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We reach an enormous outcrop, known as Jebel Barkal, about 40 minutes before sundown. One side is already in deep shadow. No good for photographs, so, I'm sorry to say, not worth seeing. We inspect a temple within a cave and then walk around to the other side to check out the pyramids. They are neat, and attractive in the glow of the late afternoon sun, but they are also just a stone's throw from the tarmac road. They lack the peaceful, remoteness I like about Meroe; I'm glad we've decided not to sleep here. We climb up the jebel, taking a sort of ever escalating sheep's path up the south side. On top it's broad and flat. There are tremendous views, particularly of the Nile – looking so blue and confident – and also of the pyramids, now not much more than sand castles way below. It's fantastic, but we're also painfully aware it's brief. This can never be more than a familiarisation tour, a taster, a sample. We take pictures of each other "dangerously" standing on a protruding ledge, with tourists' Land Cruisers way below, and briefly we catch a glimpse of a bat-eared fox. Needless to say the sunset is beautiful, and then the descent necessarily rapid before it gets too dark to find our way. What next? Well, I've arranged we'll stay at the family home of Elham, one of my students, but first we've got to get there. We need transport into Karima (2km) and then to find some way of getting across the river. Not surprisingly, the public ferry service doesn't operate after nightfall. We get a lift with a Ford Transit, providing a public transport service. It costs about 20˘ to take both of us to a rickshaw queue in Karima. From there we negotiate a lift down to the ferry… but which one? By this time it's gone 8pm and Elham's going spare. We call her for the umpteenth time and suggest she talks to the rickshaw driver. He's brought us to the wrong ferry but as we'll be hiring the whole rowing boat just for ourselves it doesn't really matter. The ferryman is happy to take us across to our intended arrival point where Elham's [male] cousins are obligingly waiting for us. Of course, it's not so much of a "crossing" as a "length" of the Nile. Our oarsman seems to relish the change in routine… or maybe he's thinking how he'll spend the unexpected boost to his day's takings? After what seems like 20-30 minutes rowing upstream, against the force of the mighty Nile, we start crossing on a futile diagonal, and then when it seems we're only halfway across we step out onto a sandbank and continue our diagonal track, with only the stars for light, a long way till we reach a posse of Elham's cousins, brothers and friends. We're whisked to the house and everyone's relieved that we've finally been "found" and dinner can commence. Everyone, that is, except her father who'd rather not be interrupted from the radio coverage of Hilal verses some Turkish team. (Marekh have already won their game.)
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