Distance: 54 km
Time: 3:26:00
Ave Speed: 15.6 km/hr
Max Speed: 24.5 km/hr
Temp: 14 C
Weather: Cool afternoon, really chilly night
We woke early but stayed in the tent as long as possible, hoping the sun would warm up the air. The nearby kids could hardly wait to get a peak at us, a great encouragement to get up and packed as they grow bolder and creep closer. As we were finally prepared to leave the old men also waiting nearby insisted we sit down for some chai, kindly presenting us with hot, fresh buffalo milk and a chunk of thick, yeasty bread. Slowly a crowd gathered, all intrigued by the strange foreigners, and the men set up a hookah to share. It was homemade from a paint tin and a stick of bamboo. Ingenius.
Yep, that's a paint tin sheesha
Chris joins in the sheesha fun
We said goodbye and began the day's journey along the river, passing by more mud villages, cattle, at least a thousand children yelling emphatically hello!, women washing laundry, robed men riding donkeys, and still more fields. Every village passing seems a similar experience: we ride and wave to the first armed guard, if slow enough he will ask our nationality and inform us he is police. There is usually a mosque somewhere in the distance, maybe across the water, surrounded by water buffalo, donkey carts full of sugar cane or fodder, laundry hanging on a line, children running and screaming at us... There are many sufi shrines dotted along the way, usually small and painted in chipping pastel colors. They add quite an old ambiance to the already 'old world' feel around here.
Colorful laundry spruces up the drab mud and cement buildings...
One of many colorful sufi tombs
Around midday we arrived at the city of Qena, where we stopped for fuel. The only visable option was more falafel, probably the worst I've tasted so far. To add salt in that wound we can't seem to go anywhere without constantly attracting a large crowd of onlookers, mostly boys. We fled to the train station (curious in case we want to ride back into Cairo, evidently we can jump on for 40 pounds) and then to a nearby market to pick up some fruit. I've never seen fruit so cheap! We bought enormous tangelos and tomatoes for .20/ kilo.
Break at the Qena station
Back on the road, we cycled far from town, stopping for tea at a house with a wicker bench out front. The tea of upper Egypt is powdered, kind of like Turkish coffee, so it settles into a thick layer at the bottom of the cups. At first I thought this was sediment from dirty river water, but have decided to use the power of positive thinking to keep from getting sick.
Power biking
While passing a village some robed men waved at us and invited us to stop, saying ftr, or come in! We did, hoping that if all went well they'd agree to let us camp nearby. We sat for tea, encircled by an ever-growing crowd of men and children. All of the sudden a truck of policemen arrived, fully armed, and though pleasantly friendly insisted we get into their vehicle. Sort of baffled but amused, we climbed inside, and together drove to the nearest station. Usually every 2 km or so an old man with a rifle is posted along the road, a traffic cop, always eager to point out he is police. Then at the big stations we are always stopped and required to show our passports, questioned a bit and finally wave by (except when they told us to turn around). This is the type of station we were taken to, told it would be too dangerous for us to bike. The police insisted on escorting us to the next station, refusing to let us camp with a family. Three stations later the men agreed to let us camp behind the building, curious and amazed at crazy foreigners. Apparently nobody has ever biked up the Nile, the officers are completely baffled about what to do with us.
New police friend and internet
The young men eagerly helped us get settled, extremely curious as to how the tent and sleeping pads and bag works, but eventually left us alone. Another chilly night.
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