egypt: journal

dahab - 4th august

sometime after midnight our ferry arrived at the port of nuweiba, on the east of egypt's sinai peninsula. we'd had a bad day in aqaba and expected that the worst was yet to come. the bureaucracy, baksheesh, expense and time it takes to get a vehicle into egypt is legendary; not to mention a down right pain in the arse. there are stories of overlanders having to empty their entire vehicle several times, seemingly for the amusement of the officials. with this in mind, we fixed our best smiles in place, girded up our patience and prepared for a long night.

drying off - "the canyon" dive site, dahab

on exiting the ship, every other vehicle began to disgorge its load. no matter how full, how tightly packed or how many boxes balanced on the roof-rack; they were all removed and presented on the tarmac for inspection. and these guys had a lot of stuff.

ever the optimists (and a bit lazy), we left ours as it was and kept our smiles fixed as we were visited by a parade of inspectors, "engineers", officials and various other unannounced persons. in addition to this, claire was taken on her own tour-of-duty round a series of small office shacks, returning with a baffling array of arabic paperwork, a new set of number plates - also in arabic - and a much lighter wallet.

then, not long before sunrise, we were told we were clear to go - just a small tip to be paid. we hadn't even unpacked the car. the officials had been helpful and friendly. our expectations had been so low, that somehow this exhorbitant, bureaucratic marathon seemed like a reprieve. elated to be through, and excited about being in egypt - and therefore africa - we drove south towards dahab; the stars beginning to fade and the angular peaks of the sinai mountains becoming visible around us.

we had been pinning our hopes on dahab being a haven of rest and relaxation; somewhere we could have a holiday from our holiday. we wanted to stay put for a little while after our unintentionally frantic chase through the middle east. at the same time, we didn't want to get our hopes too high, and the let down of aqaba was still fresh in our minds.

hesitantly hopeful, we left our guest house and the stifling heat of our wooden hut. the sea was right there, just outside the front door. we hadn't known, having arrived through the back streets in the early morning.

the easy life - dahab

dahab bay is a gently curving strip of tourist restaurants and dive shops. the clear waters of the red sea lapping gently against a thin cresent of sun loungers and parasols. restaurants sold full english breakfasts and milkshakes. touts tried to befriend us with laughable cockney accents and rhyming slang that made us cringe. this was the sort of stuff we were looking for! for a little while anyway.

we found ourselves a pair of sun loungers and spent the days laying by the sea, reading and eating pizza. between chapters we snorkelled around the coral reef, just a few metres away. naked local boys caught the colorful reef fish, bashing them to death on the rocks or tearing them apart for bait. shoals of scuba trainees emerged from the depths below columns of bubbles. inexperienced snorkellers flailed arms and fins, splashing their way rapidly from one collision to another. despite this, somehow, the reef was magnificent.

breakfast - 7 heaven guest house, dahab

if i'm showing dahab in a bad light, i don't mean to. it is a relaxed, friendly and lighthearted resort. there are no big hotels or package tourists. there's no hard sell or any real hassle. the food's good, the beers cheap. the sea's clear and warm and the reefs are some of the best and most accessible we've ever seen.

our room was hot and simple, a wooden box with a bed and a fan. but it was fine by us, and for less than a pound a night, we didn't complain. we got the rest we needed; no driving, no website, no sight-seeing. we fed ourselves up and serviced the land rover. we were ready for africa.

cairo - 14th august

all good things must come to an end, and we were ready to leave our little haven of treats. with only one bottle of whisky left from our duty free shopping in aqaba, we headed off across the sinai for cairo. continental africa beckoned.

the mountains of the sinai ripple like a crocodiles back. a history of the earth's considerable contortions, betrayed here by wide bands of colour folding through every peak.

we stopped at st. katharines monastery. it was one of those points where our itinerary collides with that of dozens of tour groups. a small, well proportioned monastery, nestling in a picturesque valley beyond rows of mercedes coaches and toyota minibuses. inside we jostled with other european tourists, inspecting the ornate chapel - similar to the orthodox greek style at meteora - and marvelling at the scraggley bush through which god once spoke to moses.

st.katherines monastry, sinai

we drove accross the sinai desert through the heat of the day; an exhausting and monotonous drive on long straight roads, dipping briefly under the suez canal and depositing us, ultimately, into cairo's rush hour traffic. wide roads, exhaust fumes, car horns and traffic ranging from donkey carts to land cruisers; small tinny taxis to monstrous trucks. the variety of vehicles leading to a complementary variety of speeds and driving styles, each doing their own thing in any lane, in any direction, regardless. a blast of the horn is the primary means of communication, meaning; 'i'm coming through', 'get out of my way', 'don't pull out', 'just letting you know i'm here', and anything else that takes your fancy. it is the most essential warning yet at the same time so omnipresent as to become meaningless.

somehow we made it through - i think having a big square land rover helps - and managed to find the campground, tucked away in an obscure village in the giza suburbs, unsigned and unheard-of, even by most of the locals. it had taken two enthusiastic policemen, a helpful concierge and a taxi driver on a moped as reluctant guide, to get us there. but get us there he did; just in time to see the sunset over the pyramids, sitting on the roof of the land rover, drinking our whisky straight.

room with a view, cairo

the location of our campsite was literally a backwater. a narrow canal flanked by a road on either side, with a further canal behind the handful of small shops that constituted the village. though the canal was clearly central to the village, it also seemed to serve as a repository of all their rubbish, and from the smell of it, their effluent. no-one seemed to mind though, least of all the wildlife. white egrets stood poised on the lillies, families of moorhens paddled amongst the debris and water buffalo soaked themselves in the milky sludge. each morning we walked passed this scene. as we waited by the road, ox-carts trundled past on wonky axels, wooden platforms with mountains of fresh green reeds overspilling on each side, lean egyptians perching on top. sooner or later a taxi would pass, and five minutes after that we'd be in the six lanes of chaos called 'pyramids road', on our daily commute to cairo where we queued for visas and filled in forms.

islamic cairo

between money changers and embassies we visited old (islamic) cairo. in the narrow streets the taxis gave way to donkey carts, and minarets rose above the market stalls. unlikely turns led to ornate archways or crowded markets, and every now and then, another tourist. the latter often the most surprising on these medieval streets.

market crowd, islamic cairo

the pyramids had been a surpise, looming so visibly over the landscape of west cairo, where we stayed. you could see them from the motorway, from the campsite, sometimes from the shops. going about our business we'd forget them. then they'd appear, between two buildings, down a street, over some trees. tall enough on their own, with the high heels of the giza plateau they peer down upon the city, becoming both more impressive and yet more passe at every turn.

happy shoppers, islamic cairo

we'd been eying each other from a distance like this for several days, before we decided it was time to see the pyramids face to face. there is no doubt that these things are huge, but when you're right up against them, looking up, something about the angle deceives. they're steep, forcing your neck back, with their tapering away at either side and the glare of the desert sun above, it's difficult to get a fix on them. though they obscure everything in front of you, it's impossible to really see them from there.

the sphinx, giza

the prime view point looked to be from the desert. reluctant to walk across the sand in the withering heat, we grudgingly accepted one of the persistent offers of equestrian transport. unfortunately our new "guide" took this as an opportunity to spend the duration of the trip badgering us for more money than we'd agreed to pay him. he too was reluctant to walk across the sand, so he rode on the horse with me. though he kept asking if he could ride with claire. he was particularly attentive when it came to helping her down from her horse.

nice horses; shame about the guide, giza

we had expected the worst from the hustlers at the pyramids, and we got it. the view from the desert was definitely the way to see them, but we enjoyed watching them from the campsite more - nice and peaceful.

three wise men, pyramid of giza

bahariyn oasis - 18th august

we left cairo in the late afternoon, when the worst heat of the day had passed. choosing to visit the oasis of the western desert on our way to luxor - rather than heading straight down the nile - we found ourselves once again speeding through a vast flat landscape. the desert here is brown and rocky, not the undulating yellow dunes you might expect. a good tar road sliced through it, a railway line running parallel - often the only landmark. curiously large, concrete bus shelters slid past the window. there was no-one waiting.

well stocked bike shop, bawiti

it was a relief to be out of the city. we moved fast enough to cool the air that rushed in through the windows. the low sun still hot on our arms. four hours passed quickly and as night fell we arrived at the small village of bawiti. we found a pleasant guest house and sat in the courtyard with a beer, watching the spreading ceiling of stars.

bahariyn oasis, western desert

high and dry, bahariyn oasis

the white desert - 19th august

in the morning we explored the gardens of the oasis. the land rover felt a little overbearing on the narrow dirt tracks winding between the date palms and crumbling baked mud walls. things moved slowly here, the pace of the donkey cart. beyond the palm groves, large blue pools were bordered white with salty deposits. grey earth causeways split the pools. it was an alien landscape.

fungal rock formation - the white desert

driving south that afternoon, we passed first through the "black desert", pebbled with spikey black basalt shards and rising dramatically into dark, rocky mounds. later we reached the "white desert", where we left the road; driving through the sand between chalky white pinnacles. we were at first a little nervous over the rippling yellow drifts. not wanting to get stuck like we had done in wadi rum, this time we were a long way from civilisation. but the sand was firm and we found ourselves a nice spot from where we surveyed the weird panorama of weathered white mounds. we flipped the roof-top tent to provide some shelter from the sun and cooked some super-noodles on the gas stove.

the white desert

we watched the glowing sunset, drinking whisky and coke, sat in our folding chairs. the wind rose a little and we moved our camp to a more sheltered spot. we finished the last of our bottled water and had to drink from our jerry can supplies. sterilized with iodine it tasted like swimming pool water. we curried the okra we'd bought in the market. eating with our heads tilted back, we struggled to tear our gaze from the mesmerizing stars.

there was no moon that night. feeling vulnerable in the wilderness, we didn't use our torches. obscurity was our defence. we packed up camp by starlight and climbed up into the tent. the wind rose in the night, rushing round the rocks and dragging up the sand. the sides of the tent flapped furiously, waking us both to an eery netherworld. the night was closer and darker than when we first slept, the emptiness of the desert unseen but overwhelming. after a while we slept again, then woke to the first light of day. we drank some chemical-tasting water and were on our way again.

sundowners, the white desert

dakhla oasis - 20th august

crossing the desert on a good tar road doesn't offer the most challenging driving. the bends were rare and gentle. the other traffic almost non-existent. there were no obstacles, and had there been, we would have seen them well in advance. the cross-wind through the open, driver's-side window was too strong; drowning out the cd player. with no air-con, closing the window was not an option. the games of "eye-spy" didn't last too long. the drone of the diesel and the whistle of the turbo was constant. we only slowed for the police checkpoints, changing the tone - a chance to move feet on pedals. we learned that these remote bastions of bureaucracy could be negotiated quickest by saying only 'two english' - in arabic. though the friendly inquisitiveness of guards was understandable, from what must be one of the most undesirable postings in the force.

for all its monotony, crossing this desert is not, however, unpleasant. there is an element of sensory depravation about it, and the relaxation and calm that comes with it. and for a desert, it's fair to say the scenery varied quite surprisingly and continuously, albeit gradually. every hour or so we would find the landscape changed, though it had happened before our eyes, imperceptibly. the shingle that carpeted the sand would change from chalky white, through slatey grey to basalt black. low hills crept up beside us, suddenly surrounding us with dramatic peaks or weathered outcrops, exciting us with their beauty before slinking off into the distance again.

 
medieval town, al qasr

after turning sharply and descending an escarpment we were faced with the desert we had expected. waves of yellow dunes in every direction, sometimes spilling across the tar, partially obscuring the road. to the west they rolled ceaslessly, into the vast saharan sand sea. to the east they piled up against the escarpment, the yellow more striking against the black cliffs.

after the sand came the oases. the road suddenly running between fields of bright green cultivation. egrets and herons flew between the trees, oxen ploughed the soil. the road was lined with market day traffic, mostly pedestrian. we drove slowly, between generous waves, easy smiles and brightly coloured dresses. beyond the crowds, mud-brick walls were topped with woven reeds, spiked defensively.

luxor - 21st august

ramses, deir al-bahri

having spent the night at dakhla oasis, we had another early start and pressed on through the desert to luxor. after a long hot drive, we anticipated the cold beer and roast beef apparently available at a "british pub". 20km outside luxor, we were forced to accept a police escort. this pootled along at about 20km/h. after having travelled over 1000km through the desert unaided, it was frustrating to be hampered in this way, so close to our destination. when we found the pub, we did enjoy that beer.

luxor - 22nd august

rising at dawn is becoming our habit. skipping breakfast we drove immediately to the west bank, hoping to take our photos in the soft morning light. a light mist still hung over the nile and peasants emerged from villages to wash in the adjoining canals.

 
tomb of ramses iv, valley of the kings 

we weren't early enough to beat the crowds. convoys of coaches arrived 20 and 30 at a time. at the valley of the kings, queues snaked from the entrances of the tombs. it looked like a theme park. neither should we have worried about the light; the entrances are nothing to see, everything's inside, underground. no flash photography allowed, but with the digital i can shoot without the flash. after a couple of shots, however, someone decided it was no photography at all. a 'guardian' wanted to take my camera away and a commotion ensued when i wouldn't let him. i offered to delete the offending photos, but it turned out not to be a problem after all. nothing a little baksheesh wouldn't sort out.

 
karnak temple, luxor

over the next few days we visited the temples of karnak, luxor, deir al-bahri and medinat habu; all of which were quite spectacular. each of the temples gave a different impression, though common themes and designs ran throughout, one ramses or another usually dominating.

 
ramses, luxor temple

we took hundreds of photos; cataloging carvings and columns, statues and sphinxes. other tourists, of course, were everywhere. mostly in groups they swarmed around their guides, video cameras panning and heads nodding understanding, as this or that detail was revealed for them. for us, we prefer to explore in ignorance, trying to photograph away from the crowds, enjoying the freedom to clamber about these relatively unrestricted sights. we dodged the furtive advances of the 'guardians', who point out what's in front of you, hoping for baksheesh.

big enough to hide the other tourists, deir al-bahri

occasionally gleaning historical details from our guide books, we enjoyed the sights thoroughly. we didn't learn the names of gods nor the dynasties of kings and we didn't feel guilty about it. should we?

 
gods, men and hieroglyphics, deir al-bahri

the rest of our time in luxor was spent mostly in our hotel. it had a small pool and, on request, served up feasts of delicous home cooked egyptian food. this was lucky for us, as it sheltered us from the trauma of luxor's streets. carriage drivers, felucca sailors, "guides" and peanut vendors all wanted our business; others just wanted our money; none were shy about trying to get it. in front of the luxor temple, the sun sets across the nile. the river flows gently and the sails of feluccas silhouette against the pinks and oranges that light the sky. but walking the riverbank, it's a scene that's difficult to enjoy. luxor is perhaps the oldest mass tourism destination in the world. we expected the hassle - but it was unpleasant to endure.

 
grumpy kestrel, deir al-bahri

aswan - 25th august

we left luxor as part of the obligatory police convoy. a rag-tag bunch of cars and mini-buses, we raced through the otherwise peaceful sliver of cultivation that clings to the banks of the nile. after three hours of bullish overtaking and blaring sirens we dispersed anti-climatically into the downtown traffic of picturesque aswan.

that aswan was picturesque was a surprise. for some reason i had expected little of the nile, yet been delighted at its every emergence. at aswan it was wide, its flow broken by low islands. sandy hills rose on the far bank. the town itself stretching along the near side, designed like a sea-front, with balconied hotel rooms above the shops, capitalising on the view. we took one of those rooms.

 
nile riviera, aswan

the thing to do in aswan is to take a ride in a felucca, the small traditional sailing boats, with single masts and trapezoid sails. the "captains" of these boats patrol the waterfront at aswan, frequenting the riverside bars and introducing themselves to tourists. not having taken a felucca trip in either cairo or luxor, we planned to do one here. but first we had chores to do, so it was necessary to repel their advances; a tiresome task.

it was our chores that dictated our days in aswan and had us chasing all over the town, exploring it in a way that perhaps we wouldn't have done otherwise. essentially, we only had to do three very simple things; buy a tyre-pump, book a ferry ticket, get supplies for an 18 hour trip across lake nassar. the first of these turned out to be the most difficult and most revealing. we spent most of our energy pursuing this objective and saw a cross-section of aswan society in the process.

 
tourists, abu simbel

shunning expensive and/or failure prone compressors, we had brought with us a simple but effective twin-barrelled footpump from halfords (the more expensive michelin one). this broke - to me, irreparably. we needed another one before we entered sudan and the nubian desert.

 
more queues, abu simbel

we were offered everything from compressors the size of a bath, to flimsy hand-operated bicycle pumps, "made in china". it was finding something in between that was difficult. we were reluctantly escorted by a felucca "captain" who asked the shopkeepers, in arabic, to add 30% to the price. others were willing to ask around and searched with us out of kindness. we waited three days for what turned out to be an antique russian pump that you wouldn't buy in a car boot sale for a pound. it was proved not to be up to the job, but the vendor seemed to want £50 anyway. the price for the chinese hand pump varied from £2 to £20 plus. amazingly, the bike pump ended up our best bet. we could have bought it after our first hour of searching, but after 4 days, we knew there was nothing better.

in the interim, we had visited abu simbel, the high dam and an island temple. we spent the remainder of the days enjoying the view from our balcony, high above the exhausting hustlers and hecklers on the street below. this was our favourite spot, having become so fed up with the pestering felucca "captains" that we determined not to give them any business.

 
friendly customs, mr haman (left)

leaving egypt can be as troublesome (and costly) as getting in. thankfully we were helped through the process by mr. salah from the nile navigation company, and mr. haman from customs. the problem came, however, when we tried to hand back our egyptian number plates. we arrived bright and early at the traffic police office, eager to hand them back, but no-one wanted them. we demanded to see the chief, and did, but he too demured. unperturbed, we headed for the port. the plates were a problem though - whilst they were in our possession, we couldn't leave the country. i offered to throw them in the lake, but that didn't seem to help. thankfully mr. haman took charge of the problem, offering to stay with us until 5pm if that's what it took to get it done. luckily for us though, it only took until 2pm.

with all our paperwork in order, we loaded the land rover onto the middle of the cargo barge, boxes and crates piled high on either side. then, with the late afternoon sun still uncomfortably hot, we shut ourselves into our first class cabin, enjoyed it's wall length air-conditioner and watched the land rover chug off on its barge, across lake nassar towards sudan.

 
mr salah seeing us off, aswan docks

egypt: accomodation

egypt: other info

entry checks: getting a visa for eqypt is quick and easy in aqaba (and cheap too). the biggest cost is the charge for taking the vehicle into the country. i'm not too sure what it was i was paying for but it set us back c. $200 for one month complete with a set of egyptian number plates. our recommendation is to take the services of a tourist policeman who will meet you off the ferry and sort it all for a small tip (and we're talking a couple of quid here).

costs: egypt is cheap, cheap, cheap with the exception of getting the vehicle in (and out on the ferry to sudan).

must sees: without a doubt escaping the hassle of the touts is our recommendation and the western desert is just perfect for this. try the snorkelling and diving at dahab - it's the cheapest place to stay in egypt.  the temples at luxor on the western bank should be seen and when in the capital don't miss old (islamic) cairo for some interesting street scenes and to step back in time.