One week cycle tour of 'The Gambia'

  Banjul, Gambia
Thursday, December 9, 2004

09th - 16th December 2004
Booked a £190 flight only deal two day before departure. I pick the tickets up from the airport and boarded the plane.
The plan, somewhat vague, involves taking two panniers packed with a sleeping bag, roll mat, spare clothes and sundries. Hire a bike and hop on a bus all the way up country to Basse Sanua Su. Then cycle back to the coast having muchas adventure along the way. If time permitted I would even spend some time on a beach, after all it's a holiday isn't it?
If you ask for advice, you should take it. In this case everyone I asked gave the same response. "The roads are difficult for 4WD, let alone a loaded touring bike" So last minute (i.e. when we landed) the plan changed to the following:

Hire bike, cycle to Banjul and take the ferry to the north bank of the river. Take the one and only road that runs parallel to the river, 'The North Road' all the way until it intersects with the Trans Gambia-Senegal Highway. Follow this across the Gambia River and come back along the one and only road that runs along the south side of the river, called, you guessed it... 'The South Road'

My only apprehension is the traffic. These routes are the equivalent of the M1 / M4 in the UK. I didn't expect it to be busy, but not quiet either. As for most things, I didn't know what to expect at all!
For much of the plane journey I gazed down as we flew over the snow capped Atlas Mountain range, into the depths of the Western Sahara desert. For two hours I marvelled at the ripples of giant sand dunes below which resembled marks left by the receding tide.

DAY1: The Gambia; London to Kololi (Atlantic coast resort)
Exited the airport and met with the tour rep who was directing other passengers onward to their respective hotels. Thought I'd introduce myself. After a brief chat I was informed my flight included a 1 night stop in a costal hotel. Who was I to argue! To the hotel I went where I dropped my bags off, hired a bike and headed into the former Colonial capital, Bathurst, now renamed to Banjul.
Founded by the British in 1816 and granted independence in 1962, it was ruled by the first president until a coup in 1990s when he was ousted by a 29 year old junior army officer. Shrewd politics saw him move to democratically elected to head of state in just over two years and is still in power to this day. Not bad eh!

I cycled around the back streets, exploring markets, shops, businesses, workshops, food stalls and finally a bar to soak up the laid back pace of life in this small land locked capital city. Sank a few JulBrew beers overlooking Arch22, the triumphal entrance to the city.
To say the hotel rental bike is mechanically unsound is an insult to rusty old wrecks dredged up from a canal. Task for tomorrow, find a better bike.
Yet more beers back at the hotel with a lad from Manchester whose father was helping set up a school.

The Plan...


The hotel


Arch22


The last place on earth I expected to see a Surry ambulance



DAY2: The Gambia; Kololi (Atlantic coast resort) to Farafenni.
In the morning I decided to get some local help. Back in his neighbourhood, I soon had a local his mates parading cool mountain bikes in front of me. There was one big problem, none with racks to carry my panniers (bags). Not disheartened we set of and randomly stopped people and asked if they had a bike with one. As luck would have it, a bewildered security guard accepted £14 for a 1 week rental for his purple German steed.
Headed back to the hotel, saddled up all my possessions and headed into Banjul for the Barra ferry.
Getting into the terminal is chaos. The routine is like this:
*Fight your way through the scrum to the hole in the wall where tickets are dispensed
*Fight you way through the scrum of people without tickets trying to get in through the gate.
Instead I talked my may in through a side gate, rules are very flexible here as a tourist. Walked into the room servicing the hole in the wall and purchased a ticket directly from the lady in charge of the money tin.

On the front of the ferry where bikes are stored I got talking Abraham. He lived in a village called Jafureh and was in the process of moving to Barra. We had a meal near the terminal and cycled together back to his new flat. This is the start of the north road and it's obvious this route is going to be a very pleasant and quiet ride. If anything, too quiet!
The plan for the afternoon was to reach a town called Ndungu Kebbe, and ask around for accommodation. On approaching the outskirts I approached a smart looking young man dressed in a white robes waiting at the side of the road. 'Is there a school I can say in for the night? I can make a donation to school.' He kindly offered accommodation for the night, so off we set down a dusty track to his compound. It consisted of clusters of interconnected circular mud/straw huts all encircled by fence. I was shown into a clean, comfortable hut with a bed and beautifully painted interior, all illuminated by candles. After unpacking I wandered outside for an evening of chat and play with the extended family. We ate fish and couscous in a hot ground nut based sauce from a large communal bowl. It was delicious, and I was rather peckish. For desert I shared out flapjacks purchased from Kempton park racecourse Thursday market. They went down very well, and very quickly too. After supper we exchanged stories about our respective home countries and day to day way of life. Being the winter, as the darkness drifted in, we all drifted off to bed.

The Barra ferry


Abraham and the beginning of the North road


On the compound with a members of the family I stayed with




DAY 3: The Gambia; Ndungu Kebbe to Farafenni
Early start and my host had a bus to catch to catch into Farafenni. Packed my things and left a small donation in the room with some biscuits. A quick banana breakfast helped speed me into Kerewan. A tyre on the bike was beginning to show the strain and after asking a young lad to help I was taken to a shop that sold bicycle parts. Being a German brand there were no replacements so instead I was kitted out with a 'boot'. No money was accepted for the repair job and I had to insist they accept a donation of around 50p 'to help the children buy books for school'. Onwards I continued.
The road beyond Kerewan quickly deteriorated into what would be deemed as 'off road' in Europe. Sandy and bumpy it made for lower progress and more effort.
One of the most surreal moments of the trip was seeing a dark cloud in the distance getting closer and closer. Up until now the weather has been a comfortable 24 DegC and mostly sunny. Closer inspection confirmed it was not a rain cloud, but a plague of locusts. Soon they were everywhere. In didn't stop but just kept on going. Everything around me that was green was covered in the red insects. People came flying out their homes with sheets and sticks to try and rescue what little was left of their crops. I was surrounded by 10s of thousands of them but the odd this was, none landed of flew into me as I went. The road ahead was covered with them and as proceeded they would leap out my way. I felt like Moses parting the red sea.
Traffic consisted of 1 vehicle very 15 minutes, and the odd herd of cows.
The road condition from Illiassa was the hardest due to the small ripples on the surface caused by the compaction from motorised transport. 18km took and unexpected 2 hours and I arrived felling as though all my internal organs had been rearranged. Tired and hungry I arrived in Farafenni, located Eddies hotel and relaxed with two girls from Norway. The last two hours had been a strain and I recouped with an early night. The town sounded as though it had a vibrant nightlife but I was soon in and altogether different place when my head hit the pillow.

Wall painting outside a school detailing all the countries of Africa


Typical compound


The traffic was horrendous in places!


That's no rain cloud, it a plague of locusts!


DAY 4: The Gambia; Farafenni to Tendaba Camp (near Kwineella)
Shopping and a breakfast of fried 'meat' with onion in a bread roll set me up for the morning. I headed off to join the Trans-Gambia Senegal highway for the river crossing. Cycling out of the town I can to what could vaguely be described as a junction in the road. One dusty unmade track crossed another. No signs, no vehicles and a handful of pedestians. I pointed at this dusty track and asked a local quizzically 'Trans-Gambia Senegal highway???', to which I got a series of positive nods. This is where I do a right turn then. I must admit, I was expecting something altogether different. Following the potholed 'road' I soon arrived at the Gambia River. There is no bridge, only a shoddy affair called the Bambatenda Ferry and it didn't seem to be running. Two hours later enough foot passengers arrived to warrant chartering a small boat for the crossing. I was duly summoned and loaded on board with the rest of the luggage for the quick crossing. Continued on the other side to Soma where the road intersected another dusty track. "Banjul??", I asked. More frantic nodding. This where I do another right then. That's the extent of navigation required during my trip up country, not hard eh?
The south bank has 'better' roads as it's more populous and contains all the traffic from the capital to the eastern towns of The Gambia. It makes a village lane in rural England look like a super highway. Very pleasant and very cycle able. Further down the south road and 5 km down as sandy lane took me to Tendaba Camp, setup by a bumptious Swede in the 1970s. Did chores, patched up the bicycle and ate from a buffet with a biologist from Sweden who has submitted his PhD thesis a few days ago. Of course we had to celebrate with a succession of JulBrew beers.

A Baobab tree, or 'upside down tree', as it looks like the root system. Notice the rather meagre strip of thin tarmac.


Ferry across the Gambia River


Tendaba Camp


DAY 5: The Gambia; Tendaba Camp (near Kwineella) to Bintang Bolong Lodge
Breakfast and more bike repair with the help of the gardener and his supply of car tyre inner tubes I was soon fit for the road, true African style. More chatting at the bar and I headed out onto a superb road surface made from nothing except shells. Stopped on a bridge and attracted the attention of a few of the youngsters. Once I started acting like teacher and guiding the conversation, they stopped being annoying. The camera fascinated them; they were overjoyed just to see their pictures on the LCD screen. An uneventful afternoon saw me to the lodge where I was one of two guests in this friendly, well run establishment located on stilts in the mangroves. My French sprung back into action as the 10 staff were Senegalese and the other guest was a French girl from the Senegalese quarter of Montmartre, Paris. Before dinner we headed out on a boat trip up the Bintang Bolong for a bit of wildlife spotting. After a delicious meal overlooking the mangroves we all joined in the evening's entertainment. Senegalese music from a revered singer was played and all the girls jumped into action. It was insisted I join in the dancing, but as only the girls were dancing, which involved lots of backside wiggling, I had to get Omar to show me how the boys dance. I continued in the style of, much to the approval of the staff. They didn't believe I had never danced to Senegalese music, so I must have been doing something right!

Repair, African style


Nothing but shells!


Kids on the bridge


Boat trip




Sunset over Bintang Bolong


Dinner waiting on the veranda


Dance the night away..



DAY 6: The Gambia; Bintang Bolong Lodge to Boboi Beach Lodge (near Kartong)
Arose early, and emerged as the only guest. Ate breakfast watching the sunrise over the Mangroves. Very calming. Said my goodbyes and made by way back down the sandy track towards the main road to Brikama. Stopped around 2pm to find food in a small village and the first person I asked beckoned me into a courtyard where his family were eating from a large bowl. They insisted I join and handed me a spoon (everyone else ate with fingers!) It tucked into ground millet with a dollop of spicy peanut sauce. They point blank refused my offer of any payment. It's very humbling when someone with so little is happy to give so freely without even thinking of asking for anything in return.
Later that afternoon, I passed through a village after the schools had just emptied out. I was teased with cries of 'Tubab', which means 'white man', from the hordes of kids. Out of the gate shot a white robed man on a bicycle. As we were going in a similar direction and adults on bikes is not a common sight so we peddled together and got chatting. Mohammed Kolly, an English teacher was on his way home from school. He was interested in what I was doing and why. It also gave me a chance to quiz him about the Gambian education system. He pulled up outside a mosque in Mandinaba and asked if I would wait while he answered the 2pm call to prayer. Outside I learned a few local phrases from my guide book with the help of a well educated young student. After prayers we continued towards Brikama, more chatting and I offered to buy him a meal when we got there. "What would you like to eat?", he asked. "Something African" I replied. He must have known what I wanted as because he led me straight into the market, a lively bustling affair. The stalls sold perfumes, soaps, knives, oils and a hundred other things I had no use for. Near by was a row of popular eateries, very basic with big vats of food bubbling away on the ground. We had benechin, rice baked in a thick fish sauce. It was tasty, filling and cost 10p. Chatted about the history of London and England's rise to power from Queen Elisabeth I. Had to decline and invite to visit his compound as time was ticking and I had hoped to be on the coast near Kartong by nightfall. He accompanied me to the next village along, Kiti, where we stopped for lemonade. Showed photos of the family & friends to the amassing crowed who hung on my every word. Afterwards I waved goodbye to Muhammad, an unassuming, genuine and gentle individual. A breeze helped me to reach Boboi Beach Lodge before dusk, the last town on the coat road before the border with Senegal. The road was perfectly laid, the traffic consisting of more cows than cars. When I arrived, I liked the place immediately. Very laid back and everyone was sat around a table. Alistair, who worked for the Farming and Fisheries in the UK had come here to... you guessed it, fish! There was a psychology student and a retired chap from Sidcup. We drank JulBrew until the early hours.

Morning has broken


Turnoff for the Lodge


Man with tools. Every village has one.


Muhammad Kolly and I


Beachside sunset


DAY 6: The Gambia; Boboi Beach Lodge (near Kartong) and back.
This was a day of relaxation, but instead I explored Brikama, Serekunda, and the Atlantic coast resorts near Banjul down to Kartong.
Road building was well underway around Serekunda and it was sad to see the same mistakes we make in 1960s UK being repeated here. A dual carriageway with central reservation was being carved through the heart of what was once a bustling street lined with shops and restaurants.
The highlights were seeing signs for a pub / bar, not a common sight in a predominantly Muslim country. It was run by a friendly German who had settled down with his Gambian wife. Had a few beers and chatted to the small expat community that came and went.
On the beach a whole industry was unfolding in front of me. Fishermen unloaded their fresh catch from boats close to the shore. Smokers purchase them and sell them on onto passing trucks for distribution to the markets. A lively, noisy, colourful and 'aromatic' scene to wander around.
After striking up conversation with the smokers, I was given a full guided tour of the facilities, where the wood goes, and an explanation of the whole process. They refused payment when I asked if I could buy some, the filled a carrier bag and just handed it over. I routed around in my bag and handed over a bottle of mineral water which they gratefully accepted.
Back to the beach lodge I talked to a couple from Pateley Bridge, Yorkshire. He was an advisor and had worked for NGOs in the Darfur region of Western Sudan. More than a few interesting stories to tell. By the end of the evening we had ploughed our way through a carrier bag of smoked fish and a stack of JulBrew. It was another satisfying stagger back to bed.

Boboi Beach Lodge


Artful decoration


Fishermen unloading their catch. Many people buying are the smokers


Smokeries




Kids on the beach


Clearing ground


DAY 7: The Gambia; Boboi Beach Lodge (near Kartong) to London.
Said goodbye to those who were up and continued 20km north to the hotel area where I hired the bike from. When I rolled in, the security guards face absolutely lit up on seeing me. He came running over as if to give me a big hug. I expect everyone he asked said "That's the last you'll see of that", and yet here I was. The purple bike was now red with dust. The tyres, while holding, were nearly shredded. Some unimportant bits had fallen off and the front break detached. Still, it was all fixable; he had his bike back and was more than happy. I was happy, although not the most comfortable ride, it completed the journey without a puncture.
Unclipped the panniers and jumped in a taxi for a bit of a reunion at the airport with people I had met at the first hotel and at various point on my journey.
Got to Gatwick late, took a train to London and arrived long after the last tube had departed. It was the N9 night bus for me. Not expecting to get back so late, I had work the next morning!
Back home I had a shower and much to my disappointment, the bronze tan on my legs and arms ran straight down the plug hole. No wonder I didn't need any suntan.
Never have I crammed in so much into a 1 week holiday off work. It didn't feel rushed, as I only get this when I think I've missed something. In this case I was rather through.
Such warmth, generosity and happiness displayed by the people I met, who in comparison have so little, is an inspiration and a lesson to me.
View from the window of my hut at Boboi Beach lodge.


Hope you don't suffer from hayfever


BYEEEEE....