Getting into Egypt with a motor vehicle without problems means fighting written and unwritten regulations, a challenge that makes the Dakar look like church coffee. (Even though that can be an ordeal in itself). I now understand why no car ferries cater for Europe-Egypt. Nobody can fight the Egyptian customs for any length of time. I knew before this that this border and the one to Sudan will be the hardest. That’s why I contacted the staff of Lukas and Ian at an early stage for personal assistance. In spite of this, the day ended on a sour note.

Getting two bikes on a flatbed truck without the physical presence of the riders noted in the documents is as impossible as to drain a river in northern Sweden during the spring flood with a coffee spoon. After two hours of useless arguments, I felt like don Quijote fighting a windmill. No use wrestling with pigs – they like it and you get dirty.

The solution is to start the Africa trip from the customs station Nevi´ot, as it’s called on my Michelin map but seems to be called Nuwaybi locally. Ian and Lukas simply must pick up their bikes personally, even though I am the registered owner in the Carnet de Passages en Douane.

/PG