Adventures in Aswan

We awoke early the next day so as to reach Aswan in time to arrange for our departure from Egypt, and our entry into Sudan, via the Aswan-Wadi Halfa Ferry. We had heard that this process could take quite some time, and wanted to take no chances on missing this ferry for a second time.

We decided to take the desert route to Aswan instead of the Nile route, mainly because it was said to be shorter (and faster), and because the Nile route was trafficked by the Luxor-Aswan tourist convey - thousands of tourists bundled up in a convoy of coaches, escorted by the Egyptian police. There was no way we were going to risk being caught up in that gong-show.

And so we entered Egypt's desert for a second time. This ride was fast indeed - the road was sporadically travelled, and we had it fairly to ourselves. Tyson immediately gunned it, and pushed on ahead at some 130 kph. I didn't think that a great idea, since we had a long way to go with no guarantee of gas (and the KLR's fuel efficiency drops dramatically after about 100 kph or so), and the knobbies were still a bit wobbly. But hey, after a while I too was flying down the road, Duran Duran's "A View to a Kill" playing in my mind's jukebox (as it is wont to do). The desert was bordered on the West by a mountain range - the East was barren and vast. Every now and then, we'd see the remains of palm trees someone had inexplicably planted in rows alongside the highway - where they imagined the water to feed them would come from, I know not.

We drove through the desert for almost 4 hours, and, as expected, Tyson switched over to his reserve tank well before the rest of us. There was a bit of anxiety over whether he would make it in to Aswan or not, but we found a gas station soon after we entered the city. And then the gong-show began. First, we had to find the office of the agent handling our booking on the ferry - Mr. Saleh, of the Nile River Ferry Company. Easier said than done. Tom had copied some GPS coordinates off of Horizon?s Unlimited (a motorcycle adventure tourist information site), and we headed there first. What a disaster. The coordinates turned out to be located smack-dab in the middle of one of Aswan's souqs - the locals knew nothing of Mr. Saleh, or his company. A call to Mr. Saleh gave us the cryptic instructions to head towards "the large, famous police station - everyone knows about it". An hour or so, and maybe 3 incorrect (but large) police station later, we finally found Mr. Saleh's office. Actually, it wasn't near any police stations at all - we found it using the Lonely Planet guide, of all things. Of course, we couldn't do anything here just yet - we had to return our vehicle license plates, and get clearance to export our vehicles first. This brought us back to where we started - the traffic police station was located near the GPS coordinates we had first navigated to. Alas, we had to go to yet another traffic police station first, in order to certify that we had no traffic warrants outstanding. At this point, Tyson gave up. He was having some GI issues, and wanted to find a hotel ASAP - Tom and I left him to this task, and sped off on our own. This police station was hidden away in an apartment building to the south of Aswan - we spent about a half hour just trying to find the place. And then, when we finally arrived... it was closed. We were 10 minutes late. At this point, I was ready to snap. The temperature was unbearable, and it didn't help that my KLR's engine was close to overheating. I called Tyson, got the name of the hotel we were staying at, and booked it over. Parking my bike required me to climb another curb. I was so gunshy from my previous encounter that I barely got it over - no wheelies through the lobby this time around. I ran up to the room without unpacking, dunked my head under the tub faucet, and ran the cold water at full. Then I stumbled over to the bed, and passed out. Bliss.

The following day we attempted to complete our exit requirements for a second time. Tom was feeling lousy from the heat, so Tyson and I left him to sleep it off in the hotel room, and booked it over to the traffic police office. We got there at 8:00 am - more than enough time to get all the paperwork done by 2:30 (the time Mr. Saleh left his office), we thought. I got the necessary paperwork together and gave it to a local fixer - he brought it, and me, to the managers office, where I was told to wait. And wait I did. 15 minutes passed... then a half hour... then an hour... all the while, the manager and his coworkers/buddies chain smoked (under no-smoking signs), drank chai, and listened to music on their cellphones. The paper files just sat there, collecting dust, as they bantered away. Periodically, I would ask when the documents would be ready. Predictably, Ish'n Allah was the reply. And then, just as I was getting ready to break out some US dollars to help God along, a miracle. The documents were ready - we had just enough time to hand in our license plates (the process took no more than 10 minutes) and head over to Mr. Saleh's to buy the tickets and reserve our spots before he left for the day. Victory, at last.

That evening, we stocked up on supplies for our trip into the Sudanese desert - spam, canned tuna, some rice, a few instant noodle soups, and some cheese from La Vache Qui Rit. What a feast.