Home » Egypt » Cycle to the Summit Part 10 - Aswan to Dongola

Waiting for the departure of our ferry. First contaact with the Sudanese buracracy. A three day crossing of the desert. Becoming well practised in the art of punture repair. Spending many nights at the greatest campsites along the Nile. Finally arriving in Dongola to stock up on supplies.

Cycle to the Summit Part 10 - Aswan to Dongola

Toby Hammond
2006-06-25 19:19:11

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light. He returned 15 minutes later with eyes as large as golfballs claiming to have heard a croc and called to get the video camera and use the flash as the bike light was not powerful enough. We all stood there listening to splashes in the dark and no one game enough to move an inch towards the waters edge.
Our tyres quickly became little more than an outer casing for our inner tubes, with Ruth splitting a sidewall and each of us enduring more punctures than our sense of humour could cope with, particularly Owy who cut one up in a blind rage after losing his temper. We mended Ruth's tyre by placing her 'slick' road tyre inside the 'knobbie' and moving it to the front wheel, it seemed to hold alright, - unlike Owy's temper which flared up at intervals corresponding to the hissing of air from his perforated inner tubes.Al, the solo cyclist who had joined us from Wadi Halfa kept very composed after snapping his frame 5 kms from nowhere. He managed to get it welded and rejoined us before sundown telling us of how he closed his eyes when he saw his bike being butchered by the heat of the welding torch. A massive hole burnt through his frame was a small price to pay for the resurrection of his mode of transport.
We took advantage of the many invitations to enjoy a meal with the village people (no, not the YMCA) and managed to spend a whole day eating after being invited to one man's house for some tea at 11 am. After two meals of rice, fuul (beans) rice pudding, chips, tahini, a long siesta sleep, three cups of tea and one of coffee, we were ready to go, only to find getting nowhere was the order of the day, as more punctures ate into our daylight hours. We slept that night in a house just a few kms further down the road that was given up for our sole use. Only in the morning did the owner come over to offer breakfast, which we refused after the previous day's excessive hospitality.
We finally made it to the ferry at Dongola to cross to the west bank of the Nile, and were crammed in among the goats, taxis, horse drawn carts, people and market goods. The logistics of unloading all this at the other side were not properly thought through as the horse refused to reverse its cart backwards and there was no room to turn it around. This is somewhat indicative of the Sudanese, and another of those love hate qualities you come to enjoy or loathe, depending on how hungry you are.