"LEICA " SAILS UP THE NILE
The sailing boat "Leica" (B‚n‚teau First 305) returned to France after 5 1/2 month voyage from Le Croisic to Asswan in Egypt via Corsica, Crête, ALexandria, Cairo and Louxor.
From the Nile Delta to Assouan, "Leica" sailed through time and history.
Alain's wife Ewa and his daughter Melody were on board "Leica" in Corsica and Crete and between Louxor and Asswan.
The aim of the expedition :
To give a photographic overview of Egypt and the Nile.
The crowning glory of some sailors' careers is to round the Cap Horn for Alain Guillou it is to capture a picture of his boat in front of the pyramids of Giza, under sails, buried to the floating line in the desert sand where once the Nile had flowed two thousand years ago.
In this way he highlights the threat to Egypt : the lack of water in the Nile.
Alain Guillou got the green light from the Air Force to transport his sailing boat by helicopter beyond Cairo.
On the other hand, surprised and disturbed by the start of the Gulf Crisis, Alain Guillou realized during his voyage that Egypt will face serious economic problems.
He sound the alarm bell. This country risks misery and chaos if the tourists stop going there.
To our knowledge "Leica" is the first modern equipped sailing boat to cover the Nile as far as Asswan.
The Pharaoh Cruise
Photographic Reporter
My metier : photographic reporter travelling the world incessantly in search of original subjects. A bed of nails or a bed of roses ? The answer can probably be found in the following lines.
It is a continual photographic pursuit which ends up in the pages of international magazines. The photographer shares with the public his vision of an evolving modern world where beauty alternates with ugliness and richess and great poverty are found side by side.
The goal is sometimes found elsewhere, in the simple pleasure of surmounting the inherent difficulties in capturing a picture, a project or a report. There is always the simple pleasure of looking at a beautiful photograph.
In the sixties and seventies,I did a lot of sailing, raced and even won some cruising races . The sea is a passion and an incurable sickness caught in the seas and beaches of Brittany... I had always dreamed of having a boat... (a common childhood dream which doesn't come true)... although a sailing boat is always a mixed blessing, bringing all sorts of problems, and as my uncle said : "the two best days in the life of a yachtsman is the one when he buys his boat and the one when he sells it".
Obviously a reporter's career is not always good news for the bank manager.... so how could I make the dream comes true ? The answer came little by little, mixing business and pleasure : mounting an expedition in which the boat is the means of transport for the photographer and also the subject of the report.
And this is how the search for sponsors started... but first I had to find an idea. What could I do with a sailing boat to find funds without going in for the great ocean races.
The Nile ! Egypt offered everything. It is a wonderful country for pictures, a real gold mine with a past and present history. It offers thousand-year-old scenes on a tapestry of a developing industry, totally exotic, and what's more getting there would be such an adventure.
I did not know that a boat known as a pleasure craft could turn on bad day into a real hard labour nightmare... on other days, bathing in the Nile, the sunset shining on the ripples, it was possible to say : "isn't nature wonderful ?" The next minute one oneself plunged back into the nightmare again. What an adventure !
With the passage of time, everything is transformed into good memories. The ability to forget the bad bits is an essential part of human nature.
Ok then, a boat, a marvellous country, an orgy of light, yet something was still missing. We needed to find something else. The key photo of the subject which would astonish the most jaded people in the world : magazine chief editors. These people are the greatest travellers I know. In their offices they see everything, hear everything and are permanently waiting for the big refreshing breeze the world's life force. To surprise them, astonish them, enchant them and finally motivate them on to publishing a photo or a report, one has to present structured, artistic and professional work of the highest order. The visual standard changes all the time adapting and evolving to our modern world.
An idea, a contrast, aesthetics, an event and an irreproachable technique are the keys in this profession of which dreams are made. Photography is a passion and life takes on a new meaning when one realizes ones passion.
Now to return to the question of a bed of nails or a bed of roses, I would say that life without little problems would soon become incredibly boring. One moment on the crest of the wave and the next second flat on your face on the sea bed. You just have to make the most of the surfing moment.
Then let's get to the Nile... oh yes I forgot, the originality of the report is a picture of "Leica" under full sail buried to her water line in the sand with the pyramids of Giza behind her. The means of transport, an helicopter. The connection with the report ? The Nile flowed there some thousands of years ago but it has dried up there. The photo would be the most symbolic representation of this sword of Damocles hanging over Egypt - the drying up of the Nile.
A curious encounter
Sailing from Le Croisic to Arcachon, we had transported "Leica" by lorry to Port Gruissan in the Mediterranean. The crossing to Corsica and Reggio de Calabria was uneventful. Nothing more than a few storm clouds in the bay of Biscay and a night landing in fog on the Eolian Islands.
At the entrance of the strait of Messina a gale force 9 on the nose and a heavy sea made us wary enough to head back to Reggio de Calabria where we arrived in the early hours. This first experience of bad weather with "Leica" left us with the feeling that we wouldn't find a better boat for bad conditions.
The weather forecast remaining fine, we left Reggio for Crete and 5 quiet days under the rhythm of changing watches.
One night, tucked up in my bed Jean Pierre woke me up. The urgency in his voice pulled me up into the cockpit without taking the time to dress. To my great surprise I found myself blinded by the strong search light of two vessels speeding toward us.
I tried to identify them in vain using a halogen lamp. They were apparently trawlers. I decided frantically to start "Leica "s engine. The radio ! I hurried to switch it on. My repeated calls on channel 16 remain unanswered until a French voice was heard :
- "we are a French methane tanker, who is calling us ?"
I replied in English so that everyone listening would understand:
- "What are you doing, why are you trying to run us down ?"
- "Me, I am not doing anything ! I am all alone on the sea and there is no one around my boat" ... ???
But who were these two boats, what did they want ? It seemed important to maintain a low profile on the radio waves and not say to quickly what was happening but to give my position to all vessels in the area as a matter of urgency.
-"Here is my position ... what is yours ?"
I didn't say anything more ... and I then heard 2 short words in Russian followed by a response of a single word just as short and guttural by another voice which sounds like Arabic.
Jean Pierre called me :
-"Alain they have turned around !"
Phew ! we had won !
We will never know who they were and what they wanted. Our position near to Libya and the strength of their search light immediately made us think of the Libyan military trawlers carrying out surveillance on Mediterranean traffic.
Another possibility is that Jean Pierre all alone on the night watch, nostalgic fisherman Breton and passionate about fishing boats could not resist the temptation to approach his Mediterranean brothers. Doing this he may have disturbed their work and irritated their captains who decided to teach us a lesson... weather that was the case or not, I will never know.
"I see White Horses ahead of us !"
"Oh!" I thought to myself sacarstically - "I wonder where all this white water is coming from ?" At the approach to the strait between Crete and the Peloponnese the wind and the sea were getting up more and more. We were already climbing wave 3 meters high when a large cargo boat appeared giving a good opportunity to get a weather report by radio to indicate with which sauce the god Eole had decided to eat us.
The cargo boat slowed down and changed his course to pass a hundred meters behind us... he disappeared behind the horizon leaving us alone to fight the sea which was to become a genuine battle field during the night.
Gradually the wind rose, we had already reduced the sail... fortunately I had put in a fourth line of reefing points passing by Bonifacio. The sea rose to become furious, sometimes the waves, like columns of water reached up to the sky higher than the crosstrees falling back on the cabin roof with a noise like canon fire.
Progressively we hunched into our solitude created by a deeper and deeper uncertainty : that of our survival. We had to beat the wind at all costs and sometimes our efforts had no effect when "Leica" collapsed like an exhausted runner into the troughs and start surfing backward some hundred of meters while the waves beat one after another resounding like a piledriver against her hull.
The GPS satellite gave position indicating marvellously the certainty of a COG (course over the ground) on a starboard reach, leading to the shelter of the extreme South West of Crete.
Having the shelter close at hand I decided to fight the sea and wind rather than run down wind or take a passive attitude taking us further away, drifting in the storm without sails and risk broaching.
The anemometer read sixty knots (about a hundred kilometres/hour) and did not move for three hours ... the following five hours the wind seemed to increase even more... the indicator needle did a mad dance between 0 and sixty knots without stopping in between. The waves were becoming higher and higher, difficult to guess their height, maybe between 4 and 8 meters. One moment under the pressure of even stronger gusts than the others, we just had time to see in the night a fury of foam and spray rushing towards us. All sails flogging "Leica" lay in the water helpless under the force of the weather. The sea flattened momentarily completely crushed by the fury of the wind. Very quickly the waves formed mountains blocking all wind from our sails.
Occasionally on the bow, the faint glimmer of a shooting star striped the sky above us .. . a sky unbelievably clear and starred. The most beautiful sky I had ever seen. We could see the lights of the airliners and planes taking part in another storm ... the "Desert Storm" in Kuwait.
Ville du Croisic
My mind drifted off to the passengers and pilots of another world enjoying the secure comfort untroubled by the whispering engines... there we were in the shit, trapped in our cockleshell thrown around by a sea with only one idea, to get rid of us... all the harnesses were secured, each of us equipped with those marvellous Allmer sailing suits carrying in their life jacket pockets a flare pen and a waterproof flash light.
As for me, as well as being harnessed, I had also strapped myself with a quick release strap which riveted me to the cockpit bench. In this way, I could concentrate fully on helming the boat and not waste energy grasping on to avoid being thrown over board.
Several time I found myself hanging in mid-air ready to unclasp the hank and thrown myself backwards to avoid being trapped underneath if we capsized but each time "Leica " straightened up and handled exceptionally well.
Discomfort, doubt, bad weather, tireness and cold all were the deadly enemies which lulled us into a dangerous state of lethargy which we had to fight against. At the height of the storm Jean Pierre who, as an experienced fisherman had been through some bad storms said " I have never seen anything like it, we are going to get our last drink of sea water and that'll be it".
The words were lost in the wind as "Leica" was lashed about by a furious sea crashing down over our heads. It seemed more and more as if we were on a tiny cork being thrown around in an enormous washing machine.
It's amazing how the mind adapts in this sort of situation, thoughts are limited to a strict minimum. My mind was filled with reasons for living, my happiness and unbounded love for Melody and Ewa, my little family safely living in Le Croisic. Here was the source of all the energy and courage I needed to struggle against the fury of a merciless nature.
Later, when I returned Ewa told me that Melody hadn't slept all that night, crying and calling out for her daddy and for no apparent clinical reason running a temperature of 41ø which disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived.
After the lethargy which invades the body and was to be fought against, comes a feeling of disintegration and abandon.... "Leica" could quite easily have been lost with all hands on that day.
"Leica" un First 305 B‚n‚teau was holding her own even if I had the impression that her hull was going to split down her middle at any moment dragging us down into a last seething mass of foam... all our efforts would have been in vain if our equipment had failed us. Our safety depended totally on the competence of the naval architect and his team in the B‚n‚teau drawing office who had designed our marvellous boat.
We had been extremely careful choosing our sails, to strengthen the mast I decided to fix a quick release stay but only worked with the genoese winder. So as to optimize the sail surface at any given time Jean Pierre and Steve were taking it in turns handling the main sheet freeing it instantly when I wanted just before the waves or gusts hit us and pulling it in again straight after.
This meant several times that we avoided being caught lying on our side with the mast in the water with dangerous waves breaking over us. Freed from pressure the boat would straighten up just before the impact with enough speed to manoeuvre at the right moment.
I was careful to keep as big a sail surface as possible up front to maintain the necessary power. The Furltec winder was marvellous and I still wonder how this equipment stood up to the strain we put it under.
We had to maintain our speed power and manoeuvrability. We let out the sails just before the waves and according to it size took it head on or sideway... from the wind after the wave so we didn't drop several metres on the other side or risk loosing the mast.
Occasionally driven by the wind "Leica", bowed over, her sails fluttering like twisted corrugated iron held in a merciless grip.
The waves bore down on us continually as if preparing to deal the Coup de Grƒce.
The technique and approach we had adopted was working although "Leica" was occasionally driven back by the force of the breaking waves. It is, however, testing for the crew and sooner or later we would arrive at a point of no return exhausted and unable to move, dead tired on a crippled boat drifting in the storm. We struggled on knowing that we had to find shelter before we lost all our strength. No one was feeling sea sick. At the height of the storm I was particularly worried by one thing. Was it better to continue heading for Crete or would it be better to turn toward the Peloponnese ? The second option seemed possible and better but I couldn't bring myself to follow this alternative in spite of all the factors in its favor. Clinging to the helm after the several hours of 'rollercoaster' I was still thinking about this problem and yet rather unwilling to abandon my post to go below and study the charts and take our bearing. (Jean Pierre was an extremely competent crew member but not experienced enough to take the helm in such circumstances having only had a few months training in the "Defi des Ports de Pêche" (fishing port challenges regattas.) and yet I had the vague notion that I could count on him to fight to do his utmost if I should be overcome by sea sickness which rarely affected me but was devastating when it did.
I was also beginning to consider another idea more and more seriously an that was to send out our situation and position over the radio as a safety measure. I spoke of this to no one as I didn't want to alarm the crew
"Hey Jean Pierre, take the helm a moment, I am going to take a bearing."
It was quite a tricky feat of acrobacy changing helmsman and going down below. I counted on Steve to grab my harness hank at the right moment and I finally found myself inside with the distinct impression that I was riding on the back of a bucking rodeo stallion.
Below everything was made fast in its place in working order and even if several things were defying the laws of gravity. It wasn't the shambles I had been expecting.
On the chart the straights between the Peloponnese and Crete look rather like and enormous funnel. The two respective sides are asymmetric. All my past experience in hang gliding told me that if I approached the mountains on the Crete side the wind would accelerate even more and that we would be struck by the wind from above.
I was clinging on to the chart table with one foot blocked against the galley to find our position when over the sound of the thunder all around the hull I heard a deafening roar from outside. I have no idea what really happened. The only thing I remember is an impact which felt like being hit at full speed by a train and picking myself up stunned in the forward cabin. I was being thrown all over the place like a sack of potatoes. Finally, fighting with all my strength to remain calm I dragged myself back to the chart table after I checked we were not shipping water.
"Pan Pan Pan from sailing boat "Leica " to all ship"
No answer...
"Pan Pan Pan this is sailing ship "Leica is there any boat around ?"
"Pan Pan Pan this is sailing ship "Leica is there any boat around ?"
""Leica " this is sailing ship xxxxx reading you clear go ahead over "
(Pan Pan Pan is an international radio procedure for all shipping just before the Mayday to indicate a problem)
From the depths of the deserted night a friendly voice was answering me.
The last somersault had shaken me up, and because of a breaking wave, I hadn't understood the name of the English sailing ship which was answering me. The voice sounded calm and phlegmatic as if its owner was sipping champagne and spooning down caviar.
I gave him my position and in 30 seconds he had signalled that he was 4 nautical miles to windward running from the storm on a 25 metre yacht heading for Malta. He was on his way from Heraklion and told me that to the North of Crete it was absolute hell. I replied that I wasn't in difficulty but that I wanted to signal my position and route to another vessel because of the hammering that "Leica " was getting as well as my misgivings about my boat's resistance in such conditions. I told him what I had been thinking and he confirmed he was thinking along the same lines with the following thought added. Heading towards the Peloponnese I would find a lot more marine traffic than in the deserted region I was making for.
I decided to change direction . To this day I have the feeling that this voice saved our lives. Perhaps I'll never meet this man but I would like to think that one day he'll read this article and try to contact me.
We came within a hundred meters of each other. It seemed as if we were passing a different inaccessible planet. Each of us left to face his own "perils of sea". His mast lights occasionally disappeared completely behind the waves and slowly faded into the night.
Doubt about the outcome hung over us for 24 hours. I wondered how long we could hold out. The wind was slowly changing direction and the sea was becoming calmer. When the wind gauge needle settled around 50 to 60 knots, we had a feeling of relative calm and safety bringing with it the certainty that we were going to pull through.
In the small hours, conditions became more manageable. I passed the helm to Jean Pierre so I could go and check on the GPS and study the route. I realized we were on course and saw a glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel. Suddenly a voice crackled over the radio.
"Does anyone speak English around here ?"
Back to the land of the living ... a conversation with a big catamaran which had left Brindisi in Italy to stick his nose out from the shelter of the Peloponnese only to turn back as he was trying to reach Heraklion in Crete.
I when back on watch with Steve. Jean Pierre went below staggering like a stunned boxer. I realized he was asleep on his feet but he managed to keep his balance like this for at least 30 seconds before crashing out on the starboard bunk.
We sailed past a multitude of cargo vessels, ferries and other ships which had taken shelter and dropped anchor in a little creek to leeward of Cap Matapan. The catamaran joined us there. The scenery was superb and by using sign language I manage to find my way to a telephone. From a long way off Ewa's and Melody's voices filled me with happiness. After 2 days stop over in the little creek we set sail for Heraklion in Crete. Ewa and Melody joined us there. Ten kilometres from Heraklion was a little port belonging to the Marina Hotel. I decided to make this our port of call .
The safety of this marina seemed dubious in the event of northerly gales. But the hotel management assured me of the total safety of the location although they did recommend that I memorise the shallow winding channel which made its way through the sand and shingle banks.
The reconnaissance was informative and told us that we would have to keep our wits about us when we arrived. A wind of 55 knots was blowing offshore. It was not possible to make straight for the quay with the wind head on. At the critical moment I gave Steve the order to throw the mooring rope. Not being an experienced sailor and because of the strength of the wind, he missed.
I hurried to throw the rope again but it was already too late and I missed as well. Driven by the wind "Leica " would very soon be on the shingle. There was on last chance a final desperate attempt. I slammed the boat into reverse. The port rudder and the hull sped past the rock missing it by inches. After this narrow escape, we ran aground on a sand bank. With the engine at full throttle, we finally managed to get free. Jean Pierre threw the rope ashore and it was immediately picked up by a local fisherman. Saved !
The next few days were hell. The wind turned northerly and stormy. Waves breaking on the nearby beach made it impossible for "Leica " to escape. The sailor looking after the hotel owner's launch told me that several boats had sunk the previous year in such conditions. "Leica " danced and pulled at her mooring ropes as the waves crashed over the jetty. All we could do was wait... Steve kept watch on the boat night and day while I telephoned and faxed France to find a replacement for Jean Pierre who had to return to France.
Because of all this we lost 3 weeks. This, added to all the other delays was to compromise my photo of "Leica " sailing in the desert in front of the pyramids
Our financial situation threatened to stop us going on. On of our expedition sponsors had dropped out just before we left, making an enormous hole in the budget. Each moment of our cruise was a constant struggle against various difficulties and time and money were short.
Ewa and Melody headed back to France with a one day stop over planned to try and call on several magazines in a market which we hadn't tried before. At the first magazine office, Ewa hit the Jackpot. And sold almost our entire collection of reports to that press group.
"Leica " stocked up on provisions and set off for Alexandria making the most of a spell of good weather forecast with incredible accuracy by the Paris Meteorological office.
You could at least take you shoes off
When we arrived in Egyptian territorial waters, I let the Alexandrian port authorities know of our arrival. I was asked several times of the nature of my shipment. I tried in vain to explain that I was a small sailing ship coming from Crete and asked for a mooring.
"Yes captain stand-by, we'll call you back but tell me what is your shipment ?
After an hour of fruitless arguments the approaching land made it clear to me that I had to give the difficult landing priority over this problem of shipment. We entered the channel of the trade port after nightfall and looked for a spot to moor "Leica " in the middle of a confusion of cargo ships of all tonnages waiting on dropped anchor for a dock to unload their cargo.
Suddenly the massive shadow of a tug shot out from behind a tanker and bore down on us at full speed. Full astern the heavy steel hull passed came within inches of "Leica " 's fragile hull. The tug swerved round and headed back for us. I dodged it again shouting :
"Please no ! no ! stop it !
I heard laughter and what sounded like jokes or exclamations. On, a nearby quay, I could make out torch lights and a group signalling me towards them.
The beam of my halogen lamp lit up a group of uniformed officers. The only way to avoid being boarded violently was to head for that quay in the hope of finding someone who could speak English.
A Police launch appeared from nowhere with its siren wailing and tried to mow us down as well. It was completely crazy. On board its crew were laughing and joking and jumping around like kids. I just managed to avoid being boarded again and drew along side the quay.
The tug suddenly showed up again still at full speed and obviously intending to moor alongside my boat. I explained just in time to a Colonel of the security police that my fibreglass hull would not survive such a violent impact. A French saying : "histoire du pot de terre contre un pot de fer" (the clay pot fighting the iron pot)
Phew ! he understood and send the blind brute off into the night.
An officer asked me to go ashore with our passports and the boat's papers. They were rather friendly and offered me some tea. A security team was to board and search the boat. 5 or 6 people came forward, I objected and they then decided that 2 would be enough. They started at the front of the boat with the provisions. One of them opened a bag of flour. In spite of the tension I could not stop myself joking in English :
"Cocaine ! you want some ? "
He looked at me in an odd way sniffed the flour and smiled. Rolling his R's he replied :
"you are a very funny man !"
He relaxed. It was going ok and the search continued.ÿThey walked all over the bunks and sheets with their oil-covered boots. I got angry to no avail.
"Take off your shoes !"
No answer ...
"Have you got any weapons ?"
"What for ? - No ! no weapons. Er, yes, a spear gun ."
They looked at each other and the senior officer said :
"No problem !"
One of them came across the pen box, asked for one and when I told him to help himself, took two. Once the search had ended the police officers apologized.
"Sorry, we do our job"
And told us that we should have gone to the old East Port and that Egypt was afraid of further terrorist attacks following the assassination of one of President Moubarak's advisers. The Gulf crisis was well and truly upon us. Like a single answer to all the questions we might ask ourselves. The problems were only just beginning.
Another officer escorted us to the police port were we spent the night with "Leica " floating in a pool of oil. The port was filthy. We decided to go straight to the East Port the next day but for that night, "Leica " was the guest of the police and lay sweetly between two oily launches covered in dents and with their guard rails twisted or torn off. The long trail of administrative manoeuvring had begun.
Administration : the Egyptians invented papyrus ...
... and Napoleon introduced the basis for an administrative system and laws which are still in force today.
The Soviet presence and the communist system has left an indelible mark on this country by giving rise to a certain form of administrative procedure which has permeated and invaded all levels of society. It is painfully obvious that this real caste system seriously impedes the development of a country where many competent and willing people are stifled. This causes a brain drain toward foreign countries where the job opportunities and life style are much more attractive.
Egypt would clearly leap forward ten years in the space of one day if she could get rid of this system. A simple formality which should take five minutes can end up taking several weeks or months .
Yacht Club or Press & Information Bureau ?
I had been working on my project for two years. The Egyptian Tourist Office had put me in contact with the Government Information Service. The file was submitted and letters exchanged, mentioning the big question over whether we could find enough sponsors. We were given a name to contact in Cairo with a number to phone on our arrival in Egypt.
Luckily I was able (unofficially) to leave the port enclosure in Alexandria the night we arrived and go and phone Ewa in France. The next morning she confirmed our arrival to Leila Suliman in Cairo.
We moored in the East Port in the small hours on a pontoon in the Alexandria Yacht Club. Waiting patiently for us in the midst of a half a dozen extremely well dressed strangers, travel agents and shipping agents (news and business travel fast here) was the representative from the Alexandria Information Office.
The others rushed forward presenting their visiting cards. I was informed that the President of the Yacht Club wished to see me. A solitary man sat with his back to me, his armchair facing the port. I went towards him. He told me that without the Yacht Club I would be unable to do anything and I would have to go through a shipping agent to get the necessary authorizations.
I reply that already had them.
"And what about Customs, did you know you will have to pay a guarantee equal to the value of your boat ?"
I turned back towards the group and headed for the man from the Information Office who introduced himself. We hit it off immediately.
The way out had opened up. I had the strange impression of being like a hen escaping form a hen house full of hungry foxes. The business men went away. Hosni was a wizard at getting through administrative red tape and negotiated all the necessary authorizations for me except Customs which became an insurmountable obstacle.
The French Embassy in Egypt
Egyptian law is of course design to protect the country against any outrageous importation abuses. Many products entering the country are liable to a tax equivalent to the original value of the product. If the product is to leave the country again, as for example personal belongings such as "Leica " the owner has to pay a guarantee equivalent to the value of the boat.
This was impossible for us given our serious financial situation caused by the sponsor who had dropped out at the last minute. After spending a fortnight in Alexandria and many fruitless attempts to find a solution I ended up as a last resort by going to the French Embassy in Cairo.
Five minutes later, I came out jumping for joy holding a letter of guaranty in which the Embassy stood as guarantor.
The mouth of the Nile not where it should be
At last we left Alexandria and headed for the Nile Delta with the GPS computer on board which obtains its information from the American satellite system and is accurate to between the nearest fifteen to a hundred meters. It informed us that the Rashid branch of the mouth of the Nile was not where the map said it was. As there were no marker buoys we had to start looking for the entrance and eventually found it twenty meters wide between two sand beds and leading to a lagoon which had to be the Nile. We headed for this passe "Leica " kept grounding and scraping the bottom for over half and hour but finally we freed ourselves and entered the narrow passage. As we rounded a bend a police launch was waiting for us. I decided it was wise to head towards it to avoid any misunderstanding. Two officers asked in English to come onboard.
"Ok but take your shoes of".
They agreed without really understanding why and searched the boat with a great deal of respect and care. After having been subjected to the administrative pettiness of Alexandria, their natural kindness touched us greatly. We said good-bye and thanked them and continued on our way, at last ready to begin the amazing voyage through time and history.
We walked on the Nile !
Once off the well beaten tourist track, sailing up the Nile becomes a total adventure. For example, between its mouth and Cairo the river was blocked by a 3 kilometre-long carpet of floating Hyacinths which was so thick we were able to walk on the river.
We had to choose what to do next, either we could wait several tedious months for a natural clearing of the river thanks to the recent opening of upstream dams (following an enquiry by the Irrigation Department) or "Leica" could slip into the heart of the Nile Delta using almost impracticable irrigation canals. These canals had broken locks, rows of half sunken silted-up barges which we would have to move with local tractors, railways bridges which refused to open and all this would have to be achieved using only sign language.
Some of these obstacles could only be gone through one way. No return. (for example, the lock gate which a twenty-ton lorry had to pull open). "Leica " 's evacuation from this area could only be achieved by using a helicopter if we ever got completely stuck.
A centuries-old way of life
Apart from few little problems such as being attacked by a small-bore shot gun or stones being thrown by children (quickly scattered by a shot from a flare gun well over their heads) the adventure was often extremely positive in many ways : the incredible kindness of the local population and of the Egyptians in general . The Nile Delta provided us with one of the most beautiful farming frescos on our planet. It is also from day to day the incredible achievement of farmers who have such an ancient way of life and working and yet still manage to feed a country of more than forty million inhabitants worth an agricultural area the surface of which is no bigger than a French department.
Please, Ifta Kobre (Please open the bridge)
In spite of the pass issued by the highest Egyptian Government authorities (It was in fact an order to whoever might read it to give us unlimited help). One of the greatest difficulties we encountered was going through the locks and lifting or turning bridges which were to low for the boat to go under. As we were sailing through the canals of the Delta we experienced many difficult moments coming up against a language barrier, damaged mechanisms on opening bridges and bridge keepers unable to take the responsibility of letting us through or asking us for an enormous bribe.
On certain occasions we managed to understand that the bridge would remain closed for several days or even several weeks. On other occasions bridge keepers were so delighted to come face to face with Europeans and more especially a boat such as "Leica " that they would use all sorts of tricks to keep us with them as long as possible. Our slightest gesture or words or any friendly sign would send them into raptures of bliss. How could we have got angry with such people ?
For each problem, I had to cover miles of countryside walking, riding donkeys, hitch hiking, taking taxis or carts in order to visit the various local authorities. The Governor, Security Chief, the Police Chief, the River Police, the Director of Irrigation, the Army, the railway Chief etc....
In every administration at all levels in the hierarchy from the porter or cleaner to the man at the top. I had to work my way up patiently using gestures and drawings to try and explain my problem. Some people were too uneducated sometimes to understand these drawings in spite of their apparent willingness. I would go through questioning sessions that could last for hours. Because they had no photocopies the police or secret service officers would painstakingly copy the particular details of my passport and the many papers and authorizations I had to carry.
I would negotiate for hours, days on end, night even. The railway bridges were the most difficult to get open. On top of everything I was ill and full of antibiotics. At the worst moments I could no longer focus and everything went cloudy. No doctors were available and Jer“me and I had no choice but to struggle on with the same illness and the same treatment.
The climax : the road bridge at Shibin El Kom
As she waited, moored to the pillars of this bridge "Leica" became the curiosity of a gathering crowd.
More and more people kept arriving and swelling the numbers. Our situation was becoming more and more precarious. The current was very strong and made any manoeuvre to free ourselves rather tricky dangerous even because of the sharp, twisted metal structures which we hadn't seen when we arrived but which where just below the surface.
The bridge keeper here could speak perfect English and asked for a bribe of 400$. It was Friday, a public holiday and all the offices were closed so we couldn't do anything. We did a lot of talking and arguing trying to ignore the stones, bananaskins and debris of all kinds thrown at us by careless children allowed to do what they liked by the adults and the police standing by. Jer“me was on the bridge desperately attempting to hold back the crowd of children who were pressing nearer and nearer. His position was becoming unsafe in spite of the presence of a lot of English speaking adults powerless to help us out of our distress. The same phrases were repeated incessantly. And the same person would keep asking :
"What's your name ? What's your name ? What's your name ?"
" Asswan ? Asswan ? Asswan ? Asswan ?"
One person asking, Ok but five, ten or a hundred. No way ! it drove us mad.
We were exhausted and drained by fortnight of hell, eaten alive by lice, ticks, fleas and other such charming companions. I was at a loss as to how to escape this dead lock. In the end I went onto the boat and grabbed a bottle of methylated spirits.
The stupid, stubborn bridge keeper looked at me ironically and seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly whenever a stone hit the boat. He couldn't have care less about the authorisation we kept showing him and was only waiting for one thing : his 400 $.
Until then I had remained calm, patient, smiling, friendly and conciliatory. There had to be some way of finding a solution. If reason and gentleness were unproductive, pretence and determination had to work.
I worked myself up and pretended, without too much effort, to become angry showing a cold sudden rage.
Acting in a very convincing way I grabbed the collar of his djellaba and poured half a litre of alcohol (it was only water from an alcool botle) at his feet telling him that if did not let us through I would set fire to the boat and that he would be accountable for this to the Ministry of Tourism who had invited us to Egypt.
I lit my lighter. The flames licked the hem of his djellaba. His eyes wide with panic reflected the dancing flames at his feet and accentuated the terror which was beginning to show on his face. I let him go and he ran off saying something in Arabic about "ifta kobre, ifta kobre ". It had worked.
I thought to myself :
"Sorry old chap, I know an extra four hundred dollars in your purse would have rounded off the month nicely. No hard feelings, but you didn't leave me much choice. You don't realize, contrary to what you think I haven't got a hen that lays golden eggs. "
"Hey Jer“me, get back here quick. We're off !"
Our supporters on the bridge burst into applauses and finally convinced the police officers to fight back the crowd. The crowd moved slowly back in front of a row of police cars with wailing sirens and flashing lights which emphasized the apocalyptic chaos of the scene. Full speed ahead, we past under a shower of stones, old shoes or bit of shoes, seasoned with the juice of tomatoes bursting as they hit the deck. Those kids were dreadful. On foot and by bicycle they followed us along the banks. Once out of the sight of the police, when it was nice and dark they fired at us with slings ammunition splashing into the water just behind "Leica ". We were out of range. "Leica " left the town lights and disappeared into the night.
Phew ! what a nightmare ! but from then on the path was almost clear as far as Cairo. We only had another half dozen bridges and locks to get past.
"Ok Jer“me ?, that was quite a good one ! "
"Yeah ! when can we do it again ?"
"It won't be long."
After this incident, we had no further problems with bribery until Luxor.
The Nile labourers
The notion of time is an economic factor which belongs to modern civilisation. In developing countries this notion of time and space does not exist. Transport under sail is still viable in Egypt. On the banks of the Nile many abandoned feluccas bear witness to the history of these magnificent sailing ships threatened with disappearance. Soon all that will be left on the Nile are modern barges. The survival of these sailing ships is closely linked to the economic development of the country. Mustafa was the first felucca skipper we met who spoke perfect English. "Leica " seemed delighted to sail alongside a relic from another age. Loaded with huge stones the felucca sailed down wind weaving in and out of the sand banks, ploughing the Nile with its rustic bow. A godsend for "Leica " who was careful to conceal her thoroughbred background.
Followed in the wake of this unhoped for guide. At last a holiday and some easy navigation without having to constantly keep an eye on the depth guage.
For the photo, Jer“me, Ewa and Melody put up the spinnaker. Whilst from the Zodiac I hysterically shot rool and rool of Fuji Velvia.
Over the radio :
"He Jer“me, start up the engine and go into reverse, you're going to quickly!"
Mustafa worked six months of the year as an English teacher and the rest of the time sailed the Nile on his father's felucca. His felucca cost a fortune, 9.000,OO FF his sail area was impressive and it was obvious that this kind of boat had evolved slowly and was now totally adapted to transport conditions on the Nile.
A fluorescent green fire fly
All along the Nile and past the villages the stars mingled in the night sky with fluorescent green fire flies giving substance to the minarets. As a sign of the times these minarets are covered with enough powerful loud speakers to ensure that any traveller lost in the area does not get a wink of sleep. The exotic charm of the Muslim night slowly fell into a sleep-starved stupor.
The word of Allah reverberated over the waters of the Nile covering incredible distances and robbing us of any chance of getting a decent night sleep which we so badly needed. Koranic law imposed itself whether we liked it or not without a thought for any different religious beliefs.
And yet I clearly remember one poweful moment charged with poetry. I had heard a faint noise in the water near where "Leica " was moored, being worried and wary I got out my bunk and stuck my head out of the hatch.
Straight out of the Middle Ages, carried along by the current, a big two masted felucca glided smoothly past me. Her limply hanging sails cut their way through a bank of early morning mist which shone eerily in the watery light of the full moon. In the distance the minarets exchanged their long litanies of the word of Allah summoning the faithful to prayer. A heron soared up from the rushes. It was a magical moment. My thoughts went back to the dawn of time and I founded it hard to believe I was in the twentieth century.
"Allah akbar ... ! Allah akbar ... ! Allah akbar ... !"
Two silhouettes were busy controlling an enormous oar trying to keep the felucca in the flowing current. The scene faded slowly back to the future in the dark of the night. Had it been a dream ?
"No charge for looking Sir"
Of course we hadn't escaped from the racketeering which crops up in all sorts of places and circumstances. The Alexandrian Customs which had been most reasonable when the boat entered had been patiently awaiting our return. On the stretch around Luxor there is a very intense and feverish commerce carried out in such a professional way which holds everything to ransom and ensures a non stop transfer of money from one pocket to the next for the slightest reason. Even the porters in certain hotels have to pay royalties. The king pins of this racketeering amass colossal fortunes. In the streets of Luxor, the souvenir sellers benevolently allow you into their shops but make it very clear they are doing you a big favor by not charging you for looking : "No charge for looking Sir"
Bribery or 'backshish' is the name of the game but the well-informed traveller can easily see the dollar signs gleaming in the eyes of the locals. A classic example was the temple guard at Kom Ombo who was paid by the State to keep an eye on the site and who we came across during a photography session. As we headed back toward "Leica " he sighed an unintelligible word at every step. He repeated incessantly : "schhh ... schhh....schhh....schhh...." the sigh (like an expression of suffering steadily became a whisper and got louder and louder until, as the group approached the boat it became : "Backshish... Backshish...". The guard walked along bowed over looking for all the world like a mangy stray dog - what talent !. How unfair life is sometimes, this man would probably earn a lot more money as an actor. The beggar, a past master in his art of deceit and pretence cleverly arouses a kind of pity in the eyes of the onlooker and thereby obtains the money he is seeking.
The possible variations on this theme are endless. Even if this backshish bribery is a real epidemic we shouldn't over look the reasons why it exists : their extremely low wages do not always allow the Egyptians to live properly. On a hotel boat or in a five star hotel a waiter earns about 200 francs a month. A civil servant earns 300 francs, a university lecturer about 800 francs and so backshish bribery became accepted in this country and is now so wide-spread that it is important enough to form a real second economy. ( Customs, tourists guide, lock keepers, bridge keepers, tourist personnel, officials etc...) With or without alternatives they all supplement their incomes.
The financial condition in industrialized countries have absolutely nothing in common with those in a developing country like Egypt.
The inhabitants get by and manage to make ends meet. And even if poverty is frequent I never came across any cases of malnutrition and never heard of anyone dying of hunger in this country and even if it does happen it's very rare.
Out of ignorance the tourist often makes matters worse and destroys the delicate balance of the system by giving ridiculously generous tips. In this way he shows the locals that they no longer need to work to live. The sense and worth of working are lost and this is the worst thing that can happen to a population. The overgenerous tip is like a kiss of death.
If a recession occurs in the tourist trade (as is the case today) all the lowerpaid employees, many of whom only survive thanks to backshish, suddenly find themselves deprived of this source of income (this obviously doesn't apply to the king pins of real Mafia who have already built up their large fortunes by outrageous exploitation of others.)
It is difficult to envisage a solution to this problem which soon or later will turn the crowd away from this otherwise charming country.
Security and personal safety
The Egyptians are a kind and gentle race. And I never felt my life to be in danger (the incident of Elephantine Island was an accident - see below) even if in certain situations or places or individuals one can, with experience detect a great potential for violence. This is true of peoples all over the world. With or without the Gulf Crisis the souks of Cairo or any other Egyptian town seemed to be far safer than certain areas in our towns or the Paris Metro late at night. With "Leica " we were sometimes careful to drop anchor only after night fall along the banks of the Nile at a distance from the villages. We only had one scare and that was when a sound woke me and I drove off a stranger with my boat hook (I aimed to miss his hands as he hung on to the boat.) I still have no idea what he wanted but I wasn't going to wait and find out. With hindsight I supposed he meant no harm and had probably accidently run into our boat and was trying to regain his balance.
Another interesting experience : we usually shopped at the village markets on route. At Kom Ombo Ewa, Melody and I was amking our way through a brightly coloured crowd. In Egypt, children are treated like lords and because of Melody, many people smiled and welcomed us. Suddenly a little girl holding her mother's hand tugged at Ewa sleeve and held out her wallet with a wad of banknotes sticking out (about a thousand francs) an absolute fortune when you consider the wages and standard of living. This gesture touched us deeply, just try dropping you wallet in a French supermarket.
How to get through a lock without enough water
There is one anecdote which brings home the sort of daily problems we came up against. Navigating the Nile contrary to what you might think when you see the hotel boats is not all that easy for various reasons. For example the annual drop of the river level (regulated by the dams for agricultural reasons) demands many years experience on the part of their captains. The drag of these boats is less than one metre twenty and is essential. These captains recruited from among the feluccas skippers have no special education and rarely speak English but they know every foot of the river and their sense of observation draws night and day on a formidable visual memory. They couldn't believe their eyes when they saw "Leica " speeding along under spinnaker at Asswan especially when they learnt that there had been no guide onboard since Alexandria. Our secret weapon, the depth guage and the logic of the laws of liquids, the current because of centrifugal force erodes the outer curve of the river bed and consequently the water is at its deepest here. It gets more complicated when you realize that the surface of the river can conceal a bed which is totally different to what you are led to believe by the aspect of the banks.
On top of all that, you have to find the passage which allows you to change banks, as of course the depth is closely linked to the width of the main current (wide = little depth and sand banks, narrow = everything Ok average depth 3 to 6 metres . At Asswan the maximum depth registered by "Leica " was 52 metres.)
Everything had gone o.k. until the day at Hammadi where the sill of the lock only had a depth of 50 centimetres compared to the 90 centimetre drag required by the loaded "Leica " . The water level remains low for one or two months every year many barges and hotel boat wait several weeks for the river level to rise so they can get through. The lock keepers tried to explain that it was impossible to go through. We would have to wait. But one of my mottos is that every problem has a solution.
Faced with the collapse and failure of the expedition (a month or more's wait was financially impossible) I sat thoughtfully watching a barge running its engine and powerfully churning up the waters of the Nile. Eureka !!!
Then followed negotiations, discussions, drawings, gestures and the clinching argument of the God Dollar. I finally managed to get 2 barges to back up to the entrance of the lock where, moored at full speed ahead, they powered the water into the confined space were where the level rose ostensibly. And "Leica ", transformed into a hybrid vehicle 3 x 4 ( keel and 2 rudders) bobbed, scraped and protested her way slowly forward as the barge engines screamed. The water boiled and the level rose. On board we jumped to lessen the weight of the boat. She ended up high and dry in the lock when the barge engines stopped. It didn't bother me at all. The lock gate closed and "Leica " escaped from the trap to the accompaniment of the cheers and applauses of the large and enthusiastic crowd which had gathered. The whole town must have turned out.
The Gulf Crisis
In Egypt even if you have to learn how to ask for permission to request permission to get authorizations, nothing is impossible. The secrets are the time, the patience , the tenacity and the legendary kindness of the Egyptians. The many permits from the various departments (Antiquities, Police Security, Information, Tourism, River Police, Airforce, Tourist Police) were given and everything was prepared for the finale but the Gulf War put a stop to it all. The Egyptian Airforce suddenly became preoccupied with other worries and cancelled the mission. But I didn't give up and decided to attempt the operation using a lorry and a crane.
A powerful economic weapon
During the Crisis Egypt was abandoned by the tourists. Terrorist threats hung over Egypt as they did over every country near or far from the Gulf. Without the worry of a boat the traditional tourist could have a marvellous journey far away from the crowd and bustling din. At no time were we in any more danger in the tourist areas of Egypt that anywhere else in the world. The threats were mainly an easy but terribly efficient economic weapon. Their effect on the future will probably be as damaging as bombs themselves would have been. Egypt, as everyone knows is struggling against many problems not least of which is the effect of its galloping demography. The Crisis cut off Egypt's principal source of income : tourism. The country's economic balance which was already precarious is now in a spinning nose dive towards a dismal and devastating future. Pro-Iraqi extremism is not currently the main threat to Egypt as the majority of the population realizes that tourism is being driven away by the war. But, if for any reason, this population sees its standard of living (already very low) dropped below an acceptable threashold the risk of rioting could spread like wild fire.
The hospitality and generosity of the poor
We spent some marvellous moments with the Nile people. They are a race apart, barge men, feluccas skippers and even the fishermen's families who spend their lives living on boats along the river which are so small that their is no room to lie down to sleep. These simple people who have absolutely no belonging always offered us tea, vegetables, bread or fish, caught using a fishing technique which dates back to the pharaohs.
Execution and Vendetta
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How could we forget that enchanting balmy evening with the moonlight flickering in a myriad of dancing flames in the waters of the Nile. We sat in the cockpit of "Leica " enjoying a fizzy drink when suddenly, about a kilometre from the boat, rockets started exploding and the staccato sound of automatic weapons was punctuated by grenades going off. There were battle cries and shouts of agony, horror and death which rose up in a night sky streaked by tracer bullets. A red rocket signalled the end of the hostilities followed a short time after by the shouts and cries of the women who had come to pick up the dead. When we arrived in Luxor the authorities explained that centuries old vendettas existed between certain families. There is a whole tradition behind it. A code of honour governs these combats. A family who has lost one of its members in this sort of feud (even going back several generations) plans to take revenge and carefully chooses the member of the rival family in order to cause as much damage and be as destructive and efficient as possible. The victim is usually the richest, most cultivated member of the family. In their village, the children of the rival families grow up and go to school together. All through their childhood they play together with their friend who suddenly by some implacable logic becomes a mortal enemy when they come of age.
The chosen victim is aware of his fate and knows cannot escape anywhere in the world. The vendettas are always carried out. The only way he can get out of it is to take the shroud which should be used for his burial and hand it over to the rival family.
Any notion of revenge is thereby immediately effaced. By doing this he is, however, admitting defeat and tainting the honour of his family which often chooses to eliminate the black sheep itself.
This combat is not really dangerous for an outsider who might happen to get in the way of the attack. The firing stops long enough to let him get out the way and then starts up again. Not knowing this we had been petrified that night given the context of the international Crisis as we thought the Soudan was invading.
Asswan
Night was falling, "Leica " disappeared in the distance. On board our Zodiac "Armor Nautic", I sped towards our destination a few kilometres away to find a felucca skipper capable of guiding us in . Even if we had managed to come up the Nile running aground a few times on sand banks, it wasn't the same at all here where blocks of granite were concealed just below the surface of the water. Not the sort of thing to try and guess at with the depth gage.
I came back on board with a rare treasure of a guide who successfully ran us onto the stones at a speed of 5 knots, told me that he knew the spot well without explaining why he hadn't avoided it and promptly asked for an enormous backshish as a reward. What a nerve. But nothing surprised us any more. I simply regretted that the crocodiles had long ago vanished on that side of the dam as I would gladly have strangled my guide and thrown him over board as fodder for such friendly little creatures.
The entire structure of the port rudder was damage. Even if we got it to work, I knew it would be very risky to go down the Nile with the current. We would almost certainly run aground. The rudder could get torn off causing a leak which would sink "Leica " . It would be even more foolish to face the Mediterranean storms in this condition.
We spent 23 days in Asswan trying to solve our many problems.
The sponsor who had dropped out at the last minute had undermined our all voyage. Financing had become a major preoccupation and we often found ourselves with a question mark hanging over the entire expedition and yet at the last minute finding the funds which would enable us to go on to the next stage. This time everything seemed lost, wild with despair we were going all out to try and sell some of our many reports to all sorts of magazines sending them by fax and phone not knowing what tomorrow would bring. It had worked in Greece, why shouldn't it work in Spain ?
Ewa and Melody went back to France on their way to conquer the Spanish market.
The Security Chief of the Egyptian territory gave me his go-ahead in Cairo to take "Leica " over the dam toward Abu Simbel. In spite of strict orders to let us pass the security Chief at Asswan drove us up the wall for twenty-three days , one day yes, one day no, one day yes. We transported "Leica " along the road toward the dam. One of his officers came and asked us to turn back at the last minute. Golf Crisis or backshish which we hadn't paid since Luxor as we could no longer afford it. In either case this man, ignoring the orders of a superior officer, seemed particularly badly suited to his job of protecting this dam which meant the survival of his country.
It was exhausting. I was there to take photos and in all those 23 days I only managed to spend 2 hours taking pictures in that superb scenery. Once Cairo had intervened again, I finally got the green light which seemed genuine this time. But the radio and newspapers announced threats of attack from Sudan (Mr Mohamed Hussein of the Asswan Information Office informed me that an Iraqi missile base in Sudan had been destroyed by the Egyptian planes) We had just spent 2 days confined to our hotel surrounded by guards armed to the teeth and sleeping in every possible corner. In this context I unwillingly decided to cancel the cruise on Lake Nasser. I wasn't even sure if I still had the authorization to bring "Leica " back to the right side of the dam.
I struggled for a week in vain to try and find a lorry and I finally telephoned one of my new found friends at the French Embassy in Cairo.
"We'll see what we can do ."
A few days later, Fickry telephoned me. He is the head of transport planning for the SOGEA Metro of Cairo.
"But how much would the transport cost ?"
"What? don't worry, we'll sort everything out"
"But your lorry, how much do we have to pay"
"Do you need a crane, we can get you one ! no problem, we'll sort it out !"
A dialogue of the deaf impossible to get a quote for the transport cost. Something wasn't quite right. This man on the phone didn't sound like a mercenary trader thirsty for profit and backshish who would hold a knife at my throat as he presented his bill. His voice was clear and so were his thoughts.
Luck was at hand. I didn't need to explain that I was at the end of my tether drained and exhausted and tested by all the worries and doubts of the moment. At last I understood, floating on a little cloud of happiness, that Fickry and SOGEA contacted by the French Embassy were spontaneously and freely offering me the chance to get "Leica " out by road.
A gesture of solidarity which I will never forget.
I would just like to mention quickly that the Cairo Metro is the modern underground equivalent of the Pyramids. Its construction was a real feat of strength and exploit in the widest sense of the term.
A hectic evening or a close escape
We had been invited for diner on Elephantine Island at Asswan and landed at night by Zodiac. Almost as soon as we had landed a man called to us in Arabic from about 20 metres. Dominique my crew man carried on saying:
"Forget it just someone asking for money again"
We took a few more step and the man spoke again. This time, his voice was more emphatic. Instinct and experience in Africa made me stop.
"He may be armed"
I shone my torch on the man and was shocked to make out a revolver in his shaking, uncertain hand. I turned the torch on us to show we were not armed. We walked slowly toward him saying the few Arabic words we had learned during the voyage.
"No problem, everything is all right, Ok ..."
We might as well get as near as possible to this man to try and disarm him before one of his jerky movement accidently fired his gun. Just when I decided to leap into action the man, who was getting more and more nervous, lowered his gun. The heat of the moment, the adrenaline and all the rest....
The danger was over and we told him the name of Josephine the Dutch woman who live on the island with her 3 children. We then spent a charming evening with this marvellous family exiled here in the middle of nowhere.
Elephantine Island is a tourist spot which has many visitors during the day and the only way to get there is with a guided tour in a felucca. Several weeks before, local archeological sites had been pillaged. The Antiquities Department had absolutely no excuse for giving a weapon to an illiterate guard who would soon or later come across innocent travellers landing by mistake outside the usual hours of the guided tours.
It goes without saying that there were no warning signs or no entry signs because nothing was forbidden.
The sun is crying
We loaded "Leica " onto the finest lorry in the world with a few problems. Dominique and 2 Egyptians friends were to follow in a taxi. Comfortably settled in a plane after a stop-over in Luxor, I noticed the road which follows the Nile and suddenly spotted my boat. I was flying over one of the most beautiful rivers in the world and my mind was flooded with thousands of memories from our adventure. That was where we ran aground, on that bend we stopped in that village, and so on... Life was beautiful, the view was splendid and I found myself in my favourite observation position way up in the air.
I went on ahead to Cairo to solve any problems which might arise concerning the shot in front of the Pyramids. There was some semblance of organisation in spite of the Gulf Crisis and all the necessary green lights were given so the photo could be taken. Determination and persistence always pay off in this job in the end.
A kind of innocence, obstination and wild optimism have always enabled me to get through any obstacles.
I called France from the hotel.
"Hello Ewa ?"
" Alain, I have just got back from Spain. I have sold everything."
On the other side of the world Melody was getting impatient and wanted to speak to me .
"Hello Daddy, are you coming home ...guess what ?... the sun is crying here "
"What do you mean, crying ?"
"It's raining in Le Croisic ..."
"You know what Melody, it's almost over, I'll be home soon."
The rain ! I found it hard to imagine.
Check mate
I was jubilant. Thanks to the Spanish magazines we would be able to load "Leica " onto a cargo ship. I told Ewa that we had sorted everything out and that I was at last going to get the photo.
"Ewa, the photo's within reach. We have got all the go-aheads and green lights from everyone. The Information Office and the Secretary of State for tourism who has asked me to take a photo with a sign in front of the boat saying "Here is Peace - Egyptian Tourism Office"... they are really enthusiastic, everything is Ok , it's great ..."
The lorry arrived at the foot of the Pyramids one morning. Everything was perfect, even the lighting. Then a group of people came towards us, a woman asked to speak to us and without even introducing herself told us to leave the spot immediately and that it was an emergency. The site was under threat from a terrorist attack. With heavy hearts we set off for Alexandria.
After 10 more days of an assault on the administrative red tape and the port customs "Leica " was transported back to France on a cargo ship.
I later learnt that the women who asked us to leave the Pyramids zone had absolutely no authority to do so and that on that day, there had been no threat of a terrorist attack. She was in fact merely a secretary whose name and position I learned unofficially : " Mrs Amal Samawel" from the Antiquities Department.
This department had been informed of the situation by the Ministry of Tourism and everything had been accepted. The Antiquities Department had struck again but this time they had really excelled themselves.
I also started worrying now about my photos. What would they be like ? Anything could happen to the 250 rolls of films as they arrived for processing at the film laboratory.
One glance at the outside world however reminded me that mine was only one small problem among many other much bigger problems and terrible hardships.
As an American friend use to say : " At the height of the storm just remember that things could always be worse ".
Today the suspense continues. As far as the articles are concerned I have the best profession in the world, I am really lucky and have a marvellous family waiting for me in Le Croisic.
Le Croisic in the rain ? How marvellous !
What about the next report ? .... very soon ... in Egypt ... Inch Allah !
In conclusion, I hope that the international magazines, by opening their pages to my photos will encourage the readers to spend their next holidays in this marvellous country. Let them be assured that the Egyptian tourist organisers are totally professional and will ensure they will not experience the minor inconveniences we came across as we travelled of the beaten track.
Texte par Alain Guillou
GENERAL INFORMATION
Navigation techniques on the Nile
Navigating on the Nile might seem easy when you are settled comfortably on the bank and watching one of the 300 hotel boats which sail between Luxor and Asswan or Cairo and Luxor.
"Leica " came across many problems.
A - Limited depth not always sufficient for her drag
B - Totally impossible to obtain any information on the water depth of the locks and more delicate passages of the Nile. All we knew was that the depth was at its yearly low.
C - State of the Nile - often blocked, for example by water Hyancinths or Nile flowers. Poor maintenance of the irregation canals we took to go through the heart of the Delta.
D - Lack of information about the difficult passages.
E - Lack of information, again concerning the height of the bridges no precise details were given. "Leica " normally draws 76 cm, when loaded she draws approximately 90 cm. The choice of the boat was therefore a key factor. It had to be a sailing boat with a centerboard retractable keel able to sail with its keel up without drifting too much even when close to the wind.
Of course the boat had to be faultess when at sea. The mediterranean sea is no joke. The First 305 Beneteau a centerboard retractable keel boat with 2 rudder blades was the obvious choice in spite of 2 minor defects regarding the specific needs of our expedition.
1) It was difficult to adapt an efficient system for taking down the mast
2) Although the two rudder blades at the stern are tremendously effective at sea, especially in stormy weather and although they unable you to keep control of the listing boat for a longer time, it was not possible when we ran aground in the Nile to reduce the draft artificially by making the boat heel. The only way to free ourselves was to make the stern heavier by gathering all the crew there. Getting free was thus achieved by sheer effort.
THANKS
I want to thank very heartily all the people who helped me make this report possible and understood the impact of this undertaking on the media and how helful it could be to the development of tourism in Egypt.
SOGEA Metro du Caire, French Embassy, Press and Information Governement Agency, Tourist Development Office, The Egyptian Airforce authorities who sponteneously adopted the idea of transporting "Leica " in front of the Pyramids and on Lake Nasser by helicopter, (see the image on picture nø 20 design by Christian Patty)
A special thanks to Choukry Saad the Public Relation Officer of the Asswan Tourist Office without whom nothing would have been possible in that town and of course all the sponsors who contributed to this expedition.
One last word about the resistance and exptional qualities of "Leica "'s structure, a First 305 Beneteau that had to face wind of over 120 km/Hour between Crete and the Peloponnese. Local meteorological engineers gave much higher figures because of the accelerating effect in the funnel created by the mountains on the Crete side.
The wind whipped up wave 4 to 8 meters high sometimes even higher. The day of the storm supertankers, ferries and other big ships thought it better to shelter behind the Peloponnese until the storm was over.
Alain Guillou has many photographic reports to his name published in the most important French and Interntional magazines : National Geographic, Life, Stern, Bunte, Le Figaro Magazine, Paris Match, Geo etc.... (Europe, North and South America, Japan, Australia and the Middle East).
Among his best known reports : (several hundred publications) Malcolm Forbes the American Millionaire, flying over Kenya with motorised parachute, Reconstitution of the First Manned Flight for the Bi-Centenial of Air & Space, Going across Iceland by snow sailboard, Venice in the snow, the Swedish Navy Girls, Balloon Safaris in Kenya.
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T H E P H A R A O H C R U I S E
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The crowning glory of some sailor's careers isto round the Cape Horn.
For Photo-journalist Alain Guillou,
it was to capture a picture of his yacht "Leica"
under full sail on the sand dunes of the desert,
in front of the pyramids of Giza
where the Nile flowed two thousand years ago
A sympbolic view of the threat to Egypt in a single shot:
the drying of the Nile
Once off the well-beaten tourist track, sailing up the Nile becomes a total adventure. For instance, between the mouth of the Nile and Cairo, the river was blocked by a three kilometre-long carpet of floating hyacinths, so thick that we were able to walk across the Nile.
We had a choice. Either we could wait several months for a natural clearing, or our yacht LEICA , a B‚n‚teau First 305, could slip onto the heart of the Nile Delta using irrigation canals.
The canals had broken locks, rows of half sunken, silted-up barges-which we would have to move with local tractors- and railway bridges which refused to open. Some of these obstacles could only be overcome once. There would be no return.
Even with a pass issued by the highest Egyptian Government authorities we faced difficulties; the language barrier, damaged mechanisms on swing bridges, bridges keeper unable to take the responsibility of letting us through, or asking us for an enormous bribe.
Sometimes I spent hours, days nights even, negotiating to solve problems. I covered miles of countryside walking, riding donkeys, hitch-hiking, or taking taxis to find the right authorities. We waited at one point, moored to the pillars of a road bridge at Shibin El Kom, as our yacht became the centre of curiosity for a gathering crowd. The bridge-keeper, who spoke perfect English, asked for a bribe of $400. It was Friday, a public holiday and all the offices were closed. We did a lot of talking and arguing trying to ignore the stones, banana shins and debris thrown at us by children. The bridge-keeper seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly whenever a stone hit the boat. He couldn't have care less about the authorisation we kept showing him. He was waiting his $400.
Up to now I had been calm, patient, smiling and friendly. If reason and gentleness were unproductive, perhaps anger would work. I grabbed the collar of his djellaba telling him that if he did not let us through, I would set fire to the boat and ha would accountable to the Ministry of Tourism who had invited us to Egypt. His yes widened with panic. I let him go and we ran off shouting something in Arabic about " Ifta Kobre ! Ifta Kobre !Ifta Kobre ! It had worked .
Our supporters on the bridge burst into applause. Full speed ahead, we passed under a shower of stones, old shoes or bits of shoes, seasoned with the juice of tomatoes bursting as they hit the deck.
Contrary to what you might think when you see the tourist boats navigating the Nile is not all that easy. The annual drop of the river level (regulated by the dams for agricultural reasons) demands many years' experience.
The skippers of tourist boats and feluccas couldn't believe their eyes when they saw Leica speeding along under spinnaker at Aswan, especially when they learnt that there had been no guide on board since Alexandria. Our secret weapon was the depth sounder.
At Aswan, the maximum depth registered by Leica was 52 m. At Hammadi, the sill of the lock only had a depth of 0,5m compared to the 0,9m draught required by Leica. The water level remains low for one or two months every year, and many barges and tourists boats are forced to wait several weeks for the level to rise so they can get through. Faced with the collapse and failure of our expedition ( a month or more's wait was financially impossible), I watched a barge running its engine and churning up the waters of the Nile . Eureka!
Negotiations, drawings and gestures followed, with a deal clinched by money. I managed to get two barges backed up to the entrance of the lock where, moored and their engines running at full speed, the water boiled into the confined space and the level rose. Leica bobbed, craped and protested her way slowly forward, ending up high and dry in the lock. The gate closed and we escaped from the trap to cheers from an enthusiastic crowd.
In Egypt nothing is impossible. The secrets are time, patience and tenacity. We had managed to come so far up the Nile, running aground a few times on sandbanks, but now there were blocks of granite concealed below the surface.
I went in search of a felucca shipper to act as our pilot. The chosen fellow ran us disastrously on to rocks at a speed of 5 knots, and promptly asked for baksheesh as a reward. I regretted that the crocodiles had long vanished. I would gladly have thrown our pilot overboard as a delicacy for these symphatic animals.
The port rudder was badly damaged and, even repaired, it would be risky to go down the Nile with its strong current. We spent 23 days in Aswan trying to solve our problems, which included our sponsor dropping our. During all that time I only managed to spend two hours taking photographs against the spectacular backdrop.
Then the Gulf War threatened to stop our journey. The Security Chief of the Egyptian territory gave me the go ahead to use a lorry to take Leica over the dam toward Abu Simbel. But with radio and newspaper reports of threat of attack from the Sudan, I reluctantly cancelled the cruise planned on Lake Nasser.
We loaded the yacht on to a lorry and retraced our route back to Cairo. I flew ahead to organise a photo shoot in front of the pyramids at Giza. The plan was to picture Leica under full sail buried up to her waterline in sand. The Nile flowed there thousands of years ago and the picture would symbolise the sword of Damocles hanging over Egypt - the drying up of the Nile.
The lorry arrived with Leica on a morning perfect for photography. Then a woman official told us the site was under threat for a terrorist attack and ordered us to leave immediately. We had no choice. I learned later that the woman was merely a secretary. There had been no threat of a terrorist attack. We had been thwarted. But we took heart in the fact that Leica was to our knowledge, the first modern yacht to voyage up the Nile as far as Aswan.
Text by Alain Guillou
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Alain Guillou 's expeditions have included crossing Iceland by snow sailboard, balloon safari in Kenya, Motorised parachutes flying over the savanna in Kenya, The US millionaire Malcolm Forbes, Flying a motorised hang glider over Paris and under the Eiffel Tower.
Alain Guillou's reports were featured in international magazines over Europe, Japan, Middle East, North & South America, Australia and particularly in National Geographic, Life, Stern, Paris Match, Le Figaro Magazine, Geo, etc...