Day 221 Sudan 27/4/2011, Abdulfadil's house, Abo hojar. Debs has a morning with the girls and we make a short stop at a Nubian wedding.

This morning after tea and biscuits Debs went off to visit the girls while I stayed at the house. Yet another power cut, extremely common in Sudan, meant no Playstation so I contented myself with reading and sorting some photos.

Shortly after mid-morning breakfast, Abdulfadil said we would have to go and get Debs. I personally couldn't see what the rush was as she hadn't been gone that long and I assumed she would be having a good time. Nevertheless we had to go, so we wandered down the street towards the house. When we got to the house Debs wondered why we were there and I tried to explain that it hadn't been my decision. She was now having her feet hennaed and had been pampered all morning.

Instead of leaving her to it, we stayed drinking tea and chatting. The laptop and camera has been in constant use, first taking pictures and then showing them to everyone on the bigger screen. With the henna finished we had a photo shoot, where Debs was dressed up in a succession of Nubian outfits. She looked great and we have some terrific photos.

Eventually it was time to go so we said our goodbyes and returned to Abdulfadil's house accompanied by two of the girls. More showing and taking of photos followed our return. Debs has made quite an impact in the village, women travelling through riding bicycles is clearly a rarity!

I would love to say that it will be both of us who are remembered the most from our stay but a small green fuzzy fella has rather taken centre stage. It seems that everyone who has visited the house wants to see Toad and his photo of him sitting on the Great Wall of China. It is has been astounding the fascination that has surrounded him. Having grown men want to have a photo with him while they drink coffee was hilarious. In Abo Hojar at least, he is truly a star!

Later that day we gave the family some bottles of fizzy drink that we had bought and some sweets. I then gave Abdulfadil my British flag which I fix to my bike. They seemed a bit shocked and overwhelmed that we had given them anything, but after the amazing hospitality it was the least that we could do. We are going to try our hardest to get the photos from our stay printed out in Khartoum and get a copy to them. This is a little tricky as there is no postal service to the village. Apparently we have to give them to a bus driver who is heading in that direction and they will get to them eventually. This seems a little haphazard but it may be the only way. We would love for them to have the photos, especially as apart from their weddings pictures, they just don't have any.

To bring our amazing stay to a close, we were taken that evening to a Nubian wedding. It was an honour to be able to see the dancing, colourful clothes and listen to the very rhythmic Nubian music. Unfortunately we didn't take our cameras, as we were uncertain whether we could. Despite being told later that we should have, I don't think either of us would have felt that comfortable taking pictures. Sometimes it is best just to have the memories.

As a final thought and in answer to the question 'what do you give the already overladen cycle tourist as a gift'? I can tell you that despite how nice they are and how generous it was, 2kg of dried dates is not the most helpful of items! It was lovely of Abdulfadil's friend to give them to me and I really am very grateful, but where am I going to put them?!

Day 212 & 213 Egypt to Sudan 18/4/2011 - 19/4/2011, Aswan – Wadi Halfa. 10.75miles/17.71km, 1hr 6minutes, Av 9.7mph.

Leaving in good time, we rode the 17km to the ferry port and arrived just before 9am. With the gates supposed to open at that time, the crowds had already started to form. A seemingly helpful man told us, along with some other westerners, to go and wait on the right hand side where it was quieter. In typical fashion while we waited, they opened the barriers on the left and we spent the next 15 minutes arguing with some security guards about whether we could go. Eventually after the guards started making some money gestures, we pushed past on mass and went to join the queues. The process leading up to boarding is not geared up for people with bicycles. Everyone pushes in from all directions and the gates are quite narrow.

The earlier pushing was nothing compared to what we encountered when we got to the luggage scanner. People were shoving and shouting, huge boxes were passed overhead, the slightest gap was enough for someone to try and squeeze into and it was all we could do to hang onto the bikes. Fortunately for us they decided that we didn't have to take all the luggage off and we could just go through the very narrow looking person scanner. We just fitted and were extremely glad to be out of the crush.

Having cleared the scanner, it was onward to the scales. We didn't find out what the bikes weighed, as we were ushered to one side and a ticket for 50LE (£5ish) for each bike was made out. From then on apart from the ridiculous shoving, the process was made easier when a guy appointed himself as our helper. We didn't ask for one, but any help seemed stupid to turn down.

Following our helper, we were ushered round the queues at immigration and through a back way. Once through, aside from paying 2LE each (not sure what for) and having to fill in a departure card, everything was pretty straight forward.

From immigration we walked down towards the ferry, having our tickets checked on route. We had obviously got through quite quickly as the ferry wasn't yet moored to the side of the barge that we would be boarding across. A comedic moment passed when the ferry came along side the barge and tried to line its doors up with the walkway. Everybody waiting suddenly became back seat captains, shouting instructions up at the ship. The boat would gently float past as everyone shouted stop and then a member of the crew would peer over the top to check the alignment. This happened several times with the boat continually sliding past, much to the annoyance and increased animation of the watchers.

Eventually the boat moored in the correct position and the doors opened.

The scrum began immediately, people barged past, men with boxes shouted at each other and we struggled to push our bikes towards the doors. We had been told to put our bikes at the back of the ferry, which involved passing through two rooms, their floors already strewn with bags and boxes. To add a bit of difficulty, all the doorways had raised steps so we had to manhandle the bikes through them. All the while other passengers with improbably large loads were trying to push past. Our helper got us safely through to the back of the ship, shouting at anyone who got too pushy.

The back of the ferry was strangely empty and we soon had the bikes unloaded. We had planned to leave most of the luggage attached, but our helper didn't think it was safe. While I locked the bikes, he helped Debs with the bags and got us settled under one of the life-rafts, which would hopefully offer us plenty of shade from the blazing sun. We gave our helper a decent tip and thanked him for his trouble. I am not always keen on paying people to do something we could do ourselves, but he had gone out of his way to make sure we got on board safely.

Joining the other westerners under the life raft, we sat down and watched the amazing spectacle that is loading the ferry. From flat screen televisions to refrigerators, karaoke machines and stereos, all were slowly brought on board. When the ferry was full there was still the barge to load. Fights broke out, people shouted and shoved and at one point security arrived and stopped anyone boarding. As if it wasn't exciting enough, while the guys we had met in the ferry office were waiting to load their vehicles, a whirlwind whipped up and threw bits of thin sheet metal into the air. The guys quickly dived behind their vehicles as the metal sheets bashed into the cars. As quickly as it had started it was gone, fortunately no one was injured.

Having survived the whirlwind, the guys still had to load the vehicles on the barge, which looked pretty precarious. They did say later that the barge was nothing compared to the wind.

Despite the fact that we had spread out under the raft, defending our space became nigh on impossible when what seemed like more and more people tried to cram underneath. Seeing as they were all men and had obviously never seen a westerner by the way they were staring, didn't make Debs feel very comfortable. It had been my idea to stay on deck rather than pay for a cabin, a decision that with hindsight was a mistake.

Eventually after we had been on board for nearly 7 hours the ferry set sail. In approximately 16 hours we would be in Sudan.

Shortly after the boat began to move we were told that we had to go to immigration and get our passports stamped, which involved another shoving competition. Having had our visas stamped we then went to cash in our free meal ticket. The meal was not bad if you ignored the fact that the server was smoking a cigarette, picked all the food up with his hands and placed it on an almost clean tray. We survived, so the chicken, rice, vegetables, bread and orange was obviously safe to eat.

Back at the life raft we were pleased to see that the other westerners, who we had asked to keep our spot and mind our gear had taken to their job so diligently. We spent the next hour slowly taking our spot back from the encroaching locals! Clearly by the way that more locals moved in clutching blankets they were obviously of the opinion that they would be sleeping there. Despite the fact that we had been there since 10:30am.

Our salvation came during the call to prayer. While the locals got up to pray we moved their stuff and spread our kip mats and sleeping bags out. They made a few attempts on their return to squeeze into non existent gaps around us, but eventually gave up, with most of them going elsewhere. It wasn't the most restful night but we did at least get some sleep.

With morning came more people squeezing under the raft and we got a bit fed up with the constant staring and moving of our stuff. As we had been sitting on the wrong side of the boat we missed the Abu Simbel temple in the morning, but were told by people sitting the other side that it was so far away as to be very indistinct.

When people started to move their gear around I took the luggage back down to the bikes and reloaded them ready for our arrival. Getting them out through the piles of luggage was going to be a challenge. When we finally arrived, everybody was held on board until they had been immigration again. This time we had to fill in a form and were given our Sudanese travel permit. With the return of our passports we were told we could leave the ship as the doors were now open. Fearing the worse, we were surprised to find that we could get the bikes out fairly easily. The only difficult bit being getting up the steps from the ferry to the jetty. The porters had no choice but to help as until we moved no one was going anywhere.

The journey from the ferry to customs along a sand road was a little tricky, but despite having to take all our bags off for inspection we were soon heading for Wadi Halfa.

We had our first experience of the friendliness of the Sudanese people metres from the port, when a group of kids rushed over to say hello and pose for a photo.

With a good feeling about the country we headed onwards to the town to try and find a hotel. The idea of moving on today didn't appeal much.

When we got to hotel Kilopatra (they possibly meant Cleopatra) it looked like our luck was out as they were fully booked, as it turned out, by the overlanders who we had met before.

With the help of a Sudanese guy I had met on the ferry, who was also staying there, they eventually gave us a basic room on the ground floor that we could push our bikes straight into. It was a pretty rubbish room with terrible saggy beds, but at least we could get some rest so we would be fresh for tomorrow.

Also staying at the hotel and catching the ferry to Egypt tomorrow, were a lovely couple who had been living in Khartoum for the last three years. They were fascinating company as the man had been working for the British embassy, while his wife was a nurse. We joined them for a cup of tea, with milk, and a hobnob biscuit, while they told us and another British couple who are travelling in a Toyota Landcruiser about their time in Sudan.

In an exchange of goods we gave them our Egypt map and we were given, rather more generously, their Sudan guidebook. If they happen to read this, we can't thank them enough and wish them well on their journey home.

A wander into town later on found us some dinner and then it was back to the hotel for an early night. At least it would have been if the hotel hadn't decided to move 20 Libyan refugees into the downstairs rooms with us. Once again the guy who had helped earlier came to our rescue and helped sort out a room upstairs and then helped carry all our gear to the room. The upstairs room was definitely nicer, but also hotter. Fortunately we were so tired we fell asleep, ready to set off at first light tomorrow.

Day 210 Egypt 16/4/2011, Aswan. To the ferry office and a felucca ride.

True to his word, Mohamed Aboda came to our hotel at 10:30am and we headed down to the 'Nile River Valley Transport' office. Along the way, Mohamed explained that despite the fact that it is a government ferry, the people at the office run the bookings like some kind of Mafia agency.

When we got to the office Mr Saleh was once again nowhere to be found. An argument then ensued between Mohamed and the staff. He explained afterwards that there was no reason why they couldn't have issued the tickets, but Mr Saleh had told them that only he was to issue tickets to westerners. This would have been fine if he hadn't been on holiday all week. It seemed that, along with Mohamed, we weren't the only people slightly disgruntled by the fact that Mr Saleh had gone on holiday leaving no one else in charge. Apparently at least one of the office staff can write and speak English, so there is really no excuse for the ludicrous way the office is being run. This still doesn't excuse the staff for lying and being exceptionally rude during our previous visits.

Eventually Mr Saleh arrived, quickly followed by Kurt and his friends who we had met previously. With a brief shake of our hands Mr Saleh took us through to the office and quickly issued the tickets. Nothing special happened, there were no top secret documents to sign, so the only reason there could be for only him issuing the tickets was in Mohamed's words so he could play commandant!

Tickets in hand, we said hi to Kurt and his friends and said that we would try and save them some space on the deck when we get there on Monday. We will be earlier than them as the ferry, from all the information we can gather, is a bit of a free for all. They meanwhile, have paperwork to do in the morning to allow transportation of their vehicles. Seeing as we are not having a cabin, we will be sleeping on the deck, so securing a bit of hopefully shady space is going to be a priority.

Thanking Mohamed for his help, we arranged a sunset felucca ride with him for later that day and then headed back towards the hotel. Now that we know we are leaving, the hassle from boat owners, taxi drivers, beggars and over zealous stall holders just washed over us. We even managed to find a stall to buy snacks from at a reasonable price without too much haggling.

After a rest and some blogging, it was time to head over to the Movenpick hotel to meet Mohamed for a felucca ride. When we got to the jetty, he asked us to pass his details on to anyone who may require assistance with the ferry. Predominantly he works with overlanders who need help sorting their vehicle paperwork out, but is clearly a useful person to know if you are having trouble with the ferry office. For anyone interested his details are: Mr Mohamed Aboda +20(0)125111968. He works from the jetty just outside the Movenpick hotel, which you can get to by taking the free hotel ferry.

The felucca ride was a relaxing way to spend an hour and a half. We saw lots of herons, egrets, gulls and kingfishers as we gently cruised along the Nile. The sunset turned out to be a bit of a non event, as there had been a sandstorm nearby which had made the sky hazy. Nevertheless it was a nice trip, plus it served the purpose of letting me know that I definitely wouldn't want to be on one for longer. I am glad that we didn't take a 3/4 day trip down the Nile, I would have been bored beyond belief! Complaining about a mode of transport taking a long time to get anywhere, seems a bit harsh coming from a cyclist, but at least I can get off my bike. Sailing boats are definitely not for me!

In a celebratory mood, I made a beer run after dinner to the Egypt free shop. The only place you can officially buy beer in Aswan. Tomorrow will be a day of packing and sorting, so cheers for now.

Day 209 Egypt 15/4/2011, Aswan – High Dam – Aswan. Directionally challenged in Aswan and the cheapest restaurant in town.

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!

Day 207 Egypt 13/4/2011, Aswan. Back to the ferry office.

In spite of the traffic noise and fact that we are too tight to pay for air-con, we slept really well.

After a simple breakfast we went back up to the room to avoid the heat until it was time to ring Mr Aboda. Once again the line was terrible, but I managed to hear the words that we should go to the ferry office.

At the office we received the same level of customer service and joy that we had got the first time. This time though we were told that Mr Saleh was sick and to come back tomorrow. Slightly frustratedly we said that that was what we had been told the last two times, which was greeted by laughter and more dismissive hand gestures. While trying to decide what to do next, I went to talk to two western guys who were filling in paperwork on a wall outside the office. It turned out that Kurt and his friend had been in Aswan since last week when there wasn't space on the ferry for their vehicles. Since their first meeting with Mr Saleh they had been told to come back to the office everyday to no joy. The whole situation seemed to be turning into some kind of farce.

Eventually Kurt managed to get hold of Mr Saleh who told him that he was on holiday, but would be back on Saturday when he would sort the tickets. With the boat leaving on Monday, this seemed to be cutting it a little fine. What was more annoying was the fact that the staff clearly knew he wasn't going to be in until Saturday, so were just taking the p**s when they told us to come back tomorrow! Chancing my arm I gave Mr Aboda another ring and explained that the office weren't helping at all. He asked me to pass the phone to one of the staff and a somewhat heated conversation seemed to ensue. Eventually getting the phone back, he told me that he would meet us in the hotel lobby on Saturday and he would go with us to get the tickets. The whole situation is not ideal but we have no choice but to hope that it all works out. There is clearly no point in going back to the ferry office on our own. The sooner we leave Egypt the better and when we do it will be for the last time.

Just before leaving the office we asked Kurt where the ferry port was, as we had heard that it was about 25km from the city centre which would mean an early start for us the morning of the ferry departure. He told us that it wasn't very easy to find and there were no signposts, but he thought it was under 20km from the city. While we are here we will ride out to try and find it before Monday. Waving goodbye to Kurt and his friend, we wished them good luck and said that we would see them on the boat, if not on Saturday at the office.

With nothing else to do for the rest of the day, we had tea in a nearby park and then wandered down through the bazaar. After the experiences of the ferry office we weren't really in the right frame of mind to be walking through the bazaar. Buying a meal at a snack bar ended in failure when the stall holder continually changed his mind about what he had for sale and then tried to sell us food we didn't want. We then had to fight to get a sensible price for snacks and water at another stall. In fact the only success was that I bought a pad to write my blog on for when I can't charge the laptop.

By the time we got back to the hotel through the taxi drivers, carriage drivers, felucca owners and touts, it was time for a rest. Sometimes you just feel like shutting the world outside and this was one of those days. It was just a shame that we had to go out for dinner!

Day 206 Egypt 12/4/2011, Luxor – Aswan. Bikes, trains, a consulate, ferry office and finally a hotel.

We woke on time and had the bikes loaded ready to ride to the station. Being early, the traffic was light and we soon arrived outside. All we had to do now was negotiate a way of getting two fully laden 60kg bikes down a flight of stairs and then back up the other side. The Aswan train couldn't possibly of left from platform 1! Wheeling them down the stairs was not too bad, although after having mine nearly get away from me, I had Debs wait until I could go back to help. Stage one was complete, there was nothing else to do but lift the bikes up the next set of steps. With a gap in the crowds I struggled up to the platform with Debs' bike and then went back for mine. The weight isn't really the problem, it's the bulk and the balance that makes it difficult to move them. What I really didn't need was the guy climbing the stairs in front of me to stop halfway up. By the time I got to the top with both bikes I was shattered and just hoping that we would be allowed to put them on the train. Even though Mr Rezeiky had told us to buy a ticket on the train, Debs went off to try and buy some for first class. That way at least, we would know what carriage to aim for, plus we reckoned that we may be more likely to get away with it in first class.

Debs returned with the tickets and we were soon joined on the platform by two station employees eager to help us load the bikes, for a fee of course. We had always known that getting them on board was going to cost us, but at least it looked like taking them wasn't going to be a problem.

When the train arrived the bikes were pushed into the carriage and with a certain amount of manoeuvring and the removal of my panniers they were safely loaded. With a wave that they would be taken care of we were shown to our first class compartment. Obviously 40LE (£4.10) doesn't buy you a lot of luxury, in fact it was dirtier than second class and the seats didn't recline; nevertheless it was quiet and we were only sharing with one Egyptian who slept most of the journey.

An example of Egyptians ripping off tourists and the shameless way they go about it was highlighted when we decided to order a tea each. When the drinks eventually arrived they were both coffee but before we had the chance to complain the waiter had gone. The coffee was nice enough, the bill wasn't. The conversation went: “How much for the drinks?” “20LE each”, queue slightly incredulous looks, as coffee and tea is normally 5 or 6LE at the most. Obviously aware he may have got carried away, he then said “oh sorry, I meant 20LE for the two, my English is not very good!”. Still too much money and there was nothing wrong with his English, we were fed up with arguing so we paid up, feeling suitably ripped off.

Arriving at Aswan station we were helped off with the bikes and we noticed that a bag was missing. Fortunately not anything serious, just my Crocs that had been placed under the cargo net on the back of one of the bikes. So much for the bikes being looked after, thank goodness it wasn't a pannier though. With so many people getting on and off the train at the stations and food vendors hopping on and off, it was obviously too tempting for someone. The only bonus was that when I said a bag was missing, all of the porters who had been waiting for a tip were suddenly nowhere to be found. I can only hope that the thief was left disappointed.

Perhaps it was because we had got to Aswan with the minimum of fuss, but I couldn't be bothered to get annoyed about the loss. The main thing was to get loaded and then head for the Sudanese consulate. Needless to say, we had two flights of stairs to negotiate again, but at least the taxi drivers left us alone.

Having heard some problems about people getting Sudanese visas, we have to say that the process in Aswan was ridiculously easy. All of the staff were very friendly and despite reading everywhere that the visa cost $100 each, we were only charged $50 each. We have no idea why this was, unless the cost to British nationals has dropped in the last few weeks, or the information we had found was incorrect. It pretty much made up for the loss of the Crocs!

Thirty day Sudanese visas in hand, we headed to the ferry office to buy our tickets. At least we would have if the person we needed to see, Mr Saleh, had been there. Asking what have to be the rudest staff we have encountered in Egypt when he would be in, we were told to come back at 1pm. We should have known by the dismissive hand gesture and snide attitude, made more surprising by the fact that they were women, that we were being fobbed off.

By 1pm we were back at the office and surprise, surprise Mr Saleh wasn't there. With another dismissive gesture we were told to come back tomorrow. After being worried about getting the visas, it seems we should have been more concerned about the ferry!

Before we left Rezeiky camp we had been given the number of a man who worked with Mr Saleh at the Ferry office. Elie Rezeiky had told us that he was a good man who could help us if we were having problems. A slightly difficult to understand phone call later and we were boarding the Movenpick hotel ferry to meet Mr Aboda, with the only instructions that he would be near the jetty. Arriving at the jetty we were beckoned over to a boat and were greeted by the very amiable Mr Aboda. He explained that with the Libyan crisis there were lots of refugees fleeing to Sudan and that there would possibly be more ferries running than normal. He told us that he would try and sort something out for us and to give him a ring at about 11am tomorrow. I can't say that we were filled with confidence, but we had got nowhere on our own so fingers crossed.

The day had been exhausting so we headed back to the hotel for a rest, only venturing out for a pleasant meal in the Nile side Aswan Moon restaurant. Hopefully we will have news of the ferry tickets tomorrow.