Street market in Cairo
Location: Gondar, Ethiopia
Day 1060
Miles on the clock: 27,430
Port Said to Cairo was a noisy, dusty, sweaty couple of days by bike. Small piles of burning plastic on the roadside; white-robed men riding sturdy little donkeys; fields with neat rows of hand-tied wheatsheaves; few women in public; the hot wind an unwelcome contrast to the spring weather I'd recently enjoyed in Turkey. For the first day the road shadowed the Suez canal and every couple of hours a hulking cargo ship would plough silently past.
Day 1060
Miles on the clock: 27,430
Port Said to Cairo was a noisy, dusty, sweaty couple of days by bike. Small piles of burning plastic on the roadside; white-robed men riding sturdy little donkeys; fields with neat rows of hand-tied wheatsheaves; few women in public; the hot wind an unwelcome contrast to the spring weather I'd recently enjoyed in Turkey. For the first day the road shadowed the Suez canal and every couple of hours a hulking cargo ship would plough silently past.
School advertisement in Cairo
The traffic thickened and clogged as I approached Cairo's far-reaching suburbs. I battled through to the Downtown area's confusing one-way system and checked into a hostel. The following day my sister arrived for a fleeting visit. I hadn't seen Emily for almost 20 months and we passed three very happy days talking, eating, resting and wandering through street markets. I noticed the very different sort of attention we received together compared to when I went out alone. Many Arab men leered lingeringly at modestly-dressed Emily. Few tourists were to be seen as the numbers have remained down since the violent revolution two years earlier. Some street vendors chanted the mantras "welcome to Egypt" and "where are you from?" but with no sincerity. Protests are still being held on a regular basis and often escalate to pitched battles with the police who use tear gas liberally.
We visited the Egyptian Museum on the banks of the Nile: a large, colonial building, unceremoniously crammed with huge statues, sarcophagi, tablets and various other artifacts dating back as far as 4,600 years. The museum was poorly lit and presented the visitor with almost no information. It was more overwhelming than interesting to someone who knows little of Egyptian antiquity.
The pyramids were not as hectic as we'd anticipated and it was easy enough to leave the beaten track and scramble around unmarked ruins poking out of the sand. Cheops ("The Great Pyramid") is so tall (140m) and has such a long base (230m) that it's hard to comprehend its size. The gradient is quite gentle and the top is so distant that it throws out perspective. I finally appreciated its enormity when I realised it could swallow Salisbury Cathedral comfortably.
We visited the Egyptian Museum on the banks of the Nile: a large, colonial building, unceremoniously crammed with huge statues, sarcophagi, tablets and various other artifacts dating back as far as 4,600 years. The museum was poorly lit and presented the visitor with almost no information. It was more overwhelming than interesting to someone who knows little of Egyptian antiquity.
The pyramids were not as hectic as we'd anticipated and it was easy enough to leave the beaten track and scramble around unmarked ruins poking out of the sand. Cheops ("The Great Pyramid") is so tall (140m) and has such a long base (230m) that it's hard to comprehend its size. The gradient is quite gentle and the top is so distant that it throws out perspective. I finally appreciated its enormity when I realised it could swallow Salisbury Cathedral comfortably.
The Sphynx and Pyramid of Khufra, Giza
Emily and I at the Pyramids
It was hard to see Emily leave but all Africa lay before me and I had to turn my attention to the task in hand. Riding east out of Cairo on an almost-empty, three-lane highway, I was overtaken by dozens of expensive, speeding motorcycles; their owners enjoying a weekend joyride on the smooth tarmac. The road lead to the Red Sea and crossed uneventful desert with occasional truck stops where workers invited me for tea or FUUL (mashed fava beans with oil, onion and garlic). At the coast I turned south and rode for three days on a quiet road with a gentle tailwind. On the first night I slept under the stars on a rocky hillside overlooking the Gulf of Suez. I woke suddenly in the small hours to see a fox's moonlit face, frozen with fear, less than a meter from mine and with my pannier handle in its mouth. It's lucky I caught the sneakthief when I did as it was close to making away with not only food but my passport, cash, phone and ipod.
There was a 40-mile stretch of empty, wall-to-wall beach resorts. Most were poorly thought out with rooms opening onto the main road and the road separating them from a narrow, unattractive, gray-sanded beach. Many were half-built and I wanted to tell the workers to save their energy and not bother as the majority of these places simply wouldn't attract any tourists. Some had surprising names including 'Santa Clause' and simply 'Mexico!'
There was a 40-mile stretch of empty, wall-to-wall beach resorts. Most were poorly thought out with rooms opening onto the main road and the road separating them from a narrow, unattractive, gray-sanded beach. Many were half-built and I wanted to tell the workers to save their energy and not bother as the majority of these places simply wouldn't attract any tourists. Some had surprising names including 'Santa Clause' and simply 'Mexico!'
Sunrise over the Red Sea, Egypt
Powerstation on Red Sea coast, Egypt
There followed a long stretch of road with no buildings or water sources but regular unmanned lighthouses. Out to sea, an endless parade of vessels drifted to and from the canal. My first 100-mile day for many months took me through an area with countless offshore and onshore oil rigs, most with excess gas burning off in tall flames. The whole land smelled strongly of gas.
I noticed that no cars pulled over to say hello or ask what I was doing. The only one that did carried four Slovaks whom I'd met on the ferry from Turkey. I was surprised by this disinterest in me as in most countries cars pull over often, simply out of curiosity.
The days were hot but not yet unbearably so. The temperature rose as I progressed south but I enjoyed the weather knowing that I'd soon be in year-round scorching Sudan. One warm evening I turned inland towards the Nile and began weaving through low, sandstone hills. The road was still being built and wrinkled workmen squatted on the roadside sucking battered shisha pipes.
The last day to Luxor was hard work. I had four punctures in the morning and unintentionally took a road cutting across utterly empty desert instead of joining the Nile earlier and following it south. I had no food, there was no shade to rest in and the temperature climbed to the high thirties. I had some water which I used sparingly to moisten my mouth but I began to feel sick from drinking too much on an empty stomach. Thankfully the hazy band of greenery that signifies the Nile finally appeared on the horizon, breaking the yellow-brown desert monotony. I imagined the elation this sight must have brought to thousands of thirst-crazed caravans and explorers over the millenia.
I noticed that no cars pulled over to say hello or ask what I was doing. The only one that did carried four Slovaks whom I'd met on the ferry from Turkey. I was surprised by this disinterest in me as in most countries cars pull over often, simply out of curiosity.
The days were hot but not yet unbearably so. The temperature rose as I progressed south but I enjoyed the weather knowing that I'd soon be in year-round scorching Sudan. One warm evening I turned inland towards the Nile and began weaving through low, sandstone hills. The road was still being built and wrinkled workmen squatted on the roadside sucking battered shisha pipes.
The last day to Luxor was hard work. I had four punctures in the morning and unintentionally took a road cutting across utterly empty desert instead of joining the Nile earlier and following it south. I had no food, there was no shade to rest in and the temperature climbed to the high thirties. I had some water which I used sparingly to moisten my mouth but I began to feel sick from drinking too much on an empty stomach. Thankfully the hazy band of greenery that signifies the Nile finally appeared on the horizon, breaking the yellow-brown desert monotony. I imagined the elation this sight must have brought to thousands of thirst-crazed caravans and explorers over the millenia.
Columns in the Temple of Amun at Karnak, Egypt
Detail of a statue at Karnak, Egypt
I reached the city's outskirts mid-afternoon after 90 miles and collapsed under a tree for an hour. When a little revived, I slowly pedalled into the centre, found a hostel and stood like a zombie in a cold shower for a long time.
Luxor is famous for its historical sites so I took a ferry across the river and cycled into the hills to the Valley of the Kings: an unpleasantly hot, shadeless, breezeless, little cleft in the hills; blindingly bright in the midday sun. To date, 62 tombs have been found and excavated here (including Tutankhamun) although most were raided and emptied of treasure many centuries ago. I visited three tombs which all plunged, corridor-like, into the rocky hillside. Each consisted of tunnels and chambers, all white-washed and covered in colourful paintings and hieroglyphics depicting mythology and praising the life of the occupant. I could comprehend little of the paintwork but spotted several recurring themes in the mythology. The age and preservation impressed me most and it was easy to recognise the primitive inspirations for the art that the ancient Greeks adopted, developed and perfected.
I next freewheeled down to the largely reconstructed Temple of Hatshepsut. The grand cliffwall backdrop more than anything made the building an impressive. Hatshepsut (1508-1458 BC) was the only female 'pharaoh'. She acted as regent for her young son after her husband died but soon usurped the throne entirely. Lots of small, variously-dated ruins are scattered around the temple and I enjoyed rummaging around these unmarked relics.
The next day I wandered over to Karnak, or the ancient city of Thebes: a sprawling complex of temples and palaces that was the centre of Egyptian power for 1,300 years. Seemingly endless slabs of engraved stone lie around with grand columns, countless statues and cool, sunless chambers covered with intricate stone carvings.
Luxor is famous for its historical sites so I took a ferry across the river and cycled into the hills to the Valley of the Kings: an unpleasantly hot, shadeless, breezeless, little cleft in the hills; blindingly bright in the midday sun. To date, 62 tombs have been found and excavated here (including Tutankhamun) although most were raided and emptied of treasure many centuries ago. I visited three tombs which all plunged, corridor-like, into the rocky hillside. Each consisted of tunnels and chambers, all white-washed and covered in colourful paintings and hieroglyphics depicting mythology and praising the life of the occupant. I could comprehend little of the paintwork but spotted several recurring themes in the mythology. The age and preservation impressed me most and it was easy to recognise the primitive inspirations for the art that the ancient Greeks adopted, developed and perfected.
I next freewheeled down to the largely reconstructed Temple of Hatshepsut. The grand cliffwall backdrop more than anything made the building an impressive. Hatshepsut (1508-1458 BC) was the only female 'pharaoh'. She acted as regent for her young son after her husband died but soon usurped the throne entirely. Lots of small, variously-dated ruins are scattered around the temple and I enjoyed rummaging around these unmarked relics.
The next day I wandered over to Karnak, or the ancient city of Thebes: a sprawling complex of temples and palaces that was the centre of Egyptian power for 1,300 years. Seemingly endless slabs of engraved stone lie around with grand columns, countless statues and cool, sunless chambers covered with intricate stone carvings.
Temple of Hatshepsut at Luxor, Egypt
Droves of sunburned and harassed-looking German and Russian tourists arrived before sunset. They seemed uniformly exhausted and unhappy. When leaving I was shocked by how aggressively the souvenir vendors hassled them; literally prancing violently around them, following them, and thrusting things in their faces. Many of the tourists didn't help themselves with their brusque manner and unconservative clothing: even I was taken aback by the lengths of fleshy, red thigh on display. I was relieved to be alone and relatively unharangued.
The road south traced the river and was prettily decorated with brightly-coloured flowers. Serene rural scenes were enacted all round: solitary men in pale-blue gelabiyas squatted in the fields working the harvest with small, hand-held sickles. Donkeys hauled carts of produce and men dozed away the midday heat under palm trees. The desert was never far away and the road often straddled the sudden divide between harsh aridity and fecund greenery with irrigation controlled by a series of canals leading upriver to the 1960s Aswan High Damn: a symbol of Egyptian ingenuity and independence (designed by British engineers, built and funded by the Soviets).
Men waved and shouted "hello!" Boys waved and requested "money?" The few women outdoors were mostly in groups, closeted in hot, synthetic, black burqas. It was a fairly idyllic ride excepting the all to regular thump thump through my saddle of momentum destroying speed bumps: abrupt, unnecessary, always in pairs and roughly once a mile.
The road south traced the river and was prettily decorated with brightly-coloured flowers. Serene rural scenes were enacted all round: solitary men in pale-blue gelabiyas squatted in the fields working the harvest with small, hand-held sickles. Donkeys hauled carts of produce and men dozed away the midday heat under palm trees. The desert was never far away and the road often straddled the sudden divide between harsh aridity and fecund greenery with irrigation controlled by a series of canals leading upriver to the 1960s Aswan High Damn: a symbol of Egyptian ingenuity and independence (designed by British engineers, built and funded by the Soviets).
Men waved and shouted "hello!" Boys waved and requested "money?" The few women outdoors were mostly in groups, closeted in hot, synthetic, black burqas. It was a fairly idyllic ride excepting the all to regular thump thump through my saddle of momentum destroying speed bumps: abrupt, unnecessary, always in pairs and roughly once a mile.
Interior of the Temple of Horus at Edfu, Egypt
At the town of Edfu I crossed a bridge to the west bank and visited the awe-inspiring Temple Of Horus (the falcon-headed god of sun and war). Built by the Ptolemies (post-Alexandrian dynasty terminating with Anthony and Cleopatra's defeat by Augustus' army in 31 BC), it is by far the best preserved Graeco-Roman site in Egypt. A huge edifice of aesthetically-angled stone with a cool, dark, faintly-mysterious interior of columns, antechambers and shrines. Every surface - literally thousands of square meters - is covered in carving: histories; myths; reliefs of kings, queens and various gods; and endless hieroglyphics. Sadly, all the images of ancient gods have had their hands and feet defaced by the later-arriving Christians. The Temple of Horus was easily my historical highlight of Egypt.
Temple of Horus at Edfu, Egypt
Riverside fields, Upper Egypt
The city of Aswan is Egypt's frontier with Sudan and sits below the dam. White-sailed feluccas drift tourists up and down the river and the waterside is lined with end-to-end cruise boats.
The sinking sun was swollen and orange, reflected on the water, when I entered Aswan and found a cheap room. It took a couple of days to secure a Sudanese visa and a ticket for the ferry to Wadi Halfa. The ferry runs the length of the 310-mile Lake Nasser that backed up behind the dam and remains the only open border crossing despite the two roads that straddle the frontier. The ferry is infamous among travellers and I'd heard countless stories of overcrowded decks, lifeboats crammed with people and boxes, and frenzied chaos trying to get onboard. However, the boat had been delayed for a couple of weeks until a few days before I arrived so the service I was on was a one-off for the surplus of people who were unable to get on the last passage. I arrived early morning with Mick (a Geordie cyclist I'd met in Aswan) expecting the worst but was soon through the poorly arranged customs and immigration (about 4 jobs split between 5 offices and around 30 ineffectual men) and onto the empty deck.
The sinking sun was swollen and orange, reflected on the water, when I entered Aswan and found a cheap room. It took a couple of days to secure a Sudanese visa and a ticket for the ferry to Wadi Halfa. The ferry runs the length of the 310-mile Lake Nasser that backed up behind the dam and remains the only open border crossing despite the two roads that straddle the frontier. The ferry is infamous among travellers and I'd heard countless stories of overcrowded decks, lifeboats crammed with people and boxes, and frenzied chaos trying to get onboard. However, the boat had been delayed for a couple of weeks until a few days before I arrived so the service I was on was a one-off for the surplus of people who were unable to get on the last passage. I arrived early morning with Mick (a Geordie cyclist I'd met in Aswan) expecting the worst but was soon through the poorly arranged customs and immigration (about 4 jobs split between 5 offices and around 30 ineffectual men) and onto the empty deck.
Sun shelter on the ferry to Wadi Halfa
Mick and I strung up a sheet to shelter us from the sun beating fiercely down on the metal floor. We watched and waited for about 8 hours while the boat half-filled with people and boxes before leaving in the evening. The passengers prayed, ate and mostly played dominoes before drifting off on the now-cool deck.
In the morning we passed Abu Simbel: four 22m-high statues of Ramesses II (1264 BC) carved out of a cliff as a show of might at the ancient Egyptian frontier to deter incursions from the southerly Nubians. In the 1960s the entire site was cut up into 20 tonne blocks and relocated to an artificial hill 65m higher to save it from the rising waters of Lake Nasser.
We arrived in Wadi Halfa and disembarked with minimal fuss. Mick and I stocked up on food and set out on the new, Chinese-built tarmac road running south to Khartoum. Sadly Mick's bike gave out after a day so he had to go ahead by bus.
In the morning we passed Abu Simbel: four 22m-high statues of Ramesses II (1264 BC) carved out of a cliff as a show of might at the ancient Egyptian frontier to deter incursions from the southerly Nubians. In the 1960s the entire site was cut up into 20 tonne blocks and relocated to an artificial hill 65m higher to save it from the rising waters of Lake Nasser.
We arrived in Wadi Halfa and disembarked with minimal fuss. Mick and I stocked up on food and set out on the new, Chinese-built tarmac road running south to Khartoum. Sadly Mick's bike gave out after a day so he had to go ahead by bus.
Child fetching water, Northern Sudan
The road across the Sahara was both pleasant and challenging: loosely shadowing the Nile, enjoying consistent tailwinds and very light traffic. The heat was intense (reaching up to 50°C in the shade) but the nights were just bearable and I lay outside in only underwear gazing at the imperceptibly-wheeling nightsky until dropping into exhausted sleep, sometimes waking later for a spectacular moonrise. Getting on the road before sunrise under paling stars to make the most of the cooler mornings; eating simple fuul lunches in the sporadic roadside cafes; dozing away the withering afternoon swelter under trees.
When the heat became overwhelming I forced myself to remember the misery of biting cold in extreme mountainous winters. This was a hard bit of self-deception to pull off. I wondered if I sometimes whinge inwardly to myself during the hard times so I can reward myself with a greater sense of achievement upon getting through them. In the future, when I look back at now, these will all be the 'good old days' so I should strive to treat them as such now. Annoyingly this is much easier on paper than in practice. This lead me to reflect on the nature of my currently lifestyle. For almost three years I've largely lived an unpredictable day to day existence: always on the move, new places, new faces, sleeping rough, wondering where I'll next find food or water, grappling with unfamiliar tongues. This abnormality has become my norm and no longer surprises me. I decided I must fight to recapture and harness a sense of novelty. I remember the simple surprises that struck me so long ago when I charged wide-eyed through Northern Europe with such heady expectations.
When the heat became overwhelming I forced myself to remember the misery of biting cold in extreme mountainous winters. This was a hard bit of self-deception to pull off. I wondered if I sometimes whinge inwardly to myself during the hard times so I can reward myself with a greater sense of achievement upon getting through them. In the future, when I look back at now, these will all be the 'good old days' so I should strive to treat them as such now. Annoyingly this is much easier on paper than in practice. This lead me to reflect on the nature of my currently lifestyle. For almost three years I've largely lived an unpredictable day to day existence: always on the move, new places, new faces, sleeping rough, wondering where I'll next find food or water, grappling with unfamiliar tongues. This abnormality has become my norm and no longer surprises me. I decided I must fight to recapture and harness a sense of novelty. I remember the simple surprises that struck me so long ago when I charged wide-eyed through Northern Europe with such heady expectations.
Sunset over the Nile, Northern Sudan
When the road ran closer to the river I would pass small Nubian villages of mud-walled bungalows and a little cultivated land dotted with palm trees. Thankfully there were regular roadside shelters with clay pots of cool, often-silty water, fresh from the Nile. I drank around 10 litres a day and kept water bottles cool by insulating them with a wet sock. If I opened my mouth to the harsh wind, my throat and tongue would become paper dry in seconds so I often sucked a pebble, forcing me to breathe through my nose.
I took a rest in the mid-sized town of Dongola before turning away from the river onto a little-used road running across a waterless 120 miles of desert to rejoin the river again further upstream in a town called Karima. I set off early evening weighed down with 17 litres of water and rode into the night. 30 hours later, and with not a drop of water remaining, I rolled into Karima and greedily drank a couple of litres in seconds.
There is a cluster of small, steep-sided Nubian pyramids (300 - 130 BC) near Karima and I had them to myself, happily clambering around them and the scattered ruins of a Temple of Amun built around 3,500 years ago when the Egyptian empire stretched this far south.
I took a rest in the mid-sized town of Dongola before turning away from the river onto a little-used road running across a waterless 120 miles of desert to rejoin the river again further upstream in a town called Karima. I set off early evening weighed down with 17 litres of water and rode into the night. 30 hours later, and with not a drop of water remaining, I rolled into Karima and greedily drank a couple of litres in seconds.
There is a cluster of small, steep-sided Nubian pyramids (300 - 130 BC) near Karima and I had them to myself, happily clambering around them and the scattered ruins of a Temple of Amun built around 3,500 years ago when the Egyptian empire stretched this far south.
Nubian pyramids at Karima, Sudan
The scorpion on my pannier, Sudan
While passing the midday hours under a large tree, I was stung on the forearm by a scorpion that had crawled into my pannier. The sting was a sharp jab and completely took me by surprise. I briefly searched my brain before sucking hard at the sting and spitting several times over. I plunged a knife into the small, greenish scorpion's back and watched with cold, petulant vindictiveness as it fought; its body flailing while its fine brown sting repeatedly and desperately stabbed at the metal blade with violent futility.
My arm ached with a pulsing sting that came and went but I decided to go about eating bread for my lunch. Fifteen minutes later a man arrived and spotted the dead scorpion. I indicated that it had stung me and pointed to my arm which now had a goosepimply rash spreading from the sting. The man hurriedly tied a painfully tight tourniquet above my elbow and rushed me to hospital where I was given a local anaesthetic and four other injections before being turned loose. The pain grew until late that night but in the morning was only an aching numbness that lasted two more days.
My arm ached with a pulsing sting that came and went but I decided to go about eating bread for my lunch. Fifteen minutes later a man arrived and spotted the dead scorpion. I indicated that it had stung me and pointed to my arm which now had a goosepimply rash spreading from the sting. The man hurriedly tied a painfully tight tourniquet above my elbow and rushed me to hospital where I was given a local anaesthetic and four other injections before being turned loose. The pain grew until late that night but in the morning was only an aching numbness that lasted two more days.
The road to Karima, Sudan
The road swept me south along the river for 100 miles then made a 250-mile shortcut across the desert to Khartoum. This was the hottest, driest stretch yet and the temperature soared to over 50°C in the shade. I can only guess at what it may have been under the sun. One night, while camping, the wind picked up and I was being lightly sprayed with sand. I looked upwind and saw a solid blackness swallowing the stars and the inky blue sky. I had just enough time to stuff everything into a pannier and encase myself in my sleeping bag before the hard wind wall of sand struck. The storm lasted almost an hour and a strong wind continued afterwards throughout the night. By morning my hair, beard, ears, nose, eyebrows and bags were filled with sand. My bike was half-buried and I had to dig my roll mat out.
The continuing wind blew a constant stream of sand across the tarmac that would swirl and dance in the wake of overtaking trucks. When trucks passed in the opposite direction I had to close my eyes and mouth, turn my face away and brace for the gritty wall of sandy air that slapped me.
Nearing the capital, the desert supported more thorny bushes among which non-Arab, non-Nubian nomadic tribes live with their herds of camel. I enjoyed watching the mysterious beasts swagger through the sand with their inimitable rolling gait. I stopped at the reed huts of these tribes sometimes to ask for water which they hang in goat skins so the wind cools it.
The continuing wind blew a constant stream of sand across the tarmac that would swirl and dance in the wake of overtaking trucks. When trucks passed in the opposite direction I had to close my eyes and mouth, turn my face away and brace for the gritty wall of sandy air that slapped me.
Nearing the capital, the desert supported more thorny bushes among which non-Arab, non-Nubian nomadic tribes live with their herds of camel. I enjoyed watching the mysterious beasts swagger through the sand with their inimitable rolling gait. I stopped at the reed huts of these tribes sometimes to ask for water which they hang in goat skins so the wind cools it.
Wind-blown sand on the road, Sudan
Village boys in the desert, Sudan
Riding into Khartoum's ugly smog cloud one morning, I crossed a bridge just below where the Nile splits into the Blue Nile (leading up to the Ethiopian highlands) and the White Nile (leading up to the East African lakes region). I was uninspired by the hot, busy city and running low on cash. In Dongola I'd been stung with an unexpected $30 tourist registration fee and, as Sudan has economic sanctions imposed on it, I couldn't use ATMs. So, I stayed a night, visited the impressive National Museum, and set out on the 6-day ride to the Ethiopian border with $12 in my pocket.
Tracing the Blue Nile on a narrow, busy road was little fun and inconsiderate drivers often forced me onto the thorn-strewn verge. Resultantly, I collected nine punctures in one day. Many Sudanese drivers ensure space on the road with Roman chariot-style hubcap protrusions that look like they could shred a man's leg and comfortably skin a cat. The frequent dog and donkey carcasses strewn along the roadside were a testament to the ruthless drivers.
Tracing the Blue Nile on a narrow, busy road was little fun and inconsiderate drivers often forced me onto the thorn-strewn verge. Resultantly, I collected nine punctures in one day. Many Sudanese drivers ensure space on the road with Roman chariot-style hubcap protrusions that look like they could shred a man's leg and comfortably skin a cat. The frequent dog and donkey carcasses strewn along the roadside were a testament to the ruthless drivers.
Thankfully I turned away from the river and onto a quieter road after a couple of days. This route was mainly plied by furiously fast passenger coaches. Countless roadkilled goats festered on the verge and a strong reek of death hung over the road. I held my breath when passing them. Arriving on the scene of one recent accident, I saw the badly damaged front of a coach and six or seven goats dramatically splashed across the tarmac. The driver was screaming at the speechless goatherd.
The road began to climb gradually towards Ethiopia and the vegetation thickened. An incongruously-placed old baboon eyed me dismissively one afternoon; his weary, impassive face following my slow uphill progress.
The mercury slowly, mercifully dropped and I reached the border one fresh morning where the Sudanese police shared their breakfast with me. The Sahara and nine months in the Islamic world were behind me.
The road began to climb gradually towards Ethiopia and the vegetation thickened. An incongruously-placed old baboon eyed me dismissively one afternoon; his weary, impassive face following my slow uphill progress.
The mercury slowly, mercifully dropped and I reached the border one fresh morning where the Sudanese police shared their breakfast with me. The Sahara and nine months in the Islamic world were behind me.
Tribesman, Sudan
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