Overlooking the Valley of the Kings, I relax on a high cliff. Climb to my perch is layered like flint, threatening to slice my exposed toes. Low clouds makes the Nile barely visible in the distance. Varying sizes of green squares lay closer and a poor section of Luxor skirts the base of this quarry. The dim, brown hillside is pockmarked with holes, each leading to a tomb of a previous ruler. Threadlike trails run like a network of veins, sending locals and the odd tourist to unkempt tombs.
My group and I deviated from the usual tourist entrance to find this roost. Avoiding an 80 pound ticket, we found a narrowly beaten trail into the surrounding hillside. We pass a hawker, selling Nile postcards and other tourist kitsch, and hike along the upper reaches of the Valley of the Kings—watching the paying tourists far below.
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