Camp David has been abandoned. So have Freedom Beach, Liberty, Bawadi and Red Rock.
The camp-style resorts along the low-budget end of the Red Sea Riviera have been vacated by the young Israelis for whom they were built. No one knows if the Israelis will return. They left, many in near hysteria, following a bombing Thursday night that officials say killed two Israelis and three Egyptians who served them food and drinks.
The exodus culminated Saturday after the Israeli government urged all citizens remaining in the Sinai Peninsula to leave at once, a message the few holdouts received on Israel Radio here and heeded. With their departure came the end to, or at least the suspension of, a rare relationship between Arabs and Israelis in the region. Many said that scores of friendships between young Egyptians and Israelis dissolved in the ash and anguish of the blast that struck the Moon Island Resort soon after dinner on Thursday.
The attacks here and the larger one 30 miles north in Taba brought horror to a place many Israelis had viewed as an inexpensive sanctuary from the bombings at home. In the terrifying moments immediately after the explosions, young Israelis drew on lessons learned from firsthand experience, stepping in for Egyptian rescue crews that survivors described as hopelessly slow to arrive.
"Until now, Sinai has been our local paradise," said Liron Shokty, 24, a graduate student from Beersheba, Israel. One of only four Israelis who remained in the seaside town of Tarabeen, Shokty and the others packed up Saturday and piled into a Peugeot taxi headed for Israel.
"It's safe here now for the simple reason there's no one left to kill -- the beaches are empty," said Shokty, who witnessed a bus bombing in her home town last month. "We usually get smart after something has happened, but they've already achieved their goal. It will be a long time before we come back."
Israeli officials said the death toll at the Taba Hilton had climbed to 32 as Israeli and Egyptian rescue workers continued to remove debris from the collapsed hotel facade. Officials said 25 of the victims had been identified tentatively as 16 Israelis, 6 Egyptians, 2 Italians and 1 Russian. Rescue workers uncovered seven bodies late Friday night and Saturday, according to Zelig Feiner, a spokesman for Zaka, the Israeli rescue and recovery organization. He said rescue workers believed four to eight bodies might remain in the rubble.
Because of the condition of the remains that have been recovered, officials said DNA samples had been taken from 19 bodies in an effort to identify them. DNA samples were also taken from relatives of the missing.
The narrow highway that links the primitive resorts north of Nuweiba, a conservative city of 7,000 people and the provincial capital of southern Sinai, is desolate once the sun sets. The darkness is broken only by lamps along harbor breakwaters or clusters of lights in the distant hotel compounds, unguarded and set well off the two-lane road. Lines of reed shacks, rented for a few dollars a day, run down to the calm sea.
Moon Island Resort sits on a sweep of ochre land, small waves lapping against its shores. The collection of bungalows made of reed and palm fronds is relatively new. But because of its secluded spot between a wind-blown rise and the glass-clear sea, it was already one of the most popular in the area among young Israelis who favored its laid-back atmosphere.
Lior Havilio, 28, an electronics engineer from Jerusalem, spent most of Thursday doing crossword puzzles and relaxing in the large open-air restaurant at the center of the camp. After dinner, he returned to his seaside bungalow, only to be shaken 20 minutes later by a blast.
Havilio said the force was far stronger than that of two bombings he witnessed in Jerusalem. He feared that the camp, filled with roughly 50 Israelis, was being bombed from the air. He drew quickly on grim experience.
Predicting the camp's remote location would delay emergency crews, Havilio put on as many pieces of clothing as he could find scattered around the bungalow. Over the next few hours, he stripped methodically down with each wounded Israeli he encountered, using the clothes as bandages. A vacationing Israeli medic and physician also worked feverishly in the dim light of collapsed huts through hours of grisly improvised care that drew on makeshift stretchers, bandages and first-aid training.
Havilio said the first Egyptian ambulance arrived about 30 minutes after the blast. But he said its crew largely ignored the wounded Israelis and treated Egyptians first, regardless of the severity of their injuries. Some Israelis began to flee, he said, and the dead were left in an uncovered pile.
"I saw the second ambulance coming, like 10 minutes after the first one left, and as soon as I saw it coming, I ran to the ambulance and took the two people who were inside and brought them over to the girl who was missing part of her head," Havilio said, his voice breaking at times during an interview in Jerusalem. "They came with me and saw the girl and took the shirt that was on her head, and looked at her injury, and made this sign like they didn't know what to do. They raised their hands in surrender and just walked away."
Police at the scene Saturday said the car used in the bombing, described by Havilio as an old jeep, was detonated by a timer. It was parked in the camp's dirt lot close to the kitchen and restaurant, now a spiky heap of broken reeds, splintered plywood and split wooden stakes laced with clothing, pots and pans, appliances and piles of glass bottles.
"The knife I was holding flew out of my hand and I was pushed down by something that was shaking me, like an earthquake," said Mohammed Ramadan, 24, a chef on duty when the bomb exploded just before 10 p.m. Recovering at Nuweiba Central Hospital from deep wounds to his head and arms, Ramadan said the kitchen had filled with smoke by the time a second blast sounded nearby, just outside the unguarded compound walls.
On the other side of the sandy rise, another car had exploded outside the gates of Mobarak, the camp next door. A security guard had stopped the driver, according to accounts offered by area residents, and asked him to identify himself. When he could not, he abandoned the car and disappeared into the night. No one was harmed in the blast, which was activated by a timer and left a sooty crater the size and depth of a large hot tub outside the compound walls and scattered charred bits of engine block and fenders across the sand.
Israeli and Egyptian investigators pored over the camps Saturday in a warm, dry wind, bagging evidence and filming the now static scenes of a once-celebratory evening. They worked as the sun set over the bare cliffs behind the camps, the sky glowing pink, the sea's various shades of blue sharpening in the fading light.
The gnarled wreck of a pickup truck sat on the beach some 40 feet from the point of the blast at the Moon Island Resort. Heat from the blast had burned off its tires and left the interior a mass of melted vinyl. The car that had held the bomb had all but disappeared, with only a few parts scattered on the ground. Several bungalows just yards from the sea had collapsed, exposing heaps of clothing abandoned by Israelis who departed in haste.
In the kitchen, baskets of tomatoes, eggs, bottles of water and lettuce were jumbled together in a large pile under the imploded palm ceiling. Bottles of Heineken beer, red wine and a mostly empty quart of Ballantine's scotch whisky were scattered across the floor of the open-air social room, its wooden desk and stick chairs in ruins. "The Way of the Sufi," a book about a mystic form of Islam, covered a book written in Hebrew.
"This place was really made for them," said Nabil Amin, 36, the manager of the White Palace Restaurant and the 25-room Camp David hostel in Tarabeen, about eight miles south of the resort.
His restaurant at the edge of the sea was empty Saturday afternoon, like all those along the dirt strip. Three Germans and a Dutch tourist were his only guests at the hostel, which had been packed with Israelis two days earlier. Like almost all Egyptians who work in the Sinai, Amin is from somewhere else -- western Egypt in his case -- drawn by the jobs that tourism provides. He doesn't know how much longer his work will last.
"This was a very special place between us and them, a place to throw your mobile phone in the sea and be friends," Amin said. "Whoever did this did it because they didn't like the peace between us."
Claussen reported from Jerusalem. Correspondent Molly Moore in Taba, Egypt, contributed to this report.