Welcome to Sudan!

What an adventure the last few days have been – like a lifetime of new experiences packed into just a few short days. Those who have not visited Sudan and only know of it from the news, only know the bad side of this nation. Genocide, civil war and poverty dominate the headlines whenever you hear anything about this place. Actually being here however is a totally different story. What I’ve found is not war, famine, unrest or anything of the like – Sudan for me is a breath of refreshing air. Its people are amongst the friendliest, most welcoming and unassuming that I have ever met – anywhere.

When I last posted on this blog we were about to board the ferry and sail down the length of Lake Nasser from Aswan, Egypt to Waddi Halfa, Sudan. The boat ride was supposed to take 14 hours, a lengthy journey by any standards, but the reality of travel in Africa means that 14hrs is a wild understatement of the actual event. We arrived at the ferry at about 9.30am to get ready to board with al of our stuff, including our bikes. Upon arrival we learned that through a double-booking only half of us would have cabins and the remainder of our crew would have to sleep on the deck on the overnight journey. We gathered ranks and soon enough we’d all taken in extra souls and offered out our floors.

By 11am we were on the boat and could only watch as the cargo was loaded on. As this is the only way to get anything into Sudan from the North, and the boat only sails once per week – the urge to get anything and everything onto the boat was a joy to watch. Everything from crates of olive oil, fridges, televisions, crates of Twinkies and car tires by the dozens all packed with care into the hold as the draft of the boat slowly sank deeper into the lake.

By 6pm the boat was ready to set sail, 6hrs behind schedule and 7hrs since we boarded. There was a collective sense of relief as the boat left the sandy shore and sailed into the sunset. While the boat was overloaded with cargo, it was even more overflowing with human passengers. Humanity covered every inch of open space. Local’s jockeyed for position to bed down for the night on any flat surface. It became immediately apparent that all would have to get very cozy, spooning with random strangers in an attempt to get something resembling sleep.

Thankfully I was able to secure a bed in a cabin. The slow rocking of the boat and the accumulated exhaustion of the days of riding in Egypt allowed sleep to overcome me quickly. I slept long and sound, only waking at 8am the next day as the bustle of the ship was too noisy to keep me in slumber.

Day two on the boat was much of the same chaotic mess of too many people living in too little space. There seemed to be little regard for the actual capacity of the vessel. Everything ran out – food, Pepsi even the diabolically bad toilets backed up, flooded and provided some morbid entertainment if only for their vileness.

After seemingly days on the water, Wadi Halfa was spotted in the distance and the reality of actually being in Sudan started to take hold. While it had been an intangible notion for so long, all of a sudden there is was just a few meters away.

Unloading was just as painful. Though slightly shorter in lengthy, we did spend a solid 2hrs on the boat waiting to get off. After we disembarked, fought our way through the crowds with our mountain of gear we still had to clear customs. As expected that process took hours. By the time it was all said and done and we biked the 3km to came the sun was low in the sky. We set up quickly, watched one of the best sunsets I’d ever seen and headed into town for a meal.

The next day we actually started riding in Sudan. While we expected the riding to be diabolically hard, at first the freshly paved roads were some of the best we had encountered anywhere. Soon enough the Sudan that we’d been expecting arrived. The road unceremoniously ended and we were into some of the roughest terrain imaginable. Deep ruts that sucked the bike in, corrugations that rattled me to the very soul and sand that was at least 6 inches deep stopped my wheel dead in its tracks. Some hated it, but I found the challenge fantastic fun.

After another similar day of riding I had what was to be my most memorable day of the tour. The day dawned warm, warmer then the previous, like every day so far. Shortly after the sun was fully in the sky I started off. We rode as a pack for the first 3km while the road was mercifully paved. Soon enough the reality of Sudanese roads reared their ugly head. Enormous ruts sucked my tires into their depths, corrugations that threatened to shake the fillings out of my mouth and pits of sand that reduced travel to a humbling grovel.

All was going well for the first part of the morning, the riding was challenging but I was feeling good and enjoying the good challenge it provided. After 55km the desire to reach the 60km mark and the welcome sight of the lunch truck began to dominate my thoughts. Riding with Tom, we joked back and forth and talked of our desire to sit in the shade and have a cold drink.

Alone, together, we came upon a fork in the road. Logic steered us towards the right and our navigational handrail of The Nile. We passed through one town, then another and it started to become more and more obvious that we had in fact made a wrong turn. We talked to the locals, or as best we could with our few words in Arabic and their fewer in English. They seemed to keep pointing us in the direction we were going – so on we went.

After clearing the series of towns and getting back on the main-ish road, my speedometer read 70km and my thermometer read 41c. We had obviously missed the lunch truck – we were on our own, ‘lost’ somewhere in the Nubian Desert. Water was getting scarce, we had about half a bottle between us and a few energy bars to count as lunch. We passed by one town and futily searched for a drink of water, but none was to be found.

Just when the dark clouds of worry started to enter our collective thoughts the mirage of riders on the horizon started to approach us. Like an apparition, our comrades were never a more welcome sights. They happily shared water, snacks and Paul even brought us sandwiches in the hope of tracking us down. The rest of the day was comparatively uneventful – we stopped in the next town and skulled 7-ups like we were being paid to do it. Camp arrived 10km later and the welcome completion to the hardest day of the tour ‘so far’.

The next day was a great day of riding, fun offroad terrain in the morning followed by tailwind assisted pavement in the afternoon. It was a great mix of riding to bring us into the town of Dongola where I am right now. We are on a rest day today before my final 4 days of riding to Khartoum. It’s hard to believe that this adventure is coming to an end for me. For so long I’ve waited for this fantastic experience and the reality has exceeded every hope I’d had for it. To say goodbye to my new friends will be a real challenge, I’ve made great lifelong emotional bonds with these guys. The bonds that only come from pushing a bike through 40c heat together, fighting torrents of insects and laughing about the joys of Deli-belly. We’ve formed a comradeship that will remain even when we all go our separate ways and back to the real world.

It will also be a real challenge to leave Sudan. In my short time here I’ve really grown to love this country. The landscape is stunning – amazing desert vistas that beguiles the senses. The people are friendly to no end I’ve never felt so safe and secure in a place. I can’t wait to return and explore this nation more. Though there is much turmoil in the west and the south, the remaining safe parts of Sudan are a travelers dream – make sure you don’t write this place off!

Time to go. Time to wash and to eat. Time to get the bike and body ready for the final 600km to the end. Time will fly and time will stand still all at the same time. All awhile I’ll be there doing me best to take it all in and live in the moment – as these are the moments of memories.

Be well and talk to you soon,
~Scott