Sands of the South

Review written by the participants in a Rollers Adventures trip.

We're a small group of friends who love the Sahara, all passionate about Land Rovers; we had enthusiastically accepted the trip to Libya that was to be organised by the Italian Land Rover Register — imagine our disappointment when, less than a month before departure, Land pulled back and cancelled the trip! But seized by a sacred desert fever, after various searches we found the agency that offered us Tunisia; a quick decision, we accepted. In hindsight: EXCELLENT DECISION. A calm departure, calm sea, the usual talk, the usual boredom, the usual paperwork. Arrival in Tunis late in the evening and immediate departure… First stop Kairouan: dinner and overnight stay. The next day, departure at 8, more tarmac as far as Tataouine. Refuelling: diesel for the cars, petrol for the motorbikes, bread and fruit for us.

We're heading decidedly south but the refuelling has delayed us and, shortly after, we decide to leave the tarmac and make our first camp; we try for the first time the modification to the Range adapted as a «Camper», a "suite", in my view. The set-up is very quick and the comfort excellent, confirmed the next morning too: we wake up rested and not at all "battered", in great shape, I'd say. We try to set off rather early but there's no way! This morning it's a motorbike that has decided to play up. At around 9 we set off again. We're on the stony track heading for Borj Bourguiba; everything proceeds calmly, we joke and laugh, communicating by radio. At the little fort, document check, handing out cigarettes, smiles and off we go again, still heading south. We're on a stony track, we reach another small fort (Borj Jenin). We visit the spring. It gets late and we look for a place to camp.

Almost a collective bogging-down. It's 31/12 and we plan to say goodbye to the old year and celebrate the new. Dinner with lentils and cotechino, sparkling wine, kisses, hugs and, decidedly tired, we decide not to wait for midnight for the traditional fireworks. At ten the bangs, greetings and hugs begin. The satellite phone is under pressure for greetings to friends and relatives in Italy. In the morning we set off again; a few little dunes then the pipeline, always heading south, our goal: Borj El Khadra, but we'll get there tomorrow. Meanwhile we're on what seems like a road. An illusion. A few kilometres are enough and, if we don't speed up, we risk seeing the bolts of our off-roaders precede us, detached from the vehicles. Stop! Everyone halt. The first puncture. It's Paolo.

He has a mania for staying ahead of everyone, and you see a few grins when we overtake him to stop but then immediately help him change the wheel. Roberto offers some Mon Chéri to the ladies. Poor fool, if he thinks we men won't take advantage too. The result is that the box is finished in a flash. We're still on the pipeline, but when the Toule Ondulè ends, a series of big wind-blown sand dunes begins; some are overcome easily. Nicola has handed the wheel to Rossella, Guido travels outside on the sand to avoid the stones, and when he finds the route blocked he comes back onto the pipeline without looking; Rossella brakes hard, the accident is avoided, but Rossella has buried the nose of the Discovery in the sand up to the radiator. We shovel, we pull out the tow straps to position a towing vehicle on solid ground.

Then Bir Pistor on the border with Libya, a Berber village long abandoned. We continue towards Borj el Kadra, where we refuel for the "galley", we watch a Tunisian wrap and bake bread, and we can admire magnificent desert roses. Here water is plentiful, so we take the chance to wash and get rid of some of the sand we've accumulated in our hair and on our skin. In the early afternoon we set off again; we're heading for the sands of the Erg Abiod. Evening comes early and we stop for camp. In the morning we set off again; there are only dunes and sand, the fun guaranteed by various bogging-downs. Diesel is running low and we head straight for El Borma; we cover the last kilometres following a sandy track. Refuelling for the off-roaders and for the people.

We set off again at once; we retrace part of the track then head into the dunes; the first cordon is passed calmly, though with several bogging-downs; at the second cordon, when we're almost at the top, Guido, in a jump, plants the nose of the Defender, and the roof tent almost comes off entirely. Everyone stops to repair the damage as best we can. When we set off again Nicola climbs onto the rear bumper of Roberto's off-roader; as was almost certain, he's thrown to the ground and a foot takes a terrible twist. This time we stop again to check the damage to Niki's foot. Luckily it's the left one. But before he can use it again, a bandage and a painkilling injection were needed. Anna (a doctor) says there's probably no fracture but he'd need rest. Meanwhile time passes and continuing on the planned route becomes difficult. We have to redo the schedule.

We set off again, Nicola manages to drive with some difficulty. We head for the track. Camp among the dunes. In the morning we reach the track and over the radio Claudio warns — vehicle in the opposite direction — they're the cars of the "Paris Dakar". At intervals we meet motorbikes, cars and trucks. Paola, on the CB, keeps reporting all the vehicles we meet; it wouldn't be needed since by now we all know, but she carries on. Finally you keep hearing on the CB — "Radio Maria", we know — but Paola keeps doggedly reporting motorbikes, trucks, stones, dips and cars. Only the next day will she be quiet, after at camp we've all teased her a bit. Suddenly above the track a plane, then a helicopter and beside the track a gazebo: it's a checkpoint of the "Paris Dakar"; naturally we stop for the ritual photos. We resume the journey and follow the pipeline, but the track almost doesn't exist.

We follow the two pipes, drawing closer or further away depending on the state of the ground. Refuelling at the Kamour depot. We continue along the pipeline pipes. Then we turn off towards Ksar Ghilane. There we find the whole caravan of the Nissans taking part in the "Paris-Dakar"; it's their rest day. In the morning we set off again, but another tyre almost flat, I'll have to travel stopping now and then to inflate it; the other, the spare, is repaired as best we can and I want to use it only in a real emergency. We're heading for Matmata. But by now the trip can be considered over; the following day a long drive on tarmac to Hammamet, a visit to the medina, another overnight stay, then on to Tunis for the boarding and to reach Genoa. Here the usual farewells, hugs and intentions to repeat the experience as soon as possible.

Indeed, a small group, limited in number and all with shared experiences, is effectively the most sensible thing you could find for trips of this kind.

A sincere thank-you to the guides Margherita Fenelli and Claudio Coletta, who, even if little mentioned in these lines, were certainly the backbone of the whole trip.