Aswan to Abu Simbel

A collage of impressions: the pre-dawn, blue-black, almost-calm Nile as we cross from our island hotel to the car; the armoured vehicles manning the exit to the city, helmeted soldiers peering through our backseat window - ‘Two English', says our driver; the jolt-inducing ruts as we traverse the Aswan Low Dam; the full moon above the city - a magnet for the eye - first, white and, then, turning rose as it sinks to the horizon; the thrill of heading true-south towards the Sudanese border with the disappearing moon in the west, visible out of the right-hand window, and the sun about to rise in the east, the brightening visible through the left-hand side window; the driver's stop for a pee in the still-cold desert which coincided with the sun showing its full face and the rocks on the desert surface emerging fully from the shadows; our own comfort break at the mud-brick, roadside cafeteria run by a trio of surly brothers, one rigorously collecting 'pennies' from his patrons as he manned the entrance to the toilets, another serving the drivers free, sweet tea wearing his woollen hat pulled down tightly for the cold and the third pouring expensive, hot, milky coffee into the tourists’ paper cups while sporting close-fitting ear muffs; the crossing of a deep concrete canal bringing Nile water to an experimental 50 sq. km. patch of desert to support the new-town dwellers housed in regimented, apartment blocks; the excitement of parking up in front of the miracle-sea that is Lake Nasser, sparkling like diamonds cast on pale blue silk and stretching 500 kilometres deep into Sudan; the awe and wonder at how they moved the two Abu Simbel temples 110 metres back and up from the original banks of the Nile to a place where the sun still shines through the entrance of the main temple to light up the inner 'sanctum of sanctums’ twice a year (the 22nd of February and October - before the move it was the 21st of those months); the magnificence of the wall engravings, especially the one of Ramses II in his chariot complete with a plume-crested, rearing stallion; the gauntlet of souvenir sellers whispering 'no-hassle shop' into your ear before hassling you to the ends of the Earth (not too far away from this place) if you so much as turn an eye in the direction of their goods; and, finally, once more at the desert-cafeteria - this time in 30C heat - double-taking across the unending expanse of sand as distant rock formations appear twice on the horizon . . . the real ones above and the replicated ones below the shimmering mirage pools.  
'Is that a good mirage by mirage standards', I ask our guide, Bishoy.
 'The best,' he replies, 'that's why they built the cafeteria here.'

PS
Used the big camera today for the first time in ages!!

PPS
The trip is 3 hrs 20 minutes each way, 315 kms.