...or so we hoped. After weeks of colour variations on a theme (sand-coloured, beige, light brown, dusky pink) and days of passing landscape that really didn't change much (sudden cries of "ooh look! there's another camel/burnt out car/animal corpse" being the highlight of the driving day) the promises of the lush Jebel Ahkdar, the 'Green Mountains', were almost too much to wish for. Of all the things we miss from home (families, friends and fry-ups go without saying) the colour green, of grass, unkempt sprawling fields and shaded woodlands, rates high on our lists.
Following yet more breathtaking hospitality from Marai Elkaseh and his team in Ajdabya then the fabulous Jim Badiali and the 1st Engineering Benghazi posse, we left feeling fully refreshed, fed and watered, and the truck's tyres swapped to spread the tread-wear, front for back, back for front. Just an hour north, we reached the famous 'big climb' up to the plateau and the mountains, and she coped beautifully, the water temperature hovering around the red warning line instead of soaring way above it as it had done in Tunisia and that first day in Libya. Thanks again to all the fabulous chaps at 1st Engineering for all their hard work.
Not quite the lushness we'd hoped for, but it was certainly greener, and at least there were rolling hills on all sides to break up the flat nothingness we'd been driving through for days. We topped up with petrol at the top of the climb, and 500m on spluttered and came to an abrupt halt. You honestly can't make this stuff up. We looked at each other, dejected. Not again surely. We've had more than our fair share of breakdowns (more than we've written about!) and were both just about at breaking point ourselves. Hoping it was just dirty fuel but petrified it was something more serious, I jogged to a nearby farm to explain in my very faltering Arabic that "nooreedu ahad ye jorroona min fudluk", we need someone to tow us please. The sight of a slightly flustered female in distress greatly bemused the gaggle of gentlemen, all lazing on cushions, sipping tea, enjoying the England vs Germany match.
When they finally understood what I was asking for, they leapt into action, firing up a tractor just as Huw stop-started along the road and into the farm driveway, by turning the engine over just enough to squeeze a drop of fuel in before it stalled, then repeating, repeating, repeating. Now we were convinced it was nasty (or perhaps watered-down) fuel that we'd just added. Abdul, who just happened to be a "mekaniki", agreed. Together, he and Huw swapped the fuel filter for a new one, neither speaking a word of the others' language but communicating through the vernacular of vehicle mechanics. It was a beautiful thing to behold. Job done, with 15 minutes left of the match, we settled on the sofas with hot sweet Arabic tea to watch the final thrashing. We could only imagine the scenes back home, but bet it was quite different to where we were, and certainly involved more alcohol!
No sooner had we hit the road than we picked up another accidental hero. At a junction just a few clicks on, we stopped, confused because both the road-signs and Abdul (who had whizzed along behind us) indicated that we should go left, even though our map said straight on. Cue Omar. He stopped his car and explained in flawless English that there was a diversion ahead due to major roadworks, and that like us he was heading to Al Bayda, and we could follow him. Very kind indeed, though we've come to expect such kindness from Libyans now. What we didn't expect was that he'd guide us for over 100km, driving at our snail's pace, stopping to point out interesting sights along the way, such as the caves where independence revolutionary Omar Muktar hid in the 1920s. At Al Bayda, he'd called ahead to sort our evening's accommodation (the car park of a friend's hotel) then took us on a night-tour of the city, showing us our road for the next day and treating us to a late-night tea at his favourite cafe. He wanted nothing from us at all. As Sarah G says, our gasts were flabbered.
The following morning (Monday 28th June) we left the highway for the scenic coast road, first to have a potter round the stunningly-situated ruined Greek hillside city of Cyrene. Both a bit 'ruined-out' by now, so this was quick. The day's highlight came later, in the form of a charming young bloke Nahael who invited us into his home to meet his crazy mama and even crazier sisters. We intended to pop in for a polite 15 minutes, but stayed well over an hour, chatting and laughing in a cocktail of French, Arabic and English, showing family photos, exchanging gifts. One sister was smitten with my brother and clung to his photo, kissing it all over!
Another random stop that night: our search for a deserted moonlit beach was fruitless again and we found ourselves in a Libyan-style Butlins-type place watching Tom & Jerry cartoons on a huge outdoor screen, chatting with owner Khalid who used to live in Manchester. At least it was a chance for a shower. A short detour in Derna the next day to see quite possibly the only waterfall in Libya, then onwards, south-eastwards, back down the mountains into the sand, towards Tobruk and the Egyptian border.
For photos of all the people in this story, and in fact everyone we've met en-route, just click here.
Route, photos and more at www.thelongandwinding.co.uk