Bridges of Pontbeset

Nobody can build the bridge for you to walk across the river of life, no one but you yourself alone. There are, to be sure, countless paths and bridges and demi-gods which would carry you across this river; but only at the cost of yourself; you would pawn yourself and lose. There is in the world only one way, on which nobody can go, except you: where does it lead? Do not ask, go along with it.  Friedrich Nietzsche

A bridge in Pontbeset

I have taken Nietszche’s advice and traveled a path much, if not all, of my own making. All my choices led me to this exact point in my life: a crisp morning in the Italian Alps crossing picture-perfect bridges along an alpine trail hugging a mountain stream. I am a most fortunate woman.

The Six Bridges Circuit (Giro dei Sei Ponti) is a scenic walking and hiking route located in Pontboset in the Champorcher Valley about an hour southeast of Aosta.

My husband, John, and I arrived in the tiny village this crisp October morning, grabbed our walking sticks and set out to find the six bridges despite counting only five on the handy trail map posted in the village.

John navigates Pontbeset

We wound our way down to a lovely stone bridge traversing the Ayasse Stream, the main waterway flowing through Pontbeset which is fed by tributaries with equally lovely names — Manda and Brenve.

A stone footpath or a metaphor about life

Atop the bridge afforded a scenic view of the Ayasse pooling below.

After crossing the first bridge we worked our way up to discover the second above us spanning a tiny tributary with cascading water.

John captured me bridging the gap atop #2

As I stood atop bridge #2, John may have been crossing what counted as bridge #3 on the circuit. We’re not really sure, but we know that sometimes you just have to cross that bridge when you get to it.

Next was an easy walk down a village road then into the woods along a path to find bridge #4. This lovely wooden expanse  turned out to be my favorite bridge and vista on the circuit.

It’s all water under the bridge.

Such a magical area along the Ayasse! It was a real treat for our eyes and a nice place to sit and contemplate the incredible beauty of the Creation.

John amid the stream bed.

We crossed the wooden bridge to make our slow ascent back to our starting point.

No one wants to burn this bridge

On the walk back up, we were struck by the plethora of chestnut trees and their pods carpeting the trail.

Chestnuts galore

We spotted the fifth bridge on our hike back and decided that was a bridge too far.

The bridge not taken

Bridges are powerful symbols of connection, transition and passage. Bridges — the literal and figurative ones — force us to make choices about which paths, habits, and/or relationships to pursue.

The bridges I chose to cross along with the ones I circumvented led me here. And here is a lovely place to be. Wonder what lies ahead?

The path forward

A Little Bit of Egypt in Italy

Traveled to Torino (aka Turin in English) today to visit the Museo Egizio. I had never heard of it before yesterday and it turned out to be an extremely impressive museum.

Entrance to Museo Egizio

I was familiar with Torino, famous among Christians for the Shroud of Turin, a large length of linen cloth bearing the negative photographic image of a crucified man which is housed in the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Turin since 1578. Many Christians believe the shroud and its image belong to Jesus. Scientist dispute the exact age of the linen shroud and the Catholic Church remains officially neutral on the authenticity of the artifact.

There was no shortage of authentic Egyptian linen at Museo Egizio. An entire alcove contained rolls of the ancient fabric made from flax. The majority of the ancient artifacts housed in the museum were uncovered during an Italian expedition to Egypt at the dawn of the 20th Century.

Linen burial garb.

Lovers of Ancient Egypt can spend hours in the multi-floor museum gazing upon mummies, stone/wood statues, papyrus documents, sarcophagi and coffins and a plethora of other objects extracted from the desert sand.

Explanations of what you are viewing are thorough and provided in English as well as Italian. The museum is well marked and easy to navigate.

Sarcophagus

I was particularly taken with the vast display of headrests or what I like to think of as Ancient Egyptian Pillows. Imagine them covered with some type of padding. Nah, they still look terribly uncomfortable!

Ancient Egyptian Pillows

The museum is known for is invaluable List of Kings, fragments of paprus that listed the reigns of all the pharoahs in chronological order. But my absolute favorite items were the “shabtis,” small wooden statues of the deceased holding agricultural tools. These struck my fancy because they demonstrated how humanity’s focus on economic privilege has changed so little over millenia.

Shabtis

Ancient Egyptians believed that gods  could call upon the dead to work in the afterlife. Wealthy people had small statues of themselves holding work implements carved to place in their tombs. If a god asked the deceased to go hoe a row, for example, the deceased could offer up a statue in his/her stead.

Poor people didn’t have these statues in their burial sites. Apparently, they were doomed to continue laboring in the afterlife as they had toiled in life. No rest for the weary in Ancient Egyptian cosmology.

The museum is in the old city center of Torino. It’s a lovely, pedestrian area where you can meander and admire the architecture or grab lunch at a sidewalk restaurant.

Taking a lunch break in Torino

Whether you’re an amateur egyptologist, or just happen to find yourself in Torino, make sure to visit Museo Egizio. It’s worth a few hours of your time.

Into the Dutch Bos

Nature is a balm to the soul. I sought to surround myself with as much of it as I could afford when I left the suburbs of Atlanta and moved to the woods 25 years ago seeking a refuge from the hurried, harried pace of my life. My youngest child dubbed our home among the trees “Tin Can Gulch.” 

Decades later, that child is suffering through the death of a long relationship and I have traveled to her adopted home in the Netherlands  to offer her a mother’s  comfort.   One look at my daughter and I knew she needed to leave heartbreak and the bustle of Amsterdam behind for a serene sojourn in the forest.

The Japanese call it shinrin-yoku — forest bathing. It’s not hiking,  jogging or counting steps. Rather, it’s slowing down and immersing yourself in the woods to engage all your senses. Touch a tree. Smell the fresh air. Listen to the birds. Watch the sunlight play with the tree leaves.

The Schovenhorst land area near Putten.

It’s just what a frazzled heart needs.  Science says so.  A couple of hours of forest bathing significantly lowers cortisol (stress hormones), reduces blood pressure, and improves  heart rate variability. What’s more, trees release antimicrobial organic compounds called phytoncides to protect themselves. Inhaling these compounds boosts human immune function and increases natural killer (NK) cell activity. 

In other words, chilling out in the woods calms you down and makes you feel good.

With that in mind, we headed for Otterlo, a small village bordering the Hoge Veluwe National Park. We encamped in a vacation rental nestled in the Dutch bos (forest). Birdsong filled the air as we bathed  in phytoncides.

A beauty in the Veluwe

A few days in the Veluwe was a balm to our spirits, but left us thirsty for more. We ventured northwest to the small town of Putten to explore the Schovenhorst land area.

We enjoyed long walks in the bos, soaking up the peaceful beauty surrounding us…

Into the bos

and appreciated the man-made contributions to the forest as well.

Woodhenge — an artistic homage to Stonehenge

A forest tower in Schovenhorst

We marveled at the small and large tree gardens containing trees from around the world.

Walking in a tree garden

A Giant Sequoia

Mother Nature comforted and consoled as only a mother can, helping my daughter rest, quiet her mind and regain her footing.

Child of mine forest bathing

From one mother to another, I offer my thanks.

Soaking in the Italian Alps

I have been soaking in the majestic Italian Alps for more than a couple of weeks now.  I have also been soaking in thermal springs while in the Italian Alps.

Bormio, site of alpine sking events during the 2026 Olympic Winter Games, is a great place for thermal spas, but you have to get there first.

Getting to Bormio from Villa di Chiavenna was an adventure. The first leg was on a local bus to St. Moritz, Switzerland. It’s quite a scenic bus ride.

As seen on Bus 604 from Chiavenna to St. Moritz

We arrived in St. Moritz with three hours to spare before catching the famous Bernina Express to Tirano.

St. Moritz enjoying the spring thaw.

St. Moritz was made famous by hosting the 1928 and 1948 Winter Olympics as well as a number of other winter and sailing sporting events. The beautiful Lake St. Moritz was still frozen solid during our visit.

Lake St. Moritz in early April.

The Bernina Express has been operating since 1910 and has been inscribed on the  UNESCO World Heritage list since 2008. The train ride between St. Moritz and Tirano is one of the most scenic in Europe.

Despite my best efforts, I found it difficult to capture photos on the packed train car during the two-plus-hour-ride. Frankly, the photo ops on the hour-plus bus ride to St. Moritz had been  more plentiful.

Frozen lake on the way to Tirano.

Once in Tirano, we still had an  hour-plus bus ride to Borimo. Our stay in Borimo was brief — just one full day. We chose to spend it soaking in the Alps. But first we had to get to the Bagni Vecchi Hotel and Spa. That, of course, required a bus ride followed by a 1.25 mile hike up a mountain to the thermal spa.

Scenic views on the trail to Bagni Vecchi.

The climb was well worth it as the pools and views were stunning.

A pool with a view.

My alpine adventure ends in Bormio. Tomorrow begins the long trek home — where I can soak in the hot tub on the back deck of Tin Can Gulch. Take it from me, there’s no better soak in the world.

Guten Tag/Bonjour/Buongiorno from Chiavenna

“Get off the bus at the pharmacy and walk 300m towards Switzerland.”

So began my visit to the second town in my Italian alpine adventure — Villa di Chiavenna, a tiny village on the outskirts of  the larger Chiavenna located a hop, skip and a jump from Switzerland on Italy’s northern border.

Villa di Chiavenna

On the short bus ride from the Chiavenna train station to the pharmacy I heard German, Italian, and English. The only language not represented was French — until we met our AirBnB hostess who spoke Italian and French, but not a smidgen of English. Google Translate to the rescue since we have no Italian and minimal French

Our first full day in Villa di Chiavenna was spent strolling around the village perched amid the mountains and admiring the views.

Alps in every direction.

The river Mera runs through this village and on to Chiavenna. Looking at it from above is quite spectacular.

River Mera

This area is famous for grotto restaurants, but our first dining experience required that we essentially climb up a mountain to a local spot — Pos Motta Dagò. The food was fantastic and so abundant we brought leftover polenta with mushroom sauce home. But I enjoyed the scenery on the hike to and from  the restaurant almost as much as the delicious meal.

A rustic scene.

Day Two saw us walking toward Switzerland again to check out the local lake. Walking trails populated both sides of the beautiful mountain lake.

Lago di Villa di Chiavenna

The lake is fed by the Mera River and the water is used for hydroelectric power in the area.

Mera running into the lake.

Between Chiavenna and Villa di Chiavenna is a beautiful waterfall that dumps into a small tributary to the river Mera.  Walking and hiking paths abound.

Acquafraggia

Rainbows danced at the base of the waterfall.

The ancient town of Chiavenna was a hot spot for  travellers in the 19th century. Mary Shelley, Goethe and George Eliot, to name a few, rhapsodized about the Italian jewel.  Beautiful, sunlit Chiavenna marked entry into Italy via the Splügen Pass, one of the first transalpine passes connecting northern Europe to the warmer south.

Sunny Chiavenna

Today, most travellers skip Chiavenna and head 60 miles south to Como with its luscious lake or head north to St. Moritz. Methinks they’re missing out.

Picturesque views abound.

Buildings along the river date to the 16th century.

River Mera is a centerpiece of the town.

The Swiss village of Soglio is about five miles from Villa di Chiavenna and dates back to the 12th century.

Soglio

I smothered the urge to yodel as I took in the magnificent views surrounding Soglio.

The hills are alive with the sound of spring.

Soglio’s cobblestone streets and low, rock walls beg visitors to roam even on a cold day in early spring when winter is hanging on by its fingernails.

Soglio defines rustic charm.

It’s quiet here. Life moves more slowly than in more populated places. I’m surprised that more travellers haven’t rediscovered it. But if that were to occur, the peace  found here would evaporate like the snow in spring.

Arrivederci Chiavenna!

The Rome of the Alps

Italian Alps

My alpine adventure in northern Italy begins in Aosta, a city of more than 33,000 nestled in a valley at the confluence of the Buthier and Dora Baltea rivers.

A river runs through it.

People have occupied this picturesque valley for millenia. The Romans left so much of a mark that Aosta is known as the Rome of the Alps.

The city retains the walls, two gates, and the street plan of its Roman predecessor, as well as a triumphal arch in honour of Augustus.  Remains of a theatre, an amphitheatre, and the road from Eporedia (modern Ivrea — home of Olivetti computers for those of us who were around in the early days of the personal computer) are still visible.

The arch honoring Ceasar Augustus.

A section of the ancient city wall.

An incredibly well-preserved cryptoportico (gallery or walkway) resides beneath what was once the Roman Forum.

Cryptoportico beneath Aosta.

The Valle D’Aosta (Valley of Aosta) has a namesake in my home state — the city of Valdosta — which to me bears little resemblance to this valley framed by towering peaks. 

A 19th century govenor of Georgia disageed, naming  his plantation “Valle d’Aosta” (later spelled Valdosta) after the Aosta Valley, believing the rolling South Georgia landscape resembled this large, Italian valley. The town was established in the 1850s taking the name Valdosta.

While water skiing is the only skiing you can do in the warm, humid climate of Valdosta, snow skiing is top of mind here in Aosta. We caught a gondola right in town to journey to Pila Ski in the Sky.

Ski in the sky even as Spring arrives in the valley.

An alpine landscape.

The restaurant housed in a star-shaped building perched at the top of the ski slopes was quite good, offering local dishes in a buffet style. Make reservations as it’s very crowded.

Located about half-an-hour by car outside Aosta is the spectacular Gran Paradiso National Park.

A winter wonderland.

Scattered throughout the valley and environs are castles. Castello di Fenis is a short 30-minute or so ride by car outside Aosta. It’s a remarkable well-preserved medieval castle.

At the top of our list of things to do around Aosta was a trip to the thermal spa in Pré Saint Didier, a 50-minute bus ride through the mountains northeast of Aosta.

Soaking in the Alps.

I imagined returning to the thermal spa when snow covered the ground and the mountains shimmered white around me.  Multiple warm pools and toasty saunas feel great anytime, but I expect they feel even better in the frigid air of an alpine winter.

But for now, it’s on to the next adventure in Chiavenna.

Cruising Yucatan Memories

I first came to the Yucatan in 1997 as part of a week-long cruise of the western Caribbean. Cruising was different then….more expensive, assigned dinner seating and much more formal dinner attire.

Cruising is super casual and vastly more affordable 29 years later. That’s not all that has changed. The number of tourists has exploded. No where is that more evident than at the ancient Mayan ruins that beckon to travelers in the Yucatan.

Ruins at Chichen Itza

I visited Tulum back in the day and there wasn’t a local hawking souvenirs in sight. No gauntlet of souvenir stands to wade through….just the ruins themselves standing white in the summer sun as if you were an archeologist who had just stumbled upon a hidden city. That had drastically changed by 2012 or so when I visited again. Open-air restaurants and souvenir stands formed their own little city just outside the entrance to the site. Tourists swarmed.

On this cruise,  I journeyed to Chichen Itza to visit that ancient Mayan city built further inland. Hundreds of other tourists joined me to  wander among the ruins, marveling at the interesting mix of architecture.

El Castillo

El Castillo is the iconic representation of the pre-Columbian city. There was a time when tourists could climb to the top of the temple’s stairs, using a chain run up the center of the steep staircase to help in the ascent. No more. Too many footsteps trodding on ancient stairs. Too dangerous for none but the sure-footed.

One thing that doesn’t change — the ruins. My husband has visited Chichen Itza five times over several decades. He assures me the remnants of temples and El Caracol, the observatory, look the same.

El Caracol is 1,100 to 1,200 years old.

The thing that most fascinated me about Chichen Itza was the 500-foot-long Great Ball Court. A deadly game, Pok ta Pok, was played here and throughout Mesoamerica since 1650 BC. Ball courts have been found as far north as Arizona and as far south as Nicarauga.

The Great Ball Court

The ritualistic game involved getting a nine-pound rubber ball through a stone circle using  your hips, and in some versions of the game, forearms, rackets or bats. The game was metaphorical for the constant battle between the forces of good and evil, as well as the cycle of life and death.

Imagine getting a nine-pound ball through that circle.

In some cases, the captain of the losing (or winning) team was sacrificed to the ever-hungry Mayan gods. The Mayans were a bloodthirsty bunch. One of their favorite forms of human sacrifice was by extracting a beating heart. I would prefer a good, old decapitation if I  were the notable warrior, enemy or team captain selected to be god food.

There are no rivers or streams in the Yucatan. Fresh water is obtained from cenotes, naturally occurring sinkholes eroded from local limestone.

A glimpse of the Sacred Cenote.

At the Sacred Cenote in Chichen Itza, people were hurled into the water during times of drought, famine or disease. The Sacred Cenote is approximately 160 feet wide and drops 66 feet to the water surface, with the water another 66 feet deep. The sides of the cenote are sheer and the water is barely visible through the thick foliage.

The Mayans practiced human sacrifice right up to the Spanish conquest in the 16th century. Today, the only human sacrifices are tourists on the altar of  commercialization. Well…that and the towels sacrificed to make those cute, little animals that magically appear on your bed every night.

Happy cruising!

Where Adventure and Sanctuary Meet

You can travel the world, see amazing sites, stay in stunning places, but it’s always a pleasure to find a little gem in your own neck of the woods. Historic Tapoco Lodge, near Robbinsville, NC, is such a place.

The lodge sits along the Cheoah River.

Nestled in the Great Smoky Mountains in the Nantahala National Forest, Tapoco Lodge is a historic site where adventure and sanctuary meet. Or as the Lodge proclaims — Adventuary!

Several hiking trails can be accessed on the property which is also located near the (in)famous Tail of the Dragon — a stretch of mountainous highway beloved by motorcyclists.  Fishing enthusiasts can find  rainbow, brown and brook trout in the Cheoah River and a variety of bass in nearby Lake Santeetlah, one of the most beautiful lakes in the country.

The Lodge was built in 1930 by the Aluminum Company of America (ALCOA) to replace its existing boarding house erected as part of the hydroelectric efforts in the area. The name, Tapoco, comes from the first two letters of the Tallassee Power Company whose capital stock had been purchased by ALCOA in 1916.

For several decades, the lodge was used exclusively by ALCOA executives, but was sold to a Robbinsville family in the 1990s and opened its doors to the public in 1995.

The main building on the property.

The 122-acre property changed hands again in 2017 and today boasts nine luxury lodge rooms, 18 rustic-elegant cabin rooms, several event spaces, and an updated Tapoco Tavern and patio.

Our comfortable cabin room.

I particularly enjoyed the whimsical, rustic wall art in Santeetlah, Cabin 3.

Bear family vacation.

A bear bike ride

Ma and Pa Bear

In short, Tapoco Lodge (www.tapoco.com) is a splendid little retreat to experience your own Adventuary. And you don’t have to leave the country to enjoy it!

Fire pits galore for smores.

Happy Holidays!

Did you know that if you actually received all the gifts mentioned in “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” you would receive 364 presents? Or that Christmas was banned in England from 1647 to 1660 and in Boston from 1659 to 1681 because it was considered a sinful celebration? Guess anti-papist protestants on both sides of The Pond didn’t like that “Christmas” is a contraction of “Christ’s Mass.”

I started thinking about these and other weird facts about my favorite holiday on a trip John and I took to Merry Old England in early November. We were visiting friends who took us to a very quaint farmer’s market in the Essex countryside where Christmas mingled in the air with a variety of barnyard aromas. I purchased some handmade tree ornaments to add to my collection. (Did you know that the first Christmas ornaments were made from fruit and nuts?) Later, over some delicious fish and chips at a local pub, I asked our British friends about the English tradition of Boxing Day. With visions of Ali and Frazier dancing in my head, I never understood it. I don’t recall any of those Downton Abbey Christmas episodes I religiously watched ever fully explaining it either.

A small Christmas market in Essex.

Apparently, the tradition of Boxing Day originated during the Victorian era when wealthy aristocrats gave servants/employees who worked on Christmas Day the following day off to visit their families. The day derived its name from the “box,” filled with gifts, money and leftovers from the Christmas feast that the aristocrats would bestow upon their servants/employees. Think Lady Mary gifting her lady’s maid, Anna, with a box of goodies. Did I fall asleep mid-episode? Do any of you Downton Abbey fans remember anything like this?

The British aren’t alone in interesting holiday traditions. In Japan, it’s customary to eat KFC for Christmas. No joke, you gotta make a reservation at your local KFC for Christmas Day. In Ukraine, decorating with spiderwebs is considered good luck. In Austria, jolly old St. Nick has an evil counterpart, Krampus, who punishes naughty children by beating them with a stick. Guess that’s one way to keep the kids in line. And if you think feeding all your relatives Christmas dinner is hard, don’t go to Portugal.  During consoda, the traditional Christmas feast, Portuguese families sometimes set extra places at the dining table for deceased relatives who, I’m convinced, must be very picky eaters.

Son James and his wife, Jessica, moved to Tuscany this year. I’m anxious to learn if Italian Christmases are really celebrated with a wine-drinking witch, La Befana. Twelve days after Santa’s big scene, Italian families leave out a glass of vino and a plate of sausages for La Befana who pops down the chimney on her broomstick. Legend has it that the Magi asked her to join them in finding the Christ Child but she refused. She later regretted it and now travels the world looking for the manger, leaving gifts for children in her wake.

La Befana

Joulusauna – Finnish for “Christmas sauna” – is a tradition in most Finnish households on Christmas Eve. It provides a relaxing respite before the hustle and bustle of Christmas Day. It’s also an opportunity to pay tribute to the sauna elf – Saunatonttu – by leaving him treats and thanking him for keeping the sauna tidy and warm. John wants to know if Saunatonttu has an American cousin who cleans hot tubs.

The pièce de resistance of strange holiday traditions is caga tió in Catalonia, Spain. Locals there draw a face on a log, place a hat on top of it and throw a blanket across it. Then, they spend about two weeks “feeding” the log person fruit, nuts and sweets. Why? Because come Christmas Eve, the entire family beats the log with sticks and sings a traditional song that loosely translates to “If you don’t crap well, I’ll beat you with a stick!” until the log poops out all its treats. I can’t believe that this pooping yule log tradition hasn’t caught on all over the world.

The pooping yule log.

After reading this letter, you might be happy to know that I didn’t include any Christmas scenes in my latest historical novel, August’s Home, which will be available on Amazon in January. No pooping logs, no witches on broomsticks, no chubby elf donned in a red suit magically squeezing down a chimney. Nope, it’s just a story, steeped in North Georgia history, about overcoming childhood trauma to find a loving home with a person whom you’d least expect to be with.

Whether you’re expecting it or not, I hope there’s loads of warmth and love in your home this Christmas and throughout the coming year.

Happy Holidays!

Walk Like an Egyptian

The Great Pyramid

More than 4,500 years ago, 20,000 workers labored for 20 years to build the Great Pyramid, one of the most iconic landmarks ever. Egyptologists still aren’t sure how they did it.

Pharoah Khufu (Cheops) had the huge tomb built while the two smaller ones flanking it were erected for Khafre and Menkaure, his son and grandson. It paid to be Egyptian pharoahs.

The Pyramids of Giza at night.

Originally rising 481 feet off the desert floor, the Great Pyramid has wowed visitors for millenia. Almost 15 million people come from around the world each year to behold its mysterious grandeur. In early November, I was one of them.

To walk like an Egyptian in the 21st century is to battle pollution and the crowds of people and cars causing it. John and I flew into over-crowded Cairo and watched our limo driver fight traffic for almost 1.5 hours to drive roughly 14 miles to our hotel in Giza.

To gaze upon the enigmatic Sphinx made the gauntlet worth it. Erected for Pharoah Khafre, the mythical creature stands guard over the Giza necropolis.

The Sphinx is 240 feet long and 66 feet high.

The newest attraction in Giza is the Grand Egyptian Museum.

Pyramid-like entrance to the Grand Egyptian Museum

The vast structure houses artifacts excavated from the pyramids.

The museum’s most treasured exhibit is that of  King Tutankhamen.

We journeyed from Giza to Luxor primarily to visit the Valley of the Kings, but the driver we hired at the airport, Ahmed, suggested we visit Dendara first.

Located about an hour north of Luxor, Dendara is a temple complex built by Ptolemy XII, Cleopatra’s father, beginning in 54 BC.

Entering the Dendara temple complex.

The temple complex is dedicated primarily to Hathor, the goddess of love, beauty, and fertility. It’s touted as the best preserved temple in Egypt.

Massive columns in Temple of Hathor.

Much of the architecture is still intact, including the roof and colorful reliefs.

We left Dendara for Habu, a massive mortuary temple for Ramses III built more than 3000 years ago.

Mortuary Temple of Ramses III

The Habu complex is amazingly well preserved.

An antechamber behind closed doors as seen through a peephole to help preserve it.

Religious rituals for Amun, the sun god, were performed in Habu.

We visited the temple at Luxor in the cool of the night under a full moon.

One of the most impressive aspects of  Luxor is the newly opened Royal Road, an avenue lined with sphinxes that runs 1.7 miles from Luxor temple to Karnak.

Restored Royal Road at Luxor

Unrestored Royal Road near Karnak

The Valley of the Kings is arguably the most famous cemetery in the world. I learned on this trip that there are actually three other “valleys” – one each for queens, nobles, and workers.

We visited four tombs in the Valley of the Kings: Ramses IX, Ramses IV, Merenptah and Tutankhamen.

Well-preserved ceiling in the tomb of Ramses IV

Ramses IX tomb

The tomb of Merenptah was the deepest tomb we visited, but the most well known was that of Tutankhamen

The sarcaphogas that housed the mummy of Tutankhamen.

We left the Valley of the Kings to visit  the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, a female pharoah.

Three-terraced temple

The temple’s massive terraces rise above the desert floor and into the cliffs of  Deir el-Bahari.

We ended our Egyptian touring with a visit to the Temple at Karnak. The dual obelisks were the exceptional feature.

Another obelisk is hiding behind the left column.

The giant columns at Karnak, like at the other temples we visited, are beyond impressive. Arches would not appear in Egypt until Roman architects introduced them. In the absence of arches,  massive columns were needed to support the weight of the  roofs in the temples.

Karnak’s columns seem infinite.

If I could only use one word to describe the tombs and temples of Ancient Egypt, it would be “massive.” Photographs or documentaries really can’t convey the scale. To appreciate that, you really must see the wonders in person.

Me awestruck by the pyramids