Using the worldwide web to make my travel preparations, I sit for hours in front of my monitor, scanning maps and calculating GPS-data. Immersed in the process, I almost feel like I'm already motoring north of Tschad in the Tibesti Mountains. In reality I am still at home in Salzburg, Austria. It is the middle of October and the mountains surrounding Salzburg are already snow-capped.
My trip begun, it's not the good old Habib that carries me from Genoa to Tunis but a new boat called Carthago. On board some of my fellow passengers and I are concerned about the problems we may encounter entering Libya. According to an unverified notice, entry for those travelling alone may not be possible even if one possesses a valid visa; therefore, I decided to join forces with two Bavarians and try our luck together at the border.
Over the last few kilometres, on the way to the border, the number of black marketers waving bundles of money increases drastically. Completing the entry formalities is a slow process, but finally one of the officers finds a suitable plate to bolt on my motorcycle and I am ready to enter the empire of Muammar al-Kadhafi. I part company with my Bavarian friends, who take the direct route to the south, and travel along an excellent asphalt road to Tripoli.