Next morning we were off at daybreak to the Giza plateau and the pyramids. Virtually erected by hand from almost two and a half million limestone blocks averaging two and a half tons each, 5000 years old, the great pyramid of Cheops is the only remaining wonder of the ancient world. Built where the sun was seen to set, the pyramids are a statement in stone to the spirituality and ingenuity of an ancient civilisation. 'There is power inside them' says Nadia. Camels and riders are cut down to fly-size, Cairo itself creeps ever nearer but beyond them the western desert dissolves into eternity. 'Don't be tempted to get on a camel - it will cost you a fortune to get off' we're warned. The sphinx exercised an even more hypnotic power over me. The scarred face, victim of Turkish target practise and minus its beard, gazes steadily towards the east in hope of the resurrection. A call to prayer ribboned from a nearby mosque. 'It is the voice of the sphinx' said our guide, and for me she was right.

Sandwiches hastily eaten on the bus, a visit to a traditional papyrus workshop where we were introduced to the mystery of hieroglyphs and the cartouche (or circle of rope) signifying unending power then we were in the Cairo Museum of Antiquities. I could have stayed here a month, wandering through this treasure house of an ancient civilisation. We had three hours, culminating in the unbelievable offerings taken from the tomb of Tutankhamun., one of the smallest and obviously hastily prepared tombs in the Valley of Kings. What sticks in my mind amongst all the riches is a small bouquet of dried spring flowers, which gives us a clue as to what time of year the boy king was interred. There is a theory that Tutankhamun was murdered by his uncle, a priest, who then went on to marry the young king's widow and become Pharoh. How about that for an Egyptian Hamlet!

No time to hang about. All Cairo's 18 million seemed to be out and about as we dashed to sample an evening meal in an Egyptian Restaurant. 'Good evening. Father Christmas' somebody called after my husband's white-haired, white-bearded figure. We boarded an overnight train for Aswan at 10.15. 'You'll need your sleeping bags' Nadia warned us and indeed the night was cool. But who can sleep as you head south to Upper Egypt and the mystique of the country unfurls; at each glimpse of the Nile your spirits soar. A mixture of ancient and modern. The modern I'm not too sure about and the ancient is a simple way of life you envy and yet would be afraid of. .Ancient houses made from sun-dried bricks, modern unlovely buildings - many of them unfinished - camels piled high with produce, the odd motor byke, disciplined fields and irrigation chanels, palm trees, flowing robes, jeans, smart school uniforms, hot air balloons, armed military at every station. Some of the old houses were decorated with boats or aeroplanes, signifying that their occupants had been on Haj pilgrimage and how they got there. We arrived in Aswan at lunchtime, 12.15, unslept, unwashed, but ready to go.

The bazaar vibrated with colour and glitter, beautiful Egyptian cotton and the smell of spices and fresh food, but to stop and admire was to be unbearably pestered and even followed by desperate stallholders (there were very few Europeans in sight) so in the end we fled. Which was a pity - we would have liked to browse and buy. To those who have very little 'Baksheesh' also means 'share'.

Next morning our alarm call was for 3.0 a.m.; by 4.0 a.m. we were away across the desert in escorted convoy Abu Simbel bound, thankful for our sleeping bags in the cool Egyptian night. Our arrival was beautifully timed, just as the sun was rising. With the comparatively new Lake Nasser in front of us we walked round a rocky outcrop and there it was, breathtaking, bathed in a rosy light ..... signifying in stone the soul of ancient Egypt, transcending even the pyramids in its power. Two temples to the gods Re-Herakhte and Hathor it is in fact a paeon to Ramses 2 and his wife Nefertari, created by that Pharoh himself. Before the creation of Lake Nasser Abu Simbel stood at a crucial point on the Nile, but would have been lost beneath the water when the Lake was finished. UNESCO set up an ambitious rescue operation; the temples were cut into pieces by hand, numbered and moved to higher ground to be re- assembled. Originally Abu Simbel was cut into a mountain, so a mountain was created artificially at the new site. Things would appear to be as they always were - but not quite. In the sanctuary of Re- Herakhte are four figures - a deified Ramses 2, and the gods Ptah, Amun and Re-Herakhte. The building was so designed that twice a year the sun would pour through the building and illuminate the figures of Ramses, Amun and Re-Harakhte, missing out Ptah who is the god of darkness. Now it does it a day later than was originally recorded .... a change over thousands of years in the orientation of the sun, or is the building slightly squiffy? Returning to Aswan in the heat of the day we saw faint mirages of rocks reflected in water over the dry desert and passed through an army check-point near the Aswan dam..

That evening we went by boat to visit an ancient Nubian village on Elephantine Island, passing the impossing Old Cataract Hotel, featured in Agatha Christie's 'Death on the Nile'. The building of the Nasser dam meant that many Nubian villagers had to be re-housed in what are for the most part shanty villages, but our village had been there long before the dam and was authentic and well-established. Sitting on the sandy floor of the village square, sipping glasses of hibiscus tea, we found ourselves face to face with a large crocodile. 'It won't hurt you', the headman was laughing. 'It's stuffed'. But an infant version played around happily, tethered to a stake in the sand. 'That is a pet, there are no crocodiles in the lower Nile since the dam was built' he said. Neat square houses with brightly painted walls surrounded us like a child's game of bricks, but beneath the colours were mud bricks to insulate against high or low temperatures. Goats and hens were everywhere. With the building of the dam the Nile no longer floods to cover the farmland with rich silt, but ironically nitrogen sulphate fertiliser is produced by hydro-electrics powered by the dam. What will happen when the dam silts up, which is likely? 'Now we all have electricity - we can watch the football on T.V.' we were told.

Another change - young people can now choose their own marriage partner .A wedding can last for three days and is a real celebration. 'People come from far and wide, sometimes 500 guests, and the groom has to stand the cost; sometimes it takes a life-time to pay for it' We were shown the 'ziggy-ziggy' or honeymoon room, where the bride has to stay inside for 45 days although the groom is allowed to take time out.

After a meal of chicken, rice and salad, and a few experiments with henna tattoos, we followed our hosts to a small hill on the edge of the village to watch the sun dipping below the Nile.

Next day came the crunch. The felucah trip - for three days we were to live, eat and sleep on the boats. Three felucahs, nearly as broad as they were long, were drawn up by the landing stage for the twenty of us, each boat with two Nubian sailors in charge. Planks had been placed across the seats, providing storage space beneath and a deck covered with a large padded quilt for us to lounge on. We were in the charge of Ahmed and Hamada, who seemed fixed with permanent smiles. Shoes off, to be left at the top of the gangplank ... and we're away, with the graceful sail curving above us pointing to a cloudless sky. Banks of palm trees, strings of donkeys and camels with egrets riding bareback, little settlements and curious children against a backdrop of desert and dunes. 'Anyone like a glass of tea, a welcoming drink?' asks Ahmed. It was exhilerating ........... and quite breezy, tacking north down-Nile. Our felucah seemed to have developed a serious sway.

And then it happened. The breeze strengthened to a strong wind ...... we heard shouts from a felucah following us and we looked back. The felucah had completely capsized. People, planks, rucksacs bobbed in the racing waves. Our three felucahs were upright - then we heard a mighty crack. The main mast of our largest boat had cracked under the strain. All this happened at whirlwind speed as we sweapt for the river bank caught in the high wind. It was impossible to pick up anybody out of the water as we hurtled passed them - our speed was too great. When we reached the river bank and scrambled ashore we looked downriver and saw a sandstorm spiralling above the desert. Our party was shaken but nobody was hurt. We watched helplessly as flotsam floated passed us and the passengers from the stricken boat all made it to an island in the middle of the river. Again, nobody seemed to be hurt. 'I've never known this to happen before' Nadia's usual calm was temporarily shaken and indeed the incident made it to the national newspapers the following day. 'We're not moving from here today' she said.

The storm took itself off into the desert and we settled down in the warm sun to watch the rescue operations as boats arrived to take the unfortunate tourists back to Aswan. Some-one was dispatched by road to Aswan and a replacement main mast arrived surprisingly quickly and was put into place.

Before we left Aswan there had been a serious question on everybody's mind but nobody liked to bring it out into the open. Eventually it emerged. "Where is the toilet?' 'We call off at certain points for casual 'bush stops' during the day but in the evening when we pull in we dig a hole.' A short silence followed, but we needn't have worried. The slogan for 'Explore Holidays' is 'Leave no footprints' or anything else either. A hole was dug and surrounded by a discreet canvas shield, a workmanlike wooden toilet seat on legs was placed over the hole, a toilet roll hung on a hook and a bag for discarded tissues hung nearby. The spade remained nearby for use after visits. All in all, this toilet proved more hygenic than many in the hotels we stayed in ... and much more fun. Each morning the toilet papers were burned in the campfire from the night before and the hole filled in and levelled.

On the morning following the storm we were almost becalmed. As we breakfasted in glorious sunshine on the larger of our three boats which had all been securely tied to the river bank we watched the salvage operations on the upturned felucah, only just visible above the water.'That poor man's livelihood has probably gone' was Nadia's sad comment.

A deep feeling of harmony and peace pervaded our party as the Nile worked its magic on us and our Nubian sailors became caring friends. Any lull in their duties, and in the evening round the campflres, they took out their drums and sang in their language with repetitive choruses. We all joined in and goodness knows what we were singing. Nobody in our party came down with the dreaded Egyptian stomach bug, although our conditions could be considered primitive. Strict hygene was observed at all times, principally the washing of hands before meals in buckets of water with potassium permanganate added, and we learned at Luxor airport on our way home that we had fared much better than some of the passengers on the horrendously ugly cruise boats that passed us like floating blocks of flats. And nothing, nothing, can equal the sheer magic of being woken in the Egyptian dawn with a glass of tea and peeping under the tarpaulin that had been erected around us (not over us) to shelter us from the night breezes. The Nile was like a ribbon of pewter and stark silhouettes of palm trees stood against sand dunes and sky made rosy by the dawn.

We took an afternoon off from our Felucah to visit a camel market at Daraw. Camels of every shape and size were gathered, and amazingly each camel had its own passport .... strange when you consider that one camel looks very much like another to us poor humans. Some of them had arrived at Daraw walking the old camel route from the Sudan on the '40 days' road'and each camel spent its first three days in quarantine. 'A big hump means a healthy camel' said Mohammed, the camel master, 'but then camels are always healthy - they have no gall bladder'. The camels are divided into basically three groups; top grade for racing, middle of the road for working and officiating at ceremonies, and bottom of the pile for eating. Mohammed was delighted to have his photograph taken with me. 'Now I have a wife' he beamed, with his arm along my shoulder. We laughed and left.

From camels to crocodiles. From Daraw to the Temple of Kom Ombo, dedicated to Sobek the crocodile god and Horus of the sun.. Impressive pillars decorated to proclaim the unity of lower and upper Egypt and crocodile mummies on display and then, shame, we sought the cool and tranquility of a nearby garden cafe for fresh fruit drinks, live music and even an odd puff at a hookah pipe. On our way back to the felucah we passed through shanty villages whose Nubian occupants had been displaced when the Nasser dam was constructed. Life was primitive indeed. 'I thought you should see these' was Nadia's only comment.

The following morning we were up and away at 5.30 after a miraculous breakfast of eggs, pitta, savoury hot tomatoes and mango jam. It was absolute calm with the sun rising in a cloudless sky as we drifted down the Nile, composing a hymn of praise to Nadia, our faithful guide who had become a lovely friend. That evening after our communal meal we sat round the camp fire and revelled in music from our six Nubian escorts, fortified by a special treat of vodka punch. And after that we danced -shadows reflected in the firelight and the moonlight like a dream.

We slept the following morning as the felucahs set sail at 4.30 on the final stage of our journey to Luxor; calling at Edfu en route. There were sad farewells to our Nubian escorts as we boarded a mini-bus for Edfu where our arrival coincided with the wailing of a black-clad funeral party bound for a nearby mosque. Edfu is huge and magnificent, the best preserved temple in Egypt and dedicated to the god Horus. He is depicted in black granite as a falcon wearing the double crown of upper and lower Egypt, immortalised by Lewis Carroll in his nonesense poem 'The Jaberwoky'. There was an extremely strong armed military presence at Edfu and following the massacre in 1997 at the temple of Hatshepsut the sugar cane fields on either side of the approach to the temple had been cut back to eliminate the possibility of snipers hiding in them.

The mini-bus took us from Edfu to our hotels in Luxor, the ancient city of Thebes - and that afternoon, after the luxury of showers, we rode like royalty in open horse-drawn caliches along an ancient avenue of sphinxes.to the Temple of Karnak, dedicated to the god Amun. The size, the scale, the detailed decoration, is breathtaking and it is easy to see why James Bond once found himself in this very temple during one of his tight situations. Would-be OO7s threatened us from behind every massive column as we strolled down the Hypostyle Hall, said to be one of the most spectacular sights in all Egypt.

That evening we went with two friends for a meal in the Old Winter Palace Hotel - the red carpet leading up to the entrance set the scene, maybe a token of the time when King Farouk had a suit looking over this entrance.The hotel was vast, palatial and empty. We ordered, and our food was brought in by four immaculate waiters (one each) bearing silver salvers, who flicked off the lids in unison. The food was good, the music discreet, and it took us some time to realise we were listening to Christmas carols ..... in March. The evening ended with us sitting in the bar drinking coffee and listening to an excellent pianist playing Gershwin; when he took a break my husband felt moved to take to the piano and when the pianist returned the two shook hands warmly. The evening was delightful and amazingly inexpensive.

The following day, our last day, was a fitting climax. A visit to the Valley of Kings. But not for us the usual tourist route in a bus round the bottom of the mountain. No! We were to ride over it on donkeys. We were awake before dawn and crossed the Nile to the West Bank to meet our mounts. I surveyed mine dubiously. 'How do I get on the thing?' I asked the boy. There were no stirrups and a simple sadle with pummel and a length of rope completed the livery. 'Bend right over it' he ordered. I bent, he pushed his shoulder under my bottom and heaved, and I seemed to fly into the air to land astride the beast, fortunately facing the right way.

We rode off into the dawn at a fairly unglamorous pace 'relax your knees - let your legs dangle' I was ordered, and gradually I unwound, literally, and began to enjoy the trip. Up and up we went and at one point had to dismount because of the gradient to give our donkeys a fighting chance. And then, of course, we had to get on again. We had been warned that at one point there would be a sheer drop of about a thousand feet down towards the temple of Hatshepsut. The path was narrow, my mount and I were barely acquainted .. and I lost it. Got vertigo. 'I'll have to get off' I told the boy, and one or two others felt likewise. We went cautiously along the top, over the summit, and looked down on the Valley of Kings. Impossible to describe the impact of that moment in the early morning. Thousands of years of history lay beneath us in the sunshine. The rest of our party were waiting, also dismounted, because the path down was too steep to ride. 'We've come the way of the craftsmen who decorated the tombs' said Nadia.'They were led blindfolded to keep the location secret against grave robbers'. Maybe if they'd blindfolded me I would have fared better along that narrow ledge. Walking in the growing heat into that valley is to let its ambience soke into your soul.

It was still only 7.30 a.m. as we ate our packed breakfasts under welcome shady shelters. Heiroglypghics, decorations and carvings of breathtaking beauty in the tombs of Rameses lX and Rameses lV, executed without the aid of any artificial light. 'So .. how did they see to do it'. My husband thought hard 'They reflected the sunshine in by the aid or mirrors'. 'Correct - well done' our guide beamed.

The tomb of Tutankhamun was the one we'd all been waiting for. Down and down we went and here the decorations were scanty, as though they'd been done in haste, but the atmosphere was intense. At last we were in the presense of the Pharaoh himself, for Tutankhamun's body still rests in the sarcophagus where it was laid, in a nest of coffins, three and a half thousand years ago. His treasures are now in the Cairo Museum but the heart of the mystique was there in front of us. It was difficult to bridge the gap to the world waiting outside as we left the young Pharaoh once more to his solitude.

No sign of the donkeys - some of our party optied for a walk back over the top but we made our one concession to age and travelled by waiting taxi to the triple-terraced mortuary temple of Hatshepsut, otherwise known as Deir el Bahri. Hatshepsut is notable for being the only female Pharoah. Rising out of the desert plain, backed by the mountain we had ridden over, the temple seems truly timeless. Access was limited for our visit due to renovations but it was enough to be there and wander along the terraces and through the spacious forecourt. At last it was time to follow Nadia - and there were the donkeys again, tethered in the shade. We were to ride back across the plain, past fertile fields where workers waved and through simple villages where children shouted 'Hi' from the schoolyard. It was Sunday which is a working day in Egypt. The donkeys sensed that they were on their way home and the pace quickened. We could do nothing about it but by this time we were all relaxed and laughed as we bounced along. When we dismounted we wondered where our legs had gone.

Back across the Nile to a late and lengthy lunch of cheese omelette on a shady terrace by the river, and then we returned to our hotel roof to watch our last spectacular Egyptian sunset.

We showered and changed for our final group meal together - truly a celebration of our holiday and of the friendships formed. The table groaned with Egyptian delicacies (only let down by rather strange mashed potatoes, probably done in our honour), and as we ate and drank, watched exotic dancers, chatted and took photographs our feelings were of awe as we looked back over the last ten days and sadness that it was now virtually over.

Travelling to Luxor airport the following early morning we had our last glimpse of the magic that is Luxor. Our experiences had enriched us .....we would never be the same again. Three score years and ten - that fact had never signified as we discovered the wonder of Egypt with our friends. In such a place, with such a history, what's a few years anyway?

We'd done it - and we were rejuvenated.

For Explore's programme of tours to Egypt click here.

Back to Done That...

We really like the people who send in their stories and poems. Their views are always worth listening to. Sometimes they might differ from that of Explore, but that's okay because the world is an interesting place and we like to discover and talk about it, even if we don't agree. Just so you know.