As long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by Egypt. When someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my instant reply was, “an archeologist!” I dreamed of leading a “dig” in Egypt and discovering amazing treasures like those in King Tut’s tomb. While I didn’t end up becoming an archeologist, Egypt continued to captivate me.
When I was thirty, I identified a list of the “Big Five” places I hoped to visit during my lifetime. In addition to the Amazon River, Taj Mahal, Machu Picchu, and Mount Everest, it included the Pyramids of Giza. Over the next twenty years, I managed to visit all the places on my list, except the pyramids.
That changed when my spouse, John, and I joined friends on a tour of Egypt in February 2026. As we drove to the Grand Egyptian Museum on the Giza Plateau on the outskirts of Cairo, I was thrilled to see the pyramids for the first time. Constructed over 4,500 years ago, they served as tombs for three pharaohs. Of the three, the Pyramid of Khufu is the largest.
That evening, we were surprised to learn we had the option, the following day, of going inside Khufu Pyramid and climbing to the burial chamber. At the same time, we were cautioned that this activity was not recommended for anyone with knee or back problems or claustrophobia, and that the interior would be very hot and humid. The heat and humidity were not a significant worry, since we assumed we wouldn’t be inside that long, and we didn’t have issues with our knees or back. However, the comment about claustrophobia was concerning, since I typically don’t like, and actually avoid, being in tight spaces.
John didn’t give it a second thought. His response was an immediate, “Count me in!” While I also wanted to respond in the affirmative, I had to consider my latent fear of small spaces and what would happen in the event it surfaced while I was deep inside the pyramid. I discussed my dilemma with our tour guide, who recommended watching YouTube videos of people making the climb.
Late that night, I found an online video showing the inside passageways. While two were long and cramped, I was heartened to see that at the end of those passageways, it was possible to stand upright. Nevertheless, the climb would require that I push out of my mind, the fact that I would be inside a structure comprised of over 2.5 million blocks of limestone, each weighing 2 to 70 tons. I went to bed with visions of the passageways in my head, turning over the pros and cons of the climb throughout the night. The next morning, I was determined to suppress my fears and added my name to the list of climbers.
Arriving at the pyramids in the afternoon, we passed through the mandatory security screening, along with throngs of tourists from dozens of other buses. John and I then waited in a crush of people to each pay $30 U.S. for the tickets we needed for the climb. That done, we walked to the top of a hill that overlooked the pyramids. The sun was out; the day was warm; the City of Cairo shimmered in the background. It felt very surreal. It was one of those “pinch me” moments. I was at long last, soaking up the view of the Great Pyramids of Giza as they stood in all their glory in front of us. They were impressive indeed.
We were then driven to Khufu Pyramid where John and I exited the bus, walked to the base of the pyramid, climbed up its side, and joined the queue of other tourists. I could only hope none of us would have a panic attack once we were inside.
It took more than ten minutes for us to move step-by-step on the outside of the pyramid to reach the entrance. While that gave me ample time to think about what might be in store once we were inside, the better part of valor was to block those thoughts from my mind.
Once we finally entered, I was happy the initial passageway was tall enough (mostly) to stand upright even though the walls and ceiling were very uneven and everyone was packed in like sardines. As we waited for the line to continue moving, which it did ever so slowly, John and I had to squeeze against one wall to make way for tourists who were descending. Many were red-faced; everyone was sweaty; some looked like they would pass out if they didn’t immediately reach fresh air. That was not reassuring.
The interior air was anything but fresh. The multitudes of tourists climbing inside were casting off heat from their laboring bodies and humidity from their lungs. It felt like being in a Petri dish inside a wet sauna. I could only imagine how many germs and viruses were looking for new homes. Thoughts also flashed through my mind of the thousands of tons of limestone blocks around and above me. I was hoping Cairo was not in an active earthquake zone. I had to remind myself that the pyramid had stood for thousands of years and that there were lots of other tourists who had climbed to the burial chamber and back without incident. At least I was comforted that the passageways were well lighted.
Once we reached the approximate middle of the pyramid, we climbed several metal steps before our ascent through a long, 45-degree passageway. Wooden boards had been placed over stones to form a long ramp. Boards laid horizontally on top of the ramp created “stairs.” Wooden handrails were on either side. The space was quite tight. It required us to bend over approximately 60 degrees as we climbed; I focused my attention on the steps. Fortunately, once we began the ascent, the line of climbers moved more quickly. As before, we had to stop to make room for folks making the descent, bodies touching as they brushed past. Our internal temperature, in addition to the heat in the passageway, was rising as we huffed and puffed our way upward.
At the end of this passageway, we emerged into an area known as the Grand Gallery. Continuing on, the ramp was just as steep, but the ceiling was very high. Once again, there were railings to use. Now we were sweating not only from the heat, but also from physical exertion. It was a relief to reach the top of the stairs even though the temperature was even higher and the air stuffier.
Pausing to catch our breath, we now had one final passageway to negotiate before reaching the burial chamber. This one was the tightest and had the lowest ceiling. As soon as it was empty, I summoned my will power, bent my knees, ducked over 90 degrees, and stepped inside. Using a tried and true technique to keep my mind from wandering into places that would not be helpful, I counted my footsteps out loud as I shuffled along looking at my feet. The walls and ceiling were very irregular. After I banged my head hard enough to exclaim, “Ouch!,” I placed my left hand on top of my head to keep from hitting the ceiling again. While that protected my head, it also let my senses know how low the passageway actually was. With that unwelcome bit of knowledge, but with no other option, I kept shuffling forward and counting.
I was relieved, as was John before me, to step out of the passageway into the burial chamber, where we were able to stand up once again. I then paused, wide-eyed with wonder, amazed to think about where I was standing. Expecting the tomb to be completely empty, I was pleasantly surprised to see the remains of the pharaoh’s granite sarcophagus at the end of the chamber; the cover long gone, two sides damaged. The fact that the tomb’s red granite walls and ceiling were no longer filled with elaborate hieroglyphics didn’t matter. With the humidity off the charts and the temperature measuring 120 degrees, I was sweating profusely; my face was red; and my hair was so curly, it looked like a poodle’s.
With the satisfaction of knowing I had accomplished my goal, I no longer had to ward off thoughts of claustrophobia. Now, I just had to retrace my steps back to the outside world and fresh air. After checking to make sure no one was in the narrowest passageway, I bent over and shuffled through, once again using my left hand to protect the top of my head, which was now sporting a bump.
Emerging into the Grand Gallery, the descent of this passageway was easy; it required little effort. Plus, now we could provide encouragement to the sweaty, red-faced tourists who were making their way up to the burial chamber.
As we continued, we once again bent over to scramble down the last tight passageway. Tourists who were ascending were more than happy to stop to let us brush past. After descending the metal stairs, it was much faster walking through the last passageway, which was still packed on one side with people beginning their climb, but nearly empty in front of us.
It was heaven to see the first daylight at the end of the final passageway and to emerge, eyes blinking, into the fresh air and sunshine. I was thrilled to have conquered my fear of tight spaces and to have climbed to the pharaoh’s burial chamber. Last, but not least, I had fulfilled my lifetime dream of visiting all the places on my “Big Five” list. Plus, I now had another story to share.