Arriving after dark in the picturesque little cove we would call home for the night, we were all getting our beds made up and cosy ahead of another slap up meal, lovingly prepared by our cook, Ibrahim. But when Steven, our guide, sidled up to me saying, "I have an idea", I was all ears. "How do you think the guests would like to do a night walk?" "No question", I said, "they’d love to". And so they did.
Setting out from the boat, flashlights purposefully off and following the startlingly bright light of the moon, we walked in thoughtful silence. Soaking up the stillness of the desert, we hoped to spot an elusive desert fox or jackal, and to preferably avoid the snakes.
Walking across the flat, still calm of the desert, eyes and ears wide, it's amazing how heightened your senses become. With the desert sand acting like one giant mirror, reflecting the cool bright moonlight, every rocky outcrop became a majestic pharaonic face towering over us. On our sandy plateau you could see for what seemed like miles around, with no evidence of human life to be witnessed. But the stillness was not absolute. Aside from our dull footfalls in the sand, the wind grew a character all of its own: carrying no discernable sound of creatures, but the sound of the desert itself. Whistling and whipping around the rocks and rushing over the flat sand, shaping it over millennia.
As we neared the end of our walk, Steven stopped us and motioned for us to lie down, eyes closed, arms outstretched. And there we lay, in complete silence. Enjoying the desert; enjoying the silence; contemplating ourselves.
Later, back on the boat recounting our magical night desert walk, with thoughts of unfound desert foxes and vipers far from our minds, there he was.
The wily fox. Right outside our window, staring right back at us.
Not a bad start to 2015.
Tour leader Charlotte Hopkinson recently led our Lake Nasser Escape group tour.
