My Journey to the Top 5 Must-Visit Pyramids in Egypt

The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the sprawling sands of Egypt, as I stood at the edge of Cairo, my backpack slung over one shoulder and my heart pounding with anticipation. I’d dreamed of this journey for years—ever since I stumbled across a dusty old book about ancient civilizations in my attic as a teenager.

The pyramids of Egypt weren’t just structures to me; they were gateways to a world long gone, whispering tales of pharaohs, gods, and mysteries buried beneath the dunes. But as I’d soon discover, visiting the top five must-see pyramids in Egypt was no simple vacation—it was a test of endurance, patience, and sheer willpower. Here’s the story of my adventure, complete with struggles, triumphs, and a few unexpected detours.

1. The Great Pyramid of Giza: A Monument Worth the Madness

My journey began where most do: the Giza Plateau, home to the Great Pyramid of Giza, the last surviving wonder of the ancient world. As my rickety taxi jostled through Cairo’s chaotic streets—horns blaring, vendors shouting—I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and dread. I’d read about the crowds, the touts, and the relentless heat, but nothing prepared me for the reality.

Stepping out onto the plateau, I was hit by a wall of dry, scorching air. It was March 21, 2025, and though it wasn’t peak summer, the sun still beat down mercilessly. The Great Pyramid loomed ahead, its limestone casing long gone but its sheer size still breathtaking—481 feet of stone stacked with a precision that defies modern logic. I’d planned to climb inside, but first, I had to navigate the gauntlet of hawkers. “Camel ride! Best price!” one shouted, tugging at my sleeve. Another thrust a plastic pyramid souvenir in my face. I politely declined, clutching my water bottle like a lifeline.

The struggle wasn’t just external, though. I’d underestimated how claustrophobic the ascent through the Grand Gallery would feel. The narrow, sloping passage was humid, the air thick with the breath of dozens of tourists ahead of me. My calves burned, and sweat stung my eyes, but I pressed on, driven by the thought of standing in the King’s Chamber. When I finally reached it, the small, empty room felt anticlimactic—until I ran my hand along the ancient granite walls and imagined Khufu’s sarcophagus resting here 4,500 years ago. That moment made every ache worth it.

For anyone planning a visit, bring water, wear sturdy shoes, and brace yourself for the hustle. The Great Pyramid isn’t just a sight—it’s an experience that demands effort but rewards you with awe.

2. The Pyramid of Djoser: A Step Into the Past

After Giza, I set my sights on Saqqara, about 20 miles south of Cairo, to see the Pyramid of Djoser—the world’s oldest stone pyramid. The drive was an ordeal in itself. My rented scooter sputtered along a potholed road, and a sudden sandstorm forced me to pull over, shielding my face with my scarf as grit pelted my skin. By the time I arrived, I was dusty and exhausted, but the sight of Djoser’s Step Pyramid erased my frustration.

Unlike the smooth-sided pyramids of Giza, this one rose in six jagged tiers, like a giant staircase to the heavens. Built around 2630 BCE for Pharaoh Djoser by his visionary architect Imhotep, it marked the dawn of monumental stone architecture. I wandered the surrounding necropolis, marveling at the weathered columns and faded reliefs, but the real challenge came when I tried to explore the underground tunnels.

I’d heard rumors of labyrinthine passages beneath the pyramid, but access was restricted. Undeterred, I sweet-talked a guide into letting me peek at a sealed entrance. He warned me of unstable ceilings and pitch-black corridors, and though I didn’t venture far, the cool, musty air gave me chills. Standing there, I pictured Imhotep sketching his blueprints, a genius ahead of his time. Saqqara taught me that history isn’t just in the stones you see—it’s in the shadows you can’t quite reach.

3. The Bent Pyramid of Dahshur: A Lesson in Resilience

Next, I headed to Dahshur, a quieter site about 25 miles south of Cairo, to visit the Bent Pyramid. The road was smoother this time, but my troubles were far from over. My phone died halfway there, leaving me without GPS in the middle of nowhere. I flagged down a passing farmer, who pointed me toward the desert horizon with a grin and a few words I didn’t understand. Trusting fate, I trudged on, my boots sinking into the sand.

When the Bent Pyramid came into view, its odd shape—angled sharply halfway up—stopped me in my tracks. Built by Pharaoh Sneferu around 2600 BCE, it’s a testament to trial and error. Historians think the builders miscalculated the angle, forcing a mid-construction pivot. Up close, the limestone casing still clung to parts of it, glinting in the sun. I circled the base, dodging loose stones and imagining the workers’ panic as their perfect pyramid began to falter.

The isolation of Dahshur was both a blessing and a curse. Without the crowds of Giza, I could hear the wind whistling through the desert, but I also felt the weight of my solitude. My water was running low, and the nearest village was miles away. Still, the Bent Pyramid’s quirks—its imperfections—made it one of my favorites. It’s a reminder that even the ancients stumbled, yet they kept building.

4. The Red Pyramid: A Hidden Gem Conquered

Staying in Dahshur, I tackled the Red Pyramid, also Sneferu’s work and Egypt’s first true smooth-sided pyramid. Named for the reddish limestone revealed after its white casing was stripped away, it stood tall and unassuming. By now, my legs were seasoned from climbing, but the Red Pyramid threw a new challenge my way: a 200-foot descent into its core.

The entrance was a steep, narrow shaft, and I hesitated, my flashlight flickering. A German tourist ahead of me turned back, muttering about the oppressive heat inside, but I’d come too far to quit. I slid down the wooden ramp, my breath echoing in the tight space. The three chambers at the bottom were stark and silent, their corbelled ceilings soaring above me. I sat there for a while, letting the stillness sink in, feeling like an intruder in Sneferu’s eternal resting place.

Climbing back out was brutal—my thighs screamed, and I nearly slipped—but the view from the top, with the Bent Pyramid in the distance, was my reward. The Red Pyramid doesn’t get the hype of Giza, but its quiet grandeur and the physical challenge it demands make it a must-visit for any pyramid hunter.

5. The Pyramid of Meidum: A Relic of Ruin

My final stop was the Pyramid of Meidum, 60 miles south of Cairo, and it was the toughest leg of my journey. The bus I’d booked broke down halfway, leaving me stranded on a dusty roadside for hours. I hitched a ride with a truck driver hauling chickens, the clucking and feathers a bizarre soundtrack to my exhaustion. By the time I reached Meidum, the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the pyramid’s crumbled form.

Once a towering step pyramid built for Sneferu (yes, him again), Meidum collapsed in antiquity, leaving a rubble-strewn tower amid a sea of debris. Some say it fell during construction; others blame an earthquake. Either way, it’s hauntingly beautiful—a monument to ambition undone. I scrambled up the loose stones at its base, ignoring the “No Climbing” signs (sorry, Egypt), and stood atop the mound, gazing at the inner core exposed like a wound.

The isolation here was profound. No touts, no tourists—just me and the ghosts of a failed dream. As night fell, I realized I’d missed the last bus back. I camped under the stars, my sleeping bag dusted with sand, and woke to a sunrise that painted the ruins gold. Meidum tested my resolve, but its raw, unpolished story left the deepest mark.

Reflections on the Road

Looking back, my journey to Egypt’s top five pyramids—the Great Pyramid of Giza, the Pyramid of Djoser, the Bent Pyramid, the Red Pyramid, and the Pyramid of Meidum—wasn’t just a checklist of sights. It was a pilgrimage through time, each step a battle against heat, fatigue, and the occasional chicken truck. I’d set out chasing history, but I found something more: a connection to the people who dared to build these wonders, flaws and all.

If you’re planning your own trip, pack light but smart—water, sunscreen, and a good hat are non-negotiable. Expect chaos at Giza, serenity at Dahshur, and a workout everywhere. And don’t shy away from the lesser-known sites; they hold secrets the postcards miss. Egypt’s pyramids aren’t just for looking—they’re for feeling, struggling, and dreaming. My boots may be worn, but my soul is richer for it. Where will your journey take you?