which only had hot water from the steel tank on the roof, but still offering some cooling from the heat) we went back to town to have dinner and find some transport to take us to two temples further south in the Oasis. With the Feast it was not easy, but finally we could agree with the owner of a rather dilapidated pickup for the rent for a day, and he promised to pick us up the next morning at the roundabout next to the Hotel (at the time the junction of all four roads, the one from Assiut, the one leading south, the Dakhla road and the street leading to the main square of the old town). Walking back, everything was already dark with no street lighting and no moon. The rest camp was some way out in the desert from the hotel roundabout, and as we were the only ones staying there no lights were on, we walked right past it. With none of us having enough sense to bring a torch (a good lesson learned) we spent a long time wandering about in the sand and gravel until we finally stumbled upon the dark and deserted barracks.

The pickup was waiting for us at the roundabout as agreed, and as we continued south the asphalt ceased, and we saw no other cars, only people moving about their business on camels and donkies. It was here that I saw the first doum palms with branching trunks, plants unknown in the Nile valley.

Our first target was Qasr el Ghueida, a Persian - Ptolemaic era fort and temple perched on a hilltop about 20 kilometres south of Kharga, located a few kilometres off the main piste leading south, with just a rough sandy track leading to it.

The Greco-Roman temple of Qasr el Zayan is just four kilometres south of Quasr el Ghueida, but with no tracks we had to backtrack to the main piste, and after driving 10 kilometres south take a track east again, leading to a nearby village. While we never got stuck anywhere, with the bad tracks and circuitous routes the visit of the two temples took up a whole morning, only getting back to Kharga city mid-afternon.

Our plan was to continue to Dakhla Oasis if possible, almost 200 kilometres further East by road. We knew that there was a tarmac road till Dakhla, but had no information whatsoever about any reguar transport, nor of what accomodation we may find when we get there. The next morning we sat down by the Dakhla junction at the roundabout, hoping to hitch a ride with some passing vehicle, but the only two trucks turning off were going to the phosphate mines a few kilometres outside Kharga. By 10am it became very hot and we gave up, walking to the main square to ask around, and from an old woman we heard that Samir promised to be back that day with his Peugeot, and sometimes he does continue to Dakhla if there are enough passengers. There was nothing to do but sit down in the shade and wait, we passed the time swatting flies. We were well over a four digit figure by the time, around midday, we heard the rumble of a car around the corner, and Samir rolled into the square with his 504 loaded to the brim with at least 15 people. Some got out, but the majority stayed, and Samir indeed confirmed that he is going to Dakhla, our transport problem was solved.The three of us squeezed in to the double space beside Samir on the front seat, and we merrily started on our way. The drive to Dakhla took most of the afternoon on a road that was much worse than the one leading to Kharga, again with a number of rest stops. We reached the main square of Mut by late afternoon. There was noone in sight, the passengers all disappeared into the alleys, but Samir reassured us that if we bang loud enough on the pointed out door someone will come, and there is a government rest house in the building above the door.Indeed after some time the door creaked open, and we were led up a flight of stairs to a long airy building with small rooms along an open corridor with three iron beds in each, basic but perfectly fitting the purpose. On hearing the commotion a head popped out from one of the rooms, it turned out that a lone Canadian tourist was the sole occupant of the building at the time. We had a good discussion that evening on the sights of Dakhla, and more importantly we were passed on to the driver of the only available car for hire in town (the Canadian returned to Kharga with Samir the next day).

Next morning our 'taxi' turned out to be a delightful (if somewhat temperamental) 1954 model Ford F100 pickup (coming to think about it, it was only 26 years old, just 10 years older than me at the time...). It lacked a starter motor, and the engine had the habit of stalling at the most unpleasant places (like when crossing a small irrigation ditch, in ankle deep mud), but a little pushing always brought it back to life. On our fine steed we set out on the road continuing towards the western parts of the Oasis, which in places was covered by dunes, requiring wide detours.

Our goal was the temple of Deir el Haggar, but our driver unexpectedly stopped at a low hill well before the temple. The hill was al Mazawaka with the curious Roman era tombs that were open to visitors (and the elements) with a lone gaffir protecting them. He was delighted to see us, the last visitors being there some three months before. At the time I was not aware of these tombs, they were not mentioned in any publication I have managed to find, but fortunately our driver knew about them. They are unique, showing typical Egyptian tomb scenes, but drawn in a Romanized style, with the tomb owners also depicted in the style and attires of the time.

We continued to the temple of Deir el Haggar which was totally deserted, we had the place all to ourselves. It was in the same ruined state as described by early explorers, it was only restored in the mid-nineties (I'm not sure whether for better or worse).

The evening before we have heard of a place called el Amheida from the Canadian traveler, a huge unexcavated roman town some distance to the south of el Qasr, the old centre of the Oasis. We made a detour to visit it, but aside a few outcroping mudbrick walls and a surface thickly covered with broken ceranics, there was not much to see. However on the way back we were invited in by a potter who was making the typical Dakhla ware, broad vessels which were very much in evidence everywhere at the time, women carrying water in them from the wells on their heads (now they are just made for the tourist trade).

The village of el Qasr, though already some parts crumbling, was still a living town, with shy children following us about the covered streets, but apparently the term 'bakshees' was unknown to them. They only smiled and looked with big round dark eyes at the rarely seen strangers. The minaret of the old mosque was open, we could climb up for the view and photos unhindered.

It was already well into the afternoon when we drove back to Mut along the cliffs bordering the Oasis.

Our time (and film, I snapped the last frame of our Ford pickup in front of the rest house) was up and we had to start looking for a way to get back to Cairo. Much to our luck, when we reached the main square of Mut there was a lorry unloading crates of Coca Cola bottles (yes, even then), and we agreed to hitch a ride with them when they return to Kharga the following morning.

Balanced precariously on the top of shaking empty cola bottles in crates, we took the bumpy road back to Karga in the back of the truck in the morning, and luck stayed with us as when we reached the main square of Kharga, there was a Peugeot taxi soon to depart for Assiut, which we reached by the evening. Purchasing tickets (this time for first class seats), we waited at the station for the midnight Luxor express that took us to Cairo by daybreak.