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Wednesday September 2, 2009
 
An early morning start, combined with a cleaned bike, inflated tyres and well rested rider led to some good pace. It felt as though I were cycling downhill (although i wasn't, as I am heading upstream). I arrived in Idfu at 11.30. 100 km's dusted. Thank you very much.

After some more frustrations with the Egyptian tourism industry I found a hotel.

Monday August 31, 2009

A day of furious pedalling o Luxor. The low point was getting a puncture. It was very hot and I arrived exhausted.

Sunday August 30, 2009

After an uneventful mornings ride I spotted Christian, a part Norwegian part Austrian, walking to Ethiopia. I had been on the look out for him since Mustafa, the friendly ambulance station attendent, said he had passed through a few days ago.

I decided to walk with him for the rest of the day. I found Christian disliked the police even more than me. His strategy was to wave a finger at them, intimidate them, and generally put them in their place.

We found some excellent food in a retaurant and then Christian made a copy of his Sudanese map for me. I felt reassured about my upcoming desert crossing, knowing that Christian is unconcerned, and he will be attempting it on foot. However Christian did tell me of a friend who experienced 57 degree heat out in the Numbian desert, I hope I don't experience this.

Christian had been told of a short cut to Luxor, over a mountain. We sought out this road despite the police's best efforts to deny its existence and force us down another road.

As dusk fell we reached a police checkpoint at a cross roads. The short cut was to the right, and according to the Police (a dubious source) it seemed to save 20 km's, but was on a poor surface and climbed a hill. Christian turned right ad I opted for the longer, but flatter and tarmaced road ahead. We said goodbye.

Just as I passed by the sun set and the police started to feast. They invited me to join in. It was good food and felt sorry that Christian had missed it.

Then the police chaged their minds and brought me in a police car to force Christian to turn around. Apartently the road was unsafe for him. Yet when we asked to sleep at the police station we were denied, and forced to walk on into the darkness, which made me question if our safety was really their motive. We slept by a well at the side of the road.

Saturday August 29, 2009

I had arranged for the police escort to meet me at 6 a.m. A policeman had slept in the corridor outside of my room, and I asked him where the escort was.

They were late. After an hour of waiting the hostel owner told me to just go for it. He pacified the policeman and off I rode.

I was now slightly nervous looking around for the threats that I was no longer being protected from. This nervousness soon dissipated as I became hot and tired and focussed on reaching Sondag, where another youth hostel awaited.

The only stop I made was to eat fish at a road side cafe, where I had spotted truckers eating. Seeing anyone eating during Ramadan daytime is rare.

I arrived in Sondag and eventualy found the youth hostel only to be told I couldn't stay. I had awoken the receptionist man, he was curt and told me to find another youth hostel. He refused to write the address, I was forced to cycle off in the vague direction he had pointed.

I asked for help and followed a car back to the original hostel. I went inside with the kind man who was helping me, but once again I was refused to stay and was again given inprecise directions and no address to this other hostel. A boy on the street was asked to walk with me to this other hostel, he was given instructions but obviously didn't understand as we were soon lost. He had no idea where the other hostel was.

We asked more people for help, but looking vunerable and like a tourust drew the unwanted attention of the police. They kept me for 30 minutes just looking at my passport.

Then I was to follow a secret policeman on a motorbike to a cheap hotel. I tried to gain favour with him by suggesting this plain clothes nobody was like James Bond. But this obviously didn't work as I followed them all the way back accross town to the tourist police station. They had lied about going to a cheap hotel.

I spoke angrily to the tourist police and then followed James Bond all the way back to the original Youth Hostel. This seemed to be a hopeless spiral. Hours after my first visit and with the police backing me up the hostel receptionist changed his tune and decided to let me stay. I hate the Egyptian tourism industry.

Thursday August 27, 2009
 
Once again I had a dodgy stomach, but was spurred on by the thought that Asyut was only 85 km's away and a nice bed in a youth hostel would await me there.

At the first checkpoint of the day I was stopped by a young, arrogant, plain clothes policeman. He held my passport for ages, and I think my frustration showed. He asked me if I was angry. I lied and said no.

Finally I was let through, but this minor vistory was short lived, as at the next stop a km down the road I was told that i must ride in a pick up truck. I declined twice but they persisted. I pulled out my map of the world and showed them that I wanted to ride all the way to Cape Town. They reluctantly let me ride. Round 2 to Pete.

I thought I was home free, but looked around to find I had a tail. At each check point the escort would change. I bought food and water, but my "protectors" were very impatient and told me to hurry up. It seemed that I would also be fasting today, there was no time allowed for eating.

At the next escort switch I insisted that I be allowed to stop at the checkpoint for 5 minutes to eat. They allowed me this, but once we set off they questioned me when I stopped to take even a sip of water, as if I were deliberatly trying to annoy them.

They were clearly frustrated that I had insisted on riding and threatened to put my bike inside the vehicle if I grew tired and slowed. I was determined to keep my pace up.

It was a horrible ride. I arrived at the youth hostel dry mouthed and exhausted after 2 hours of almost non stop cycling. I entered Asyut with a car behind and infront of me, with 4 armed men in each. I was told not to move from the youth hostel until they came to pick me up tomorrow. A prisoner!

Wednesday August 26, 2009
 
In the morning I was given a milky drink by some folk who turned out to be Christians.

They showed me a cross tatooed on their wrists, reminiscent of the marks on the gun men who chased Indiana Jones through Venice in the Last Crusade.

I spotted a Church and stopped to visit. Armed men came out of no-where and took my bike to keep it safe. I went inside, eat, drank tea, then left. It was a little surreal, and im not sure they really wanted me there.

I spotted a couple more Churches along the way but didnt stop to go inside.

By mid afternoon I was exhausted and ready to stop. Mustafa, who works at an Ambulance station offered for me to take a rest. Mustafa made me food and let me sleep. Then he woke me to give me more food when his fast ended. Then I slept till morning. 5 star treatment!

Mustafa told me of an Austrian musician who had stopped here 2 days ago. He was walking south, and I should catch him soon!

Tuesday August 25, 2009
 
I cycled for most of the day. It was hot, but flat, and prgress was descent.

I stopped, exhausted, at a cafe. It was closed (as most things are during Ramadan in the day), but I was beckoned over to a garage. They let me sleep in a mini mosque for a few hours.

I woke after everyone had done eating. I was given a couple of drinks and chocolate bars.

I was beckoned over to speak to more people next door. A debate began as to where I could sleep. What where they going to do with this strange boy?

It seemed all were in favour of me sleeping the night in the mosque bar one old man who had black balled me. I was to sleep on a bench infront of the garage.

This was not ideal as I kept having to yawn to signal to the men sitting on the bench that it was my bed time. Eventually they got the hint.

After a busy morning getting a cholera shot and searching in vein for spokes I left Cario mid afternoon.  I caught a taxi to the edge of the city, avoiding the worst of the traffic.

I didn't get far before the sun began to set, but I had made it out of the city.  I stopped at a village where a bike mechanic tightened the spokes on my front wheel, but it still wasn't round.  Apparently tightening spokes will not stop the verticle wobble?

I was offered a drink by a street vendor, others took away the liquid filled plastic bag to consume after sunset, but I drank mine on the spot, annoying the thirsty salesman who charged me way way over the odds.

As I left the village a young man approached me and gave me back the excess money i has paid.  Ramadan fasting had just got the better of the salesman.  

Earlier in Cairo I had witnessed a car attempting to drive down a narrow alley.  He met an oncoming vehicle on his first attempt and had to reverse.  When he met a taxi on the second atempt he just kept going, plouging into the now stationary taxi.

Too much sun with no water and food is sending these people crazy!

Realising I was now in a completely new, unknown environment I was unsure where I would sleep.  The Nile valley is lush green and populated.  The fields are all utilised for crops, so I could not pitch a tent.

A cafe owner beckoned me over and I ate with him.  It was a simple meal of bread and potato, not quite the post fast feast I had been envisioning.  Later he let me sleep outside his cafe on some tables pushed together.