We met a few other bikers but we were the only Brits. In fact on entering several East African countries, the boarder guards often assumed we were German until we presented our documents.
The first biker was a South African lad who rolled into Eilat (Israel) on his XT660 with a blown head gasket after his long journey North.
After introductions he said “Are you going all the way to Cape Town”
We said “Hopefully!”
Noticing our home made panniers/racks and spreader plate welded to our side stands he said
“You will have no problem on these bikes. You are more prepared than me. Hell, you could do it on a moped! It would just take longer”
He said “Are you nervous?”
We nodded, so he reached into his tank bag and pulled out a map.
He unfolded it, spread it on the ground and tapping it said;
“You are nervous now, but when you’ve finish this trip you will open a map of the world like this and have the confidence to go anywhere”.
He was right, but anywhere is still to happen!
The second lad we met was an Italian called Stefano on his GS.
He was at the campsite in Giza with another GS riding German lad. We were all doing a bit of bike maintenance before pushing further South.
We went for a meal together and mutually agreed to hold our conversations in English. That was the only option for Dick and I and we felt a bit ignorant that these too lads could speak three languages fluently.
We then met a father and son in Eritrea who were traveling from South Africa to start a new life in Wales. The mother and daughter were flying there to sort the new home whilst these two were having a ball riding their XT500’s North. It turns out he’s called Lawrence Bransby and has written a book about their journey.