Day 214 Sudan 20/4/2011, Wadi Halfa – Desert camp on the road to Abri. 75.52miles/120.45km, 5hr58minutes, Av 12.6mph.

Neither of us slept as much as we would have liked, but we were awake by 5am. Our plan was to leave at first light which we thought would be 6am, but had forgotten about the one hour time change in Sudan. With the assistance of the guy who had helped us yesterday we got all our gear downstairs, loaded the bikes and headed off at 6:15am, with the skies just starting to lighten. Finding the correct road involved a bit of guesswork as road signs don't seem very common here. Eventually via a checkpoint, where they had just woken up and weren't very bothered about us, we headed off into the desert.

Leaving early meant that it was quite cool and we rattled off the kilometres. By the time the sun was fully up and the temperature started to rise we had done nearly 60km. The road was amazingly quiet and we were able to ride two abreast for large stretches without seeing another vehicle. The drivers of the vehicles we did see were all quick to wave, especially a Chinese road crew that kept overtaking us during the day. The nicest thing about the waves from the drivers was that they didn't sound the horn. After Turkey, Syria, Jordan and Egypt where truck drivers especially seem hell bent on deafening you as they pass, this came as a pleasant surprise.

The lack of traffic, peace and solitude made for a great ride through the desert, until it started getting too hot! Passing the 4000 mile mark today was an added bonus, go us!

At the 90km mark with the sun almost directly above us we spotted a small shop/restaurant and stopped for a tea and bottle of coke. The Nubian mud brick buildings are lovely and cool and we could have stayed longer but we wanted to try and get to the Nile today. Having filled our water bottles up we headed out into the heat and rode another 30km, before deciding that it was too hot and we would be better off camping.

The English couple travelling in a Toyota Land-cruiser were supposed to get their vehicle off the barge today and would probably pass us en route. They had promised to stop and say hi and fill our water bottles if they saw us, but either the vehicles were not released until late or they passed us unseen. If we have missed them it is a shame as they were very nice, plus the water wouldn't have gone amiss!

Carrying water is going to be our biggest problem, bottled water seems rare and we are just having to risk the water we can find. So far at worse it seems to taste a bit sandy.

Since camping we have had a visit from two curious locals and a guy who claimed he was a policeman and wanted to see my passport. The policeman did have a rather fetching pair of tiger print slippers on though, which didn't seem like police issue.

Aside from the strong wind, sand in everything and acacia thorns littering the ground we have a decent camp-site. If the wind dies down we may even get some sleep, which would be nice after the last few days. We will be leaving early again tomorrow and will hopefully soon be near the Nile and a supply of water!

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 211 Egypt 17/4/2011, Aswan. Bike maintenance, supplies shopping, a dip in the pool and a lot of packing.

Hooray our last full day in Egypt! We are sorry to anyone who likes the country, but it has to be our least favourite place in the world. We have met some nice people, but they have been so overwhelmingly outweighed by the hassling, money grabbing, thieving, lying rest of the population, that we will never return. For anyone planning a visit I would say book a five star hotel complete with tours, see the sites from the comfort of an air-con bus and never leave your hotel unless there is a fire and you have to! Better still, stay at the Luxor hotel in Vegas and visit the British Museum, all the best stuff is there anyway! Rant over, back to our day.

I finally got round to changing Debs' tyres for the wider Marathon extremes. Hopefully they won't slow her down too much, at least they won't sink so badly when we encounter sand.

With the tyres changed, I went to go and buy some petrol for our stove. I hope I have bought petrol, it was all a bit confusing. Every other country we have been to has had fairly well marked pumps. Egypt it seems is different. I wanted unleaded petrol but making the attendant understand was a bit of a struggle. I really must look up the word for unleaded in Arabic!

Mission completed, I went back to the hotel to get Debs so we could go supplies shopping.

Once again it was bit of a effort to find a stall that didn't quote ridiculous prices, but eventually we managed. Having a much better idea of what everything should cost certainly helps.

Back at the hotel I was greeted by a flat tyre on Debs' bike. It was better that we spotted it now than in the morning, but it was still pretty annoying. This time after fixing the puncture, I took her bike out for a ride to make sure it was ok. This served the useful purpose of checking our route out of Aswan for tomorrow morning. To prove that there are still some nice people around, I was invited in for tea by a shop keeper who had worked as a fisherman in Grimsby. He told me that it was his dream to return, which seemed like a strange thing to say about Grimsby!

In a cheerful mood, I cycled back to the hotel and went to meet Debs on the roof for a quick dip in the pool. It was lovely to escape the heat for a while, but our bags aren't going to pack themselves, so for me at least it was only a quick dip.

While I was happily spreading my gear all round the room, Debs was getting stuck in the lift! It was a slightly traumatised Debs that eventually made it back to the room. Fortunately despite no one coming to help when the alarm button was pressed, she eventually managed to get it to go down to the ground floor and then wisely walked back up. We hope it is working later as I don't fancy carrying all our gear downstairs tomorrow morning. I suspect Debs will be taking the stairs though.

It may be some time before we get to blog again so take care all. The next entries will be from Sudan.

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!