Egypt II

Balloons over Luxor

People pay $450 USD for a balloon ride in the Serengeti. I decided a $90 USD balloon ride in Luxor would be better value. For $90 you don't get a champagne breakfast. Instead you get a cup of tea and a slice of Madeira cake sealed in foil especially designed to keep out the freshness.

The balloon basket is about four feet by ten feet, divided into five compartments four feet by two feet. But the compartments aren't all lined up. There is one in each corner of the basket, longways, plus a central compartment across the width of the basket. The balloon pilot, crewman, gas bottles and equipment are in the centre compartment. Each of the other compartments holds five or six passengers with a total of 24 people in our balloon.

About twenty five balloons ascend smoothly into the early morning sky, rising up to five hundred metres.

I am wearing my fleece jacket and beanie to protect against the pre-dawn chill but the beanie mainly protects me from the searing heat of the gas burner which roars whenever the pilot wants to ascend. There is a faint but distinct smell of burnt hair coming from somewhere.

As the gas jets ignite, the flames light up the balloons from within and they glow like huge party lights. Our balloon is yellow.

The sunrise is beautiful. Most of the balloons are spread out in the sky between us and the sunrise. To the east, green fields, the Nile, Luxor known to the ancients as Thebes. To the west, a desert plain, a temple ruin, desert hills.

We can see the shadow of our balloon out over the desert.

Yes it's beautiful, but I must confess, it is not as exciting as I thought it would be. But some excitement returns on the landing. Everyone enjoys the landing best of all.

As we descend it is obvious we will have to land in someone's field. We head towards a cleared field, the remains of a sugar cane crop in evidence. The ground crew come running out. they must have been driving around anticipating our landing site. A large black tape rolls down from the balloon. Ten men grab it and pull with all their strength, trying to guide the huge balloon against a mild breeze.

In my head I go over the pre-flight landing instructions, waiting for the call to assume the "landing position". In any other aircraft it would be called a "crash position".

Amused locals look on from a nearby farm yard. Children run out to watch the landing. We hover over a five foot wide ditch and it looks like we are going to land in it, but the ground crew pulls us over it. The basket scrapes the ground, drags a few feet and stops. A smoother landing than any airplane I have been on. The landing position was never called for.

We have to wait another five minutes for the balloon to become heavy enough so that we can get out without having it fly away. Then we are off to meet the others who didn't do the balloon ride.

Donkey Ride

If the balloon ride was less exciting than I imagined this was well compensated by the seven kilometre donkey ride to the Valley of the Kings.

The donkeys are low enough that you don't need a foot in the stirrup to throw your leg over to get on. Just as well as the soft saddles have no stirrups.

The donkeys trot off down a quiet lane between an irrigation channel and some fields. Michael, the tall Slovakian takes the lead. He looks comical with his large frame perched precariously on his tiny beast. We have nominal control over our animals with the reins, but they know their business better than us and mostly we are enthusiastic but docile passengers.

The animals speed up their trot as we shout "yellar, yellar, yellar". It's unclear if our yelling causes them to go faster or if their increased speed causes us to shout more. I balance carefully as I take photographs ahead, to the side and over my shoulder. We laugh as the animals jostle each other and change position. This is a lot more fun than the camel ride I had a few days earlier.

Lauren speeds by, unable or unwilling to control either her donkey or her laughter. She has named her donkey "Flopsy" because his left ear is torn and droops. Sam calls this a sissy name so I decide to christen my steed "Thunder".

Soon we catch up with another group of donkeys and riders and we progress as one large group. We ride through the streets of a small town. I exert some control over Thunder as we have to cross a busy intersection. Next we come to a wide highway with very little traffic. This is the road to the Valley of the Kings.

My Camera stops working as the batteries go flat. I wait till Thunder is travelling smoothly to take spare batteries out of my shoulder bag. I balance carefully as I unload the old batteries and put them in my shirt pocket but in the process, I knock my sunglasses out of my pocket and they clatter on the road. I pull back on my reins hoping to stop and recover my glasses but Thunder resists and merely slows down and brays in protest.

Now the glasses are back a ways. There's a herd of donkeys behind me and stopping seems to be too much trouble. I give up on the glasses, reload my camera and start taking pictures again.

Eventually we come to the entrance of the Valley of the kings and we regretfully end our donkey ride. One of the men in charge of the donkeys recovered my glasses. Fortunately they were undamaged and I still have them to this very day.