Down the lazy (Nile) river

We'd arranged to meet Sero, captain of a small falukah vessel at 10:30 Wednesday morning to sail down the river toward Luxor. It took a while for Sero to collect water bottles and food in town, but eventually we were off.










The falukah had a shade cover, and the deck was covered with comfy mattresses where we slept under blankets at night. Sero pulled fabric around the sides to make it like a tent.

Sero at the tiller.

We passed several cruise ships on the way, but they seemed to carry only a small number of guests, while dozens of other ships sat idle. The dramatic drop in tourism since the revolution has many people struggling. Ironically, it's quite safe in the Nile Valley.

The falukah has sails only, no motor.  Against the breeze, we tacked back and forth with the current and made good time on the first day, yet had plenty of time to take in the sights. This fisherman was slapping the water to drive fish into his net.

Every couple of hours, we'd stop for lunch or a potty break. The latter involved some creativity and an improvised digging implement, as the river is bordered by mostly rural agricultural land. It took a while to figure out that this big wheel lifts water from a canal using donkey power. Donkeys, along with some camels, are the main work animals, and the donkeymotor for this wheel was dozing nearby.

Every time we'd climb up the river bank, we'd find a small farm. Alfalfa, used for animal feed, is a main crop, along with vegetables.

In the late afternoon, Sero and our boatman Murat would tie up to the river bank and prepare dinner. And though it's mostly rural, nearly all of Egypt's population lives along the Nile, so it's a busy place. Yet despite passing ships, the drone of pump stations, the railroad and highway, calls to prayer from the mosques, and the complaints of camels and donkeys, it was a peaceful journey.




Water birds, as well as hawks and falcons, frequent the river. To the ancient Egyptians, the ibis was the god of writing and knowledge--a kindred spirit of sorts to me.

A kingfisher scans the river for his next meal.

We took a walk above the river on the first evening and spotted a small fox running for cover.

The next day was dead calm, so we pushed off and let the river take us slowly downstream. About noon a breeze came up, and Murat raised the sail.

Sero and Murat were always exchanging banter with other boat crews and friends along the river, and a friend of Murat's invited us to see his home and have a cup of hibiscus tea.

It's a humble compound with five separate dwellings; one looked to be new. The central courtyard with surrounding rooms reminded me of traditional New Mexico architecture.

The word adobe is actually of Arabic origin. The mud brick construction method migrated from North Africa to Spain to the New World, and is still used at times in the US Southwest. In our last house we had adobe thermal walls, and our present home has one as well. In Egypt it rarely rains, so they hold up well.

The patriarch of the family still works the farm, here taking a load of alfalfa for the animals. His son (left) made friends with a Canadian novelist (Lynnette D'Anna?) traveling in Egypt, who bought him a new boat. Lucky guy. Many of the local people we've met just have hearts of gold.









Back on the river, we passed these sandals, which despite the use of big barges, are still used to carry cargo.








After one more night on the river, Murat and a friend who came by the night before rowed us across the glassy river to meet our guide Mohammed. Next stop: Luxor.