Hanging out in Halfa…

The watering station close to my room...

The first night in Wadi Halfa was a quiet one in comparison to the next… The ferry docked around midday on the 8^th, and a large crowd of overlanders and four motorcyclists arrived in town… Most of them seemed to make a beeline for the Hotel Defintood, which made me wonder just how bad all the others must be…!!

They saw that I regularly pored water over my head from the three large ceramic pots near my room, and followed my example, much to the annoyance of the part time receptionist, who had already chastised me for “using ze drinking vorta for washing yourself”…

Khalid and Marie, and their son Sami, as well as a German couple, Eberhard (Sam to his mates) and Friede, who were driving from Ethiopia back to Germany, were also in town, and would be joining me on the ferry to Aswan. We met for meals and plotted our escape from Wadi Halfa together at every opportunity. Both couples had managed to get accommodation with their “fixers” and were staying in what sounded like reasonably comfortable rooms…

Folks carried their beds outside at night to avoid being cooked alive in their rooms...

At the hotel, I watched as a bunch of girls came back from their tour of the toilets, looks of disbelief on their faces… They were clearly aghast at the facilities and horrified that they would have to use them for the next few days… The previous afternoon, I had taken a brief look at them myself, and had felt the same way. It is one thing squatting over a hole in the floor in the privacy of your hotel room, but out here, things were a little different… Besides the fact that the doors had no latches on them, and swung open at the merest hint of a breeze, or that an army of spiders and cockroaches scuttled across the floor and over your feet in the darkness (naturally the cubicles have no lights…!), I had one other major problem that I was not prepared to contend with… In each cubicle, was only a small jug of water to “wash and flush” with… What if one jug wasn’t enough? I could just see myself having to do a “John Wayne” walk back to the water trough at the back of the toilets, about 20 metres away, and then make my way back to my cubicle, only to find that it was occupied by someone else in need…!!

After only a short debate with myself, I came to the conclusion that there was a distinct possibility of major embarrassment here, so I devised a cunning plan…

I went straight to my First Aid kit, chewed two Imodium tablets, and effectively “closed up shop” for the next few days… Simple as that…!!

When Marie heard what I had done, she shook her head in complete disbelief…

“This is not good for you, Ronnie!! Why did you do it?”

“Come over to my “hotel” and you’ll see exactly why…!” was my reply…

Darius and Ken, two fellow GS 1200 riders, heading for Cape Town...

Two of the bikers were riding the exact same bike as I was, and we sat together discussing my route and the one they had already planned… Ken and Darius were from Australia and Poland respectively, and had already ridden their bikes from Australia to Poland last year. They were now doing the African leg of their world tour, and would leave their bikes in Cape Town, and return in 2011 to fly them to South America to ride up to Alaska, thereby completing their ride on six continents in three stages…

One of the moneychangers who wouldn't take Rupees...

We had a great time together, taking the Mickey out of each other and anyone else who was unfortunate enough to wander too close to where we were sitting… We sat in the partial shade of a mud brick building that was in various stages of collapse, sipping sweet tea and drinking bottles of water. A large group of Australian and British backpackers sat with us, and we took turns in confusing the moneychangers that constantly bothered us… We would ask for rates in the most outlandish currencies we could think of, then agree to all their rates and just when their eyes were shinning brightly, and their minds already spending the profits they were about to make, we would change our minds and say we actually didn’t need any money changed…

Ken and Darius  were itching to get their bikes, and wanted to leave the following morning, as early as possible, but had been advised that the barge had not yet arrived, and the likelihood of spending another day or two in Wadi Halfa had them chain-smoking and muttering into their Cokes…

I also met Melody Harwood, a Canadian girl who had given up her corporate job in Canada, and was hitch-hiking on her own through Africa… She had set out from Cape Town in December and was heading to Cairo where she would decide if going any further was an option for her… Joining our group was Jakob, a Californian who had been teaching in Luderitz, Namibia for the past two years, and had hitched his way from there, en route to Cairo, to fly back home. Jeffrey, a young Frenchman of Indian descent, had worked in Kenya, and was also on his way back home to Lyon, using the Tom Thumb Taxi method of travel… Together, we made an interesting mix of nationalities and spent the next few days getting to know each other…

The Squiggle-Squiggle, where we met for a final bite to eat and exchnage our farewells...

Mazar, the fixer that Sam and I were using, flitted between town and the customs authorities at the port, carrying our passports and Carnet’s with him, and making promises about sailing and loading times, that we soon came to realize, he could not keep… But the banter and the Cokes kept flowing, keeping us in fairly good spirits until it was time to get our vehicles down to the ferry…

Just before I left, Sam kindly agreed to let me to put my panniers and duffel bag into the back of his Suzuki Vitara, which made the bike a heck of a lot lighter, and would ensure the safety of my gear… After I had kitted up, I went over to Darius and Ken to say goodbye, and wish them luck. Both guys had been through divorces before, and we had discussed and compared how things had turned out for each of us… As he shook my hand, Darius said,

“Remember Ronnie, marriage is like a submarine… It can float, but it is designed to sink!!”

I left the little restaurant we had been sitting at, with their laughter ringing in my ears… Considering how many people I knew who were either divorced or in the process of doing so, his words seemed fitting at the time…

Sam and I rode in convoy down to the customs shed at the port, and together with Khalid, worked our way through all the Immigration and Customs formalities. Mazar helped us from desk to desk and counter to counter until all we had to do was get ourselves down to the ferry which had docked on a sandy stretch of lakeside, a few kilometres away.

Mazar prepares my invoice before the ride to the ferry...

I paid $76.00 for a bunk in a 1^st Class cabin, (2^nd Class is $47.00) $40.00 for Customs and $8.00 for Immigration Fees. Transport of the bike on a barge cost $50.00. A grand total of $174.00 to get us both out of Sudan… Mazar had tried to get my bike onto the ferry, but new regulations had recently been enforced and I had to settle for the barge instead. A car will cost you an eye-watering $350.00 for the trip to Aswan…

We rode down a dusty track, with thick sand in places, to where the ferry lay. My helmet was in Sam’s car, so I used my Coke cap as a replacement… The barge carrying the cars, trucks and bikes of our friends back in Wadi Halfa, had not yet arrived, so we were unable to load our vehicles ourselves, and had to leave our keys with Mazar, who assured us that he would get them loaded the next day… Although we were kept in the dark for most of the time, Mazar did a good job of getting all the red tape sorted out in Wadi Halfa, and I would recommend him if you would prefer to relax in town, rather than do all the running around yourself. The cost of doing my paperwork came to about R75.00, which to me was well worth it… He can be contacted on: mazarhalfa@gmail.com or +249 122 380740.

“You will have your cars and your bike in Aswan by Friday night, and maybe have them cleared on Saturday, or Sunday…” were his parting words to us…

None of us were happy about this, but what could we do… Once we stepped aboard the ferry, we technically lost all control over our vehicles…

Little did we know that we would not see them again for almost a week…!!

"Right, bring on the Egyptians...!!" Gypsy Biker steels himself for the raid on Egypt...

©GBWT 2010