The police escort I ha been dreading took some time to materilise. It was only half way through my second day having bumped into a team of Polish cyclists that they caught up with me. At first I tried to loose them with some success cycling off through traffic and down back streets in the towns.
The next morning however a policeman greeted me at breakfast and he told me I had to wait five minutes for the police car to arrive to escort me. There are two (well probably a fair few more) things that are liable to get me particularily grumpy
1 - Farting around aimlessly (FYI - Land Agents do on occassions end up doing something...)
2 - Being told what to do
The poor policeman was in a pretty tough position.
After an hour and a half wait for the police car to make an appearence I just decided to bugger them and set off. I felt a bit sorry for the poor chap who had been asigned to wait over me - he even made a brief but valiant effort to keep up with me on foot. I took the back roads out of town to avoid the road block and escaped into the desert.
My freedom did not last long. 50 km later I could see a road block ahead. I tried my best to blag my way past but they were having none of it. Believe it or not but its pretty hard for an Englishman on a bicycle wearing that rather special combination of lycra and a panama hat to succesfully pull off being a local.
Whilst at times the police escorts are not a problem (indeed it can be fun whizzing through town with your own motorcade) letting you do pretty much what you want they can be pretty tiring.
On my third day of cycling I decided I would head for the town of El Banyan around 120 km from where I was staying. At each check points the police team change and I ended up with some real idiots. They would drive along right up behind me to trying to get me to go faster and preventing me from stopping shouting at me through the load hailer each time I took a break. Whilst I managed to lose them for a while - driving along in the desert het at 25km an hour had caused their truck to overheat they soon reappeared. Their masterpiece in how to destroy a cyclists moral was still to come.
After 120km I reached the town where I wished to spend the night feeling hot, tired, dusty and pissed off. Only then was I told that I would not be allowed to stay there but that I would have to proceed to the next town 75 km away. I was that livid I nearly I nearly threw all my toys out of my pram. The conversation that then occurred would have been brilliant YouTube material. Fortunately I didn't completely loose my cool but got my head down and kocked off the extra kilometers before dusk escorted by a new team of police who couldn't have been nicer encouraing me all they way.
Whilst the police escorts are supposed to make tourits feel safer after Islamic terrorists targeted them a few years back they have proved to be at best an inconvience. I have felt very safe wandering around - I am far more at risk from being run over than becoming a terorist target. Most frustratingly the police presnts prevents one of the things I have loved the most about cycling which is that it is so much easier to meet the local people who outside the main tourist areas are very welcoming and hospitable. Something that is so much harder when your cacoombed in a bus or have half a dozen policemen and a gun (not sure what the others do if we start getting shot at) wandering around after you.
After four big days cycling, covering over 700 km I've reached Luxor, put my feet up, been round a few more tombs and temples had a few beers and more excitingly met a crowd of fellow overlanders. For the first time since leaving home I've been able to chat to other travellers who are doing or done a similar trip to me (albeit in 4x4s rather than on bicycles). Talking to them has given me a real sense of the adventure ahead.
Visiting the tombs in the Valleys of Kings, Queens and Nobles has been great fun despite the coaches stuffed full of package tourists. Each tomb has a group of lowly paid Egyptian guardians looking after it to make sure everyone behaves themselves. That is unless you are touring them by yourself, wthout a guide and look like your prone to bending the rules. I seemed to fit into that bracket. On entering the tombs I was given a piece of cardboard to fan myself aginst the humidity inside. Bit of an odd but kind gesture I thought. It was only after a couple of tombs that I started to realise that it was code.
The chap at the door gives the cardboard to all the people who look like they easily corrupted, once inside the tomb the guardians pulls you aside when no one else is watching, gets you to jump over a few barriers gives you a flashlight and takes you round a whole network of rooms and corridors that arn't open to the public. Not only is this game of hide and seek great fun but to be able to escape from everyone else and sit in the private rooms is an absolute delight and well worth the few pence tip they demand.
I have about 200km to pedal before I reach Aswan my final spot in Egypt. Here I will catch the ferry across Lake Nasser and into Sudan. Having expected the Sudanese sand roads I had read about to be the first real test of my stamina travellers coming north have told me that all the websites and books I have been reading are now out of date and what was described to me as a poorly marked desert track is now a 200km strech of fresh tarmac. This will mke a huge difference to how I'm able to progress.
Sorry about the lack of photos they will be up once I find a card reader.
Separately a friend of mine died sudenly last week whilst out on a training run with his regiment and I know many of you guys will be heading to his funeral. Rous - you are in my thoughts. The world will be a worse place without you. God bless buddy.
Gxx