Name: John Hogan
Bike hired: 1993 Honda 450 Steed
Miles covered: 580
Total cost: £1,213
Pros: Totally unique, no tourists, Leptis Magna
Cons: Complicated visa, dodgy driving
Adventure rating: Very high
Welcome to the country they said we would never reach. This is Libya, a place that 100% of the tour operators I spoke to said had no motorbikes to rent. And as ever, we proved them wrong. Now if I say Libya to you, chances are that you’ll say terrorist. Don’t worry, it’s natural, most people would say the same because that’s the only picture the news has ever painted for us. But there is much more to Libya today. At 1.7 million square miles there is way too much to take in over just 5 days so I based myself in Tripoli, and took in as much as my Honda Steed (look it up on Google) would allow.
The plan was to get a feel for a country that, while only a three-hour BA flight from Gatwick, might as well be on another planet. And other than seeing Ewan and Charlie giggling and tittering their way like children across Libya in The Long Way Down I had absolutely no idea what to expect. The country has lived under the strict control of Colonel Muammar Gaddafi since 1969. Journalists are tightly controlled (I had to go in masquerading as a bike mechanic) and tourism is embryonic. On arrival, I expected Libya to feel fairly volatile. I pictured it as a melting pot of shady, skulking characters on every corner who would monitor my Western ways. At their leisure I would be kidnapped and win a leading role on an Al-Jazeerah TV network being beheaded with a rusty spoon. But walking out of the terminal all I found was a bustling modern airport and plenty of warm sunshine and green grass, so I slipped on some sunnies and headed into town to meet my guide and contact, Jassim. Maybe this wouldn’t be so scary after all.
Tripoli is a weird and wonderful city. One minute you’re looking at a back street in Rome, the next a mirror image of rural France, then what I could have sworn was Marble Arch popped into view. Get used to being surprised around every corner in Libya and leave your preconceptions at the door: this place is nothing like I expected it to be. After handing over a small fortune at the guesthouse ( Libya is not a cheap country to visit) I was keen to get on my Honda and discover the country properly from the saddle.
First I had to get used to the bike, and more importantly the local driving style. To get a driving licence in Libya you send your picture to the government and they send you back a licence, that’s it. A shakedown spin round the block reveals that my Honda has handlebars made of snakes, the wheels are bent and the brakes are largely useless, but it’s far from un-rideable. Up early the next day and we head south along the coast towards Benghazi, heading for the Roman ruins at Leptis Magna.
Out on the coastal highway, top gear (50mph) sunglasses on and some super-smooth tarmac, this is more like it. Palm trees and honeybees, sun on my neck and a smile on my face. I’m riding towards Leptis Magna 90 miles east of Tripoli, in Libya, on a motorbike and the whole experience is truly mental. Then we get there and I wouldn’t doubt that this is the best example of a Roman city in the entire world. It is truly breathtaking, perfectly preserved buildings and roads stretching in all directions. Seemingly undiscovered by western tourists, it swallowed up a whole day of my trip. Apparently 60% of the city is still under the ground. And I forgot to bring a spade.
Over a coffee that afternoon with a bunch of guides and policemen I get a real Italian vibe. The men are gesticulating wildly while they talk, each louder than the other. I pick up enough to gather that they are talking about women, but every now and then their tones are dropped to barely audible and they huddle in close and discuss something else. One of the policemen jokingly threatens to arrest me if he smells alcohol on my breath, then laughs demonically and tells me how much he loves vodka. Ghoma, one of the guides insists on talking flirty French at me and keeps eyeing me up. I politely accept a Turkish coffee but give him a death stare when he tries to stroke my hand. I ask about the lack of tourist trade and they explain that thanks to the huge oil reserves Libya has they have no need for the extra income. When I ask why there seem to be areas of great poverty the reply is hushed and hurried. Gadaffi controls everything, but he only cares about the oil. Nothing more.
The ride back is ace, the landscape changing from mountainous to glass-pane flat, the sun beating down with lush green pastures on either side of the road. Strangely, a huge lack of sand everywhere. I expected Libya to be a mass of sand-dunes, but away from the desert it’s mostly green. Many of the buildings I pass are walled with watch towers in each corner, and you know what watch towers are for: watching. These Libyans seem to be a suspicious bunch. That evening I sneak off on my own, trying to find some native bikers.
I find a local on a GSX-R750, he poses for a picture, tells me how much he loves his bike and I go on my way. Then from the other side of the park I see a huge guy cuffing the bloke on the Suzuki and dragging him off it before riding away. Turns out the guy I spoke to didn’t actually own the bike or even know the owner! Cheeky monkey. Made me laugh, though.
Everywhere we stop I chat with the locals. They are interested in the bike and what I am doing, and everyone is interested in what I think of Libya. It costs a mind-boggling 50p to fill the Honda’s tank, out here petrol is cheaper than bottled water. Can you get your head around that? It works out at something approaching 4p a litre! Some kids appear out of nowhere and start climbing on the bike, I figure they can’t damage it anymore than it already is so I let them. While they do this my guide for the day Jammil helps himself to a huge sack of bread one of the kids is carrying. I accept some too but my offer of money for it is declined. Apparently sharing food with strangers (local or otherwise) is completely normal. I feel a sense of community and really enjoy their company.
Since my arrival I have never got the feeling that any of what I am seeing is uniquely Libyan: the architecture, the customs, the religious beliefs and even the dress sense all seem to originate from a different country. Squeezing through alleyways with kittens sharing cages with terrapins and old water bottles with cobras, vipers and all kinds of insects for sale I ask Jammil if he feels Libya is a mixed nation. He agrees, almost proud to be likened to an Italian man. It seems that in some respects Libya really is the melting pot I suspected it might be.
I spend my last day riding with Jammil showing me more sights. We discuss Western attitudes towards Muslims (Libya is 97% Sunni), and he says that we generalise too much, that our opinions are based around the actions of a minority of extremists. Thinking back to the way I had been made to feel very welcome everywhere we had travelled over the last few days, it made me realise what a bunch of bigots we can be. Back at the hotel one of Jammil’s friends asks if I can take a look at an old Dakar race bike he has. Seeing as how it says on my visa that I am a bike mechanic it should be no problem. Bugger. After an hour of sweating I diagnose that the bike has strong compression, a good gearbox and no major internal problems, and with a fresh battery and some super unleaded it should fire. Phew - bluff called and dealt with!
Libya is a weird place. It’s evolving and it’s hard to put your finger on what makes it tick. The control that Gadaffi extends over his country seems as crude as the black stuff that funds the tip of Libyan society, and it would seem the rest of them are left to fend for themselves. They’re hospitable people, fascinated in what we make of their country, and I’m glad to have seen the place, to have an opinion of my own. Slumping back in my chair on the flight home I order a beer for every day I have been away. Tourism is going to discover this country at some point, and I saw it before the rest. Later Libya, Inshallah.
Libya on a motorcycle
Flights: British Airways offers daily flights from Heathrow to Tripoli from £315 return including taxes. To book visit ba.com or call British Airways on 0844 4930787 (add £15pp surcharge for telephone bookings)
Bikes: As yet there isn’t a proper set-up for bike rental, but bikes are available. Jap cruisers are the order of the day, perfect for the job, but they’re expensive. Expect to pay around £300 for four days
Website: www.arkno.com
Phone: +21 8214441452
Fuel and accommodation: Fuel is the cheapest on the planet, budget on £1 a day and expect change out of that! Accomodation is plentiful. Try and stay away from the modern hotels, they are expensive and boring
Food: Budget for around £10 per meal away from posh hotels. Grub is chicken and rice and it is bloody delicious.
