Deciding that Debs didn't really need to accompany me on the ferry port finding mission, I set off with the google map directions fixed to my bike. It must have taken me all of 5 minutes to realise that with no signposts and limited road names, that the directions were going to be of no use. After about 7km I ended up back at the hotel having had a nice tour of Aswan, some of which I would happily not see again. Especially the part where I was pursued by children demanding money!
Remembering from the map that the route seemed to run along the train lines, I headed to the station and then followed the lines south. The time I had spent directionally challenged, (being a man I am obviously never lost!) meant that my early start to avoid the heat of the day had gone slightly awry. What I really didn't need when I found myself on the correct road was to get a puncture. It was only fortunate that I had a puncture repair kit with me as I had neglected to take a spare inner tube. The puncture turned out to be another one of the old patches failing; I will have to keep an eye on them as it could be that they aren't coping with the tyre pressure and the high ambient temperature.
Having fixed the puncture I set off once again towards the port. When the road forked, a passer by flagged down a bus to ask directions for me and I was soon pointed the right way.
The route to the port was pretty desolate, but largely flat. Riding through the desert has given some indication of how tough it is going to be through Sudan. I needed to sip my water constantly just to keep some moisture in my mouth.
Eventually after about 16km I arrived in the small settlement of High Dam and was pointed once again in the direction of the port. Riding through the town would have been easier if I wasn't swamped by over exuberant children all keen to involve me in a game of chicken or to just hang from the back of my bike. With a quick check that my pannier was still attached, I sped up and headed to the port.
Even when I reached the port there was no sign advertising it as such. The security guard who I went to check with, looked slightly amused when I enquired as to whether the Sudan ferry left from there. He was probably more puzzled because the boat wasn't leaving today, I tried to explain that I had just come to check where the port was, but he didn't really understand.
Already filled with joy at the prospect of riding back through the High Dam terrors, I was slightly on my guard when two slightly older children rode alongside. They seemed quite friendly, asking my name etc before getting round to the 'can I have a pen?'. Not to be put off by me not having a pen to give them, even if I had wanted to, which I didn't. We then moved onto 'can I have your cycle computer?, phone?, compass? and finally bicycle pump?! Having said no to all these requests, I thought it prudent to also say no to the request to ride my bike. Eventually I sped up and soon left them behind, all I had to do now was get through the other group of kids in the main street.
If they were excitable before, it was nothing compared to when I rode back through the town. This time a few of them swung leather belts at me and the rest grabbed on hard to the bike as I passed. Still managing to keep moving, they eventually gave up when one of the local men started shouting at them. Aside from the belt swingers, none of them were particularly aggressive, but it was a shame as I was going to stop in the village for a drink!
The return journey went without more punctures or any further incidents. At least I now know largely where we are going, although I will have to try and find a better route out of Aswan.
Back at the hotel Debs had had a restful time and I was glad of a cool shower. It may be only spring time but the temperature is very high. Larry and Sharon had already forewarned us that we may see temperatures close to 50ºC/120ºF in the desert.
After a rest we headed back to the Movenpick jetty to check our arrangements with Mr Aboda for tomorrow. I know that he had said he would meet us in our hotel lobby on Saturday, but the phone line was very bad and after the trouble we have already had booking ferry tickets I wanted to make sure. Everything was still as we had arranged, so we left and went to the bazaar to buy some snacks.
Asking how much peanuts were at one stall, the shopkeeper said 25LE per kilo, to which Debs asked why the label said 16LE. Shopkeeper nil, Arabic numeral learning Debs 1! To be fair the shopkeeper was apologetic and a bit surprised that Debs had learned the numbers, also 25LE wasn't an overly excessive amount to ask.
Neither of us could face going out again that evening, so having bought some food we cooked in the room. Fully aware that over the horrendous traffic noise our stove wouldn't be remotely audible. Tonight room 302 was the cheapest restaurant in Aswan, although possibly not the best. It depends how you feel about noodles and tinned meat!
Entertainment was provided for us this evening, by a wedding party taking place on the street outside the Isis hotel oppposite. The singing, dancing and drumming made for a great spectacle even though it did go on for most of the night.
You would never be able to describe our hotel as quiet, even if we did close the windows, which we don't because of the heat, the traffic noise is quite incredible. Debs is glad of her earplugs and I have clearly just managed to blank it out.
Fingers crossed for the ferry tickets tomorrow, we really don't want to be here for another week!
Egypt doesn't sound a bundle of fun at the moment. Think of it as an experience! Love Mum and Dad
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