Camping in Korbus

I went camping in Cap Bon over the past weekend, near the city of Corbus. Actually, I would not call Corbus a city so much as a small town, and even that designation is rather generous. All I saw there were some buildings hugging the beach, a road, and of course the hot spring. This hot spring has somehow generated fame in Tunis for its curative properties. I'm not sure how anyone takes advantage of said properties, however, since the entire thing (that I saw) consisted of two pools from which were expelled some smoke and a sulfury smell. The water was warm, yes, but no one could actually swim in it.

The nearby town had a fancier looking spa at which there may be more extensive bath complexes. I didn't stay to investigate.

Instead, my three intrepid companions and I hastened to set up our campsite before nightfall. To do so, we drove through trees and underbrush until we ran out of road. We then loaded our packs (mine was borrowed, as were my sleeping bag, pad and so on) onto our backs and marched into the wilderness. We paused repeatedly, however, to take heroic-looking self portraits:

My camping companions are the sort of nature-loving folks that exalt in scrambling over giant rocks and up mountains, so I struggled to keep up as we ascended over "just that ridge there" and then down the other side, tumbling over boulders along the way.

The vistas were exhilarating: we often could see the Mediterranean on either side of our chosen location, and we also saw Tunis across the bay and, more distant, various looming mountains.

The rocks over which we traveled are, in fact, compressed sand. This means that there were many fun caves that had been carved by rain into their undersides. It also meant that we could toss hand-sized stones onto the ground below us and watch them shatter into sand with a satisfying poof! Some rock formations, like that one that I model in the photo below, served as chairs.

Caves like this made an excellent climbing structure and were almost entirely free of spiders.

The only non-arachnid wildlife we encountered was a lonely tortoise who greeted us on our descent from the mountain. I had heard Lord of the Flies-esque warning tales about wild pigs, and we saw a few piggy foot prints. I saw no actually beasts, thankfully, and although I thought I may have heard suspicious sounds at night, they may have just been snoring.

There was much snoring to be done, you see, since we were forced to huddle in our tent from 6 pm or so until the next morning. As we were finishing our dinner, the rain began to fall. Then it began to plummet. Soon, we were under a deluge, against which the tent stood strong with only a few, miserly drips. The night was one long rain storm with lightening and chilling thunder, punctuated by winds that shook our little abode. But inside it was nice and cozy, and my neighbor's feet made an excellent pillow.

The next morning, we ate breakfast over a warming fire (provided, as were the tent and camp stove and directional expertise, by my camp-loving companions). We then hiked back to the car. Along the way, we came across a Tunisian man and two veiled women who were quite startled to spot us as we pushed out of the bush. They were wearing leather shoes and had probably hiked a few hundred meters from their car. I felt like a far superior frontier woman in my sneakers and day-old stench.

The rest of the trip was spent in the car, traversing a surprisingly varied landscape with unsurprisingly bumpy dirt roads. We waved at every villager and farmer we encountered as we drove past their homes, and every one returned our waves with a friendly smile. An hour or so's drive from Corbus, we sought out a deserted beach and then came across a nature preserve whose white sands were beautiful when they weren't in my eyes.

There were promises of beach-front camping, which appeals to me because it minimizes the potential for me to fall onto my rear. As it stands, I slipped repeatedly but fell colossally only once. And as you can see from the photographs taken after the hike, I managed to survive.