It’s now the morning of the day we ferry across Lake Nasser into Sudan and we Americans still don’t have visas. We’re stuck with 4 other Americans from another travel group and their idiot “apprentice” leader who is only sticking around to shag the girl.After doddling with them on some scheme to get visas, Mary and I take matters into our own hand at the Sudanese embassy where we meet some very nice people including the mystical head Counsel who speaks in poems and riddles. In the end, everyone does get visas and we all head to the port to catch our ferry.The rest of our group had gone to the ferry port 7 hours before us with tickets they had purchased two days prior. We couldn’t get tickets without our visas and find out at the gate that the boat is sold out (later we learn there were ~670 people on the boat meant to carry about 250). Using techniques of confusion, shouting and general sneakery, Mary and the other American girl make it passed the 3 armed guards and enter the dock making for the boat.

–Steve’s perspective from the first guard post–
Another 10 minutes later I get a window of opportunity and walk briskly down the path away from the guard post, ignoring the shouts of “Mister! Mister!” Getting close to the dock, I can go left through immigration or right through a gate to what looks like the dock itself. Tough choice. We’re being chased OJ Simpson style at this point by a guard yelling at us from 20 yards behind. I advise the guy I’m walking with to ignore and keep walking, but he chickens out and stops to address the guard. This move actually buys me some time, so I pick up my pace a bit more. I finally catch sight of the death barge with our group standing up top cheering. I make it onto the gangplank and have to face just one last guard before boarding. He wants to see my exit stamp from Egypt immigration which I simply don’t have and he’s serious. Game over.
By this time, the walkie-talkies have sent message of our exploits all around the port and I’m descended upon by the port authority who kindly escorts me away from the boat. This is an unfortunate time to meet the one Egyptian who seems to be honestly trying to just do his job.
While waiting in near-custody for the Arnold Schwargenegger-sized head guy to sort things out, I finally catch sight of Mary on the boat and she decided to come off. This is a huge relief as the boat looks like what you see pictures of bringing refugees over from Asia. It’s a floating death trap. It actually sunk 6 months prior and killed 200+ passengers.

–Mary’s perspective from the first guard post–
-to be filled in when Mary is able to finally speak of ‘the ferry incident’-

Back together on the dock, the port guy is trying really hard to figure out how 7 people made it through various parts of the port without tickets or going through immigration and how on earth Mary got onto the boat. He starts grilling Mary a bit about how she got so far and she finally loads the shotgun and fires a big “I HATE EGYPT!!” his way before turning her back and walking away.
In the end, the guy has too many upset people on his hands to get any good answers and finally just gave up and freed us to roam Egypt some more.

After all is said and done, it is best we did not get on the boat. There was apparently quite a rigorous verification of tickets and baggage customs tickets on board and also at the Sudan port after our little stunt. That and the boat was not only a filthy hell-hole that stank like a sewer, but the group spent 17 hours on deck exposed to the elements.