National Geographic : 1965 May
From the summit at sunset: A guide rests atop the Great Pyramid at Giza, raised 4,500 years ago as a tomb for Pharaoh Cheops (Khufu). Through the ages countless visitors have left names and initials in the stones. Monument of Chephren-a son of Cheops stands at center, silhouetted by the sun. "O Living Disk, who didst live from the be ginning," wrote Pharaoh Akhenaten in his "Hymn to the Sun," "Eyes are on thy beauty until thou settest. All labour is set aside when thou settest in the west...." "I made it!" gasps Mrs. Gilbert M. Grosve nor with one tier to go on an hour-long climb up the 450-foot Great Pyramid. She found the descent, with its awesome downward view, even more harrowing. Automobile below her assumes antlike proportions. 590 But Yankee somehow always dodged disaster. Now we knew why Couvaris called this the "emotional route." Some 40 miles into the Delta, we called at Damanhur, site of a provincial capital of an cient Egypt. Over the ages, the relentless Nile has entombed the city beneath Delta silt, and now a cotton port rises above the grave. Yankee tied up beside a wharf where steve dores tumbled half-ton bales of cotton onto waiting barges below. The impact of the bales raised a blizzard of lint, and Yankee got a thorough coating. When at last we cast off and turned her upriver, she looked something like a wedding cake. It took us a full week to negotiate the Be heira Canal to Cairo. At the last lock, I spied a young man festooned with cameras snap ping our picture from shore. "Hi, Yankee," the walking camera shop called. "Any room for the GEOGRAPHIC?" And so, by prearrangement, we met Win field Parks, the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC staff photographer who was to double expertly in the coming months as a Yankee hand-when he wasn't leaping ashore for a picture. Skyscrapers and Minarets Vie in Cairo In early evening, Cairo's lights rose dead ahead. Under power and with masts lowered, we slid gingerly beneath a final bridge. Cairo's midtown blaze revealed tall buildings and pale minarets piercing the dark sky. On the east bank, a rooftop sign-"Shepheard's" proclaimed the world-famous hotel. The Sal adin Mosque gleamed in floodlit splendor. At the Cairo Yacht Club on the west bank, help ful hands caught our lines, and Yankee eased into her first true berth on the Nile. Years of sailing have not dimmed our spe cial pleasure at arriving in a port by night and rediscovering it by day. At sunrise, the Moqattam Hills, a source of building stone in ancient times, looked down serenely on Sal adin's Citadel. Our first stop ashore next morning was the bazaar of Khaan el-Khaliili, almost a medi eval city in itself. Roofed mazes of alleyways led us under screened balconies past innu merable tiny shops. Here children hammered designs into brass trays; country women shrouded in flowing black malaayas from their heads to the dust beneath their feet longingly examined displays of thin gold ornaments, the female gauge of wealth. Eager merchants spread acres of carpets, or hailed the beauties of fine ivory-and-pearl shell inlays. Other, more mobile, salesmen vUUAUNUMtSBIYWINFIELD PARKS (OPPOSITE) AND GILBERT M. GROSVENOR© N.G.S.