Valley of the Queens

Throughout my whole journey from Abydos and Dendera to Karnak and Luxor, all filled with stories, grand architecture and wonder, I have been waiting for this moment: to finally explore the royal necropolis, the Valley of the Kings. My greatest challenge is conveying the magnificence that lies beneath this barren valley of Upper Egypt, where the sun relentlessly beats down on jagged cliffs. No life persists here, no plants or trees, but somewhere in these rocky slopes, pharaohs and queens of the New Kingdom were hidden away in secret tombs.

Back in the days of the pyramids, mostly focused between the Old and Middle Kingdoms (c. 2686 – 1650 BC), the tomb and the funerary temple were usually part of a single complex. The pyramid contained both the burial chamber and the ritual centre. But these were terribly vulnerable, making them far too easy prey for robbers. Fast forward 1,000 years to the advent of the New Kingdom (c. 1550 – 1070 BC), and many things had changed. By the time of the Valley of the Kings, tombs were carved deep into the cliffs underground, and temples were built separately, closer to the Nile, where priests could perform daily rituals.

Understanding this made a lot of sense as I crossed the Nile River onto its west bank. I first travelled past Seti I’s mortuary temple, then Thutmose III’s, and the Ramesseum, with its towering pair of Ramesses II statues. But nothing prepared me for the colossal remains of Amenhotep III’s temple. Looking at the rubble now, it’s difficult to fathom the sheer size of his temple, which at one time covered nearly 20 acres, with massive pylons, multiple courtyards, rows of colonnades, and statues punctuated by the Colossi of Memnon. Oddly enough, Memnon is not an Egyptian word. Though the statues are meant to represent Amenhotep, when the Greeks visited Egypt, they associated them with Memnon, a hero of the Trojan War said to be king of Ethiopia, and somehow the name stuck.

As I passed a few more mortuary temples, the landscape began to change. The cliffs rose sharply, and I found myself entering the Valley of the Queens. This necropolis, smaller and quieter, was initially reserved for royal children and later came to be associated with queens and consorts. Construction, however, was difficult because the rock was of very poor quality, and ancient architects often had to abandon the work and start over elsewhere. As such, there are many unfinished tombs in this valley. One of the most famous tombs is that of Queen Nefertari, wife of Ramesses II. The paintings within her tomb are exceedingly beautiful and elaborate and are considered among the finest examples of funerary art in Egypt. The queens were buried separately from the kings, tucked into rugged cliffs that offered hidden security. This separation also created a clear balance within the royal necropolis, with the kings’ tombs to the north and the queens’ to the south, while providing the queens with their own prestigious space. 

From the Valley of the Queens, I continued along the route to Deir el-Medina, the village where the artisans and scribes who built the tombs lived. Life here was bustling, structured and part of a tight-knit community. Walking through the site, I could see the remains of how the village was laid out. Within an enclosed wall, a main street was lined with rows of small houses, some with cellars excavated into the ground. Here, around 400 people lived, isolated from the outside world to ensure absolute secrecy about their work on the royal tombs. Workers were paid not with money but with rations of food and grain, precisely allocated to sustain them and their families. During the reign of Ramesses III, when supplies ran low and their rations were delayed, the community refused to work until they were restored — an event recorded as the first known strike in history.

As I leave Deir el-Medina behind, the cliffs rise even higher, and beyond, in what was once complete secrecy, the pharaohs’ tombs await.