Tunisia (and a bit of Europe…):

After getting away almost on time, we set off in a very subdued mood. This was mainly because we were sure we must have forgotten all sorts of useful and important things. But we figured that there was nothing we could do if we had, and they must have shops in Africa So we carried on, getting more and more excited as we went.

First stop was Poole for a meal to say goodbye to our families before crossing the channel to France. Once there we realised that one of the headlamps was blown, but thinking nothing of it and running a little late for the ferry we thought we’d sort it out later. It was only after a day in France when I tried to change it that we realised we had “sealed beam units” where the bulb is integral with the headlight. We completely failed to find a dealer during opening hours in France, so continued on to Genoa for the crossing to Tunisia.

While we found the port quite easily, finding the right boat was a different matter but after circling the port a couple of times we got there eventually. The queue was chaotic, with a mix of tourist 4x4s and bikes and locals with heavily laden cars and vans full to overflowing with suitcases, washing machines and toys.

We spotted a few other tourists equipped for overlanding and on the way back from checking in went to say hello. So we met John, Helen and Andy. John and Helen are in another landy and are planning to do the same route, more or less, as us and Andy is riding a KTM bike down through Libya to Niger and then onward to South Africa. Although I’m sure he won’t mind me saying that he seemed a bit vague about his exact route.

After passing a significant portion of the journey in the bar we got off the boat in the evening, to face the minor bureaucratic hurdle of Tunisian customs. After the initial queues we chased around for about an hour getting forms for this, and stamps for that until at last we were done. Unfortunately for John and Helen the officials had taken against them and forced them to remove their CB from it’s mounting and sealed it with their GPS in a plastic bag. None of us have any idea why, but we were glad it wasn’t us.

At last we were in Africa! Albeit at midnight, in a town we didn’t know and lacking a headlight. We’d decided to stick together initially so we set of in convoy to try and find a beach to camp on up the coast. That beach turned out to be the main car park in Sidi Bou Said, a picturesque resort perched on a hill over the med. As we had arrived during Ramadan it wasn’t quite as peaceful as we would have liked, with cars and mopeds coming and going until the wee hours. We also found out the next day that it is home to the presidential palace, so in spite of finding a hotel for the next night we couldn’t get to it as the police on guard refused to let us drive past.

So our acclimatisation consisted of a restless night sleeping in a car park before we decided to sort out the headlight issue and sallied forth into Tunis to find a landy parts shop. We spotted a garage fairly quickly and got directions from there. Unfortunately they took us into central Tunis. Which was interesting to say the least. The pedestrians appear suicidal, the moped riders mad and a couple of men in suits got out of their cars to fight over who had right of way. And then we came across the trams, belting around with only a bicycle bell to warn people they are coming. Needless to say I had a great time, but Claire was looking a tad frayed by the time we found the shop.

After getting the headlight and escaping from Tunis we headed south east for the Roman town at Dougga. We stopped overnight at a hotel nearby which turned out to be a great deal better than it looked.

A couple of shots from Dougga

Dougga was spectacular, perched on a hilltop in the morning mist, where we spent a couple of hours wandering round before carrying on to another Roman site at Sbeitla.

The Roman Temples at Sbeitla

We camped rough that night before continuing south towards the desert ending the day at the campsite in Gabes. It was perfect, once we’d found it: quiet, close to the market, the showers were clean and there were even a couple of charming kids to practice our Arabic on. Unfortunately, they weren’t as easily bored of our company as we were of theirs, and when I suggested they might want to stop swinging on the car and go home one of them produced a box of matches.

At first, the fires were quite small and easily stamped out, even in sandals. But when I went to get someone who spoke Arabic to get rid of them they found a large palm frond to set light to. Claire throwing water at them made them drop it, so it set light to the grass. Luckily we managed to put the resulting blazes out with a bit of help from some locals who had seen the smoke.

That night’s entertainment was provided by three mosques, all within a stone’s throw of the campsite, who competed for attention by transmitting their evening worship for a solid two hours. When they eventually stopped we knew we would have an early wake up when they did their first call to prayer. And as expected, at four the next morning we were woken by a rousing chorus of “ALLAH U UKBAR” on crackling knackered old PA systems, all slightly out of time with each other. Time to bury your head in the pillow, and try not to shout back.

    On the Piste to Ksar Ghilane

We set off early the next day for Ksar Ghilane along a roughly graded piste through flat, scrubby semi-desert. It was, contrary to our expectations, fairly dull with long stretches of corrugated track interrupted by the occasional sudden dip or sand patch to keep you on your toes. We got slightly stuck playing in a wadi, but escaped easily to continue towards the Great Eastern Erg or sand sea which materialized on the horizon to the right after a couple of hours.

Wadi lotta fun!

Soon enough we arrived at the oasis of Ksar Ghilane right on the edge of the Erg. We had made it to the Sahara proper! I was keen to get going to the ruined fort a few km out in the dunes, so we set off steadily following some tracks. It was too late when I realized they were quad tracks!

The dunes were small, which would logically make them easier to cross. But that isn’t necessarily the case as you have less thinking time between each one and no space to take a run up. So I had a little digging to do… This also gave me some time to have a look around so I could plan our retreat. We had brief foray up another track before deciding I really didn’t have a clue what I was up to and discretion seemed the wisest course, so we headed into the village to ask for directions. The people we found either thought I looked far too amateurish or were involved in the tourist trade as they suggested giving the car a rest and hiring a quad, camel or horse.

   We're not lost!

So after a quick fanta we continued on the next section of piste, which took us through some low hills on a rougher and more corrugated track. Corrugations are ridges across the track that are formed by passing traffic. They are very rough on both the car and occupants and either you need to slow down so you’re not crashing heavily into each ridge, or accelerate so you skim over the top of them. The latter option is preferable, but compromises your directional control somewhat. Fortunately the desert was now stony so we could find our own, smoother path away from the piste. So we spent the next hour or two picking our way between low passes in the hills keeping a vague eye on the route of the track and the cairns to guide our path.

    Campsite with a view

That night we camped on a small ridge above a tamarisk grove, enjoying a peaceful evening with a beer and some decent music, watching the sun set and the moon rise.

    Sunset in the Desert

Sadly, as we were tidying up to go to bed the wind started to pick up so we decided we’d move into shelter behind the ridge to get some sleep. Once there the wind was only a minor irritation, occasionally carrying the noise of barking dogs.

    View from the camp

When we got on the road again the next morning we worked out where the noise had come from as a km or so away we came across a flock of sheep with it’s attendant shepherd and dogs. The scenery began to get less barren from there as we started to rejoin civilization, with more tamarisk groves at first and then signs of habitation and at last after 220 km tarmac!

    Ksar Guermessa

As we were in the Ksour (plural of Ksar, apparently) region we visited a few of these fortified granaries. It sounds like a strange concept, but the Berbers used to store their grain in rooms carved out of the hillside and they found it lasted better if it was high up as the dry breeze helped with preservation. When the Arabs invaded they simply turned them into hilltop fortifications. We visited three that day; Chenini, Guermessa and Haddada. Guermessa is the best preserved, and is far enough from the regular tourist route (about 10km!) that we were alone when we visited. Haddada has the distinction of being rebuilt as part of the set for “Tattouine” in one of the recent Star Wars movies. Since then, unfortunately the owners have been unable to afford the upkeep so it has lost a bit of its sparkle.

    Ksar Haddada

And now (15^th October) we are in Tataouine (That Lucas bloke can’t spell for toffee) making sure nothing has come loose on the rough roads, sorting some of the minor niggles that we could have done better to start with and clearing the sand out of KT.

Tomorrow we’re heading for Libya so the next update may well be in three weeks or so when we get to Egypt. Who knows? There may be plenty of internet cafes in Libya…