Getting to the black and white desert by public transport definitely weeded out the uncommitted. Expensive excursions were easy enough to come by but intel to get to the Bahariya Oasis, the desert village from where the National Park could be accessed, was vague and ambiguous. When we arrived to the Turgoman Square bus station in Cairo, the place where we read that the bus left from, we were told that only Egyptians were allowed to buy tickets. Four bus stations, two taxi rides, two stints on the metro, consults with three branches of the Tourist police for permission, and much walking later we found ourselves in front of a small rundown mini bus, amidst a cluster of rundown mini busses. After the driver confirmed with the Safari camp that we had a reservation, he agreed to sell us a ticket to the Oasis for 150 Egyptian pounds ($12). As per usual, Egyptian mini buses leave when they are full and our rickety little van was no different. Two hours later it reached its 14 person capacity and we were off.

Each of the five hours that passed took us deeper into nothing but the endless rolling sand of the western tip of the Sahara. It was dark when we reached Mohamed’s safari camp and the end of the line for public transport. From there we joined an existing safari in an off road Land Rover and began a two day desert odyssey into a unique landscape of sculpted beauty.

We have finished our time in the desert. I love deserts but being with a group also reconfirmed to me how much I am not a ‘tour group’ person. But it was the only way to feasibly see what we saw and I’m glad and grateful we had the opportunity.

Backpedaling a little bit – the day we left Aswan (before heading to the black and white deserts) we woke up super early and took the bus to the next town with a few young travellers we met to see the camel market.

There was a festive air in the market with lots of money and livestock changing hands but no central auction. It was full of men, old and young, but not one woman. Except myself, and a couple of the Europeans that we were with. One was a young German girl with blond hair and yoga pants and I think many camels would have been traded for her. She attracted so much attention it became overwhelming and we had to leave. We said goodbye to our young friends and headed back to Aswan to chill before the night train back to Cairo.

With some extra time back in Egypt we decided to see a few sites that were too far flung to visit before leaving for Jordan. The Abu Simbel temple was first on the list. To get there we crossed the Sinai again, back up to Cairo, back down to Aswan and another four hours further south almost to the Sudan border. It was a long haul but worth it!

Our next destination is deep into the Western desert at the Bahariya Oasis. From there we hope to do some hiking in the black and the white deserts. We won’t overdo it as my Achilles have finally settled down and I don’t want to anger them again. Especially so close to when we are heading home.

The Karak desert castle is a famous ‘crusader castle’ but the occupation of the Franks (the crusaders) was only 46 years (1142 – 1188 AD); a short time in the castles long history. Inscriptions found inside the fortress, combined with historical sources indicate that it was originally built by Mesha, king of the Moabites as a temple to the Moabite God, Chemosh during the Iron Age in 850 BC. It has been conquered, occupied and added on to many times since, by many civilizations. The huge multi-layered castle is a maze of corridors and rooms and if only rocks could talk, the stories it could tell! I leaned into the stone walls trying to absorb the history and let my imagination run loose. It was fun at the time but might have contributed to the horrific nightmares of violent death and destruction that I had for the next four nights. Just a wild guess!

We have done some great hiking, met wonderful people, ate delicious food, seen incredible sights but we are ready for warmer nights. And both my Achilles’ continue to be stubbornly uncooperative. So we returned south to Aqaba to cool our heels for a few days on the coast of the Red Sea before taking the ferry back to Egypt.

The evening we planned to leave Jordan, the wind turned ferocious and the ferry was cancelled. We sheltered ourselves and all our belongings back inside our own castle walls to wait out the siege. The waves were roaring like a thousand foot soldiers on a rampage and the attacking wind sounded like it was ripping our little orange dome apart by the seams. But we successfully held down the Fort and our small, strong keep survived the onslaught intact. The morning dawned bright and blue, we raised the drawbridge (and by that I mean the tent fly), packed up and set out again to catch the ferry. (I may have seen too many castles!)

People have lived in caves in the area around Petra for last 7000 years, but it was the Nabateans who built the stunning city of rock between 50 BC and 50 AD. Positioned along the ancient spice route, it flourished and prospered in the first and second century AD. But then it was hit with a drought, a flood, and a big earthquake in 363 AD, which destroyed much of the city. By 500 AD it was almost abandoned. We spent three days exploring the caves, churches, trails and tombs of ancient Petra until our stone cup was full.

We have spent the last few days hiking in the desert around Wadi Rum. What a place! Unique, colourful, towering cliffs with astounding formations, coupled with vast expanses of soft, red sand unlike anything I have experienced. The sand was tough to hike through with our heavy packs but I can feel my body resetting to a better place and that makes me happy. As does the silence and solitude.

Our first morning I was sorting out breakfast when I saw Gord running across the sand with the tent bouncing along in front of him just out of reach. When the wind blows in the desert there is nothing to stop it and when a lightweight tent has nothing in it, it blows away fast. Happily he rescued it with both of them none the worse for wear. He returned out of breath and looking forward to his coffee. Our water drops did not work out as it was too cost prohibitive. We can each carry three days worth so we will do three day stints and then move on. All this to say that he allocates a portion of his precious water to his morning caffeine hit. So when he accidentally spilled it before his first sip it was a Greek tragedy doubled. “Son of a bitch” he muttered sadly.

T.E. Lawrence, better known as Lawerence of Arabia, spent a lot of time here during the Second World War. It’s also where Dune, The Martian and Aladdin, Star Wars, among other movies, were filmed. It’s no wonder. The landscape feels otherworldly!

As expected, getting to the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan was quite a ride. Figuratively and literally! The ferry from Hurghada to Sharm el Sheihk was canceled, so we booked a flight instead from Luxor to Sharm el Sheikh. When that was also cancelled we settled in for a 24 hour bus ride (with about 4 inches of leg room) across the Sinai Peninsula. There were checkpoints every couple of hours, day and night; sometimes just to check everybody’s ID, sometimes for the full drill when everybody had to get off the bus, drag our luggage from the storage area below, stand in a row with our open bags in front of us while a stern official with a very big gun walked down the line checking IDs and rummaging through luggage. The guys sitting in front of us were detained and the bus carried on without them. Yep – quite a ride!

To get our PCR test before leaving Egypt, we were given a phone number of a man named Waleed and told to communicate with him by WhatsApp. He said he would come to our hostel in Dehab. We waited for him on the street corner (which seemed suspect) and in due time he arrived, we led him to our room, he did the swab, and we gave him our cash. It felt like a drug deal! But he assured us that he was with the government and sure enough the next morning he WhatsApp’d us with our negative results and our government issued QR code..

We also needed to fill out and submit an online application before being issued a QR entry code for Jordan. On the form the only way to enter our date of birth was to scroll back from January 2022. That’s 60 years of scrolling, month by month! Who does that – the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, that’s who! I was almost there (more than once) when the glitchy form kicked me back to 2022. The young men at the front desk of our poshy hotel helped us upload, download and reload until the wretched form was finally submitted! Sometimes it takes a village..

Armed with printed out documents and QR codes coming out the wazoo, we bought our ferry tickets. Our papers were checked approximately 11 different times, we received another PCR test on board the boat, we said goodbye to Egypt and set sail for Aqaba.

The Arabian desert is one of the driest deserts in the world. What people do is prearrange to have a load of water dropped at a gps coordinate. We are trying to get some water drops organized as there is no water source for the first two sections of the trail (which represents approximately 200 kilometres). Tomorrow we are finally leaving souvenir stalls, tourist attractions, civilization, and all creature comforts behind. I am so ready! And I’m super excited to sleep in my new tent!

The 650 km Jordan Trail is unmarked and we will be following Gord‘s electronic trail app to find our way. The trail is divided into eight sections with each section taking us approximately a week of hiking. We will be slow and that’s OK. I doubt we will get it finished and that’s ok too. The terrain is challenging. We will take one step at a time for as long as we can and add our humble footprints along the paths where travellers and traders have wandered as far back as the Old Testament. I wonder how Moses got his water!

I am sitting in our hostel in Luxor listening to the evening prayers being broadcast far and wide. I have grown accustomed to it and find the voices soothing. I hear dogs barking and children playing. I smell wood smoke and hear the crackling of a fire in the street below where neighbours have gathered for warmth as they smoke, sip tea and visit for the evening. The sounds of fast speaking Arabic punctuated with laughter drifts up through the open window slats of our room. People in general seem happy here, in what ancient times was called, Thebes. We often hear smiling children shouting “welcome to Luxor” as we pass by. We have been awed by its sights and I feel incredibly grateful to be here.

The west side of the Nile was called the city of death (because the sun sets in the west) and is where all the ancient tombs are. We took the ferry across, rented bicycles for the day and rode a 25 kilometre round trip to the Hatshepsut Temple, the Valley of the Queens, and the Valley of the Kings, which is a grouping of 62 royal tombs (our tickets allowed us into 4 of them). As soon as a Pharaoh came into power he started building the tunnel into what would be his burial chamber where he would be entombed with all of his riches. The belief was that it helped them on their journey to the afterlife. We hired an Egyptologist to guide us through and didn’t regret it. Learning what some of the symbols meant and how to piece together bits of the stories, ceremonies and gods depicted was fascinating. We were blown away by all of it!

We are off now to start making our way to Jordan.

When David, of David’s hostel, where we stayed in Aswan booked us a three-day, two-night Nile cruise for $100 each I was expecting that we would be sleeping under a tarp and rowing during the day. And that was still OK with me! But when we boarded the ship I found a five-star all inclusive! Food galore and a fancy room to boot. It was too chilly to swim in the pool but we savoured our time doing nothing more strenuous than watching banana plantations drift by from comfortable loungers on the sundeck and going back and forth to the sumptuous buffet!