There is a kind of silence that wraps around us as we ascend a mountain — where all that surrounds us is the expanse of clouds, a clear sky on the horizon, and the raw beauty of the landscape. Yet, within this quiet and stillness, there is an unspoken energy pulsing with life — the mountain’s vital role as a source of water, food, and energy.
When talking about environmental protection, one often focuses on the vitality of the seas, the purity of air, and the health of the forests. Yet, how often does one pause to consider the health of the mountains? Far beyond a destination for hikers and climbers, mountains are also lifelines for both the communities that call them home and the global ecosystem that depends on them.
For centuries, mountains in Egypt have been a living archive that have preserved the stories and culture of Indigenous Bedouin tribes like the Jebeleya in St. Catherine, who are skilled gardeners that rely on the mountains’ ecosystems to sustain their way of life. The culture and traditional ways of life of the Indigenous Bedouin tribes have often been misunderstood, which is why Ben Hoffler, a trail developer and author, has dedicated himself to educating the world about Bedouin heritage, beginning with the launch of the Sinai Trail in 2015, followed by the Red Sea Mountain Trail in 2019.
These trails ushered in a new era of mountain exploration and indigenous tourism in Egypt, earning numerous prestigious global accolades, including the Best Tourism Project in the Wider World award in 2016. They were also featured on TIME and The New York Times‘ lists of top touristic attractions.
They helped attract thousands of hikers seeking an authentic connection with Egypt’s wilderness, but they did more than showcase the region’s natural beauty, they also served as models for how Indigenous tourism can be supported and expanded. In doing so, they help preserve the genuineness of Bedouin culture while creating sustainable opportunities for the tribes to thrive.
Although the trails are now closed, their stories and legacy continue to play a vital role in shaping global discussions on preserving mountain ecosystems, the future of tourism, and how Indigenous tourism can safeguard cultural identities while generating revenue and employment for communities, without exploitation.
As the global tourism landscape evolves and the demand for Indigenous tourism rises, Egyptian Streets highlights below the story and legacy of these long-distance hiking trails to promote the adoption of best practices in Indigenous tourism, while emphasizing the vital role tourism can play in safeguarding culture, heritage and mountains’ ecosystems.
Community-first approach
Tourism often serves as a lens through which a nation’s identity is projected to the world. In many cases, however, this is framed through Westernized models, where tourists are positioned as consumers of a national product and abstract idea of a ‘national brand.’
However, this approach fails to capture the full depth of countries like Egypt, where local cultures and diverse communities each possess their own histories and identities — cultures that deserve to be represented on their own terms.
Indigenous tourism stands as a counterpoint to this mainstream model.
At its heart, it is about the indigenous communities themselves taking the lead in sharing their traditions, stories, and cultural practices with visitors. This is a community-first, native-led effort, where the local people retain ownership of their heritage: their food, rituals, and deep-rooted connections to the land, water, and wildlife.
It is a form of tourism that allows communities to control their own narratives, reclaiming space from centuries of historical misrepresentation.
An example of this vision is embodied in the Sinai Trail, a grassroots initiative that gave Indigenous Bedouin communities the agency to shape how their land would be experienced by tourists. From its inception in 2015, the project sought to offer a local and more intimate narrative of Sinai, countering the common portrayal of the region as a ‘danger zone’ that dominated media coverage.
“The Sinai that I saw in the media was very different from the Sinai I knew and lived,” said Hoffler, the founder of both the Sinai Trail and the Red Sea Mountain Trail. “It felt unjust the way it was represented, and this had a tremendous impact on the local people, especially since tourism played such an important role in their economy.”
So, how do you begin to build a trail through such a culturally and historically rich landscape? For Hoffler, it meant working directly with the Bedouin, listening to their stories, and understanding the paths they had traversed for centuries. These ancient routes—spanning from old trading routes to Roman paths, pilgrimage trails, and shepherds’ tracks—provided the foundation for what would become the Sinai Trail.
The Sinai Trail’s mission was simple but significant: to rediscover these paths and reframe them for modern hikers, while honoring the deep histories embedded in the land.
What sets the Sinai Trail apart, however, is not just its historical authenticity, but the way it united the Bedouin tribes of the region. Rather than working with a single tribe or faction, Hoffler brought together the leaders of three tribes to discuss possible routes.
The unification marked the first time in over a century that these tribes came together to create a shared project, and provided each tribe with an equal stake in the tourism venture, offering them ownership of their story and representation.
Another important aspect of the Sinai Trail was that it gave local Bedouin leaders a platform to share their voices directly with the world. “We gave them a voice in the global conversation,” Hoffler explains. “It was a chance for them to talk about Sinai through their own lens, rather than being silenced by external narratives.”
The project’s ‘Sinai Is Safe’ initiative helped amplify this message, inviting journalists and travelers from Cairo to experience the trail firsthand and report back, creating a space for the Bedouin community to shape their own image in the public eye.
This bottom-up, community-driven approach may have lacked the initial national support, but it ultimately succeeded because it was rooted in support of the Bedouin people, the hikers community in Egypt, and the solidarity they built with one another.
Intentional inclusion of diverse lifestyles
Discussions of inclusion often focus on nationality—citizenship, borders, and formal recognition of belonging. However, it is not merely about existing within defined borders or holding official identification.
Rather, it involves shifting power dynamics to create a world where different ways of life, thought, and culture are not just accepted, but celebrated.
The Sinai Trail is an example of such an intentional and holistic inclusion, one that extends far beyond the narrow frameworks of state-defined belonging. Inclusion is about recognizing and preserving the Bedouin ways of life—understanding that their unique knowledge of the land and its cycles offers invaluable insights for the modern world.
There are different kinds of knowledge. Some are written down, preserved in books and archives. Others, are lived and passed through experience as knowledge that resides in the body, in the stories told around campfires, and in the relationship between people and the land.
The trail played a crucial role in preserving and passing down the indigenous knowledge of Bedouin communities. This knowledge, deeply tied to their connection with the land, is passed down through generations and shared through songs, stories, and traditions that connect them to their ancestors and the natural world around them. It is a living heritage that keeps their culture alive.
For visitors who venture into the heart of Sinai, the experience can be unexpectedly transformative. What begins as a simple mountain hike evolves into a deeper exploration of the Bedouin worldview, where nature is not merely a passive backdrop but an active, living entity.
“Tourists enter a world where they learn to connect more deeply with nature,” said Hoffler. “They discover how to listen to nature, to see it through new eyes, and to live in a way that is more sustainable and respectful.”
Musallam Faraj, one of the lead guides on the Sinai Trail, embodies the Bedouin’s deep connection to the land. With nearly 30 years of guiding experience, he knows the Sinai Peninsula like the back of his hand, including its landscapes, plants, and animals. He can identify the healing properties of local plants, track the changing patterns of the night sky, and lead visitors to hidden water sources tucked away in the mountains. His stories of ancient journeys, sacred sites, and the ever-present bond between the Bedouin and the land are an integral part of Sinai’s history.
Traditional Bedouin practices also offer lessons in sustainability. For example, Bedouin gardens are designed to harvest rainwater and maximize limited resources in the desert. These age-old techniques hold significant potential for food security in arid regions and could offer insights into how communities around the world can adapt to changing climates.
Unfortunately, much of this knowledge is at risk of being lost as younger Bedouin move away from traditional desert life in search of new economic opportunities. Yet, for many in the community, this knowledge remains a living practice, vital not only to their survival but to their cultural identity.
To protect Indigenous and traditional knowledge, the Sinai Trail launched an educational program for young Bedouin guides. This initiative paired them with elders to pass down ancient Bedouin guiding skills, while also providing modern training in wilderness first aid and other essential areas through qualified instructors. At the same time, the project began supporting Bedouin women’s handicrafts and other local ventures, creating new opportunities for small-scale economies along the trail.
For the first time, women were welcomed as guides, with Um Yasser becoming the first Bedouin woman to lead hikers on the Sinai Trail—an inspiring milestone for both the community and the trail itself.
Looking forward: protecting mountains’ ecosystems in Egypt
With the closure of both the Sinai Trail and the Red Sea Mountain Trail, Hoffler pointed out that the industry is lacking support, leaving Indigenous communities with less control over their businesses and land.
While hiking tours still take place privately through social media groups, the ability to organize large-scale efforts independently has become more challenging.
“The future of the industry is uncertain,” Hoffler said. “The Sinai Trail and Red Sea Mountain Trail can only reopen if there is real change that supports the growth of the hiking industry. There needs to be a nationwide commitment to supporting adventure and Indigenous tourism at every level.”
Mountain destinations account for about 15-20 percent of global tourism, and sustainable mountain tourism plays a key role in valuing both the natural and cultural heritage of mountain areas, promoting sustainable food systems, and protecting mountain ecosystems and their biodiversity.
Yet, protecting these mountain ecosystems requires government policies that support long-term, sustainable, and inclusive growth in the Indigenous tourism sector. Mutual respect is also essential for effective collaboration, and policies impacting Indigenous communities should be developed with their input and involvement.
“Egypt has the potential to be one of the world’s top hiking destinations,” Hoffler observed. “Its wilderness is not only incredibly beautiful but also home to some of the most historically significant landscapes on Earth.”
He added, “The Bedouin culture, with its ancient traditions, is still alive in Egypt’s wilderness, unlike in many neighboring countries. This culture, rich in wisdom and beauty, has been safeguarded by Egypt’s wilderness and continues to offer valuable insights today.”
As more travelers seek raw experiences, cultural connections, and sustainability, the legacies of the Sinai Trail and Red Sea Mountain Trail demonstrate that tourism can be more than a mere marketing tool for a nation—it can also help protect traditional knowledge and mountain ecosystems from exploitation and commercialization.
