Desert Taxi

In 1953, Michael Marriott and his wife Nita pack up their life to head for Nigeria. They intend to drive there - in their retired 1935 Austin London taxi cab, with three quarters of a million miles on the clock.
A journey of some 2319 miles (3732 kilometres), crossing one of the least hospitable environments (the Sahara) in a vehicle (nicknamed Bertha) that most people would simply deem ridiculous for such purpose, shows an almost foolish level of self belief.

The story starts out in Algiers, the preliminary travel was decided as pedestrian enough to skip over - the drive from England, through France and Spain to Gibraltar, across to Tangier and across to Algiers.
Algeria and French West Africa (now Niger) were both in the control of the French at the time, and a series of permissions were required. The French authorities raised various objections, a number of which could be resolved (additional fuel, sufficient water), but the narrow tires were of major concern - lack of weight distribution on the soft sands expected. The solution - let nearly all the air our of the tires!

Eventually even the most pessimistic Commandant was convinced to allow them to carry on - no small decision with the number of people who had met with their end in the desert, and understandably the French Government had laid down rules to try and prevent this sort of bad press. In fact they received a lot of help and assistance along the way, mainly from the Genie Saharienne (which I understand to be the 11th Engineer Regiment of the French Army in Algeria), who had a presence in each town along the route.

So between the French and the local Arabs, both of who look a liking to these mad English with their inappropriate transport, they received the most excellent hospitality along the route. Not that this made their journey easy. With the many and frequent car problems they had; the increasing heat limiting the daylight hours in which they could drive (usually they spent from 10.30am until 4pm lying under the cab in the shade, when unable to find a town to rest in); the constant sand bogging, becoming lost and perilously close to running out of water; being shot at by the Touareg (a misunderstanding?); it really is a miracle that survived to reach Nigeria.

Honestly this was a journey of sheer lunacy. If twenty couples were to set out and try this trip I doubt any would make it. These two were probably the ‘one in a thousand', and really are lucky, brave, foolish and probably slightly delusional as well.

Well written, observant and amusing, and a very entertaining read with some great photographs too.

Four stars from me.