Spending An Afternoon With King Tut

It’s not every day that you get to hang out with a 3,000-year-old pharaoh.

This particular day was one of my most anticipated of the whole Egypt trip—I couldn’t believe I was finally fulfilling a childhood dream. I’m not the first visitor to Egypt to share the sentiment. For thousands of years, the Valley of the Kings has been a symbol of Egyptian power and mystery, a secret valley scattered with tombs of some of the most influential figures in ancient history. Explorers and adventurers have trodden in my very footsteps, eagerly awaiting their moment to lay eyes on the burial sites of pharaohs whose stories have become myths.

Walking through the valley after taking the Disneyland-like train to protect tourists from fainting in the blistering sun, I felt the excitement gazing up at the twin cliffs rising above me on both sides. While it looked on the outside like any other valley with no human influence, all around me were three thousand-year-old paintings, artifacts, and treasures yet to be discovered. So much of the story of ancient Egypt was within my reach, hiding deep beneath the sand. It is a strange feeling to know you could be walking above treasures that could be this century’s most significant discoveries. You feel as close as you can to being a part of history.

Making our way past the entrances to other tombs, complete with descending staircases and lines of overheating tourists, I gazed out at our endpoint. King Tut’s tomb was by far the smallest. An untimely death rushed the digging process, meaning the 18-year-old’s tomb did not mimic the architectural design reserved for royalty. However, what lacked in size was made up for in gold. Lots of gold.

It was here on that fateful day in 1922 that Howard Carter and his team stumbled upon the sealed tomb entrance. While every other tomb discovered to date was raided many moons ago, Tut’s was untouched. Its unique location provided the perfect cover, buried beneath rubble from another excavation decades earlier.

I stood outside the tomb in the scorching sun, the sand picking up as the wind grew stronger. A small stone building marked its entrance, situated at the bottom of the valley, rather than high up in the mountains like his ancestors. Stepping inside, a dark tunnel awaited, forcing my body to squeeze through in unnatural ways. Stepping deeper into the earth, the damp, musty smell hit my nose. The air was thick with dust. After a few steps, the steep staircase turned into just thin wooden planks placed every half a meter, a way to ensure no one else met their doom in this burial place.

The first thing to catch my eye was the charcoal black feet in the glass coffin to my left. A small body draped in linen lay in silence, its mummified skin tightly clinging to the bones beneath. Within 5 seconds, I went from being uncomfortable in the tunnel, barely catching my breath, to gazing in awe at the person in front of me.

I was face-to-face with King Tutankhamen himself.

It is a peculiar feeling to know that you are looking at the same face and body that ruled Ancient Egypt 3,000 years ago. The same face that gazed out at the thriving city of Thebes, prayed in the temples, and rode chariots across the sands. The same face that watched Akhenaten change Egyptian religion. The face of a boy who smiled up at his step-mom, Nefertiti. The same young boy who believed himself to be the incarnation of a god. What astounding sights this face must have seen! What secrets it knew that have been lost to time!

As a child, the story of the tomb’s discovery sparked my love for Egyptology. I used to read the early-2000s classic children’s books, complete with replicas of maps, artifacts, and flaps with secret compartments. If you remember those books, I’m sure they sparked something in you, too. I used to imagine what it must have been like to be Howard Carter, entering the tomb for the first time, seeing the golden mask, the thrill of the discovery that would change the world. The story of the mummy, the curse, and its worldwide fame changed the trajectory of my life. And here I was, his face “looking back” at mine.

Turning around, the view I had seen hundreds of times in books unfolded before me: The golden paintings on the walls, the baboons, the sarcophagus. My imagination began to drift, picturing all the events that had taken place in the spot where I stood.

I saw the priests, draped in a leopard’s skin, carrying torches into the tomb. I heard the echoes of the wailers bouncing off the tunnel towards the sky. I could almost feel the faint glow of the fire dancing against the dark, freshly painted walls. I could feel the magnitude of the moment the wax seal was imprinted on the rope around the door.

Coming back to the present, I tried to take in the room as much as possible. I walked one last time past King Tutankhamen, whispering under my breath, “See you soon, old friend.”

Stepping back out into the sun, I felt such significant relief. After all this time, I had finally arrived at the location that marked the beginning of my archaeological journey. The discovery that has shaped me into who I am today faded from sight as I strolled through the valley on my way to the next tomb, feeling re-inspired to pursue my dream of becoming a historian or archaeologist once again.

Photo credit: Sam Plummer