It’s New Year’s Eve, the sun has just dropped behind a now russet coloured sand dune, leaving the sky stained crimson red – suitably picturesque for the last sunset of 2014. We’re nearing the end of our sunset walk in the deserted Nubian Black Desert, named so because of the ancient black volcanic deposits dumped across its surface. With the light fading fast we reach the ridge and look down on the spit of sand extending in front of us, with our boat nestled in the cove below. Taking off our shoes, letting our feet sink into the warm silky sand, we half walk, half slide down the ridge to meet our boat.
As we get closer we can see, and smell, a real treat awaiting us. The dining room is beautifully decked out with candles – storm lanterns fashioned from empty water bottles, half filled with desert sand. The most mouth-watering smells are emanating from Ibrahim’s pint sized kitchen.
Not to be outdone by the basic facilities the desert has to offer, we all don our best frocks, fluff our hair and even manage a bit of make-up for the special night before us. And that’s just the boys!
We were not disappointed. Ibrahim spoiled us with a lavish three-course meal. A traditional local lentil soup to start, followed by delicious chargrilled chicken and moussaka for main, accompanied by locally grown roasted vegetables. And the pièce de résistance – a layered chocolate, sponge and jelly cake for pudding. And all, astonishingly, made from his tiny kitchen.
As the magic hour approached, we were ushered upstairs to the top deck, followed by our wonderful Nubian crew, Ramadan, Ibrahim and Boulboul with drums in hand, who started the party. We all sat, enjoying the atmospheric sound of the drums and Ramadan’s haunting singing voice. But as Ibrahim started to dance, sitting no longer became an option. Up we got, every one of us, and started moving our stuff to the sound of the Nubian drums, laughing, jumping and dancing our way into 2015.
Goodnight 2014.
Tour leader Charlotte Hopkinson recently led our Lake Nasser Escape group tour.
