Fatiqued and sweaty, we get back down the mountain, but find St Catherine's Monastery (LEFT) still closed. As we're short on time, we make a quick trip back to the hostel to pack and eat breakfast first.

We find a massive queue/crowd outside the monastery though. Rather guiltily, we decide to queue jump as we have to get back to the minibus within 45 mins. We just manage to squeeze in, to make a quick half hour dash around the place.

BELOW LEFT A crowded corridor within monastery

LEFT The monks here used to live in such solitude, that the only way they were able to maintain contact with the outside world, including receiving food, was through the trapdoor in the base of the hut sticking out of this wall. When monks died, they were lowered out of this trapdoor.

ABOVE CENTRE The alleged descendent of the Burning Bush, protected (not very well) by a wall from souvenir seekers..

ABOVE RIGHT Oops not sure I was allowed to take pics inside the Chapel, someone else got told off!

ABOVE The area where you see everyone standing and peering in one direction (apart from me, Birgit and Kathy, we've already been inside!), is just outside a very small doorway into the monastery. When the monastery opens at all, it only opens for about 3 hours. There's a mad queue of people trying to get in, and an equally mad queue trying to get out the same way.

Jumping back onto the minibus, we head towards Nuweiba port, passing some large signs on hillsides as we leave the Sinai area, including one of 'Love Sinai', in English and Arabic (RIGHT)

Our tour guide Muhammed waves us goodbye at Nuweiba, and we settle down to face a long wait for the arrival of our hydrofoil to Jordan (inshallah). The timing of the hydrofoil was even more uncertain than usual due to the return of pilgrims from Mecca at the end of Ramadan. Thankfully someone thought to bring playing cards!

During our wait, Kathy and I eventually feel a pressing need for the toilets. We find the two cubicles with elevated toilets have flooded, meaning we have to use the 'hole in the floor'. However, we see one local brave it to one of the elevated toilets, then eventually emerges looking as though she wants to retch. Tip-toeing slowly out while holding up her long skirt, she promptly lifts one foot into a sink to wash the bottom of her sandles. Kathy and I find it hard not to laugh, as does the woman and the rest of her group. She agrees to let Kathy take a photo of her, then tries to cheerfully talk to us in Arabic, but alas, we don't have the language.