We met Mirko and Ulrike in Douz, as we drove round town looking for the famous Desert Camping Club. They were lost too. Despite this, we all decided a few days later to head south-east together, across the desert and the dunes to the oasis of Ksar Ghilane. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.
Mirko is a journalist and ex-nurse Ulrike now works as a health professional. They were in Tunisia for a short trip, road-testing their converted Land Rover 110 camper ("the Enterprise") in preparation for their big trip this November, shipping her out to Cape Town and driving home to Munich.
We all clicked immediately, though they must have wondered pretty quickly what they were letting themselves in for, choosing basketcases like us as travelling companions: we almost left town with an empty petrol tank! And they were as patient with our truck as they were with us when, not long after leaving the tarmac, taking the rough piste that led to nothing but sand, sand and more sand, our truck showed signs of overheating. Again. Our hearts sank. For half an hour, all munching on watermelon in the sweltering heat, we had to contemplate turning back. Mirko and Ulrike said they'd stick with us, whatever our decision, and we're so glad they did, and that we decided to press on.
It turned a mini adventure for five days and nights that ended up taking us not just through the desert, but into the mountains and onto an island.
On day one we played cat and mouse in the desert, following each others' tracks, taking the dunes one by one, towing each other out of trouble and seeking the GPS bearings that would eventually get us through. At night we saw two sidewinders pass by our fire. Ulrike and I swapped methods for trying to overcome our fears: hers for spiders, mine for the dark. Day two, we woke up to the patter of rain (rain? in the desert?!) and set off early while the sand was harder and more compacted, reaching the elusive oasis in a dramatic sandstorm. We took a dip in the hot spring then ventured out into the storm again, passing herds of goats, each tended by a lone figure, heads bent to the stinging wind-blown sand. We slept in a mountain village too tiny to be marked on any of our maps, sheltering from the wind ourselves outside the shop of kind Mr Hassan.
Day three we took the non-tarmac route to the subterranean homes at Matmata. Mirko picked up a hitchhiker in a hooded cloak that reminded me of Beth's elfin Halloween costume last year. We passed the stunning mountain village of Toujane and raced against the setting sun to the coast where we parked up to sleep in a breathtaking spot under a palm tree, two metres from the water's edge, at the edge of a field of olive trees, one of which (the next afternoon) mysteriously managed to poke its branch through our window.... The following night, on Jerba Island, we barbequed tuna and Mirko and Ulrike listened to our sorrows and made us laugh. Day five, Huw and I had the window replaced but, due to the wonders of GPS, we met up with them again for one last delightful evening.
Each night we cooked delicious dinners, built a campfire, drank beers, swapped stories. And each morning we soaked in our beautiful surroundings as we sipped fresh coffee and fresh juice, preparing for the adventurous day ahead. Two's company, three's a crowd, but four was a party, every waking minute. We miss you a lot guys. Prepare well and maybe we'll see you on the road in 2011.
Route, photos and more at www.thelongandwinding.co.uk