Iron Butts Challenge: Danny-John and Graham in Tunisia

Tuesday morning found us eating breakfast with new Tunisian best pal Rashed and exchanging pleasantries with our waiter, Jalel, who thought he looked like Bruce Willis.  Jalel thought Danny was a dead ringer for Will Smith and Graham his was worst nightmare as he was the only one who declared himself atheist - Jalel couldn’t understand why someone would have no religion.  He tried the five minute conversion on Graham but we couldn’t understand why an Algerian born in Sicily took life so seriously!  What a character – he’d have made a great stand up from the word go when he asked us why we were eating with the poor people in the ‘buffet’ section.

We were expecting an easy path through customs as Tunisia is meant to be the most European of the all the north African countries.  We should have been so lucky! As we rolled to a standstill at the customs point, there were obviously several different levels of official. The least official and most shifty looking was very helpful with getting our paperwork in order – then he asked for a bung. We refused and maybe that’s where the problems started? The next and far more official looking guy walked over and asked in very good English for any ‘radio walky talky’ and GPS. Being a polite Englishman, I obliged and they were all carted off along with our passports. Ten minutes later he was back with a shorter, fatter version of himself in tow who seemed to be a higher level and he declared that the radios were ‘interdit’ and must be taken and left at another building.  Meanwhile the suave young German had sailed through was only a cursory inspection. A two hour sweat filled circus of walking to and from the ‘other building’ ensued with me having to beg in very poor French to be allowed to keep the radios and GPS. I had to settle to keep the GPS and leave the radios from our intercoms there. I was given a very official receipt so the I could collect them on our way back  - even when I explained that we were not coming back the helpful official just said ‘not my problem’. Beware all travellers to Tunisia of the officious customs men and their desire to keep your walky talky and GPS!

Finally we were through customs and on our way to Rached’s island, 450km away.  It should have been a 4-5 hour journey. Leaving as we did at about 6pm, we should have been there about 11.  Try 4am – bad traffic, worse roads, food stop at an authentic roadside shack and an island ferry meant we got to Rashed’s dad’s house just before the birds started singing.  In fact, we did hear cockerels crowing as we were unloading the bikes. Only one bed was available which Danny took as the senior member of the duo. Graham’s bed was a row of settee cushions two foot wide.  They were luxury.