Sahara Scouting Trip

October 9 to 25, 2005, Charlie Engle and Don Webster
OCTOBER 9TH
Don flew from Charlottesville, VA and I flew from Greensboro, NC. We met at Dulles Airport in DC. Don spotted me first and politely walked past as I was talking to an attractive woman at a table in the food court. Had he noticed her glass eye and prosthetic leg, he may have been able to save me. As it stands, that is one hour of my life that I will never get back.

We boarded our overnight flight to Paris. The food on Air France was pretty good. So were the movies. Little did we know that this was the same meal and the same 5 movies that we would be served on every other Air France flight during this journey.

OCTOBER 10
Don and I arrived in Paris and took the train to the city for a meeting with Mohammed Ixa and his manager Judith. Mohammed primarily speaks French so Judith translated to English for us. Don also speaks passable French so the translation was mostly for me. I speak broken English very well so I was surprised when I was asked to stop talking so much. As most people know, I am quiet by nature.

After some social niceties, we got down to the business of discussing the expedition. If you can picture this, we are four people sitting outside a beautiful Paris café looking at giant maps of the Sahara Desert on our table. Mohammed is dressed in his traditional manner, white head scarf and long flowing light blue robes. He is a truly striking man but with a very genuine and pleasant nature. He really thinks that I am crazy to attempt this run, but he is more than willing to join the craziness (and take our money). By the way, due to a baggage handling screw up, Don is dressed in clothes that I will threaten to burn on more than one occasion during this trip.

First we discussed vehicles. We informed Mohammed that we may have Toyota as a sponsor for vehicles. He was pleased by this but requested that the vehicles come with some specific specs such as high ground clearance, fat sand tires, manual transmission, GPS (although he normally uses TPS-Tuareg Positioning System), roof racks, extra large fuel tanks. Of course he is happy to provide vehicles also. Most of his trucks are Land Cruisers and Range Rovers. Of course his price would be less if we provide the vehicles. Overall, the meeting went great and he is very willing to take us across the desert. In all likelihood, he will guide us from Saint Louis, Senegal to Agadez, Niger and then Piero Rava will take us the rest of the way. The reasons for this are many but basically it boils down to the fact that Mohammed does not like to travel in Chad or Libya. He is Tuareg and the Chadians are Tubu. These two ethnic groups don’t really trust each other. They don’t fight. They simply avoid each other.

During the meeting, we mapped out the route very specifically. The first few weeks of the expedition will take us through many towns and villages, so re-supplying should be easy. This will also allow the crew to get their rhythm without feeling totally isolated in the desert. I will provide a detailed version of the route, including highlights, at our next meeting.

So Mohammed is just waiting for a start date from us so we can begin the specific planning phase. He is very excited and has tremendous resources. He and his people know every inch of the Eastern Sahara. He is incredibly famous and well respected. He assured us that our safety would be his top priority but he also emphasized that there is no threat of any kind that we should be concerned with. I can attest to the fact that throughout my trip to the Sahara, I NEVER felt at risk for even one second. Okay, there was the one time when I saw Don naked in the desert but that was a totally different kind of risk. If only LA were that safe.

OCTOBER 11
Next we flew to Dakar, Senegal, where we were met by some of Mohammed’s people. Don’s luggage did not show up and never would. The real tragedy was that the French coffee press was lost to us for the entire journey. Also Don smelled a little gamey sometimes. I loaned him some clothes. He doesn’t know it, but I gave him underwear that I had already worn. I figured he couldn’t be too picky. I did feel kind of bad when that rash developed though. I probably should have told him.

The next day we drove to Saint Louis, Senegal which is north of Dakar by a couple of hours. Saint Louis is basically made up of three distinct areas. The first is the mainland area which is where the largest part of the population lives. To reach the second area, we crossed a long bridge to an island which is where we found accommodations. Rooms were reasonable (about $40) and clean. After checking in, we had the driver take us to the third area, a peninsula across another bridge. At the north end of the most eastern street was the Atlantic Ocean, which Don and I ceremoniously dipped our hands into. Then I took off running north for about 100 feet. (is it bad that I was out of breath?) Had I continued, I would have crossed into Mauritania pretty quickly. This will be a perfect place to start the expedition. Essentially, Saint Louis is a quaint fishing village with an incredible history and beautiful, friendly people. In fact, it was the first French Colony in all of Africa. We ate in a restaurant close by the hotel and listened to some local musicians. The weather is mild most of the year. As in all Islamic parts of the world, shorts are frowned upon in the cities. Wearing shorts and tank tops in the desert will be fine but everyone will have to wear long pants in the cities and towns.

Generally speaking, the people of Saint Louis were very attractive. Dark skin and beautiful features. We encountered nothing but friendly and helpful people. They speak French primarily although they are used to a certain amount of tourism, so English is also understood by many. Especially if there is money involved. Many of the women wear traditional colorful outfits all of the time. They take their fashion pretty seriously. Quite a few people were dressed in western clothes, blue jeans and t-shirts. Being right on the Atlantic, fishing provides much of the industry in Saint Louis. While most of the people were practicing Muslims, the attitude in Western North Africa is pretty progressive and has an edge to it. Also, since we were visiting during Ramadan, activity in the streets was an all night thing.

We did encounter some aid groups in Saint Louis. One program that was interesting was staffed by a group of volunteer teachers that comes from around the world to help in the schools. Unicef is also represented in Saint Louis.

Saint Louis, Senegal would be a great place to start our journey. It is a less compelling place to finish our expedition. One thing that we will all have to grow accustomed to is that we are the circus coming to town. People will flock to us and they will want to sell us things and take us places. Get used to it quickly and learn to say “no thank you” politely. We will always have native people with us that will help to deflect some of the attention.

OCTOBER 12
After returning to Dakar, we headed to the airport and our flight to Niamey, Niger. Niamey is a big crazy city of many millions of people. Don and I decided to hang in Niamey for a day and get a little rest. We had company from more of Mohammed’s guys. One man really stood out from the rest. His name is Modani Diak. He is 26 years old and a native Tuareg from Niger. Much of his formal education took place in Paris. He speaks English, French and several other African dialects used in the desert (Hausa). Most importantly, he is the son of Mono Diak, the leader of the famous Tuareg revolution of the early 1990s. His famous father died in a plane crash in 1995. It is also worth noting that Mohammed Ixa worked with Mono Diak as his right hand man. These are all really important people in the region and will be wonderful characters in the movie.

We became friends with Modani and ultimately tried to convince him to join us for our journey across the desert. He politely refused due to a commitment in Paris beginning in February. At this point he did not realize that I am not known for my grace or willingness to give up easily. So after delving further, we figured out that his job in Paris was to help a group of troubled young people. Ultimately we convinced him that helping us would allow him a greater chance to help the kids he will be working with. This guy will make an enormous difference for our team. We will be talking to him again in early November to finalize a deal. Basically, Don Webster and Modani Diak will work together as the dynamic duo of logistics and problem solving as we cross the desert. We still have to negotiate a rate of pay but it will basically be part of our vehicle and guiding budget. I told Modani that money was no object and that we could go as high as $100. Suffice it to say, my sense of humor doesn’t always translate well to other languages. He probably laughed about it later, or not.

Agadez, Niger is about 1000 km from Niamey. Don and I planned to hire a car to take us but it was going to cost at least $300 each way and being fiscally responsible, we agreed that was too high. So we sucked it up and bought tickets for the public bus. Twenty-one bucks each. What better way to see the desert, right? We boarded the bus at about 5:00 AM, along with about 1,000 other people. The men loading our bags on the bus put small pieces of masking tape on the luggage and handed me a marker to write our destination on them. I waved goodbye to the bags and wished them a good life, wherever they may live in the future. The temperature was cool and Don and I took control of a row with 3 seats. The bus pulled out of the parking lot exactly on time. This was going to be easy. Life was good.

Then the sun came up. The world began to feel different, certainly it became more pungent. For some odd reason, the other occupants of the bus closed all of the windows as we tore down the highway at 80 mph. The temperature rose steadily but I don’t think we ever cracked the 150 degree mark so it wasn’t too bad. I played a game by seeing how large I could make the pool of sweat on the floor before it drained away. Did I mention that this bus ride was going to take 12 hours? Yeah! Was this as bad as it would get? Of course not. At about the 3 hour mark, we stopped for a quick break and to take on a few more passengers, as if that was really possible. We avoided eye contact and chatted to each other in the hopes that nobody would want to sit with the smelly white guys. Then the realization hit us that the girl standing over us wanted Don to move over so she could sit down. I have known Don for about 10 years. I saw the look on his face and considered just killing him on the spot. It would have been the humane thing to do. But I believe that suffering only makes us stronger. I let him live. So the two biggest people on the bus (that would be us) are now smashed together in a white boy sandwich. We took turns leaning forward to allow for a little space between us. We adjusted to our new situation. Was this the worst of it? Of course not. The girl sitting next to Don had apparently not been getting enough sleep and decided that Don’s shoulder looked very comfy. I thought it was cute. Don was less enthusiastic. To throw her off her game, Don leaned forward. Surely this would solve the problem. Nope. She slid behind him like a bag of sand. There she remained. I think Don finally adjusted to it because the drool running down his back was cooler than the sweat trickling along his butt crack. I assure you that this was only my assumption and that I have no actual knowledge of Don’s butt crack. Well there was that one time….

Anyway, “eternity” now has a new definition but we did actually make it to Agadez. Don and his new friend parted ways with that awkward silence that always follows whirlwind relationships. I comforted Don the best I could to help him get past that painful moment.

The terrain had changed from urban to Sahel. The word “Sahel” defines the region of the Sahara Desert that is transitional between the extremes. In other words, the Sahel is a combination of trees and ground cover but with a distinct desert feel. Transitional. Kind of like staying at the old Circus Circus in Las Vegas.

So we arrived in Agadez. What a relief. And my baggage made it too. Things were looking up. We were picked up at the bus station and taken to our new home. It was, in fact, a nice little Inn with 8 rooms. Don had stayed there several times in the past. It was like the Four Seasons as far as I was concerned. And in fact it was priced a little like the Four Seasons. Don and I splurged and got separate rooms for the night. This is one of the best ways to remain friends. Or as I like to say, “how can I miss you if you won’t go away?”. One lesson for the future though: always ask the price of something BEFORE accepting it. My ex-wife will find that statement amusing since I used it on her about a million times. Without disclosing the extent of the mistake, suffice it to say we learned our lesson.

We got some dinner and a good night’s sleep. The next morning we had a breakfast on the patio outside of our rooms. Breakfast (bread, jam, and coffee) was included in the price of the room. We had arranged to be picked up at about 9:00 AM. I was very excited because we were going to head out into the desert the next day and spend the night under the stars. So this day was basically a planning day. We negotiated a price for our upcoming journey. We used Mohammed Ixa’s company for this trip.

I spent the rest of the day being a tourist in Agadez. I did make the mistake of being a bit too eager with a couple of the people hawking their goods on the street (not hookers, that comes later). Suffice it to say, every time I left the motel that day, I was immediately surrounded by men that wanted to sell me something. In all seriousness, this became a problem for me. They all NEEDED help and wanted to feed their families. One man was clearly in the final phase of life due to AIDS. He had massive lesions all over his body and probably weighed 80 pounds. He wanted me to buy things so he could get needed medication. He became my shadow and my guilty conscience. I dreaded seeing him waiting for me. Ultimately, I did my best to help him and then I had to ignore him because I realized that no matter what I gave him, it would not be enough.

Don taught me a very valuable, but difficult lesson during our stay in Agadez. YOU CAN’T HELP EVERYBODY. In fact, by giving in to the urge to just hand out money, it may actually hurt the people I am trying to help. It teaches them to beg for money. In turn, that sucks more people into the cities to beg for more money and so on…..you get the picture.

What it DID do was to help motivate me to create a better situation for the people of the Sahara Desert. WATER is the key. More clean water and more accessible water means fewer people flocking to the cities. It changes everything.

The next morning, Don and I are picked up in a Toyota LandCruiser by three men that work for Tidene Adventures, Mohammed’s travel company. We drive around town picking up some last minute supplies. I was happy and surprised to see ice being loaded into a cooler. Next stop was adding air to the tires of the truck. This was done by a teenage boy at a roadside stand. It was a bizarre scene. First he used a hand pull to crank the motor of the air compressor. But there was clearly a fuel flow problem with the compressor so the boy had to climb up on a step and put his mouth on the fuel tank opening. He then blew very hard in to the tank, which forced more fuel into the line which helped the compressor generate enough power to put air in the tires. For all of this, he was paid about 50 cents.

So off we went into the desert. Me, Don, our driver, our cook, and a third man that was along to assist. In a crazy twist to the story, the third man (Issou) had just spent the last 2 years living and working in my home town, Greensboro, North Carolina at a clothing manufacturer. I would say “it’s a small world” but then that damn song might get stuck in my head.

We drove on a road for about an hour and then took a sharp left into the desert. Slowly we began to leave the Sahel behind and get into a much more barren landscape. Sandrifts and ergs (large raised rock outcropping) were visible as far as we could see. After a couple of hours, our driver pulled next to a very large bush and said, “here we are”. Okay, whatever he said was in French so it may have been “get the hell out of my truck”, but he said it politely. It was about noon and lunch was served. The guys laid out four padded mats in a square with a big woven mat under everything. First course was peanuts and olives. The olives had pits of course so Don discreetly told me to put eat the olive with my right hand and discard the pit with my left. Good hygiene. I don’t even like olives but I ate them anyway because I was excited to show that I knew what to do.

Next was the main course, a salad with corn and beans and lettuce and tomatoes and pickles and dressing. Bread and butter. Tang, (yes the astronauts drink) and the elixir of life, water. The food was good and fresh. After lunch we lounged around and had Taureg tea, very sweet strong black tea.

Don and I spent a lot of time talking and laughing. I love comedic movies and have a knack for quoting stupid lines (me and every other guy). “I didn’t have any corn” was a particular favorite although it didn’t make sense because we did have corn every day. I initiated Don as to the subtle and delicate humor of Goldmember. Don has a clever sense of humor and we seemed to laugh the hardest when things were most difficult. That is a great trait for a travel partner to have. We discussed the fact that out film team has to be chosen as much for their attitude as their talent.

So we loaded up the vehicle and kept driving. We got stuck a few times which happens to even the best drivers. It is impossible to guess where the firm sand ends and the solid sand begins. Normally, getting unstuck is pretty easy. Basically it means everyone gets out and pushes. Occasionally it means getting out the sand ladders, which are just what they sound like. Clear the sand from around the tire and jam the ladder under it to gain traction. Simple.

After driving for a few more hours, the lack of bushes or greenery or anything living became really apparent. The dunes became giant half moon shapes, like croissants. We parked our truck behind one of these croissants and the guys set up camp while Don and I checked out the area. Very peaceful and incredible isolated. I felt as far from LA as humanly possible.

Finally I was going to have a chance for a run in the Sahara desert. Don went with me and took we off for about a half hour or so. We backtracked on the vehicle tracks to be sure that we didn’t die on our first night out. The second night would be fine but the first would be really embarrassing. The run was awesome and made me feel great and confident. Only 3,495 miles to go!

After running, we took a desert shower. (No Marc, that doesn’t mean we lathered each other up). Nudity is frowned upon in the Muslim culture so we stood behind the truck. (“I always knew you were crazy but now I can see your nuts”) The mats and pads were laid out and we had some tea and Tang, nuts and olives. (See a pattern here?) Dinner was braised meat (lamb or goat) and veggies and bread. Dessert was caramel custard. It was very tasty.

It was about 9:00 pm when the laughing and farting stopped and it was time to sleep. I heard Don continue to fart but it sounded like distant thunder so it was kind of nice. I was about 50 feet from him so there were no bad side effects. He had his headphones on so I doubt he could hear his own gas. I was thoroughly impressed though.

I had noticed throughout the day that there was seemingly no animal life at all. This all changed in camp. So exactly what is a “scarab”? Is it a beetle or a roach? Is it someone who crosses a picket line? (too sophisticated?) Well I still don’t know the answer but one of these bugs was trying to work its way under my eyelid at about 2:00 AM. Seriously, I woke up to a strange sensation and this scarab was trying to scale my face. After a quick high pitched scream, I brushed him off my face and looked around to see if anyone was watching. Thankfully, not. So I went back to sleep. When I awakened, I raised my mat to move it closer to the group and there were about 50 scarabs under the mat. Apparently I put out a lot of heat.

After a nice breakfast of bread jam and coffee, we loaded up the truck to head deeper into the desert. In fact, we were making a big loop and heading back to Agadez by days end. At this point I decided to get out of the truck and run for a while. Temperatures were rising and the sand was medium soft, so I thought it would be a good idea to get a feel for the terrain. The truck let me out with a bottle of water and nervous smiles from the group. I must admit that as the truck drove out of sight, there was a serious sense of reality. Something like “Oh shit, wait for me”. Thankfully it passed quickly and I began to enjoy the solitude. I followed the tracks of the truck for about 10km or so. I stopped once at a rock outcropping that had a little cave with some cloth over it. Thanks to the wind and the sand, it was impossible to tell if it was recent or very old. Either way, somebody took shelter here at some point.

I continued running over dunes and around some ergs. At one point I was following the vehicle tracks and my mind was wandering. All at once, the tracks ended. No tracks, no vehicle. It just vanished. (sounds dramatic doesn’t it?) What actually happened was the truck had become stuck in the sand and the guys pushed it back about 20 feet and then took another route to the right. It only took a matter of seconds to figure it out, but it was a really strange feeling. Not that I was scared, of course.

I finally caught up with the truck and asked them to go a few more kilometers so I could shoot some video footage, a little video diary action. I did that and our driver came out to meet me on foot about a kilometer away from the truck. He ran the rest of the way with me. I was dressed in shorts and tee shirt while he was wearing a head scarf and long robes. How cool was that?

After reaching the truck, we got in and began our last phase of sightseeing. We saw many examples of rock art. As Don explained to me, these were probably about 8,000 years old. The reason he knew this was because the art was etched into the stone so it was after the beginning of the Stone Age. But it was not painted on because man had yet to discover that adding water to ashes could produce a colored substance to be applied to the rock. Some of the pictures showed giraffes and other animals that haven’t been seen in the Sahara for many thousands of years.

We also came across a fascinating grouping of ancient pre-Islamic gravesites. One was very impressive. There was a large grave in a circular pattern about 30 feet across and 4 feet high. The rocks were stacked in a very symmetrical form and the very center was bare. This large grave was surrounded by about 15 smaller graves. One could easily imagine that the chief died and then all of the others died immediately after. Maybe they were killed or maybe they sacrificed themselves. An ancient ritual maybe? Who knows?

So we got stuck a few more times and I got used to that routine. We had a nice break for tea and lunch in the shadow of an erg. There were lots of carvings on the rocks and there were several ancient fire pits on the top. It was a great strategic location because one could see for miles in every direction. A small cave was off to one side of the erg, near the top. I was feeling giddy about our adventure and decided to crawl into the little cave to check it out. Ironically, it was about the size of a casket. Inside, I found a stone that was in the perfect shape of a heart. I am not sure if it was naturally shaped that way or carved. I took it as a sign that this desert is where my heart is. I plan to carry that rock with me from the Atlantic Ocean to the Red Sea. It’s kind of heavy so I will probably try to sneak it into Rays pack. He’ll never notice.

The final highlights of the desert tour were wildlife encounters. The first was a sighting of a desert fox. It was very light in color, almost white in fact. And it had long ears and a small face. Apparently, seeing one of these is very rare.

Next we spotted a herd of gazelle. They took off and we chased after them. Our speed reached about 80 kph and we were not gaining on them. I was relieved when we stopped because I did not want to see the gazelle injured. Don mentioned that his driver chased a gazelle on a previous outing until the animal dropped dead. They ate it. I realize that the rules are different in Africa but I wasn’t prepared to be the cause of death for any animal so beautiful.

Finally we returned to the motel in Agadez. What a great adventure it was. As we pulled up to the front of the motel, our welcoming committee was waiting. Two jewelry salesman, one guy with a motorcycle that wanted to take Don for a ride (I am still not sure what that was about), a kid with Polio on a hand powered bicycle, a couple of guys dying of AIDS and a transvestite with no legs (okay I made that last one up). We truly were like the circus and word was out that we had money to spend. We politely fought our way into our room and I grabbed a cold Pepsi while Don had a couple of beers. I already missed the peace and serenity of the desert but it was nice to have sugar coursing through my veins again.

Next morning, we set off on some errands. First we needed to settle our tab with our guides. On the surface this should have been simple because we had already agreed on a price. Or so we thought. I offered to just hand over the rest of the money owed but they insisted on taking us the office so we could pay the boss (not Bruce Springsteen). After exchanging the normal pleasantries, the words I dreaded were spoken. Something like, “here is your final invoice and we had to make some adjustments”. Without dwelling on the subject, they insisted that we were NOT obligated to pay the new amount while we insisted that we would be glad to pay (it was about $60 over our agreed upon price). In the US, I might have pitched a fit and refused to pay on principal. In a strange twist, Don and I won the disagreement by paying instead of not paying. We saved face and did the right thing. To be clear, they were not trying to cheat us in any way. They simply did not account for everything on the initial estimate. It was a lesson that we will take into the next round of negotiations. Everyone ended up happy and satisfied.

Next we went to meet with Piero Rava, a flambouyant Italian gentleman that Don has traveled with before. Basically, we want Mohammed Ixa to take us from Saint Louis, Senegal to Agadez, Niger and we want Piero Rave to take us from Agadez to the Red Sea. Agadez is almost the exact geographic center of the route I have chosen and both Mohammed and Piero have offices there.

Piero is short and stocky (solid but not fat) and always has a short stubby cigar in his mouth. He laughs easily and did not seem in the least bit daunted by the enormity of this expedition. According to Don, it will also be a nice change in cooking. Mohammed is very meat and salad oriented, very traditional Tuareg. Piero is Italian and makes risotto and pasta. I am sure it will be a welcome change.

The meeting with Piero went very well. He was excited and recognized that it could be a lucrative and interesting ordeal. So once again we left another person waiting for us to give him a start date so we can truly begin to plan.

Next we visited the UNICEF offices in Agadez. This location is the center of all UNICEF programs in the region. The meeting was mostly formal introductions followed by a little conversation with the well spoken director, a medium sized black African man (as opposed to Tuareg) who was very welcoming and invited us to return any time. Another successful contact made.

Later that night we went with to the family home of Modani Diak and sat down for tea and conversation. Don leaned over to me and whispered “we are sitting with royalty” and he was right. There is probably no more important family in all of Africa when it comes to the history of the Sahara and the Tuareg people. It was very interesting to watch Modani behave in a very humble and subservient manner when speaking to his family. He covered his face completely except for his eyes. This is a sign of respect. It is very subtle but hugely important in this society. It is very much like watching Japanese bow to each other. The one with less power is expected to bow a little lower than his superior. It is tough for the uninitiated to appreciate the nuances. Without Don, I never would have noticed.

Finally, we went to the home of some local musicians. These guys each played a guitar and sang. They were incredible and should be considered for a spot on our soundtrack. They have played in LA before. I asked if I could shoot some video and they gave me permission so I have that to show. It was a beautiful scene, sitting outside in the courtyard. There were several young children running around and the wife of one of the musicians joined in the singing. She was stunning to look at and their children were gorgeous. We sat and listened for about an hour. Don played a little guitar at the end and that pretty much ruined the mood so we were asked to leave and never return (just kidding). In all fairness, Don hadn’t played for a while and fed me some bullshit about being tired and how playing a guitar in a different hemisphere always screws him up. I will give him another shot next time.

It was about 11:00 at night and a horrible thought occurred to us. In less than 6 hours, our bus ride back to Niamey was to begin. (insert dramatic music here). Ah yes, another 12 hours of fun and games. One thing was for certain, it could NOT be worse than the trip to Agadez, right?

For once, we used our experience to create a better life for ourselves. Instead of buying just two seats, we bought three so we could be guaranteed a row to ourselves. Did I feel a little guilty and spoiled by this luxury while others on the bus were crammed together? Maybe, but I got over it pretty quickly.

So we made it back to Niamey feeling pretty good about ourselves. We had tentative agreements with Mohammed Ixa and Piero Rava. We had mapped out in detail the route we planned to take, including a day by day guide. We had permission to come back to UNICEF. Best of all, we were now ONE with the desert. Actually we were two with desert if you count Don, but he had already been ONE with the desert on a previous visit so he was technically ineligible to be ONE again but I didn’t want to be ONE by myself so I welcomed him to join me in my ONEness provided he let me be two with the desert by myself. That’s pretty clear I think.

Luggage Update: Special Bulletin
Don still has no luggage. He offers to return the shirts and pants I have given him once our trip is over. I politely decline. I wonder to myself if the chance of spontaneous combustion is higher after clothes have been worn for 9 straight days.

We are dropped off at the airport in Niamey at about 7:00 that evening. We have to meet someone to get our tickets at about 9:00, so we grab a taxi and head to a Chinese restaurant that we were told about. It is strange to me to eat Chinese food in Africa but it was an excellent meal. Our driver waited for us and we return to the airport and find ourselves first in line, sort of. Apparently, “first in line” can change depending on the size of the tip for the guys helping with our baggage. I was a little sick of this routine by now, so I ignored the guys that wanted to help me and bullied my way to the front. This may be a little exaggeration, but it’s my story and I am sticking to it.

We got our tickets without incident. Actually Don continued his battle with Air France over the location of his luggage but since this did not affect me, I didn’t care. If I had gotten involved, I would have just acted like an American and been escorted from the country again. Did I say “again”? Reminds me of my favorite question on a job application: “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?”. My answer is always “convicted? No.”

We leave on our flight to Paris and then continue on to Cairo, arriving at about 6:00 the following evening. We have reservations at the Movenpick in the Giza area, near the pyramids. I am excited to see other tourists in the bar and restaurant. We check in and I head to the bar for a cup of “real coffee”. Turns out that in Africa, Nescafe is considered real coffee. The loss of Don’s coffee press taunts me again. I drink the instant coffee anyway and the bartender strikes up a conversation. He asks where I am from and is excited when I say America. He wants to practice his English. I ask “How are you tonight?” and he replies “I am very fucking good”. He is proud and looks for my approval. Just then, a beautiful Egyptian woman walks behind the bar next to him. She works there also. He looks at her and says “I will give you five dollars to touch me down here (pointing to his crotch)”. She eagerly smiles and says okay while pushing him away. It becomes apparent that she doesn’t have a clue what he just said. This game continues for a while and his questions become more and more graphic. He was very proud and she was finally catching on. When the final questions involved “farm animals and a pair of fuzzy dice”, I decided to make my exit. No good was going to come of this for me.

I went to sleep that night and even Don’s chainsaw snoring didn’t stop me from getting 9 hours of sleep. We got up and had breakfast and then walked to the Mena House, another hotel where Don normally stays when in Cairo. It was a beautiful old palace and I was immediately sorry that we were not staying there. It was about twice as expensive as our hotel so we stayed put.

We hired a car for the day and went the office of Zahi Hawass, the head of all antiquities in Egypt. We did not have an appointment and Mr. Hawass is the busiest man in the country most of the time. Once again, the mighty power of Don Webster and the Gods conspired to help us. Upon announcement, Mr. Hawass saw us immediately and listened to our story. We told him about our planned expedition and we asked if he could help us. He immediately agreed to arrange for me to visit several sites that were not currently open to the public. In addition, he agreed to help us in the future by granting us access to his dig at Bahariya, the land of 10,000 gilded mummies. (Don Webster was in on the discovery of this site some years before). It has the potential to be an incredible chapter in our movie.

Next, Don and I do some shopping and Don decides to call the airlines and see about leaving that night instead of taking his normal flight the next day. He is a veteran traveler and recognizes that our scouting job is complete. His mind instinctively switches gears and the distance from his wife and kids seems to weigh him down. I assure him that I will be fine by myself. “Go ahead and leave, see if I care you big jerk”. (That last part was just a fleeting thought not actually verbalized by me). I was happy for him and a little sad for me. I have a lifelong history of not doing particularly well by myself. I get lonely. I don’t always make great decisions when I get lonely. Sometimes I feel like I have “loser” tattooed on my forehead and this seems to attract the wrong sort of people. To prevent this from happening, I decide to move to the Mena House. I assure the assistant manager that Matt Damon could be along any day now and that I am staying at the Movenpick because of price. He beats their price by $5 bucks and I move in to the “palace section” of the hotel. I love it. It is in the shadow of the Great Pyramid and has a wonderful pool and lawn for lounging. This is the perfect place for a celebration commemorating the successful completion of Running the Sahara. I fantasize about this for a while, completely ignoring the fact that I will need to run 50 MILES PER DAY FOR 75 DAYS to be successful.

I spent the next 4 days totally immersed in the Muslim world. I did not fast during the day for Ramadan but I did make it a point not to eat in public because it is disrespectful to eat in front of others that are fasting. In fact, I don’t really know if it is disrespectful but it seemed like the right thing to do.

I met a group of people out by the pool on my first day at Mena House. One was Egyptian, two were Lebanese and two others were French. Three were Muslim and 2 were not. I was the lone heathen American but they welcomed me just the same. I spent the days visiting incredible archeological sites and the nights going out with this group of new friends. We took our meals at midnight and I even smoked a water pipe called a “sheesha” pipe. It had the tiniest bit of tobacco along with fruit so it was a little like smoking a pine tree car air freshener. Not great but my breath was fresh. My new friends took off after a few days and tried to get me to go with them to Sharma El Sheik, a beautiful resort town on the Sinai Peninsula. It was tempting but now I had the bug to get home and see my kids.

I said goodbye to everyone and promised to stay in touch. I think I actually meant it.

One final note on Don Webster. I still don’t know if his luggage ever showed up. And let me say for the record that I want to be just like Don Webster when I grow up. He is an incredible travel partner and a brilliant, funny man. His knowledge of the Sahara Desert is truly impressive. His ability to adapt to any situation is inspirational. His unique talent of wearing the same shirt every day without attracting flies is impressive. In short, he is amazing.

For the past few months now, I have been asked on a regular basis if I really think that it I can run all the way across the Sahara. I usually say “ABSOLUTELY”, because that is how I really feel. Deep down inside my body I know I can do this. It’s not cockiness or false pride. I have had enough challenges in my life to know what is possible. I know what is at stake. I want the pressure and so do my running partners. We want to introduce the real Africa and its people to the world. If I have to run across it to make that happen, then so be it.

I BELIEVE STRONGLY IN THE POWER OF INSPIRATION.
I like to think that I have the ability to inspire others to try things that are seemingly “impossible”. I have many heroes that have inspired me through the years and I try to use their words to help me push through the tough times.
Here are a few examples of words that inspire me:
  • “We only meet the God within our true selves through suffering”-Ernest Shackleton. Anyone that has known me for a while has heard me talk about the value of suffering. For me, nothing worth having in life comes without some pain.
  • “The great pleasure in life is doing what others say you cannot do”-Walter Bagehot. This one reminds that I do have an ego and if millions of people are watching me cross Africa, I will die before I quit.
  • “A man of destiny knows that beyond this hill lies another and another. The journey is never complete”-F.W. De Klerk. Thankfully this is true. Wanderers like me would be lost and confused if I ever thought I was actually finished.
  • “Optimism is true moral courage”-Shackleton. Anyone can be optimistic when life is good. Can I hit bottom and still be optimistic? I hope so.
  • “Lingerie and water are the best inventions ever”-Charlie Engle. I have never actually said this but I plan to in the near future.