The cycle from Luxor to Aswan was straight forward. The police finally seemed to get bored of following me leaving me free to pedal along at my own pace. I checked out a few of the temples and tombs all pretty impressive favourites include Edfu and Kom Ombo.
I'm not quite sure why Aswan has become a tourist destination. Besides the dam there really is not that much to see. It just pretty hot and full of Egyptian touts trying to flog you rides on their fellucas. If however it is your last stop before hitting Sudan so there are some important things to organise namely eating and drinking. The guidebooks I've read suggest that I might not be able to visit many decent restaurants between Egypt and South Africa which is a long way to go without a decent meal. For two days I trudged around town filling up at every opportunity. At times it was almost embarrassing and people on the next table began to take interest - some Egyptian chic even took a photograph of me - pretty hard to tell if she was a hottie or not under that burka!
Besides stocking up on food a good deal of time was set aside for beer. Fortunately the overlanders (www.montythelandrover.com amongst others) I'd met in Luxor were staying at the same place so could keep me company. Sudan is pretty strict and is governed by Sharia law (not sure they are going to find George wearing lycra as amusing as you guys seem to) so booze is banned. My view was on this was to make hay whilst the sun shines and I wasn't alone. The Hotel rooftop proved to be a good base and cold Stellas (the local brew rather than the Belgian wife beater variety) taste pretty damn good. On our final night a plan was hatched. If Sudan won't bring us beer we will bring the beer to Sudan - cue another trip to the off-licence to stock up on supplies. Sudan is a pretty big country and we might be there for a while.
Having stayed up until nearly dawn cuddling our beers helping the Egyptians celebrate winning in the football (really incredibly manic - they managed to form a marching mob large enough to close the main road, just as well they haven't discovered alcohol) breakfast at seven was a bit of a harsh surprise. Not only did I discover that the ferry was 20km of hungover cycling away in the already blazing sun but also that perhaps this beer smuggling wasn't too wise. In order to get on and off the ferry passengers and their bags are searched - whilst I'm sure we could have risked it the forty lashings dished out by the Sudanese didn't tickle my fancy. Apparently the usual lines of I'm a foreigner or I didn't know the rules don't get you off the hook. My derriere has held up well to the cycling thus far but I think being on the receiving end of a good whipping is more than it could cope with.
I'd heard reports about the ferry between Egypt and Sudan being a real nightmare It was fine, frustratingly long but fine. As testament to the improved efficiency of the Egyptian immigration and customs it only took us a mere nine hours between boarding the boat and leaving the port not bad considering some of the stories I've heard. At least getting on first we were able to bag a decent enough spot and rig up the tents for some shade. After a 15 hours voyage (taking in Abu Simbel - the temple that was taken apart piece by piece and rebuilt on higher ground to avoid losing it when the High Dam was built) we rocked into Sudan and after a mere two hours of unloading and a day hanging around to register my presence in the country I was free.
In the months leading up to this trip I'd expected Sudan to be one of the hardest places to cycle. I'd estimated rolling into Khartoum around Christmas with my travel limited to just 50km a day on the sand roads. I was couldn't be more wrong. The Chinese have tarred over the country meaning that what I'd had described to me as "poorly marked desert pistes" are now (or nearly save for a very few kilometres of pushing through the sand beside the roadworks) brand new, flat asphalt. With a decent northerly breeze (I pity the three chaps I met cycling into it www.bikeafrica2009.com - still that's the Irish for you) and little in the way to do apart from pedal I've been able to cover the 1000km from the border to Khartoum in just six days.
At least every 100km there is some form of shop to stock up on food and water. The 15l of water I set off with was a gross over calculation I could have got away carrying less than a third off that amount. The food was a different issue. Knowing how much I eat when cycling I'd stocked up on biscuits, cakes and fallafel sandwiches before leaving town. These disappeared pretty quick and so I was at the mercy of the local restaurateurs. Whilst the maitre d's are all very charming the menu is pretty limited and despite my repeated requests I've yet to be handed a wine list. I think the chefs could be a little more adventurous and perhaps look further a field when sourcing their ingredients. For the best part of a week I've been living on beans and bread, if I'm lucky I'll get a raw onion. They aren't even Tesco's bargain basement baked beans let alone Hienze, I'm pretty sure they stew up the same beans which are fed to cattle at home. Even I can't finish a bowl of the stuff its so bland.
More than once I've started eyeing up passing livestock craving food. First it started with goats then after a few more days of beans and bread camels started to look pretty damn good. I'd catch myself wondering how much it would cost to buy a goat, just a small one to tide me over. Fortunately I reached Khartoum before any passing nomads tempted my palate.
On the subject of passing nomads the Sudanese are absolutley charming. The change is especially noticable when compared to the Egyptians who particualrily in the tourist hot spots come across as being more interested in trying to sell you something than getting to know you. Perhaps the Sudanese just don't have anything to sell but they seem quite happy just to chill out let you camp next to there houses and try and make as much coversation as the language barrier permits. Odd to think that Sudan has spent much of the last 30 years in international exile.
Khartoum is where the White and the Blue Nile meet. Tommorrow I head off East roughly following the Blue Nile into Ethiopia. The good news is I'm told the border crossing comes complete with a bar (apperently some Sudanese go to the border post for day trips...) the bad news is I'll have to introduce myself to some monster hills...
I've managed to upload a few photos - out of order I'm afraid but broadband speeds are pretty steady.
All the best
GFWM
I'm not quite sure why Aswan has become a tourist destination. Besides the dam there really is not that much to see. It just pretty hot and full of Egyptian touts trying to flog you rides on their fellucas. If however it is your last stop before hitting Sudan so there are some important things to organise namely eating and drinking. The guidebooks I've read suggest that I might not be able to visit many decent restaurants between Egypt and South Africa which is a long way to go without a decent meal. For two days I trudged around town filling up at every opportunity. At times it was almost embarrassing and people on the next table began to take interest - some Egyptian chic even took a photograph of me - pretty hard to tell if she was a hottie or not under that burka!
Besides stocking up on food a good deal of time was set aside for beer. Fortunately the overlanders (www.montythelandrover.com amongst others) I'd met in Luxor were staying at the same place so could keep me company. Sudan is pretty strict and is governed by Sharia law (not sure they are going to find George wearing lycra as amusing as you guys seem to) so booze is banned. My view was on this was to make hay whilst the sun shines and I wasn't alone. The Hotel rooftop proved to be a good base and cold Stellas (the local brew rather than the Belgian wife beater variety) taste pretty damn good. On our final night a plan was hatched. If Sudan won't bring us beer we will bring the beer to Sudan - cue another trip to the off-licence to stock up on supplies. Sudan is a pretty big country and we might be there for a while.
Having stayed up until nearly dawn cuddling our beers helping the Egyptians celebrate winning in the football (really incredibly manic - they managed to form a marching mob large enough to close the main road, just as well they haven't discovered alcohol) breakfast at seven was a bit of a harsh surprise. Not only did I discover that the ferry was 20km of hungover cycling away in the already blazing sun but also that perhaps this beer smuggling wasn't too wise. In order to get on and off the ferry passengers and their bags are searched - whilst I'm sure we could have risked it the forty lashings dished out by the Sudanese didn't tickle my fancy. Apparently the usual lines of I'm a foreigner or I didn't know the rules don't get you off the hook. My derriere has held up well to the cycling thus far but I think being on the receiving end of a good whipping is more than it could cope with.
I'd heard reports about the ferry between Egypt and Sudan being a real nightmare It was fine, frustratingly long but fine. As testament to the improved efficiency of the Egyptian immigration and customs it only took us a mere nine hours between boarding the boat and leaving the port not bad considering some of the stories I've heard. At least getting on first we were able to bag a decent enough spot and rig up the tents for some shade. After a 15 hours voyage (taking in Abu Simbel - the temple that was taken apart piece by piece and rebuilt on higher ground to avoid losing it when the High Dam was built) we rocked into Sudan and after a mere two hours of unloading and a day hanging around to register my presence in the country I was free.
In the months leading up to this trip I'd expected Sudan to be one of the hardest places to cycle. I'd estimated rolling into Khartoum around Christmas with my travel limited to just 50km a day on the sand roads. I was couldn't be more wrong. The Chinese have tarred over the country meaning that what I'd had described to me as "poorly marked desert pistes" are now (or nearly save for a very few kilometres of pushing through the sand beside the roadworks) brand new, flat asphalt. With a decent northerly breeze (I pity the three chaps I met cycling into it www.bikeafrica2009.com - still that's the Irish for you) and little in the way to do apart from pedal I've been able to cover the 1000km from the border to Khartoum in just six days.
At least every 100km there is some form of shop to stock up on food and water. The 15l of water I set off with was a gross over calculation I could have got away carrying less than a third off that amount. The food was a different issue. Knowing how much I eat when cycling I'd stocked up on biscuits, cakes and fallafel sandwiches before leaving town. These disappeared pretty quick and so I was at the mercy of the local restaurateurs. Whilst the maitre d's are all very charming the menu is pretty limited and despite my repeated requests I've yet to be handed a wine list. I think the chefs could be a little more adventurous and perhaps look further a field when sourcing their ingredients. For the best part of a week I've been living on beans and bread, if I'm lucky I'll get a raw onion. They aren't even Tesco's bargain basement baked beans let alone Hienze, I'm pretty sure they stew up the same beans which are fed to cattle at home. Even I can't finish a bowl of the stuff its so bland.
More than once I've started eyeing up passing livestock craving food. First it started with goats then after a few more days of beans and bread camels started to look pretty damn good. I'd catch myself wondering how much it would cost to buy a goat, just a small one to tide me over. Fortunately I reached Khartoum before any passing nomads tempted my palate.
On the subject of passing nomads the Sudanese are absolutley charming. The change is especially noticable when compared to the Egyptians who particualrily in the tourist hot spots come across as being more interested in trying to sell you something than getting to know you. Perhaps the Sudanese just don't have anything to sell but they seem quite happy just to chill out let you camp next to there houses and try and make as much coversation as the language barrier permits. Odd to think that Sudan has spent much of the last 30 years in international exile.
Khartoum is where the White and the Blue Nile meet. Tommorrow I head off East roughly following the Blue Nile into Ethiopia. The good news is I'm told the border crossing comes complete with a bar (apperently some Sudanese go to the border post for day trips...) the bad news is I'll have to introduce myself to some monster hills...
I've managed to upload a few photos - out of order I'm afraid but broadband speeds are pretty steady.
All the best
GFWM