Bob's Blog

Sudanese Ferry Escapade

Aswan, the most southern city in Egypt, was the stepping off place for a great adventure, into the unknown, retracing the paths humanity once took from its cradle in Africa to the Middle-East and beyond. The Sahara evokes a wide eyed amazement, a place where the stars are endless and our place in the universe revealed. I think of the men whom took days in the desert to become a man or reveal some inner spiritual musings, where there is no life, no sound or soul except yourself. I wondered where and what would be the outcome of my journey through this vast plane. Dylan sang 'how many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man', what would this intrepid road make of me I pondered.

Feeling rather dirty having taken a swim in the Nile downstream from Aswan and then later seeing all the sewage being pumped into it, I took the opportunity in Aswan to clean up and sort my gear out before the mammoth trip across Lake Nassar to Sudan. Getting a ticket seemed to be a rather difficult process, the ticket man seemingly making arrangements to meet in town only to be at the port, then disappearing again, an indication of the impeding chaos on the ferry ride ahead perhaps. Whilst getting the tickets, I met up with other intrepid overlanders' including two cyclists, Ricky and Davie, from South Africa, cycling from the pyramids to Durban in SA, good news for the lonely road ahead.

With thousands of Sudanese people escaping the trouble in Libya, we heard that the once a week ferry was now operating more frequently, but still worried of the chaos that might ensue. Arriving at the port after DHLing the last of my winter clothes, I arrived late, six hours late. Ricky and Davie had already positioned themselves in the best spot, under the life-raft trying to save space for me.

Heading through all of the chaotic officialdom and the hoards of Sudanese refugee camps I was unimpressed by the size of the ship. The boat would take us across 600km of lake with jeeps, motorbikes, bicycles and every item you could imagine brought along by the Sudanese people, TVs and speakers from China and Taiwan a particular favourite, stacked in every and any possible space.

Getting on board was a rather unforgettable moment, perhaps the most chaotic scene I've ever encountered. Everybody piled forward no holds barred, no order, no official letting through a certain amount of people through at a time, everything pushed through the smallest possible entrance you would believe. The people pushed and shoved, women and men alike, no courtesy whatsoever, it was as if the ship was the last to leave a burning continent. I struggled with my bike, trying my best not to get it damaged. Once inside the heat from the people was intense, sweat dropping from every brow, nowhere to move, nowhere to breath, I had to escape. So I left my bike to the masses and grabbed my bags went to the almost tranquil (in comparison) deck and got my bike later.

Once on board, I found a nice spot under the life-raft (although it was next to a big puddle) and whiled away the hours swapping stories and information about the road ahead with the other travellers. The boat was swamped by its cargo, to the point where even navigating to the toilet was an obstacle course, sliding down the side of the boat, ducking and diving, hopping and jumping.

As we set sail, six hours later (the other cyclists had waited 12hrs!), the Egyptian shores disappeared from eyesight and the boat was alone in the vast lake heading into the dark of the night, illuminated by the sole light on the mast, sparkling against the starry sky, bound for new adventure.