Wed 23 Mar

Awad arrives, pretty well as agreed – early on the Wednesday morning. He's brought a Toyota "boxi" and a driver. The original owner – the one I had negotiated with the week before - had pulled out at the last minute and the lad had had to use his initiative at short notice to find a replacement. The cab sits three with a squeeze so that's the sponsors taken care of.

For good measure Awad had brought the original driver to be our guide – after all it's not his fault his vehicle has been withdrawn. He comes from the village nearest the pyramids and apparently knows these desert sites like the back of his hand. He'll be company for Awad too as they sit in the back and hold on for dear life and his potential for overnight hospitality – rather than having to sleep in the sand with the crazy khawajas should not be under estimated.

We inspect the vehicle and as seasoned travellers ask smug questions like "have you got a jack?" We realise later that had we asked the slightly more relevant "have you driven off-road before?" or "do you know where we're going?" we could have made a valuable contribution to expectation management.

We must have journeyed up the main road for about two hours before finally stopping for a break. A chance for a chai and briefing. From here we'd leave the tarmac and cut across the desert for 45km to the historical archaeological sites of Musawwarat, Naqa. At first it was difficult to find our way, simply because a new pipeline was being laid and there were piles of earth everywhere and the crossing places were few and far between; disorienting enough – even for a local boy. There were some reassuring tracks and signs, and occasionally we stopped to pick up some local route finders. Our driver was clearly unfamiliar with driving in sand and it wasn't long before we reach a soft patch, bottomed out and dug ourselves in. Everyone was ready to give advice – little of it was consistent. David and I soon realised that whatever relevance their experience and knowledge contributed – it wasn't driving in sand. We had to persuade the driver most firmly that he let the tyres down, and insisted that once he got stuck he desisted from trying to drive out – as this serves only to dig the vehicle in deeper.

The ruins were fabulous. At Musawwarat we visited the Lion Temple which had been lovingly reconstructed in the 20th century. The images and designs on the stonework showing lions, crocodiles and strangely elephant. At the nearby palace compound there were more elephants and the guidebook suggested that they had actually be elephants kept at the palace – presumably for their exotic interest.

At Naqa we saw the magnificent avenue of the rams lining the way, up the hill to another temple. It was hard to imagine how this might have been in its day; probably more fertile than today. Down the hill there was a well and a concentration of effort around an ancient well drawing water nomadic livestock – principally camels.

On the otherside of the depression was the picturesque "kiosk" exhibiting a confusion of architectural influence – Roman arches, Greek columns and another Lion Temple.

The "return" journey was frustrated by the readiness to believe in a "short cut" to the "main road" which added a couple of unplanned hours to our journey and set the seal on not being anywhere in time for what had already transmuted from being a promised brunch to a late lunch. We reached Shendi in time for evening prayer. Our crew were determined to get the food order in, and the driver near to maniacal obsession with getting air back into his tyres. He needn't have bothered as half an hour out of town our persuit of sunset at the pyramids was further exasperated by a puncture.

At Bajarawiya we missed the friendly kafir (caretaker)Mustufa who had understandably knocked off for the evening. Once again we refused all offers and suggestions that we return with the vehicle to the nearby village for the evening – despite the promise of local alcohol. Instead, David and I dug in for the evening. First enjoying a picnic supper and later surveying the windswept site by moonlight before concluding that the most comfortable night's sleep was best had on the forecourt of the gatehouse.