For some reason when we arrived at Wadi Halfa, I expected a lot more than just a few houses, small businesses, home restaurants and one abandoned looking hotel next to to a random road in the middle of the desert. Perhaps it was because, as a harbour town, I thought it would have some sort of trade and development. I was wrong.
For us Wadi Halfa will forever be a turning point in our 'hoboness'. Having been caught out by a hidden registration fee of $50 (on top of a $100 two week transit visa), we quite literally had zero money to our name after paying for the ferry to Egypt. it was the perfect time to whip out the survival food and get exactly that on; survival.
After waiting in the shade the entire afternoon, and stocking up on the free cold water at the derelict hotel we set for the desert to find a place to sleep. We settled behind a 'koppie' and watched the sun drop as it pulled the days heat around the earth with it. We each cooked up our various meals; Jordan his noodles and FP his chicken soup whilst robs ate his pronutro-muesli combo and I indulged in a large helping of sand tasting water, deciding I'd keep my chocolate future life for tomorrows breakfast. I also thought how this would make a far better future life ad than Chad le Clos' one, and dozed off thinking how cheap an Olympic gold medal seemed in the vastness of this huge desert sand pit.
Making a ring around our bags we got comfortable, each using our own sleeping methods we'd developed during the trip. The slight breeze was a welcome respite to the heat, and the little bits of stinging sand were a worthwhile trade for the coolness it brought.
Above us stars sat like icing on top of a cake. It was so clear we saw aliens and some other characters from 'starwars'. Chubakka smiled at us and gave us a thumbs up, asking us to greet his relative Dillon Nuss on earth.
In the early hours of the morning, the stinging sand began to hurt. Our air-con has been switched to setting 'Gale force' and we couldn't find the remote to turn it down. Sand flying across the grounds surface, I stood up to get a scarf out my bag, only to realise the the wind only blew to about knee height. Unfortunately I hadn't learnt to sleep standing up yet, despite coming close on a few bus journeys, and so lay back down, wrapped up my head, and turned my back to the wind.
In the morning we shook off the sand like dogs do with water, and headed back to the town. With the rest creating a diversion, Jords and I managed to slip a free shower disguised as a long toilet visit in the hotel. The day followed the same as yesterday; a search for shade, sleeping and communicating not in English to everyone.
Our next night was very restless. After being too lazy to walk to our previous nights camp, we settled closer to the village in a ditch, hoping to escape the wind. unfortunately, the scorpions had decided to do the same, and seemed to have called a meeting there. After seeing three in the space of ten minutes we were faced with a classic Africa decision: sleep in the desert with scorpions, or find shelter in the town and risk being arrested.
After remembering what the French bikers had said earlier in the day; "ze green ones will kill in sree hours", we decided that had it been three black mambas we would definitely have left and although not as scary, these scorpions could do the same. thus it became clear, we needed to find another spot.
We picked up camp walked across the desert of dry bones (quite literally: dead camels everywhere) to an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Our stealth was completely ruined when one territorial dog barked, only to be joined by every other dog in the whole of Wadi Alfa, if not North Sudan and possibly even the South. Worst of all when they all stopped, one single dog remained barking, like the cymbal player in a marching band determined to be recognised. Comically, it was actually barking at it's own echo bouncing off the distant 'koppie'
We rose the next morning not arrested and laughed as Jordan pointed out that our closest equals in the little nothing town were the stray dogs who, threatened by a possible take over, had barked at us the entire night.
Sneaking another shower, this time dodging the suspicious owner, I even managed to fill up my bottles with some cold fridge water whilst no one was looking. After trading avoidance tactics with the rest and hearing how Jordan had scooped a free breakfast, I realised in my gleeful feeling of victory at a cold shower we'd gone full hobo and the travelling had truly begun to take its toll.
For us Wadi Halfa will forever be a turning point in our 'hoboness'. Having been caught out by a hidden registration fee of $50 (on top of a $100 two week transit visa), we quite literally had zero money to our name after paying for the ferry to Egypt. it was the perfect time to whip out the survival food and get exactly that on; survival.
After waiting in the shade the entire afternoon, and stocking up on the free cold water at the derelict hotel we set for the desert to find a place to sleep. We settled behind a 'koppie' and watched the sun drop as it pulled the days heat around the earth with it. We each cooked up our various meals; Jordan his noodles and FP his chicken soup whilst robs ate his pronutro-muesli combo and I indulged in a large helping of sand tasting water, deciding I'd keep my chocolate future life for tomorrows breakfast. I also thought how this would make a far better future life ad than Chad le Clos' one, and dozed off thinking how cheap an Olympic gold medal seemed in the vastness of this huge desert sand pit.
Making a ring around our bags we got comfortable, each using our own sleeping methods we'd developed during the trip. The slight breeze was a welcome respite to the heat, and the little bits of stinging sand were a worthwhile trade for the coolness it brought.
Above us stars sat like icing on top of a cake. It was so clear we saw aliens and some other characters from 'starwars'. Chubakka smiled at us and gave us a thumbs up, asking us to greet his relative Dillon Nuss on earth.
In the early hours of the morning, the stinging sand began to hurt. Our air-con has been switched to setting 'Gale force' and we couldn't find the remote to turn it down. Sand flying across the grounds surface, I stood up to get a scarf out my bag, only to realise the the wind only blew to about knee height. Unfortunately I hadn't learnt to sleep standing up yet, despite coming close on a few bus journeys, and so lay back down, wrapped up my head, and turned my back to the wind.
In the morning we shook off the sand like dogs do with water, and headed back to the town. With the rest creating a diversion, Jords and I managed to slip a free shower disguised as a long toilet visit in the hotel. The day followed the same as yesterday; a search for shade, sleeping and communicating not in English to everyone.
Our next night was very restless. After being too lazy to walk to our previous nights camp, we settled closer to the village in a ditch, hoping to escape the wind. unfortunately, the scorpions had decided to do the same, and seemed to have called a meeting there. After seeing three in the space of ten minutes we were faced with a classic Africa decision: sleep in the desert with scorpions, or find shelter in the town and risk being arrested.
After remembering what the French bikers had said earlier in the day; "ze green ones will kill in sree hours", we decided that had it been three black mambas we would definitely have left and although not as scary, these scorpions could do the same. thus it became clear, we needed to find another spot.
We picked up camp walked across the desert of dry bones (quite literally: dead camels everywhere) to an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Our stealth was completely ruined when one territorial dog barked, only to be joined by every other dog in the whole of Wadi Alfa, if not North Sudan and possibly even the South. Worst of all when they all stopped, one single dog remained barking, like the cymbal player in a marching band determined to be recognised. Comically, it was actually barking at it's own echo bouncing off the distant 'koppie'
We rose the next morning not arrested and laughed as Jordan pointed out that our closest equals in the little nothing town were the stray dogs who, threatened by a possible take over, had barked at us the entire night.
Sneaking another shower, this time dodging the suspicious owner, I even managed to fill up my bottles with some cold fridge water whilst no one was looking. After trading avoidance tactics with the rest and hearing how Jordan had scooped a free breakfast, I realised in my gleeful feeling of victory at a cold shower we'd gone full hobo and the travelling had truly begun to take its toll.
FP Looking over Lake Nassa
Finding an old blue truck
Climbing into the old blue truck
Stealing the old blue truck
The Rob, plotting...
Our second night taking refuge from the scorpions
waking... unarrested!
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