From the felucca to the packraft: islands, wind and playful rapids.
After that experience, my body was asking for something lighter, more solitary. Packraft appeared as the perfect answer.
I had already floated the day before around the Philae temple, a jewel rescued by UNESCO before the water swallowed it up. Paddling near those columns with my floating contraption was an image I will never forget. A total contrast between the monumental and the ephemeral.
And now I was there in Aswan observing the Nile, evaluating/preparing my next adventure. But without paddle or waistcoat: technical details, which due to logistical issues (read baggage limitations on low cost flights) I had left behind.
A local kayak club, the Nubian Kayak Club, saved the day. They lent me everything I needed without asking for anything in return, and again I was summoned to the KFC on the banks of the Nile (I think it must be a quasi-official spot to meet the tourists in Aswan) where a young Egyptian man brought me the gear I was missing. As I was looking at the Nile, the boy said to me:
-Don't worry, there are no crocodiles here.
-What? - I said, surprised.
-From the Aswan Dam. They were thrown out.
-How did they get kicked out?
-I don't know... but there are none left. Or almost.
And there I am, jumping into the river with an "almost" in my head... those of you who know me know that, on the one hand, an encounter with crocodiles would not displease me, but on the other hand I couldn't help thinking of the urban legends of a famous feast of human flesh that happened when a boat sank in Lake Nasser.