April in Tunisia
The beautiful spring day was coming to an end as my friend Bob and I studied the map. Having ridden our motorcycles leisurely absorbing the desolate desert scenery of this North African country, we stood next to our bikes at an intersection trying to determine the best route to our hotel. We had ridden for a while along a broad dirt road that seemed to extend infinitely ahead of us into the horizon. On our left, in the distance, was a mountain range hiding the town of Matmata in which our hotel was located. The road going left in that direction seemed the shortest way. A weather beaten road sign confirmed this. We were soon to realize that this road would put us in what seemed to be a Twilight Zone plot. Even though this trip took place over twenty-six years ago, it remains absolutely vivid in my memory.
We were part of an Edelweis Bike Travel tour of Tunisia. We all met in Genoa, Italy and took a ferry overnight to Tunis from which we would tour the country and return two weeks later. Most were from Germany; three of us were from the States. I rode a rented BMW R80GS, which, like the other bikes in the group, is well suited for both street and off-road riding. Up to this point, we were about a week into our tour, having visited diverse historic sites ranging from the famous tank battles of Kasserine to Roman ruins of aqueducts, theaters, and an old-soldiers home. Between these our eyes feasted on fields of beautiful desert flowers in full bloom.
That morning, the group was in Nefta. The more experienced riders were taking a difficult route at speed to Matmata that, as the route was described by our tour leader, Bob and I felt was beyond our comfort level. So, we opted out and decided to take a leisurely trip, enjoy the scenery and get to the hotel at our own pace. Advertised to be one of the trip’s highlights, Hotel Marhala is a structure built below ground level, consisting of a number of excavated caves located along two levels around a large circular hole dug about twenty to twenty-five feet below the surface. Various caves comprised guest rooms, bath facilities, dining rooms and an office. The topography of the area is such that the base and office of the hotel are at street level. The ground floor was literally the ground. Getting there, as it turned out, took much more skill and determination than we ever could have realized.
Before we stopped to check our map, I had been ahead of Bob, speeding along this broad dirt road shooting clouds of dust upwards. All of a sudden there was a deep pothole ahead which if I tried to avoid I would have skidded on the dirt and surely have gotten seriously injured. The same would have happened if I had braked, since the front forks would have been compressed and thus would not have absorbed the shock. So, I let up on the throttle, stood on the pegs to lower my center of gravity, hit the pothole straight on, flying about two to three feet in the air, and then made a perfect landing. I stopped to take a breather, Bob then caught up to me and said he was amazed at how I did it and was thankful that he was able to avoid it. I confessed that I too was amazed at how fast I was able to recall what to do in such a situation. Whew! That was all the excitement we needed.
We took the road leading into the mountains towards Matmata. Although it was dirt, it looked good. As with the previous route, there was no hint of civilization as far as the eye could see; no other vehicles, no donkey carts, no buildings, no people. Being used to traveling in the States, this seemed rather eerie and unsettling, but nonetheless, we started our ascent in good spirits, looking forward to a nice hot shower and a great meal with the rest of our tour group. The mountain range was neither steep nor high, much like a smaller version of the Appalachians. The road was twisty, as one would expect, with a large impassable gorge starting to form on our left. It took a while before we noticed something very strange and disturbing; the winding road was getting narrower, much narrower than when we started. The higher we rode, the narrower it got and the drop on the left became more precipitous. It also was getting noticeably darker as the sun was setting. We paused to survey our situation. We could not tell from the map how far we were from Matmata nor, due to the curvature of the road, could we see any distance ahead of us. We pondered on whether to turn back or continue. There was nothing around that gave us a clue; sight, sound, smell offered no hint of civilization in any direction. The hillside across the gorge was also featureless and devoid of any hint of civilization. With the approaching darkness, we decided to proceed, believing that turning back would take longer. We also knew that traveling at night is extremely dangerous: local drivers do not use headlights, the dust they kick up obscures their vehicle, and, as I experienced, the unlit dirt roads are mined with dangerous potholes.
As the gorge deepened, the road narrowed into a pathway of irregular width with rocks randomly strewn about, we slowed down just fast enough to remain upright and avoid the rocks and crevices. I tried not to look down, as I knew that I would unconsciously ride off the trail if I did. In my mind I tried to figure out what to do if one of us should fall into what seemed to be an abyss. Would we survive a fall? Where would we get help? We had no rope, no flashlight, and no cell phone. We were well beyond any point of turning back. Our only hope was not to fall, not to stumble on a rock or crevice, and not to lose our nerve. We had to concentrate on going forward, focus completely on the path ahead. I found that this was really draining my energy. I paused for a breather, so did Bob behind me. We tried to figure out how close to the hotel we might be, but we had no clue. From the short distance that we could see ahead, there was nothing but more of the same. It was a nightmare that was being made worst by the approaching twilight. As unreal as this was, I knew it was no dream. After a minute or two, I took a deep breath and we proceeded.
Signs of cleared rockslides only served to increase our anxiety as we gingerly rode along an ever-narrowing path that our map showed as a road. The odometer indicated that we were making forward progress, but not how much further we had to go. That it was getting darker served as our only measure of time. It was not on our side. For all I knew, what lay beyond the next bend would be no different than what laid behind. But, as I continued, I could see sky straight ahead in the last glimmer of day and to my great surprise and delight a house and a streetlight under which some children were playing. This miserable path finally ended very abruptly at the outskirts of Matmata.
Up ahead was actual pavement. We could see parked motorcycles. Our hotel! We were the last to arrive. Neither Bob nor I cared to recount to our friends our nightmarish trip; we were just content to be at the hotel, safe and sound.
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