Across the Red Sea

Day 257

Mileage 23,117 (36,987km)

Dead Sea Sunset

It was with a mixture of sadness and relief that I packed my bike with all my worldly possessions and took the Dead Sea road for the final time to the port city Aqaba. Sadness at leaving behind some of the wonderful people I’ve met while in Jordan; Damo and Naomi who opened their home and their hearts to me, Maya and Bishr at Deserttrax, without whose help this journey may have come to a stuttering halt. Relief at finally putting behind me the recent past and continuing with the next leg of this journey to Cape Town. As the road wound its way down from the Amman plateau to the Dead Sea basin a subtle haze of sand and dust filled the air, the jagged profiles of the central mountains that flank the valley appeared as a succession of fading ridge lines softly vanishing off into the distance as far as the eye can see. 

Ancient Olive Groves of Jordan

The past couple of weeks have involved chasing paperwork down some frustrating dead ends. At one point it felt as though I would never be able to leave Jordan until, with Maya's help, I made a breakthrough and obtained a Carnet for Egypt. All this was interspersed with some incredible excursions with the local GS riders of Jordan. Numbering barely a dozen it is a close knit group of bikers who make the most of the wide and varied terrain the diverse landscape has to offer. From open desert to scenic twisting asphalt to challenging dirt tracks, they have it all and they aren’t afraid to stretch their bikes and bodies to the limits of their capabilities. It is truly a biker’s paradise. Bisecting the country’s mountainous central region are endless Wadis (valleys) where the Bedouin people still roam freely. Dotted with ancient ruins dating from 7000 years ago, every period of history is represented indicating how long this region has been inhabited. I put many more miles on my bike than I had expected to and my off road abilities improved dramatically thanks to some helpful tips from my fellow riders. Highlights included finishing a long day of on and off road riding with a relaxing soak in some 2000 year old Roman hot pools and breaking fresh trails through the eastern desert linking visits to 8th century fortifications that stand lonely and abandoned throughout the region. I will miss Jordan and the genuine hospitality of its people.

Equipped with the required paperwork for legal entry into Egypt I boarded the ferry from Aqaba to Nuweiba, lashed my bike to the cargo deck and settled in for a long sleepless night as the boat slowly chugged its way across the Red Sea. Why this overcrowded, stinking hulk of a vessel couldn’t make the crossing during daylight hours remains a mystery, but in the chilly predawn hours it dumps its tired cargo on Egyptian soil long before the border officials wake and prepare for the sudden influx of traffic. Knowing what to expect, after a previous failed attempt, certainly helped to ease the frustration and I quickly commandeered the services of a local police officer with the promise of a little backsheesh for his help. Piece by piece we put the jigsaw of paperwork together, acquiring an importation permit, obtaining vehicle insurance, getting Egyptian registration plates fitted to the bike, and applying for a driver’s license in Arabic, all while trying to satisfy the security detail on duty that I wouldn’t pose a threat to the country. Recent events in Cairo and the Sinai have, understandably, left the army and police on a state of hight alert.

Off road in Egypt

All of this may have been relatively straight forward had it not been for the fact the ongoing renovations to the port facilities had been abandoned since the recent changes within the country’s leadership. It is a vast and busy complex in a state of confusing turmoil. At one point I had to bang on the door of the vehicle inspection office who ascertain whether or not the bike contains any hazardous goods. After five minutes of knocking a tired groan emerged from within and another five minutes passed before a sleepy looking officer in a nightshirt cracked the door and peered at me, then the bike and then me again before reaching out his hand for the required fee. The door slammed shut and another ten minutes went by as he re-organized his furniture looking for the correct form. Finally the door rattled and through a thin crack my certificate emerged confirming that I posed no threat. Eventually, after several tedious hours, I was directed towards the exit which I assumed was my cue to leave. I paid a little backsheesh to the helpful police officer and rode between the heavily armed soldiers guarding the gate with a satisfied grin spreading across my face. I had to slam on the brakes as one more official stepped into my path and we went through the reams of paperwork that had been stuffed into the numerous pockets of my motorcycle jacket. After a long, slow inspection, much staring and shrugging of shoulders, he stepped aside and said “Welcome to Egypt”.

Although I won’t technically enter Africa until I cross the Suez Canal it feels as though another significant milestone has been passed. I no longer have to keep banging my head against the brick wall of Egyptian bureaucracy and although there are still another 15,000 kilometers between Cairo and Cape Town and many more borders to cross, I feel as though the most difficult one is behind me. One by one countries are slowly moving away from the Carnet system and soon this archaic piece of paper will be a thing of the past where it belongs.

St Katherine's Monastery, Sinai

I spent the first few nights in the Sinai at the crumbling but quaint beach side resort of Dahab on the eastern side of the peninsula. Accommodation was very cheap so I opted for a deserted hotel overlooking the ocean. As the only guest I was treated like a VIP and even allowed to bring my bike inside the compound and park it outside my room. The Bedouin staff immediately befriended me and I was soon being taken around the town and introduced to more people than I could possibly remember. Everyone seemed to be suffering because of the lack of tourists and many businesses had closed since the revolution three years ago. As a result, I was made to feel very welcome for having made the effort to stop by. The shops and restaurants that had survived were mostly empty and desperate for trade but the instability in Cairo has scared off the majority of tourists and what will become of Dahab remains to be seen. Evenings were spent at the Tree Bar sipping the locally produced Stella beer and playing pool with the locals on a table with some challenging undulations. 

Less than fifty meters from my hotel room the ocean floor dropped off in a dramatic shelf, the edge of which is home to a spectacular coral reef teeming with life. I rented a set of snorkeling gear and a wetsuit and spent a long time swimming along the edge of the reef in awe at the variety of fish and coral so close to the shoreline. At one point a sea turtle swam next to me appearing to enjoy my company as we both examined the coral and vividly colored fish of all shapes and sizes seemed oblivious to my presence as they scoured the reef for tiny morsels of food. 

Chilling on 'The Island' a kite boarding paradise

Through my friends in Jordan I had made contact with an Egyptian biker, Nabil, who lives on the western side of the Sinai. He agreed to meet me in Dahab and, together, we rode to some of the hidden gems of the region. The Wadi Gnai provided an opportunity for some challenging off road riding in loose sand but the rewards were worth it, the serenity of the canyon was only disturbed by the quiet ticking of our cooling engines as we stopped to explore the dry creek beds than fan out from the valley floor. We rode north to the infamous Blue Hole, a diving mecca that attracts explorers from around the world because of the beauty of its location and the wealth of sea life that inhabits its pristine coral reef. Plaques adorn the walls on the walk in honoring the divers who allowed the reef to draw them down deeper than they should have gone. As we snorkeled along the surface I could understand the allure of wanting to see more as the crystal clear azure water supported an impossible variety of fish and coral. 

We left Dahab early the next morning and made our way to St Katherine’s Monastery, a Greek Orthodox site from the 8th Century, still in use today. We stopped briefly to explore the area before making our way towards the direct road to the western Sinai. The roads in this region are dotted with security check points, every forty or fifty kilometers barricades cross the road and heavily armed police and soldiers man the temporary installations. as we crossed the final check point before entering the heart of the Sinai I was told I could not proceed, being a foreigner I was considered a high value target for the Bedouin who occasionally kidnap tourists. When the police arrest one of theirs the Bedouin take a tourist before an exchange is made and both are released. A couple of tourists who experienced this recently admitted afterwards that it had been one of the highlights of their trip to Egypt. The Bedouin had treated them like honored guests and had been polite and gentle until an exchange had been arranged. Unfortunately the police were unwilling to risk a repeat of this and would not let me proceed so we took a long detour around the coastal road of the Sinai. It was a spectacular road but a strong headwind made for an exhausting ride. As we neared our destination of Ras Sudr night fell and I had my first experience of driving in the dark in Egypt. Many bikers had warned me of the unusual practice of the locals who drive at night without headlights. On my bike the light stays on all the time and oncoming cars would flash me to remind me that I had forgotten to turn it off. Cars would creep up behind unseen until a quick flash would indicate their intention to pass, it is not the safest practice but it served as a good reminder to be off the roads before nightfall. 

Playing in the sand with Nabil, Ras Sudr

I am now in Ras Sudr, a peaceful resort on the shores of the Red Sea just south of the entrance to the Suez Canal. Heavily laden cargo ships slip quietly by on the horizon, a steady procession of supplies going to and leaving the Mediterranean. The canal is the primary source of income for Egypt with tourism coming a close second. As the media reports on only the bad news from this beautiful country tourism numbers are well below normal and the economy is suffering as a result. From the majority of people I have spoken to most are tired of the situation and are willing to accept a stable but corrupt system over that proposed by the Muslim Brotherhood. Only time will tell how this situation will be resolved but an upsurge in violence in the last few days to mark the third anniversary of the revolution has left several people dead and the advice I am receiving from locals is to avoid the capital for a little longer until things settle down. 

The lagoons of Ras Sudr

For me this leg of the journey has come with its own challenges but the rewards have been abundant. I miss being able to share experiences with a riding partner, a photograph can only capture so much. The inside of a crash helmet can be a lonely place at times and as much as I try to prevent it the tape of the last few months begins to play and I sometimes slip into a deep state of melancholy over what has been lost. Traveling solo, however, seems to have made me more approachable and the interactions with locals have been so much more enlightening and enjoyable. People seem to be much more willing to approach a solo rider and offer advice and hospitality. I am on my own now and seemingly less intimidating than before. It speaks volumes about human nature that when we are alone people feel the need to offer company. Some want to enquire about my journey, some simply want to practice their English but with all a smile is never far from the surface and as with all my travels it soon appears as though we all have more in common than not. Being single is a strange concept to adjust to after so long in a relationship but if I am to truly discover who I am then it can only be a solitary undertaking.  As I sit here writing this under the hot desert sun the ghostly white strip of skin where my wedding ring once sat is slowly beginning to disappear as will my feelings for the person I have lost. With that comes the realization that for the first time in many years I am truly free to follow my own path. The future seems  much brighter with each day that passes.

Meeting the Bedouin