It’s been many years since this picture was taken and I am glad I found it. Blogging was the farthest thing from my mind back then. (Blogging hadn’t even been invented yet.) But now a whole new world exists and it’s time for me to blog! I’ve got a picture, not just a memory. I am tickled to have a handful of pictures that document my climb.
It wasn’t Mount Everest but it was scary. My husband-to-be had to hoist me up the first minutes of our climb. I remember clinging for dear life to each block. I wanted my arms to turn into suction cups. We were exhilarated as we made it up to the top, but then we were shocked to see a German trio had beaten us and actually spent the night camping there. I remember being confounded on how they had gotten their equipment to the top. Conversely, I am completely blank on how we got down. The stones were only an arm’s length shorter than me.
When we finally descended, the guards who had waited patiently for more than an hour chased us. Half the fun was knowing we would be badgered to pay baksheesh, or bribe money, in return for our getting away with our mischief. Of course there were signs posted: It Is Illegal to Climb the Pyramids. But people who arrived before the sun rose, could get their start before an audience of guards awoke.
That doesn’t go on anymore, I imagine, and probably for good reason, as some people used to fall and die each year. Supposedly, there is only one edge of the pyramid that’s good for climbing. How we learned which side to take is still a mystery but I think it was through word of mouth. But we made it, and in doing so I got a great picture and a memorable experience.