Day 1: Tunis to Bir Bou Rekba

The initial plan was to get a train south out of Tunis, cycle around Cap Bon, and then either stay in Hammamet and get the train to Sousse the following day; or get to Hammamet and train it to Sousse that night.

This plan was thrown into tatters at the first hurdle when we were not allowed to take our bikes on the train, so we started out of Tunis on the bikes. We raced a train south, passed a few railway sidings with a few burnt out carriages (that gave us a good level of confidence for the rail network), and passed mainly through industrial surroundings. Finally we were heading out towards Cap Bon and the tailwind meant we kept a good pace heading east. With the towns of Hammam-Lif (-Leaf), Marisa and Meroua dispatched, we assessed our speed and distance from Hammamet, and decided to skip Cap-Bon by taking a minor road directly south to Menzel-Temime. The quality of this road was diabolical, and we were now heading into wind, so progress was slower than that of the morning. Arriving in Menzel-Temime, we found a suitable restaurant to get a plate of chicken and chips, accompanied by excessive quantities of bread (Leon would have been impressed), so we were set for the afternoon.

Concerns about the direction of the prevailing wind in Tunisia suddenly became more significant, as we suddenly became aware that we could be spending the next 4 days cycling straight into the wind. These were confirmed via a broken French conversation with the locals, and a plan involving getting the train out to Tozeur that evening was hatched.

The afternoon was quite a struggle, heading straight into the wind and whoever was riding at the front on the group really had to work hard. We rushed through Hammamet and got to Bir Bou Rekba just before nightfall. The train did not leave for at least another 2.5 hours, but that gave us plenty of time to get ripped off by the rail company (or rather some middle man who arranged our tickets), upset the locals by playing some cards, witness a bar brawl, and get some snacks for the journey.

Finally the 21:45 express turned up, we loaded our bikes on board and were soon desert-bound.

Day 2: Tozeur to Douz

We arrived in Tozeur in darkness at 6 in the morning, cold, tired and just looking forward to getting going with the day’s cycling. Two things were immediate plus points: 1 – that we had now highlighted the majority of the Tunisian rail network (and before Leon); and 2 – that our bikes were safe and still in one piece.

Following a quick coffee and baguette, we began the first stage of the desert adventure. It was good to have the wind behind us as we cruised through a number of villages before arriving on the Chott el Jerid. The Chott el Jerid is a giant salt plain with a 60 km road spanning it, barren for as far as you can see, with only some mountain ranges visible in the distance. This description doesn’t really do it justice, but the photos illustrate just how desolate this part of the country really is.

Midway through the plain, we took a pit stop, where Martin pointed out Mount Star Wars (they filmed quite a lot the trilogy here). It was also at this point that the 5 years of MMX group cycle training came together as we mastered the art of peloton cycling. In a metronomic fashion, we each took turns at the front for 2km stints. With the helpful tailwind, the pace built from a relatively ‘sedate’ 20 mph, to a pacey average speed of 24 mph, which was kept up relentlessly kilometre after kilometre. Team Sky talent spotters look out!

At that pace, it was not surprising that we landed up in Douz for lunch, having already bagged 60 miles of cycling. Given the poor quality, or rather lack of, accommodation on the previous night, we decided to splash out by staying at the 4 star El-Mouradi hotel just outside of Douz. There can’t ever have been three cyclists stay there before, but they accommodated our bikes and prepared us well for the next day’s cycle.

Day 3: Douz to Matmata

Clocking up almost 12 hours sleep was impressive, and we still managed to make breakfast for 8:30. Today involved a shorter (c. 80 miles) cycle through the wilderness that is the Northern Sahara, however there were no options for lunch, so we would have to ensure we took the day’s rations with us. Fortunately, the El-Mouradi did a great breakfast that, not only, included the standard cereal and croissant, but also cheese, ham (although we steered well clear of that), lettuce, cucumber etc. Were they not just encouraging us to make a baguette for lunch? Well, Martin and Andy obliged, while Matt made sure that he’d have some cracking jam sandwiches for lunch.

We had a quick stop in Douz to pick up water, more bread (although not from the patisserie where one might expect to buy some), and some fashionable sunnies for Matt. At 5 dinars, these were quite obviously genuine Ray-Bans.

Anyway, we soon hit the road and started our trek to Matmata. The wind continued to blow from the west, so we were assisted well and kept a good pace. The road was reasonable, although not pancake flat, as we had been used to, but there were no potholes to contend with, so this was certainly an improvement on British standards.

The terrain was barren, just desert scrub all the way to the horizon. Cars would pass every now and then. The odd goat herder may be spotted on the side of the road. We passed one or two drinks stops. It all sounds rather desolate and uninteresting, however, being so isolated, under clear blue skies, and surrounded by sand, made the day’s cycling spectacular and nothing like we’d experienced before.

As we approached Matmata, the road steadily climbed and we soon found ourselves in the land of the Troglodytes. Indeed, it seems fitting that this is where more of Star Wars was filmed, as a Troglodyte certainly sounds somewhat ‘sci-fi’. The name suggests a Troglodyte is some mythical creature from outer space having taken up residence in the desert. In fact it is an underground dwelling where the locals live, but we could still imagine…

Having arrived in Matmata, we decided to skip staying in a Troglodyte dwelling in favour of some run down hotel, settled in, and then went off to watch the sun set and find dinner. According to one of the locals, a chef, the Café Panorama sounded like a good bet for dinner. Having watched the sun set, we went off to find the restaurant but, along the way, found a few locals trying to get a broken down car started.

Machine was in his element! To say the car was a 40 year old wreck from France would have been a compliment, but the locals were sure they could get it going. Of course, we obliged lending a hand to get it push started, but to no avail. The bonnet came up, Machine took a look, the locals got some tools out and created a few sparks, but to the untrained mechanic, this car was as good as dead. Even Machine thought it was past it.

However the locals failed to be defeated and willed us to push further, in fact, to the top of a hill. Their optimism was far greater than ours, but we helped push it off the edge anyway and there was no sign of any engine action on the downhill. As we all expected the car to grind to a halt at the foot of the hill, the engine spluttered back to life, and the old banger miraculously found its way chugging up the hill on the other side. There’s no doubt that car would see at least another 10 years worth of use!

Mission accomplished, and we went off to find the Panorama Restaurant. Given that it was pretty much dark by the time we got there, it didn’t live up to its name too well. Even so, we demolished 4 courses (as there was a misunderstanding in the ordering), and that set us up well for the next day’s mammoth cycle to Sfax.

Day 4: Matmata to Sfax

The day started with a climb out of Matmata and back up to the Restaurant Panorama. This time the views were much more apparent, and we could see the huge plateau heading out towards the sea. This was good for us, given that it meant a good few miles of downhill cycling. We must have covered almost 25 miles within the first hour, and arrived in Gabes relatively fresh. We stocked up on the essentials of bread, water, cheese, fruit, D-Clic’s and continued on our way.

The ‘130-kilometres-to-go-to-Sousse’ sign just outside of Gabes was a real downer, only emphasised by the fact this was to be along the main P1 road heading north. While the monotony of the baron wilderness we had through the desert was actually quite spectacular, the endless tarmac traffic on the main road did not prove quite so amazing. Highlights of the road included the roadside cafes with dead animals hanging up outside ready to be grilled, kids throwing stones at us and oncoming drivers trying to overtake right into our path. However the real gem was the chance meeting of Omar Sidi, Beijing Paralympian at the ‘100-kilometres-to-go-to-Sousse’ sign. Having bought some snacks from his roadside shack, we chatted to him and his mates, and only then did it transpire just what sporting company we were in. 7^th place in the Beijing wheelchair marathon, in a time of 2 hours sounded really quite impressive, and all this with the only training being cruising up and down the main P1 road with the help of a safety car. We all left in awe and continued on our journey to Sfax.

Nothing for the rest of the day was as exciting as this. Following a quaint lunch stop on a drain cover on the side of the road, a few more sightings of dead sheep and visibility of the biggest mound of salt/sand/something, we arrived in Sfax.

Sfax had a modern feel to it and it appeared as though there was some wealth here. Perhaps it was because our hotel was placed just yards from their banking district. Anyway, we found a suitable place for dinner. In fact it was one of the more classy eating establishments we visited and we were accompanied by an abundance of ‘non-Tunisians’ here (for a change). Refueled and happy with the 115 miles under the belt today, we skipped the opportunity to drink coffee, smoke and watch a showdown between two of Tunisia’s biggest football teams, and chose to go to bed instead.

Day 5: Sfax to Sousse

Following our trip up the P1, we decided to steer as far away as that road as possible on today’s ride. So we headed out of Sfax and took the coastal road up to Jabinyanah (aka Jabulani). It was great to be on a quieter road for once and with some good peloton cycling, we soon found ourselves in Jabulani. The locals were very friendly here. In fact, while stocking up on some fruit, we were carefully picking the best pears out of a bad bunch on the stand. Very kindly, the stand owner refused to sell us these and instead went out the back to get some more fresh ones. Likewise, when we sat down for our D-Click break, the local hairdresser wanted us to sit on the comfort of the settee in the back of his store, rather than for us being in the sun. We did not oblige to this, as we wanted to be out in the sun, but it was a kind gesture all the same.

We planned a route out of the town on a very minor (white road), which we miraculously managed to find, that would take us up to El-Jem. This road took us right through the middle of some olive groves, which would be the scenery for the next 30 or so miles. Matt, having just put some more air in his tyres, immediately let the air out, given that the road surface had deteriorated quite significantly and was now a very uncomfortable ride.

We thought better than taking the road sign-posted to El-Jem, and later discovered that we had ‘overshot’ the turning to the Roman city. In a re-jig to the planned route, we scrapped El-Jem in favour of Mahdia, a coastal town 20 miles or so up the road. This looked like it would make a perfect lunch stop, and indeed it did. A restaurant served us up a fantastic platter of fish and chips, which was a good step up from our jam and cheese sandwiches of the previous two days.

As we pulled out of Mahdia, a young lad caught up with Matt and decided that he wanted to cycle with us for a while. His bike had gears, brakes and an oiled chain, all things that had gone unseen on bikes in Tunisia so far. Conversation was fairly limited, but we established he was a student, and….err…..well that was about it. He was soon dropped when we upped the pace just outside Mahdia and we headed up on a relatively quiet road up towards Sousse.

The closer we got to the city, the more built up the surroundings, and the quality of driving made it rather unsafe on the bikes. Having consumed yet another litre of Coke, another triple pack of D-Clics and any left over baguette, it was a case of heading for home, however, not without incident. The Tesco bag attached to the back of Martin’s bike, stuffed with the ‘complimentary’ towel provided by the El-Mouradi, was a key target for thieves. Lo-and-behold, while cycling through a somewhat seedy part of Tunisia, this was grabbed by masked men on a motorbike (scooter), and they powered off (well, only marginally quicker that our epic pace), into the distance. Not even the mighty Machine could keep up with them, and Martin continued to have to use a grotty T-shirt to dry himself.

So on to Sousse, and all the way into the city we maintained a good 22mph. It had been raining heavily before we got there and so the roads were both wet and slippery. With just half a mile to go, the front wheel of Andy’s bike became trapped in a railway track at a level crossing, sending him crashing to the floor, covering him in mud and a few cuts. Lets be honest, was this trip really going to go by with out incident?

At this point, we decided to call in a day on the bikes and with 467 miles on the clock, walked in to the Medina and found a guesthouse to check into. After we changed into some dirty clothes, it was time to embark on our next challenge: how to get to Tunis with the bikes. The options were 1 – cycle (yeah right), 2 –train (leaving at 6 in the morning, and Leon not travelling with us. Not really a great option), or 3 – Louage (never been on one, questionable whether they take bikes, could be expensive). So we decided to mull over the options over another plate of meat and chips in the hip Sousse restaurant Caracas.

None of us were keen on the cycle idea, nor the early start for the train, so we decided to head down to the louage station that evening, get a quote and, if the quote successful, head back the following morning with the bikes in tow. The quote was successful, and at a bargain price of 60 dinars, so we went back to the hotel, smug that we would not have a ridiculously early start the next day but confident that we’d get to Tunis without any difficulty.

Day 6: Sousse to Tunis

The louage station was bustling and, with three white tourists pushing relatively flash bikes around, the drivers’ eyes lit up with the opportunity to make a quick buck. One chap approached us and was more than happy to take us to Tunis for a pricy 70 dinars. Despite our haggling, there was no movement on the price: ‘Prix fix! Prix fix!’ So we were bundled into a minivan, along with our bikes, and handed over our cash. It then dawned on us that the chap, who we had handed the money to, was not the driver at all and we had potentially just been scammed out of 70 dinars. Naive British! In fact, the guy was a genuine Tunisian middleman and handed the entire wad of cash over the driver. The driver however was not quite so honest and, having eventually got into the cab, tried to convince us that the middleman had not paid him the full amount. Needles to say, we were unconvinced by his argument.

We picked up an extra passenger (a health and safety officer from south London, who can’t have been too impressed by the bikes stacked up in the back), and it was next stop Tunis. We were so close to the motorway when we were pulled over by the police. With seatbelt quickly put on, cigarettes out the window, and smiles all round, the louage driver conveyed a very contrived image to the police. Our passports were handed over under Matt’s watchful eye. From the snippets of French we understood, we established there were clearly some concerns about the bikes. We thought it must have been something to do with the fact the bikes were inside a people carrier, but the driver’s bogus image must have convinced them that he was an honest driver, carrying honest tourists, and we were soon on our way.

It only then became apparent that it was indeed the bikes that were of concern, but not because they were shoved in the back of the van. In fact the police were on the look out for three Italian road cyclists, of about 28-29 years old, and on the run for some crime in Tunisia. We sensed a feeling of coincidence here, as there can’t have been many other groups of three cyclists, on road bikes, and in the country at the time. However, any of our acquisitions from the El-Mouradi had either been eaten or pinched from the back of our bikes, otherwise we had been law abiding citizens during our trip, so we were allowed to continue on our way to Tunis.

Bicycles and the Tunis medina at rush hour make a poor combination and it took us a little longer to get back to the Auberge de Jeunesse than expected. But, once there, the little man, grotty toilets and dismal room all greeted us. We needed reminding just what a fine establishment it really is! Anyway the bikes were soon dismantled and packed up ready for the flight and we went off to explore the northern suburbs of Carthage and Bou Said (via the train of course). In the evening, we went back to the Hotel Trois Etoiles for some food, and the waiter was very pleased to see us making a return visit. In fact, he was so happy that he continued to ply us with plate after plate of food. We felt obliged to give him a hefty tip of about 25%, (albeit about £1.50 dinars, which illustrates just how cheap Tunisia really is).

Just when we thought the evening was coming to a close, we opened the door to the Auberge to see the impressive eating area transformed into a wedding reception, complete with guests, water, sofa for bride and groom, and some deafening music being played out.

We did feel a little sorry for the bride and groom, having their wedding reception at the Auberge, given that all three of us wanted to get out of that place as soon as possible. Still, the music was cranking out until the early hours, so they must have enjoyed themselves as much as the residents of the youth hostel enjoyed their good nights sleep!

For us though, with 467 miles completed, having passed through deserts and salt plains, having met a paralympian, having narrowly avoided being arrested by the police, having lived through the fun of the night train, having got an old Renault 12 restarted and having experienced another country in North Africa, no wedding celebration was going to keep us awake, and the only question that remains open is “Where to next?”