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Published: March 28th 2006
Our last day in Jordan was supposed to be "easy downhill' riding; from Wadi Rum down to Aqaba on the Red Sea. But then every Jordanian we had met during our time there informed us the road we were taking was "easy" and "downhill", usually also having no clue as to the distances. We were even once told by the police that it was "easy, only 2km and downhill all the way". Needless to say 10km of uphill followed. But today really should have been easy - we were going down to the coast. We had forgotten about the wind however, something which I am becoming increasingly superstitious about. On the ride north out of Wadi Rum we had a big headwind, the going was hard but hey, its only 10km or so and we turn west so things will get easier then. Except once we were cycling west we had a westerly headwind. Annoying, but evenutally we reach the main highway south to Aqaba - its south and its downhill, so time for the wind to change direction again and increase in power to keep things from getting too easy! We were also surprised as to how a wind coming
Mt Sinai
The chapel and view from the summit.up from the warm Red Sea could be so cold, but after hours of hard, chilly cycling through the desert we finally entered a sheltered wadi and dropped steeply downhill to emerge in another world - flat, hot and with no wind.
The resort city of Aqaba was much smarter, neater and more upmarket than anywhere else we had seen in Jordan, with prices to match. We found some cheap backstreets and the local's market and stocked up with supplies for the night, in the process finding a blanket shop with an enormous arabic blanket emblazoned with the Ddraig Goch (Red Dragon) flag of Wales. Bizzarre.
We figured we would ride south along the beach and find a wild camp or failing that a cheap campsite, before taking the ferry to Egypt the following day. A quick stop at the ferry terminal changed our plans - the "fast" ferry was more expensive than we thought, but the "slow" ferry was not and it was due to leave in a couple of hours. We pondered what to do while the sun set in a blaze of fire behind the mountains on the Egyptian shore across the bay. Deciding to
take the overnight ferry we eventually manged to buy our tickets, departure tax and get stamped out of Jordan. We planned to cook on our stove on the dock before boarding, but got invited to eat with some Syrian Truck drivers who would not let us eat any of our own food. These guys have locker boxes under their trailers with entire kitchens, stoves, fridges and sinks in them!
We then boarded the ferry in plenty of time for its planned 10pm departure. The decks were already full of people, mostly men returning from work in Jordan or the Gulf, all sitting around wrapped in blankets drinking tea and coffee out of huge thermos flasks and listening to music. We were still hungry so lit up the stove on the deck to cheers of amusement from our fellow passengers, and had a small audience while we cooked and ate our dinner. As the boat filled up people spread out to occupy every available space to stretch out and sleep - on the deck, in the cafes, bars and all over the corridors. It looked and felt like some kind of refugee boat loaded with people. The boat finally started
Room with a View
The view from our room in Dahab, looking out across the Gulf of Aqaba to the Saudi Arabian mountains on the other side. moving by 12.30pm by which time half the passengers were sprawled out asleep. Some had mats and blankets, others were just sleeping on the bare iron deck with their heads pushed up against vertical walls, using them as pillows. Moving around involved stepping carefully over prostrate bodies all over the place. Erika slept fairly well, I got maybe 2 hours sleep before being woken to find it was still dark, about 4am but that we were tied to the dock in Nuweiba, Sinai. An hour later we manged to cycle off the ferry. I had been quite excited by the whole trip and was possibly going slightly mad from sleep deprivation, but amused Erika, Maarten and the boat crew by cycling round and round in circles on the dock in the dark singing out loud.
We found the right shed on the dock to buy our visa from and then arived at the customs hall. I had thought the Jordanian side had been chaotic but this was something else. A narrow table ran down the middle of a huge shed with the crowd one side trampling over each other in an attempt to get their enormous amounts of luggage
Sinai Sunrise
The rising sun bathes the previously dull grey and brown mountains of the Sinai with it fiery glow. onto the table to be inspected by the 2 seriously overworked customs guys who were insisiting on searching all bags. We watched for a few minutes thinking it would take us hours to get through this chaos, before calmly picking up our bags and one by one walking around the end of the table to the other side, loading up the bikes and leaving having completely bypassed the whole thing. We cycled out of the port and out of Nuweiba as the dawn light was growing from the East.
Again we had foolishly thought the ride south to Dahab would be easy-flat and along the coast. The road turned immediately inland and uphill into the sheer rocky mountainous desert that is the Sinai peninsula. With little sleep and no breakfast the going was slow. The road was also deceptive - it looked flat but felt like a steep hill in our legs, with the most irritating roadsigns every 500m or so informing us it was uphill. I was soon cursing them out loud. Our sanity was saved however by the staggering beauty of our surroundings; as the light grew we could see more and more details of the rocky
Nightboat to Cairo
Well, Sinai at least. Erika makes sure she has first dibs on the life jackets........ mountains, which were slowly turning from a dull grey and brown colour to orange, red and deep crimson as the sun rose behind us across the sea over the mirrored hills in Saudi Arabia.
After some 30km we arrived at the top of the pass hungry and tired, and in need of water. We had all been suprised by how empty the desert was compared to the rest of the Middle East; we had passed nothing and nobody the whole way. We eagerly pulled off the road into a "Bedoiun Cafe" that was already serving a couple of landcruisers full of tourists up from Dahab or Sharm-el-Sheikh. We asked for water - "water yes, 10 pounds" - just to fill up from a dodgy barrel. Welcome to Egypt. So far it is only the second time we have been refused free water - the first being in Belgium. We continued and stopped for breakfast in the desert, using most of our remaining water supply for some much needed coffee. Fortunately the next Bedu camp we passed did give us some free water, but by now it really was, finally, all easy downhill riding through stunning scenery to Dahab on
Burning Bush
The world's most sacred bramble. the coast.
Dahab is a weird mix of tourist town and hippy-backpacker resort strung out along the Red Sea coast, with both dirt-cheap 'camps' and luxury 5 star resorts such as the Hilton and other big names. It is still a laid back place and finally we had arrived somewhere warm at last. We met up with old friends from further north, enjoyed some cheap, cold beer and generally relaxed completely. The sound of western music everywhere, along with the sight of girls wearing bikinis instead of hijabs, was a bit strange at first but also very nice.
Erika's parents flew out and we spent a great week doing very little and eating a lot. We did visit St. Catherine's Monastery at the foot of Mount Sinai which is home to the Burning Bush ("no, not American president on fire - ha ha" as the tourist guides joke). The guides also claim that the bush is ancient, always green even though in the desert, never flowers and there is no other plant like it on the planet, that scientists can't say what species it is and a whole load of other fantastical stuff. I stood eavesdropping all this
Climbing Mount Sinai
Erika drags her mum up a mountain for the first time ever. and stifling a laugh - dead flower heads were clearly visible at the top of what is a well watered bramble. Still, you never know......
After visiting the Bush we then made a pilgrimage to the top of Mount Sinai, where it is claimed Moses received the 10 Commandments and the Torah. The site of the true Mountain is of course disputed but it was great to climb a hill again and the views were amazing, with a tiny orthodox chapel perched right on the summit of the rock.
The rest of the week was spent relaxing on the beach and snorkelling over the amazing coral reefs just offshore. The week soon came to an end though, with Erika's folks flying back to freezing cold Scotland and us left to relax on the beach some more.
Whilst snorkelling Erika had finally overcome her fear of fishes and anything that moves in the sea and was really keen to try diving, so we stayed around in Dahab for another week or so. I did some great dives at famous sites like the Blue Hole and The Canyon, while Erika learnt to dive and completed her PADI course - she even
Mount Sinai
The path up the "Mountain of Moses" - its just a shame the 10 Commandments didn't include "Thou shalt not litter". There is a suprising amount of rubbish blowing around Sinai, even in the remoter parts of the desert. saw some seahorses on the training dives.
Dahab is not an easy place to leave; its not just the sun and the sea, the whole place is like a litle bubble of western life in the Egyptian desert. It was good to ride the bikes into the nearby Bedouin village just to remind ourselves what the real world was like - complete with rubbish scattered across the streets and packs of sheep, goats and camels grazing and scavenging through it. Also groceries were cheaper here....
In order to leave this bubble for good though we had a hard and long ride into the desert, with none of the luxuries we had become used to whilst in Dahab. But getting up at lunchtime, doing nothing except lazing in the sun all afternoon and then going to the bar starts to get boring after a while, well not boring but you have this nagging feeling that there was some other reason you left home to travel. I was starting to miss being on the bikes, and more importantly was dangerously close to reaching "Hotel California" overload. There are only so many times you can hear this song in a day, every
day, without going mental. It seems custom made for Dahab and this predicament -"you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave"
Well we can and we did. On fully loaded bikes carrying 2 days supply of food and 6 litres (thats 6 kg folks) of water each for the 140km long uphill ride to St. Katherine. The bikes were very wobbly at first, either due to the extra weight or just us not being used to riding them loaded after such a long break. With an early start and very fresh, relaxed legs we were managing a good pace up the wide wadi that leads inland from Dahab, climbing slowly all the way. The day got steadily hotter and hotter though and our pace slowed accordingly. We were passed by a fully lycra clad cyclist on an ultra lightweight roadbike with no luggage who was postively flying up the hill - b*st*rd.
Both Ben and Maarten had already reached Cairo ahead of us and sent back horror stories about the wind, nasty soldiers and bedoiun refusing them water, and children thowing stones. Maybe it was because of Erika that our experience at the
numerous army checkpoints was different - they happily gave us water, seemingly unable to say no to a smiling western girl. We stopped for lunch under a tiny rock outcrop that cast a patch of shadow 2 metres wide across the sand underneath. It was the only shade we had seen for miles and it felt like bliss. We had now left the original wadi and were heading due west across the central Sinai plateau, criss-crossed by wadi's and mountain ridges. The rocks of the mountains constantly change colour from sandy brown, through yellow, orange and red, to purple and even black depending on the lighting and the mineral content of the rocks. In places huge bands of darker rock run through paler stuff making it look like someone has taken an enormous marker pen and scribbled all over the mountains. As the sun dropped ahead of us and we climbed steadily higher we were hit by a growing westerly headwind which quickly drained us for the day. We camped in a remote and pefectly silent wadi and were denied a fabulous view of the stars only due to the full moon, which was so bright we could cook etc.
Sinai Desert
Near our first camp. outside without needing torches.
The following day our headwind was still there but we quickly reached St. Katherine where we loaded up with water again and set of to cross the pass through the mountains into Wadi Feran, which leads all the way to the Gulf of Suez coast. Over a 100km of gentle downhill, but as it was also headfirst into a strong wind it took a lot of effort to make any good progress. We slip-streamed each other so only one of us had to bare the brunt of the wind, and tried not to focus mentally on it too much as we knew things were only going to get worse. The coast is home to strong prevailing north winds which we would have to ride into for at least 2 days to reach Suez. These have been known to drive other cyclists to the very brink of insanity. Right now my biggest mental challenge was trying to get bloody "Hotel California" out of my head.
We reached the village and oasis of Feran for a late lunch and found everyone to be freindly enough, contrary to other reports. The oasis is a strung out area
of green, walled gardens and palm trees at a point where the wide wadi narrows between steep black rock walls on either side. Below the village it slowly opened out again into a wider and wider sandy plain until we fianlly merged with the main highway on the coast. We camped amongst dunes on the beach but the noisy road was close by as was a large oil/petrol plant with bright lights, so it was a different experience to the peace of the night before. The wind dropped as soon as the sun set, and we hoped it would not return in the morning. We slept to the sound of waves lapping the shore close to the tent, combined with the low rumble of the the engines of huge tankers and container ships queing offshore for the Suez canal.
Sadly the wind did indeed return the next day, from the north as predicted. We have now become so superstitious that we no longer say things like "hmmm, wind seems to be dying off" as this surely only causes it to return stronger than ever. Instead we have developed our own language something like" hmmm, the thing we won't mention
Sand Dune
Somewhere in the Sinai seems to be doing something we won't describe", which with hindsight seems stupid but at the time we were convinced this would be enough to fool the north wind. He (or should hat be she?) laughed last, needless to say.
Another day of slow grinding and slip-streaming followed and we made our way slowly north along a narrow coastal strip of flat sand wedged between steep rocky mountains and the bright, torquoise sea. The scene is marred only by depressingy regular oildfields and mineral extraction plants. The road then swung inland and uphill again, just as the day was at its hottest. I was sarting to loose my sense of humour when we heard a shout from some shady palms off to our right and spotted 2 cyclists resting in the shade. They were on holiday from Ukraine and seemed to have brough a 2 week supply of food with them. They were keen to share it though (must have weighed a ton) and were amazed by our trip, especially that we had passed through their country on the way. In a mix of english, german and my remembered words of Ukrainian/Russian/general slavic we exhanged stories, jokes and info
Beach Camp
On the Suez coast after 2 long days riding. about our respective roads ahead (they were wisely going south with the wind). We set off again feeling refreshed and much happier, eventually making it far enough north to rejoin the coast proper before sunset.
We stopped for some tea in the sand by the side of the road and met another cyclist going south - a rather crazy german guy called Ludwig who was riding an Egyptian bike and following Moses and the route of the Exodus. He was carrying no food and, as Moses, seemed to be reliant on 'manna', telling us he had already found some in the form of some sugar cane that had fallen off a truck onto the roadside. We gave him some bananas and told him the next shop was 60km away. At least he had a map and wasn't relying on a pillar of smoke for navigation.
We watched the sun drop lower towards the horizon and then out of the haze emerged a line of black hills, behind which the sun set in an orange glow. The hills were our first glimpse of Africa.
We camped by one of the numerous 'resorts' that seem to be being constructed along
African Sunset
The sunset from our last camp in Sinai. The hills in the distance on the left are on the African shore of the Gulf of Suez. the coast. None seem finished or occupied, rather just ugly concrete outposts strung along the desert shore wherever the highway runs close enough. Whilst the interior of the Sinai desert really did feel like empty wilderness, the west coast is rapidly being developed. With people come rubbish and all day we had watched as assorted plastic bags and packaging had been rolling or flying past us at high speed.
Waking at sunrise the following day we both felt stiff and tired - we had just cycled 210 miles in 3 days though, under some hard conditions. Even after a second coffee I still felt heavy but figured all would be well once we got going. I never really did get going though and had little power in my legs or the rest of my body. After an hour all I wanted to do was stop and lie down in the desert to sleep. I also felt cold, despite the sun roasting down us as usual. Like one of the local bedouin I was soon wrapped in warm layers, sitting huddled under the hot sun complaining that it was chilly. Fortunately I realised this wasn't normal, and diagnosed sunstroke. Erika
Ahmed the "Bedouino"
One of our visitors at our final camp in the Sinai, sporting the traditional lilac colours of the Sinai Bedu. got all motherly lecturing me about hats and not drinking enough water and so on. But our immedaite predicament was that we had to keep cycling, as we had not enough water or food to stop in the desert for the day. I managed a very slow 20km to the next village and collapsed into the shade of the first resthouse we came to. After sleeping for a couple of hours and taking some medicinal lentil soup and coke we set off again to find an early camp in the desert the other side of town. But there was no other side - the village kept on going in a sucession of green fields, orchards, palm groves and scattered farmhouses and other buidlings. Where was the bloody desert when you need it? We gave up and camped on some bare ground by a well in amongst some unplanted fields, though did get several visits from the local "bedouino" during the night. They were all very friendly and keen to make us a fire, but we manged to convince them we were fine without one and we just wanted to sleep.
I felt better and stronger in the morning though not quite 100%, but we had to move on. One of our friends came back to see if we needed a campfire this morning, we placated him with coffee. He was a nice guy but was obsessed with both Spain, and telling us where the sea was. We waved goodbye and set off north again, the wind was still there but much lighter than the last few days and so this helped us to push slowly north through a flat, featureless desert. We reachd Ayn Musa (Springs of Moses) still smiling, plaesed to see some greeness and water to interrupt the sandy plain. But it ws soon behind us again and it seemed to take forever to plod sowly north towards the tunnel under the Suez canal, even after we had passed the town of Suez cearly visible a couple of km to our left, but unreachable. Maybe the desert was indeed starting to effect my mind - I begain focusing on reaching the next signpost counting down the km to the tunnel and wishing the desert would end. It didn't help when you passed a sign saying "Tunnel 5km" only to find another saying "Tunnel 8km" further down the road. We did evenutally reach the checkpoint and were amazingly let through to cycle the tunnel, under the canal and into/onto Africa. Suddenly I was much more high spirited and we sped downhill into the huge man made hole with an enormous cargo boat perched on the desert horizon above us. Once on the other side we turned left and let the wind push us south into the town of Suez.
After days in the solitude of the Sinai the streets of Suez were an assault on the senses - suddenly everything was loud, bright and fast moving and if we didn't keep up we would be toast. We survived the crazy traffic on the road in, and after many failed attempts found a hotel that wasn't already full. Suez is a strange little city, busy streets even the evening but seemingly with not much to do except hang around the streets. The centre of town has a lot of nice old colonial era buldings but there is a sense of gradual decay about the place. We enjoyed our first shower for 5 long and hot days, then wandered around enjoying the bustle and the smells of fine food emanating from every corner. We dined on a huge feast of Koshery - an Egyptian staple of rice, pasta, lentils, chickpeas and crispy fried onions in tomato sauce, which whether by accident or design is perfect cycling food.
We left Suez early for the long ride to Cairo. More flat, featureless desert. The road was like a 2 lane version of the M6 dropped into the desert, with a healthy layer of desert piled onto the hard shoulder for good measure. We had to cycle in the truck lane for much of the day, either cursing trucks that nearly killed us or the desert itself for being so flat and uninspiring. I remember mostly concentrating a lot on the narrow strip of tarmac between the inside land and the edge of the sand dune on the hard shoulder. After some 140km of this our reward was to arrive in Cairo - a city of 18-20 million people, most of whom seem to have cars and more importantly car horns.
Actually the road into the city was not as bad as I had expected, though the fumes and pollution were worse. Only when we had to turn left did things get really tricky - in order to stop complete jams the junctions in Cairo are designed to filter all traffic to the right. In order to turn left you then have to quicky pull out several lanes and make a u-turn across the central reservation. I managed to move out 1 lane before glancing back to see a wall of speeding cars all weaving across each other and all flashing their lights and blaring their horns as they bore down on me. I quickly retreated to the kerb. With the help of a policeman, and Allah himself, we managed to make it across alive, though I'm still not sure exactly how. Erika was white as a sheet and muttering "Al Hamdulillah" (Praise be to God) over and over again all the way into the city. Fortunately we only had to turn left twice, and even managed to find our hostel without getting lost. We breathed a sigh of relief, got more Koshery and at last the cold beer that had been keeping me going for most of the day. We celebrated reaching Cairo and the Nile after 7595 miles, 21 countries and now 3 continents (sort of). Time for a rest.
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Annabelle and Sebastien
non-member comment
Where are you?
Hello, Since our meeting in Cairo, we were wondering what you finally chose to do ? Did you take a plane to Turkey? Are you on the way to Iran now? We are in India on the way to Nepal, Nicolas and Celine are in Thailand...everybody keeps going... And what about Ben ? Do you have his e-mail, it will be nice to keep in touch... Enjoy... Annabelle and Sebastien