When preparing for this adventure, I had imagined that we would have endless time to ourselves. I had believed that there would be at least a couple of hours everyday that we’d need to kill with our own writing or other amusements. Not so. Yesterday, on day 4, we cycled 160km! It was a crazy day! We were relatively strong too. At 150km Gareth had a blowout on his front tyre taking him to the floor pretty quickly. It sobered some of the bravado we were beginning to feel. These roads are extremely busy - you continuously have the feeling that you are about to witness a head-on collision. The vehicles always seem to miss each other, but its hairy cycling.
We lost our police escort somewhere between Sohag and Nag Hammadi – This was a welcome change on my part! The police had insisted on driving right on my left shoulder shouting “Go Deeannna!” in between cat whistles and laughter.
As a woman in this country, it is easy to become paranoid. A policeman told me never to wear shorts (I have to wear leg warmers over cycling shorts, all day, every day) and when in town, I normally have a bandana, always long pants and long sleeves. Esmeralda, a Dutch woman we met at the Sudanese embassy in Cairo, had warned me of this too. In particular, she suggested I actually identify a husband, always wear my “wedding ring” and that the men would need to be fairly strong in their defence of me. I took these comments with a pinch of salt – I believe I am a well-travelled woman and can hold my own! Five days into the cycle, I have been asked for telephone numbers and email addresses, been subjected to paparazzi style camera phones, been groped during a photo by a policeman with an AK47 slung over his shoulder, had an old man lunge at me, and a seriously old man wink at me with his hand on his crotch. Nothing has been hostile, but I feel like I am cycling in the emperor’s clothes!
Anyway, at some point yesterday the police disappeared and for the first time we were left fending for ourselves. However, a local man who drove a bling blue motorbike with the words “love machine” on the back, escorted us on their behalf! Now, we have got pretty good at cycling in a pelaton and when acting as a team, we can make steady progress. But this man decided to join the actual pelaton and cycle behind me with less than a meter between his motorbike wheel and my back pannier. The whole time he was gesturing and laughing. Ollie actually had to get a little feisty with him just so that he would back off a bit!
We stopped at a little town called Nag Hammadi and had a lunch of cheese, tuna and bully beef on pita. In a short while we had gathered thirty odd men and boys that had come to witness this unfamiliar sight. They would stand less than two meters away and stare at us. Their eyes penetrate. I know it is simple curiosity and is something that we will need to get used to, but it is a little awkward!
After lunch we set off again complete with a convoy of motorbikes and beaten out bicycles. Half of them were children who really just wanted to chat, throwing out the standard lines: “What is your name? Welcome to Egypt!” and “I love you!” as you cycled on. There was mayhem. My stress levels rose. The group was being separated, Denis was cycling along trying to get sugar cane out of a passing truck (!), and a kid with a flat tyre insisted on cycling into my panniers! I nearly lost my cool entirely.
My solution was to cycle onwards, catch one of the team up ahead, and proceed to solve the problems of life and love. Such is life on the road!
We arrived in Qena at 6 o’clock, went out in town for the best sheesh kebabs I have tasted yet, and were in bed by 9pm. A great night’s sleep, ended in the morning by the prayers and car horns. What lies ahead?
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