Headlights off in the shadow-stripping moonlight, my taxi sped south through the pre-dawn Eastern Egyptian desert. Enjoying even the driver's Marlboro Red habit, I sat contented as the stones and silhouetted acacias flicked past and a Joy Division cassette infused the sedan with pleasurable melancholy. It had been a last-ditch break for freedom, flight purchased a week before departure, itinerary planned on the plane. With a week-long trip, on a miniscule budget, my goal was simply to escape - to get the hell away from London's soggy January, and from all the tedious crap of relationships and work. And from my port-of-entry: via the now-deceased XL airline, I'd gotten a bargain seat on a charter-flight to Hurghada, a fledgling hot-spot on Egypt's Red Sea coast, and as soon as I set foot in my admittedly inexpensive hotel - which was right next to a Ministry of Sound outpost - I knew exactly what to expect.

Lager-flushed and herded, package tourists are Hurghada's lifeblood. Coaches cruise the kitsch-lined, bottle-strewn waterfront, and "England? Loverly, loverly. I give you good price" ricochets from the mouth of every vendor. With forty kilometers of coastline crammed with high-rise holiday villas, Hurghada rivals Diego Garcia in charm: even sweltering mid-summer attracts a smorgasbord of drunken Europeans and bling-clad Russians. So unless you're signed up for one of its lesser Club Meds, zoologically squinting at the coarser end of the tourism industry is about all there is to do in town.

Fortunately, as I found out, Hurghada's real attractions lie well away from the city itself and make for a perfect destination for the independent traveler. The Egyptian Red Sea famously boasts some of the best scuba diving in the world, but equally alluring are its adjacent deserts. The scenery of the Nile Valley has nothing on the tumult and colours of the Sinai peninsula, or the slate-grey bleakness of the eastern Egyptian hinterland - both of which are easily reached from mid-seaboard Hurghada. And with flights from London Gatwick starting at £155 return, the town makes for a frugal if unlovely portal into Egypt's coastal wilds.

Heading south by bus down the mainland's coast, I found the trip out of Hurghada as scenic as the town was repellant. The two-lane highway runs between distant, worn mountains and the coastline, which is stark and arresting: there are no palm oases. A gravelly desert, all shades of grey and taupe with the odd washed-out acacia tree or camel, abuts the turquoise water without ceremony. Not surprisingly, the sporadic cluster of beach resorts (they're spreading slowly due to the overuse of Hurghada's scuba reefs) look out-of-place - the landscape otherwise is enticingly foreboding.

Eighty-five kilometers south of the monstrous docklands and phosphate mines of Safaga lies the sleepy fishing port of Al-Quseir. Founded in pharaonic times, it was from Quseir that Hatshepsut launched her expedition to the land of Punt (immortalized in the Deir El-Bahri Temple reliefs at Luxor). Flaubert wrote of its faded yet charming exoticism, but even now it seems mostly untouched by mainstream tourism. A hilltop fortress, 13th century mosque and weekly Ababda Bedouin market are just some of its offerings, and its harbour, lined with coffee stands and mezze bars, is a restful place to linger and people-watch. It was precisely the type of town I'd been hoping for, bustling yet tranquil, and small enough to feel cosy and safe even at night (always a concern for a solo female traveler). I spent the night at the seafront Al-Quseir Hotel, whose antique rooms - decorated with delicately latticed dark wood screens - were inexpensive and lovely.

But at four in the morning I was up again - Al-Quseir was lovely, but what I wanted was a bit of desert. Thus the solitary, moon-blanched taxi, a necessary extravagance (though to be fair, a two hour ride only cost about 30 Euros). I'd heard about Marsa Shagra, an "eco-resort" outside of Marsa Alam, a town two hundred kilometers further south. It offered geologically and archaeologically precise Jeep trips into the Wadi El-Gemal ("camel valley") National Park. These occurred infrequently (hence my rush) and were a dear 90 Euros each, but I figured it would be a worthwhile introduction.

As it turns out, it was and it wasn't. It wasn't, because Karen, the Dutch geologist who runs the company, didn't lead the trip herself - which was a shame, as our Ababda Bedouin guide didn't communicate much about the eccentricities of the local terrain or history, although he drove like Mad Max and baked a flatbread (with mere sun and sand) that was divine. But even without a thorough introduction to the landscape, it was still a worthwhile trek: the track heads inland and off-road through the remote, inhospitable desert basins that once housed tenacious Roman settlements. Though the trade routes between the upper Nile valley and coastal Berenice were lined with imperial outpost, the ruins of Sekeit stand out in this park - its crumbled masonry dwellings stretch across the hills and a small yet striking temple is built into the opposite mountainside. Other major sites, most traversable by foot, include Apollonia, Umm Kabo, and Nogrous, most of which played host to emerald mines catering for Cleopatra's insatiable love of bling. Grand histories aside, however, these ruins are also arresting for their desolation: the flat, harsh light hits a lunar, utterly noiseless terrain, and colour and contrast are restored only as the sun begins to set.

Back at Marsa Shagra resort, I reclined in satisfied exhaustion on my camp bed in a chilly "Bedouin" tent on the beach. It was an appealing place, attracting a variety of diplomats, aid workers, honeymooners and semi-budget travelers (my tent cost 35 Euros), all of whom sought escape, relaxation and a bit of adventure. Beyond desert treks, it also offered top-notch diving. A town that thirty years ago barely qualified as a village, Marsa Alam is now planning enough divers' resorts to pay suitable homage to its under-trafficked and world-class reef system. Of the few already built, the Marsa Shagra Red Sea Diving Safari was an eco-friendly choice. On a different trip, with different gear and a different budget, I would have loved to dive there: with mantas and whale sharks in residence, Marsa Shagra has large reefs immediately offshore and easy boat access to several more distant sights, including a dolphin sanctuary for surface-huggers.

But although there is diving available further south, most of it is accessed from live-aboard boats. Trekking opportunities also dry up: the closer to the Sudanese border you get, the more dangerous the roads...and those who traverse them, as hijacking is a risk. So once I had my fill of Marsa Shagra's inland moonscapes and clear, brisk sea, I nabbed a series of shared service taxis and made my way back to Hurghada. Prepared for the worst, these taxis were instead a cheap, quick and comfortable mode of transport - as it turns out, Egypt, unlike many countries, fills its service taxis according to the number of seats rather than the amount of cubic footage available. And there were no chickens trussed up underfoot either, which I considered a bonus.

Once back in the sulfuric Hurghada, I embarked on part two of my whirlwind trip, grabbing the first International Fast Ferry service to the Sinai peninsula's Sharm El-Sheikh, which regularly depart from Hurghada's fetid port. More touristed than the eastern Egyptian desert, the Sinai is still a world away from Hurghada's generic Euro-squalor. And its offerings proved unparalleled.

Underwater, there is Sharm El-Sheikh's Ras Mohammed National Park with its incomparable wreck dives, as well as Dahab's Eel Garden, Canyon, and Blue Hole (which claims a swim-through at 60m depth not recommended for anyone without designated beneficiaries). Inland, history asserts itself: the 6th century Monastery of Saint Catherine lures pilgrims from afar and, with its Greek Orthodox chapel, Fatimid mosque, and centuries of relics and artistry, makes for a contemplative starting point for the climb up Mount Sinai (or Mount Catherine, its larger neighbor).

But beyond Mount Sinai's crowds and camel-ride peddlers lies a mountaineer's fantasy of Hefnerian proportion. The Sinai's wilderness is more dramatic than the hazy, shale monochrome of the Eastern Desert. I gazed out over a maze of stark, jagged summits and expansive, windswept wadis: with its peaks' almost vertical striations of granite and basalt, the topography of Sinai seems not only biblical in scope but genuinely born of cataclysm.

The ferry crossing is an easy 90 minutes from Hurghada to Sinai, and it dropped me in downtown Sharm near a waterfront area that resembles an upscale Californian strip-mall. Bypassing the luxury yachts and expensive resorts of Sharm entirely, I hitched a service taxi about an hour up the eastern coastline to Dahab, a laid-back town home to many seaside restaurants and dive shops, including the professional and central Asilah Club Red Divers.

Despite the terrorist bombing, which killed 23 people, in April 2006, Dahab has recovered quickly and is doing a brisk trade. Its downtown area, Asilah, feels touristy in the same carpet-and-sheeshas, English-on-the-menu way that much of Turkey does, but it's a pleasant and inexpensive place to pass a couple of relaxed days. From its beaches, there is a stunning view across the Gulf of Aqaba's choppy waters to the mountains of Saudi Arabia, and to complement the scenery both Dahab's diving and seafood are excellent (attributes not unrelated, I suspect).

Dahab was also a convenient base for heading into the craggy, bleak interior, either to Mount Sinai or further afield. Service taxis are available for hire, and tour companies regularly run jeep and camel treks to such attractions as the Coloured Canyon, the White Canyon, Wadi Huweiyit and the Ain Khudra oasis. Most companies, however, are run by either European or Cairene transplants, which means that the Bedouin men who do most of the work and whose ancestral lands house these sights see few of the profits. I'd been advised that it was both better and cheaper to ask around for recommendations of Bedouin guides and then liaise with them directly: this enabled me to chart my own itinerary and escape the over-crowded routes. And while camels will be offered de rigueur as an eco-friendly, cheaper, off-the-beaten-path alternative to jeeps, bear in mind that they'll cost you more than walking and -- on a short trip at least -- make you feel like you're at Sinai Disney. (Okay, I grudgingly acknowledge their historical and cultural import, but damn, I hate camels. Smelly, stupid and servile, I find it hard to respect any mount that when left untied, as they often are, doesn't make a break for freedom.)

Brief though it was, I found getting out into the desert unquestionably worthwhile. Having fairly paid my guide a daily rate equaling a bit more than a night at the pub would cost, he took me inland by 4x4, then by camel, and then by foot through narrow, pock-marked limestone canyons, past Nabatean rock art, around eroded sandstone pinnacles, and through a Bedouin enclosure whose wry gate was a rusted, upended flap of metal inscribed in English and Hebrew with "Southern Sinai Military Protectorate, Schlomo Region" - a hangover from the Israeli occupation that ended peacefully in 1982. We wandered up crumbling escarpments that afforded magnificent views of exposed, colour-saturated plains set against a distant, huge, cobalt-blue sky. Plains, I might add, that bore little trace of modern settlement - a different Egypt than that of the upper Nile Valley and precisely what I'd been coveting.

After a Sinai trek, the material comforts of Dahab-good food, too much Manu Chao on loudspeakers, a swimming pool, and a warm, lofted bed in at Inmo Diver's Hotel-was the perfect wind-down. I even rented some kit and dived - no mantas (and certainly no 60-metre swim-throughs), but fascinating reefs, sharp visibility, and enormous Napoleon wrasses. Certainly, from Dahab's cushioned seaside bars, returning to Hurghada seemed to me an odious task.

Luckily even Hurghada has some curiosities, and while I killed time before my package-tour flight home, I marveled at Omar Sharif's endorsement of local carpet emporia and at the multitude of concrete libraries, schools, offices and public toilets built in honour of Hosni Mubarak, the Democratic National Party's autocrat of decades. I perused souvenir markets and admired a new, finely-wrought grand mosque. But best of all, ambling even slightly off tourist thoroughfares yielded not only more architectural and demographic diversity but also wonderful, inexpensive food. Being a bit of a hedonist, I gorged myself on freshly-squeezed seasonal juices (orange, mango, sugar cane, papaya, and countless others) which cost about 40p if consumed in tankards at the bar. And I delighted that in the average street café, food prices range from about 15p for a falafel pita to £1.50 for half a chicken and half a dozen fragrant side dishes, including limitless tahini. Nuts of all shapes and sizes are available from roadside stands. The coffee, whether plain or spiced Turkish-style with cardamom, is cheap and marvelous, as is the sugary and strong mint tea. And fresh baklava and a thousand other delicate, honeyed pastries can be found with dangerous ease. All of which, when combined with the deserts' temptations, made this trip a very sweet one indeed.

Useful info:

Hotels:
Al-Quseir: El-Quseir Hotel. E£60-120, ph. +20 65.333.2301.
Marsa Shagra: Red Sea Diving Safari, €35/furnished tent (including all meals); ph. 02.337.1833. Chalets and all-inclusive diving packages available.
Dahab (Asilah): Inmo Diver's Hotel. $30-60/night, ph. +20 69.640370. The Jasmine Pension (same number) next door is a quarter its price, however, and charming.

Activities:
Red Sea Desert Adventures, €90/day; ph. +20 12.244.9073.
Asilah Club Red Divers, €20-30/dive; +20 69.640.380.
Guided treks into Sinai: between UK£30-70/day.

Transport:
Flights: London Gatwick from UK£155 on Thomas Cook, etc.
Ferries: International Fast Ferries' Hurghada - Sharm El-Sheikh service. 4 times weekly; approx. US$80 return; +20 65.344.7571. Book in advance.
Buses: fairly comfortable and very cheap-typically under GBP £2 to get almost anywhere-but irregular and unreliable when in a hurry. Most towns will have a station.
Service taxis (cars and mini-buses): slightly more expensive than buses (roughly US$1/hours' travel), but still very cheap, and usually more convenient. They leave when full (which means that, if desperate to depart, you can simply pay the empty seats' fares), can be easily caught almost anywhere (even smaller towns that buses don't bother with), and, unlike many other countries', are seldom over-filled. (Generally, minibus capacities seem inversely proportionate to a country's GDP.)

Money:
Exchange rate is approximately 10.91 Egyptian pounds to every Great British Pound. Cashpoints are available sporadically, and banks can provide withdrawal and exchange services when open. It's better, though, to carry cash with you.

When to go:
The summer is stifling; peak tourist time is February-June and September-November.

Disclaimer: all rates and prices may have changed.

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Kris Anderson is a writer from Portland, Oregon and lives in London, UK. She is a lecturer and tutor for Oxford University and the Open University and is a contributing editor to The Oxonian Review of Books.