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8th December 2006

Location: Aswan, Egypt
Distance Travelled: 15 600 km

Khartoum held the confluence of the Blue Nile and the White Nile which was to be one of the highlighted themes in this part of the adventure. They met rather peculiarly in a kind of river fornication; Blue Nile bent away and the White Nile caressed the edge bonding further along in the relationship. Been there seen that back on the road leading to more exciting things; the Sahara. We had narrowed down two options in getting from Khartoum to the ferry in Wadi Halfa; one through the desert to follow the Nile on semi-decent/bad roads via Dongola, the other a road ending in Abu Hamid and continuing on 400km of sandy Nubian Desert to Wadi Halfa. We chose the latter.

Excitement rushed our thoughts and pumped our vains. Enough water? Enough fuel? Enough food? What are we going to eat, we don’t have anything to cook with? Water? How heavy are the bikes when loaded? Water? What about punctures? Bikes are a bit dodgey at present...Twad’s your cooling fan up to it? Phill your suspension ok? Mungo, hush, your bike’ll be fine. Jul’s is our map now working on the PDA? -we have no map but we just follow the train tracks...... What is there to expect from nothing?

Modest supplies were collected in the morning, including 29 litres of bottled water care of the Peoples Democratic Republic of China, and we set forth into the sand. Trouble loomed not even out of Abu Hamid with the bikes bunting and bucking us in a patch of soft sand. It was to be short lived with the whole day’s riding being on a relatively firm layer of dust and rocks with us cruising at high speeds. 30km in at Station 10 found a man patient and friendly, a quick encounter before back onto the lone vast highway north. A whole desert all to ourselves. Dust trails scattered the scene in a flock of noisy motorbikes. Truck tracks left since the last strong wind pointed our way north and it was like an ancient pilgrimage as old as the Mero Pyrimads we’d camped near a previous night.

Our night under the stars was cold with wind and interrupted breifly by the train passing by. It only passes twice a week and at the nearby Station Five 22 people lived relying on this train for trade, money and water. Later in the night we were roused by a couple of other trucks making their way south. Phill found himself out of his sleeping bag in the darkness ready to warn of our position to avoid truck to camp collision. In the morning Jul’s had the camera set up greeting us as we woke filming our rousal with the sun joining in.

We arrived into Wadi Halfa after a mere two-days-blaze through the desert. Left over we had one piece of bread, two oranges, 23 of 29 litres of water taken, not much petrol, the same little amount of money and four sunburnt necks. It was not the challenge we’d prepared for but we’d had the Nubian Desert all to ourselves for a brief encounter.

Wadi Halfa was now our stables until the train visited again with passengers for the ferrry, a total of three nights. The very calm dirt streets were a great place to sit and enjoy a tea or coffee with the robed men. Women kept to the home with the exception of the tealadies who served day and night the half sugar half liquids. This was idle time for us and the town suited it ideally. We even did a budget for the following 43 days; not good. The trip is now one week shorter than the arbitrary six month deadline (when our travel insurance runs out) due to this budget.

Money was always going to affect us in some way or another on this trip - to be honest it is a big part of it, or small part depending on what way you look at. Our route now follows the road directly north with little detour, activities are left for the tourists, motels cheaper, careers ponder thoughts, yet food is not scrimped on. Wandering towards Cairo is now our direction, following the Red Sea coast to our timeshare resort by the sea. A tunnel is appearing drawing us into the light ahead.

We’ve passed the very erratic and pedantic border from Sudan to Egypt on a ferry across Lake Nasser, notorious for extreme attention to detail and our dread since leaving Capetown. Our bikes have not been released from customs yet, today is Friday being an office dayoff in Egypt and we won’t get them until tomorrow. With no bikes we’re like stranded whales in Aswan, stuck in the centre of a city founded through tourism. It’s strange how people change dramatically with a new country; gone are the humble and calm Sudanese, now it is the aggressive Egyptian, but hey it is one of the northernmost countries of Africa and at least we can drink beer in this country.

Khartoum to Aswan Images

Chronicle blurp

The Sudanese bureaucracy came back to bite us as we spent the best part of two days going from one office to the next, asking for this stamp or that letter, in a process they call "Alien Registration" in Sudan. As official Aliens, and our pockets that much lighter for the privilege, we headed north, staying close to the Nile to avoid the harsher desert climate.

We camped at the splendid Royal City of Meroe, a collection of pyramids made by the Nubian people in a stunning desert location. Wandering through the city at sundown, and being the only people visiting this ancient site was a very memorable experience. As we passed through the town of Atbara we were flagged down and invited for lunch with the Minister for Agriculture and Fisheries. The minister treated us to a delicious lunch which was most welcome as we were starting to tire of the Sudanese staple of mashed beans and goat stew.

After making it to Abu Hamed, the last Nile town on our planned route, we cast off into the desert loaded with water and gas - hoping for the best. Riding through the desert was a new experience for the boys but we soon determined that faster was better in order to keep the bikes from sinking into the sea of sand. This made for some exhilarating riding as we burned across the great expanses sliding from side to side. With four hundred kilometers of barren country before we could get more gas we had a few anxious hours when we realised we were using far more fuel than planned and may not have enough to make it. Luckily we scrapped through and with the railway as our guide negotiated the isolated Nubian sands over two days before emerging at the dusty and decrepit, but at the same time charming, town of Wadi Halfa.

The ferry from Wadi Halfa to Aswan was another debacle in paralytic African regulations. We spent the best part of two days organising to get on and off the ferry, and only seventeen hours actually on the boat. We are know resting in the very touristy town of Aswan as we await our bikes to clear customs. Like Sudan, nothing is simple in Egypt.