Traffic calming.

Surprisingly, the Libya border crossing was easier than on previous occasions. ‘Tourist Police’ have been given a charm course and Hasan became our minder throughout the process. What is always amusing about traversing from Tunisia into Libya, is that all the officials involved in producing three bits of important paperwork appear to have never done it before, despite there being a steady stream of Euro 4x4s through the border every day. We were through in two hours and in daylight. A bonus. Last night we stayed in a Dept of Antiquities rest house behind the museum at Sabratha. This is little more than a shed, so I slept in the Land Rover. Our evening meal was at a very good Turkish Restaurant on the main road. As we promenaded along the pavement (A Libyan equivalent of strolling through Market Harborough) a local youth was doing massive doughnuts in a big car in the middle of the road. Loads of them! It was Friday night and the equivalent of the weekend. Maybe this is what you get when you deprive people of alcohol. Today we have driven into Tripoli centre. A mayhem of traffic where every gap is regarded as an opportunity for progress. A competitive element came over us to keep up with the locals. Scary, but we arrived here okay and hope to head south into the desert tomorrow morning.

Photos show our last beers for a month in Djerba, Tunisia. Changing money on the black market in Ben Gardena, just before the border and Tripoli traffic!

This is Toby Savage for 1943 Jeep Rebuild Blog 3rd January 2009.

Happy New Year!

‘Bonne Annee’ came the cries as we drove through the streets of La Goulette, on the edge of Tunis, to our usual hotel, the Amilcar. Things were different this year, however, as it had closed down. Hardly surprising, as like the Habib, our ferry, it was well past its sell by date. We drove on up to the Hotel Sidi Bou Said. 5 stars, but Tunisian stars are different to ours. Slightly smaller. Four rooms and secure parking suited us and the beds seemed comfy enough. Sanctuary was found later in the Au Bon Vieux Temps restaurant in Sidi Bou Said. We have treated ourselves to a slap up here in the past, but on our return from Libya, to celebrate the return to civilisation. As it was New Years Eve, we felt we should hit it again. It did not disappoint and neither did the Tunisian Reserve red wine. As good as anything drunk on the way down through France. We left at 11.30, before the dancing started and headed to the Coffee House at the top of the hill for mint tea with pine nuts and a blast on the Shisha pipe to see in the New Year. There was only us four and the staff there! Bleary eyed on 1st we headed south, first through Carthage, from where Hannibal set out to conquer the Roman Empire, then on the newly completed motorway down to Sfax and smaller roads to a little ferry that took us and about 20 other cars over to the Isle of Djerba where I write this. Next stop is the Libyan border about 100 miles further east. This is Toby Savage for 1943 Jeep Rebuild Blog 2nd January 2009.

Pictures show the first course of our meal, Kev’s and my Land Rovers on the ferry and the coffee house favoured by Impressionist painter, Gaugin in his day.

Lost in France.

It’s been a pleasantly uneventful run down through France, but tonight, in Valence we stumbled across a bar near the station with a barmaid who resembled Pocha Hontas. Several beers later Kevin and I ducked out leaving Ian and Steve to finish off the many beers. The photos show; a line up of us four somewhere in France, a meal (quite good from memory) some bread and water, as our budget is smaller than last year, and our new mate in Chalons en Champagne who photographed us pumping up tyres. This is the build up to real adventure.... it says here. This is Toby Savage for 1943 Jeep Rebuild Blog 29th December 2008. Just.

Oily Rag.

I know it’s really sad blogging on Christmas Day, but I was so moved by this picture my Mum made a card from that I had to share it. This was a Jaguar XK140 fixed head coupe my pal John and I ‘did up’ back in 1970. We bought it for £1000 and sold it for £2000 after fitting a replacement engine and respraying it. The engine came from a 3.4 Mk 11 scapper and we transferred the ‘C Type’ head from the knackered engine. She was sweet. It also had J.A. Pierce mag alloy wheels and Jag XJ6 tyres. John is bent double sanding with a pneumatic sander and I am sporting a flat cap sanding manually on the left. It looks as though we were flatting down the first coat of primer. It was a lovely car. Happy Christmas.

Red tape.

I’m going to hijack my own blog to bring live coverage of this years folly to Libya. There are a few dust filled internet cafes in Libya and if I can get to them it should work. The trip involves my Land Rover, so there is a vague Jeep link.



On Monday, I went to ‘dat’ London. I had to go, to present myself, in person, at The Libyan Embassy, the only shabby building in Knightsbridge, to apply for a visa. This is a change to previous years when it was all done by remote control. In a tit for tat retaliation against our own immigration, who make it very difficult for any Libyan to enter Britain, the Libyan’s have made it pretty tricky for us. 12 of our team of Geographers and Archaeologists pitched up at 9.30 to start the process. Each application had to be accompanied by air, or ferry tickets, a bank statement, and an invitation from Libya. Then our application would be considered. In-Sh-Allah we may get the passports back in about ten days. My ticket proved I was sailing from Marseilles to Tunis on 30th December, but this was accepted in a marvellous piece of North African logic. We then were led, one by one, into a back room to have our fingerprints scanned to add ‘biometric details’ to our passports. Whilst there we picked up the passports of those members of the group who had been through the same procedure two weeks ago. No sign of any ‘biometric details’ in their passports. The whole lot will be filled away on a CD somewhere and left on a London Bus.

Homeward bound.

And so, the day arrived when I drove the Jeep home from Matlock to Leicester. Saturday 6th December. We had been camping up in Edale for the weekend and swung by Matlock on the way back to pick the Jeep up. By 6.00 pm it was a little chilly so I opted to wear ALL my clothes. This would be the biggest journey the Jeep had done in 5, 10, 20, 30 years. Anybody’s guess. Jo was able to drive the Land Rover and act as back up. A tall order as she had not driven it in over a year, but she managed. I chose the M1 route, out of simplicity. We set off at a cracking pace with Matt following for a short distance. Within a couple of miles he sped by, stopped me, and said the rear lights weren’t on. My fault. Funny military switch. Once on the Motorway we settled into a steady 50 mph cruising speed and yes, I was a bit chilly, but I thought of all the young soldiers who had frozen driving identical Jeeps in the War. I had nothing to complain about and the risk of being shot at was minimal. Though I was shot at on the M69 once! The Jeep ran very well, its new engine feeling powerful and no alarming noises. It was great fun! We made it back in good time. Tucked it up in the garage, where it will probably remain until the Spring.

DVLA Dealings.

The process of registering the Jeep has now taken two months. Firstly I had to join the Military Vehicle Trust (£30), then they sent a chap to verify the age of the Jeep, which I know to be 1943. (His travel expenses £45). Then I had to swap my old Land Rover insurance cover over to the Jeep. (£20). Finally, today, armed with; The Californian log book, the importation document, the M.O.T., the insurance cover note, the MVT Age verification, two forms of identification and the Vehicle Licence Application Form V55/5, I drove to the nearest DVLA office, Nottingham! I was expecting a wait of about half an hour following a tip off from my mate, ‘Wet Paint’ Tony, so took a flask of coffee and the Daily Telegraph. I took a seat in a waiting room with about 5 other people and was called to the desk within about 3 minutes. Things were looking good. I was seen by Phil, a man of a certain age, who looked like he still lived with his Mum and had an unhealthy interest in train sets. Within ten minutes I was back in the car heading for Leicester. Job done. Within 72 hours I should have an allocated registration number and a zero rated tax disk. What could possibly go wrong?