Valley of the Kings II, Challenge Completed!

Entering the Valley of the Kings, the first thing that strikes me is the sense of enclosure. The sun is blinding above, but here, the entrances are low, discreet, and sometimes almost hidden in plain sight.

Before any chisels touched the rock, the decision to build a tomb was made by the pharaoh himself, often in consultation with senior officials and royal architects. Planning could have begun as early as his first year of reign, with decisions on the tomb's location, architectural details, and which paintings and texts to furnish the walls. Implementation would be handed over to the architect and craftsmen. Working in two groups of 30-60 workers each, led by a foreman, they were assigned duties based on their specialised skills. Working simultaneously on different parts of the tomb meant that a simple burial chamber could be completed within a matter of months; however, the grander, more complex ones could take 6 to 10 years, prompting early planning. 

The layout of a tomb typically began with a discreet entrance leading to a descending corridor that cut deep into the cliff, with stairways carved where needed to navigate changes in slope and, sometimes, to connect multiple levels of chambers. Side chambers housed funerary goods and offerings, while the burial chamber at the heart of the tomb held the king’s sarcophagus. The walls were decorated with sacred texts and images, all focused on the afterlife and the pharaoh’s journey to the kingdom of Osiris. The tomb functioned like a cleverly designed puzzle, with twisting corridors, side chambers, dead-end passages, and protective spells etched into the walls, all working together to confuse would-be robbers and safeguard the king’s body and treasures.

Of the 62 tombs known in the valley, only about 20 were actually those of pharaohs. Usually, no more than 15 are open to visitors at any one time, depending on conservation underway. Walking along the main path, the entrances appear and disappear —some at ground level, others tucked into higher ledges. One of the most striking examples sits above me on the east-facing cliff: the tomb of Thutmose III (18th Dynasty). Its entrance is perched roughly 98ft (30m) up the rock face, and reaching it means climbing a small metal ladder fixed to the cliff. Standing at the top, I can see how well hidden it must have been, and though the position might have discouraged anyone who didn’t know where to look, the tomb didn’t escape looting. Descending through the tomb, I arrive in the burial chamber, the walls painted with stick-like figures typical of the period. At the centre of the room is a huge, cartouche-shaped, intricately carved sarcophagus of red quartzite. The lid is broken; it was originally found on the ground, with the sarcophagus empty. His mummy had been removed for safekeeping in the 21st Dynasty when tomb raiding was rampant. Today, it is under the care of a museum in Cairo. 

Not far away are two tombs that always draw attention for very different reasons. The first is the small but world-famous resting place of Tutankhamun, whose modest layout of tight chambers and low ceilings was discovered to be packed from floor to ceiling with treasures. Unlike most tombs in the valley, it escaped looting and remained undisturbed for over 3,000 years, until its discovery in 1922 by Howard Carter. Just a short walk away, the tomb of Ramesses IV illustrates a very different approach. Reigning for only six years, he acted swiftly to ensure his afterlife, expanding the workforce to 120 craftsmen to complete the tomb on time. Unlike the winding, twisty corridors of earlier dynasties, his tomb is straight and simple: a broad, gently sloping corridor leads directly to a large burial chamber supported by massive pillars. The walls are covered with vibrant images and hieroglyphs, while the ceiling is painted deep blue and scattered with stars. I can just imagine him resting for all eternity, gazing up at the painted sky as if watching the heavens stretch endlessly above him.

Finally, my journey along the necropolis route brings me to Hatshepsut’s mortuary temple at Deir el-Bahari. Rising in terraces against the cliffs, it feels like a deliberate statement of power and visibility. But Hatshepsut chose well. The site was sacred to the goddess Hathor, positioning the temple to face the Temple of Amun at Karnak, while at the rear, beyond the cliffs, her tomb sat quietly out of sight. Adjoining her temple were those of Tuthmosis III (her stepson) and Nebhepetre Mentuhotep (the 1st ruler of the 11th Dynasty).

Inside Hatshepsut's temple, the walls once again dazzle with magnificent paintings, such as that of Nekhbet, the vulture goddess of Upper Egypt, with her wings spread in a gesture of protection, clutching a small amulet between her talons. Another of Thoth, the divine scribe, records and oversees the rituals nearby. And then there’s Hatshepsut herself, shown with male features, presenting wine to Re-Horakhty, the falcon-headed sun god. 

As I step outside, taking in the grandeur and symmetry of the temple, I realise this feels like a fitting end to my journey. It’s almost impossible to capture thousands of years of pharaonic history, architecture, and the countless intricacies that make this place so fascinating in just a few words. I have barely scratched the surface, and I know I will have to come back again one day.