Gambia Senegal tour by bike

  Banjul, Gambia
Friday, November 30, 2007

Day 01
Start: England
End: Brufut
Km: None
Cycling in Africa is not new to me. The Nerves I felt in 2004 when I set off for my first cycle trip were due to the unknown, I had absolutely no idea what I was letting my self in for. This time with the 2005 tour behind me and two weeks to fill, I was eager to hit the road.
The plane journey was made passable by the company of Chris, former manager of the Atlantic Hotel in Banjul. He had lived in The Gambia for a number of years and filled me in on the present situation. I planned and read-up on possible routes. I decided to cycle south from The Gambia and cross into Senegal. Then head south through Casamance to Ziguinchor, then follow the Guinea-Bissau border to Valingara. At this point and depending on progress, a number of different options presented themselves, to be decided on the spot.
On arrival I had nowhere to go. No hotel and plenty of time. I strolled out the airport passed the coaches loading up with the sun worshippers on their was to the luxury resorts. I found a series of eateries and stalls where the airport workers congregated and treated myself to my first dish of benechin, a fish and rice dish. It filled quite a hole as there were no meals on the long flight.
At this point I was joined by Jonathan and Chris who had the same idea as me. They were working for a none profit organisation to directly buy crafts abroad for sale in the UK. We shared a taxi to Serekunda, the transport hub of the Gambia where we parted company. I asked the people on the street for directions to the hotel and was pointed in the right direction. On nearing I was lead directly to the place. I chatted to the owner and he informed me that all rooms were taken. I described my plans and my need to rest for one night. A few phone calls later he announced his brother owned a guest house and he could put me up for the one night. Abdoul, the softly spoke young man who lead me to the hotel offered to take me there and showed me how to navigate using the system of shared taxis that ply the main routes around town. Each trip costing 5 dalasi (13p) We got one of the junctions where we were due to change and I heard shouts of my name.. it was Jonathan and Chris, they had been driven round and round in the same taxi trying without success trying to find the hostel booked on the internet. We stopped and chatted. I suggested they come with me to the hotel and off we set. I was surprised to arrive at Motel Anfield, decked out in red with football clearly at the heart of its theme. The husband and wife owners where there to greet us. She was from Toxtoth, and was a Liverpool girl to the core. He husband (the brother of the owner of the first hotel) was Gambian, although I could mistake him for Jamaican. Veeerrry eaaassssy goin'.
No they didn't have any rooms. It was the first few days of opening and they were full. No problem.. their home was just round the corner and we were welcome to use the spare room there. We grabbed a bite to eat near by and invited Abdoul to join us. Back at the palatial house I camped down on a thick rug surrounding by plaster horses, white leather sofas and red velvet. Plush. Abdoul offered his services to help my find a bike the next day.

Day 02
Start: Brufut
End: Diouloulou
Km: 50
Packed and met Abdoul outside. More shared taxis and we arrived back in Serekunda. The quality of second hand bikes on offer was atrocious. The price, even with Abdoul negotiating, left me thinking second hand goods hold their value well here. 40 pounds for a pile for junk, a glimpse at the perished tyres, brake blocks down to the metal, cables hanging off and componentry worn out. 15 shops later we went back to a place where we had seen a new one for sale for 55 pounds. Its only got to last 14 days I thought and I test rode it. The gears ground, the pedals snapped off and bolts started to work loose. Not a good sign. 14 days I thought. New and better pedals and a service should get the bike back in working order. After the service I gave it another test ride and decided it would probably make the journey so I bought it. I didn't really have much choice. This is where the cheapest Chinese goods end up. The metal was probably made from crushed cans, and there was not a drop of oil or grease to be found on any of the moving parts. Waved goodbye to Abdul and gave him 10 pounds for all his help over the last two days. He never once asked for anything in return.
I was now on the road.. my panniers holding everything I needed; sleeping bag, thermo rest, spare clothes, tools, toiletries and toys for the children. Independence at last.
Made fast progress to Brikama and arrived for 2pm prayers. The whole town had ground to a halt. Mats covered the main road outside the mosque, the noise of the traffic disappeared and for 10 minutes the sound of hundreds of men mumbling prayers filled the air.
Carried on south to the Jibolob / Seleti border without any problems. I Volunteered all the information I knew they were dying to ask.. Where you are from, where you are going, home town, football team, marital status, job, impressions of the country and the people in their country. There is police, army, customs, immigration all with varying levels of presence on both sides of the border. They were professionally presented and asked for nothing.
Continued over the better roads in Senegal to Diouloulou, the first large village I reached. Cycled past a respectable youngster and asked if he could take me to the campment. Dropped my bags there and we headed off to for a tour of the backstreets. He was a student studying history and is soon to move to Dakar to continue his education. We chatted over beer about the world wars, their scale and effect on the population. Chicken noodle bread and gravy followed. Salt.. or maggi stock cubes are often used to enhance flavour. Lucky I don't mind my food salty! The campment called 'Motel Kent', was named in memory of his late wife and his time in Snodland, Kent. The lodgings were round huts with bathroom and toilet inside. Very comfortable. The bar / sitting area overlooked a very pretty river. Very tranquil.





Abdul and the purchace of a new bike


Bee keepers Association of The Gambia. Talked to the administrator, pictured.




Prayers in Brikama


Crossing the border

Day 03
Start: Diouloulou
End: Ziguinchor
Km: 110
At breakfast I talked to Laye, the owner, who he told me the story of how he setup the business after his time in the UK. Joining us was a manager for an NGO. I set off passed the small market and over a bridge that took me into swamplands that makeup the tributaries into the Casamance River. It is green, lush and teaming with bird life.
This part is the most unsettled part of Senegal. A rebel group is fighting for independence, much to the annoyance of the government in Dakar. The Gambia cuts a deep swathe into Senegal effectively cutting it off from the rest of Senegal. At the time of my visit, the government control the road network. Trucks filled with army personnel carting automatic weapons, jeeps with mounted cannons and rocket launchers were a regular sight. Turning a corner I would occasionally spot a dugout with soldiers sitting and waiting. Out of all the armed checkpoints I was simply waved through with a smile. Not once was I stopped and questioned by the police or army.
My impression is that the government has denied usage of the good road system to the rebels. I didn't use the roads after dusk.
See lots of eagles and birds of all shapes and sizes, it only I was a twitcher! The bike is holding well, apart from a clicking pedal and seat post that doesn't allow for any height adjust, its doing just fine.
Carpentry is very much the professing of choice near Ziguinchor. You can buy large tables, chairs, double beds all constructed and carved from the best mahogany hard wood at what must be a very fair price.
Ziguinchor is a loud, dirty, busy and interesting town. Hammering, sawing, banging and shouting saturate the surroundings. All modes of transport fight for road space. Carts, trucks, beaten up taxis and cars, trucks belching out black smoke, donkeys, kids, hawkers all compete. As nothing is moving particularly fast, on a bike it is a simple matter of weaving you way through this mayhem.
Checked into the Campment and set off to explore the boat yards. Watched huge planks of hardwood being hammered into large boats, I toured the backstreets and discovered some good homemade entertainment. It was a wedding celebration and I was invaded to take a seat to watch the spectacle. Instruments consisted of a sax, drum and hordes of women bashing two halves of wood together. The middle aged women took it in turn to strut their stuff in the centre while the rest slapped sticks together in time with the dancer. There was lots of hopping and flapping of arms. There was acres of gold cloth material on show with jewellery to go with it. Presents were loaded into the back of a me cadies.


Motel Kent, Diouloulou


Breakfast with Laye and Family


On the road, talking to the villagers


Harvesting


Typical village view


A typical street scene in the town of Ziguinchor


More seems to happen on the river


Boat construction

Day 04
Start: Ziguinchor
End: Sinbandi (10 Km from Tanaff)
Km: 108
On the road by 10am, a late start. Wind picked up somewhat. Stopped in a roadside eatery and when I walked in, I was faced with a policeman, who beckoned me to sit next to him. I started describing my journey so far and plans ahead. He was amazed and in awe! Not only did he start buying me drinks, he assured me that within days I could marry the daughter of the restaurant owner, a pretty 17 year old girl, who didn't object in the slightest to his matchmaking.
The road ahead was paved in shells and got a bit rough in places. With my plans to get to Tanaff falling into darkness I stopped at a village, found a respectable looking house on the outskirts and enquired about staying at the local school, with a promise of a donation for books. I compound elder was consulted and I was invited to stay with the family. I got washed and changed and join them for food. A giant bowl of rice with ground nut source and fish. Delicious and filling. I then distributed some toys to the kids.. bouncy ball that flashed when bounced and glow sticks. The delighted both the young and old.
I was made cups of tea and chatted to the men who were a mix of students and mechanics. There was a break for prayers and I played with the children and ladies of the compound.


The traffic fumes were terrible



Day 05
Start: Sinbandi (10 from Tanaff)
End: Kolda
Km: 70
Waved goodbye to the folks on the compound and left a few presents with the elder. Carried on through Tanaff where I stopped for breakfast, 2 freshly cooked baguettes filled with bean source and onion. 30p in total.
Carried on to see monkeys crossing the road in front of me. The landscape is more arid here with woodland and bush taking over. Its getting drier and the population density is low. There is just no traffic on the road. The wind is sapping my strength. Made it to Kolda and the last 20km dragged. Found the Hotel Firdou. Nice set of round huts, pool, bar and no guests. As I turned on the pool shower, I noticed one of the attendants turning on the 'real tap' to provide water, mine was a dummy.
Headed into Kolda, a large town with a bustling street atmosphere. Lots of market stalls, shack shops, workshops and snack shops. Had the best meal so far, rice and a beef stew, with a drink all for 40p.


The Low Sodium diet has not reached Africa yet... and you can taste it!

Day 06
Start: Kolda
End: Diaoube
Km: 119
After a few repairs to the bike fixing a wonky I set off in high spirits.
Omelette and baguette for brunch filled a hole. This is a very popular and ever present snack washed down with a sugary Nescafe, made with evaporated milk and heaps of sugar. Not good for the teeth!
The omelette is made by mixing eggs and slices of onion in a cup and pouring it in a pool of hot oil. It cooks in an instant. Served diced on a plate with a baguette or poured into a baguette and seasoned with vegetable stock. Dollop of Mayonnaise finishes it off. Yummy. These 'snack bars' are nothing more than a single table covered with vinyl and with benches. The cook has all the ingredients laid out on the table, stacks of eggs, thermos to hold hot water and assorted containers. Food is all prepared in front of you and bowls of water used to clean cups and dishes. All the cooking is done using a large gas bottle stove on the ground. Meals are usually charged by the number of eggs used and a charge levied on extras, such as potato and mayo. A fast and uncharacteristically efficient operation! The best thing about these places is the conversation. People are a bit shy to talk to you, but once you strike up a conversation they are very friendly and curious about what you are doing there.. and when I mention the days plans I am met with congratulations and encouragement. Conversation always revolves around where you are from, football teams, impressions of the country, marital status, job. Once these formalities are over with I then start tapping them for information. Their job, family, business here, schooling, local information and difficulties they face in life.
Back on the road, I had puncture No1. My pump didn't fit the valve so I flagged down a passing car. The bike was just thrown on the roof rack, next to a goat and I was driven 3km back to the last village I passed through. Without charge I was deposited next to 'Man with Tools' where the puncture was mended. After chatting and fixing I realised I had no chance of getting to my destination, so I threw the bike on one of the infrequent minibus and was driven the 2 hours over some bumpy and dusty roads to Diouibou, all for 1 pound. Lots of commotion, haggling, jostling every time the minibus stopped in villages. Although infrequent, the demand for this transport is very much there.
Arrived in Diouibou, the night before market day. What a scene! Asked around for accommodation and was lead to the only 'petite auberge' in town. No electricity only candles and the shared facilities had no running water, no flushing loo, only a cess pit with a hole. The bathing area was a bucket filled from the well and a cup. You get what you pay for, which was 1 pound a night. Anyhow, I was getting used to the lack of facilities in some places, but always managed to get washed changed and prepared for a explore of the town.
Diouibou is famed for its market town pulling in major traders from Mali, Mauritania, Guinea, Senegal and Gambia. As well as the usual small stalls selling soaps, clothes, fabrics and household items, there was also lorry loads of millet, peanuts, flour, rice, salt and other unidentifiable sacks.
With so much on offer my goal was to eat something I had not tried before. What looked like a stew turned out to be tripe. I ate half of it and left the rest.. Next to the omelette stall, chats with the locals about the market tomorrow and why its location means the market is so much bigger than the town that hosts it. Cycled the limits of the town. Navigating the main street is tricky; no street lights, vehicles without lights, goats, people, children running into the road, holes and other obstacles, cyclists, donkeys and carts and trucks. The side at which you pass oncoming traffic is usually negotiated at the last minute.. Everything moves slowly, trailing a cloud of dust.



Makeshift repairs to the bike


Getting things fixed is very easy, all town have an array of workshops


Many of the small village I ventured into for water looked like this


An asking for water means stopping and playing with the kids. The baloons are from Mac Donalds!


Day before market day in Diaoube, traders arriving


Street bussle


The tin can folly!

Day 07
Start: Diaoube
End: Basse Santa Su (The Gambia)
Km: 62
Toured the bussing market. Animals, vegetables, clothes, grain, household goods were all on offer. Shouting traders, bleating goats, transport and hammering from the many workshops plays like a soundtrack of industrious activity.
Breakfasted and headed into a strong head wind. Passed through Velingara, where I came off highway 'N6' and took the road back into the Gambia. It was a dusty, empty, meandering, sandy track. After an hour or so I came to the Senegalese border crossing. The officials were well presented, professional and very interested in my trip. I of course was very forthcoming with information and described my journey. I was even sung a few of the immigration officials favourite tunes while he filled in the relevant paperwork. The process took twenty minutes. No queue.. as I was the only person there and nobody arrived while I was being processed. In stark contrast was the Gambia crossing. All but one were a bunch shady characters dressed in wide boy uniform. They poked around my gear without even hiding the fact they were just being nosey. 'What is this?'.. they can across my phone and GPS.. lots of questions. One of them was searching through the my bag of toys for the children and came across the glow sticks.. for the next five minutes there were more questions.. even though I was volunteering all the information. He kept waving the glow sticks and asking me if there was anything I wanted to give him, followed by more questions about the items I was carrying... and little about where I had been and what I was doing. I kept repeating the glow sticks were toys for the children and pointed to the kid on the front of the packet warring one, but I gave up and said he could take them, it was going to get dark soon. A payment of 2000 CFA - or 2 pounds was made to complete the formalities and off I set. Next town was Basse, the most easterly town in Gambia with a bank. I explored the town, feasted on BBQ'ed goat meat - chewy but tasty. Then rice and fish in ground nut source and had small sweet bananas.. so much sweeter than the ones we get in the UK. Passed the time with the locals back to the hotel for sleep.

Day 08
Start: Basse Santa Su
End: Jangjang-bureh (Georgetown)
Km: 95
My decision to enter back into he Gambia was due to the good state of he roads. The south road is good from Basse to Georgetown and the north road is perfect from Georgetown to Barra. From Barra its a short ferry ride to Banjul and the Atlantic coast resorts and my plan to have a few days by the beach was turning into reality.
While breakfasting I kept on hearing a familiar siren and on my way out I saw what was making the noise.. a fire engine from Avon and Somerset County council. GAFSIP http://www.gafsip.org/ a partnership to ship retired fire engines and ambulances to The Gambia was very visible.. and audible. I marvelled at the Saxon machine and chatted to the capable, knowledgeable and responsible young lad in charge. We talked about how well they are designed for their purpose and how powerful they are. He told me about the GAFSA project and his training trips to the UK. The engine in question had attended a bush fire the night before and sustained a bump to the rear after falling into a hole. Nothing a bit of panel beating couldn't fix.
Whoosh.. the wind behind me blew me to Basang. A small town where I stopped for some snack provisions. I was beckoned over to join the shop keepers family meal of rice and groundnut source drizzled with butter... obviously a special treat. They really do expect you to tuck in, especially after told them how far I had cycled. They were from Senegal and clearly delighted at my ability to speak French. Upon setting eyes on me, the youngest burst into tears... I was the first white man he had ever set eyes on and it clearly caused him some distress! After more chatting I handed out a selection of presents and waved farewell to everyone, including the young boy who by this time had regained his composure. I looked at the bike and realised my front type was flat.. the family sat me to one side and the man of the house repaired it. Within minutes I was back on the road. On the outskirts of Basang I was stopped by Police, Customs and Immigration. We discussed my route ahead and they supplied me with invaluable information about the good condition of the North Road from Georgetown to Barra. They were a very interesting, friendly, polite and professional bunch. enquiries were made about my home country, marital status (commiserations were given), job and the impressions of the country.
The prevailing wings are from the North East and now was the time to be blown back to the coast. Without realising I was blown passed the turning to Georgetown, through a forest and into Fula Bantang where I realised my mistake, 10Km too late! I got talking to a very nice young lad who was studying in Brikama to become and accountant. We listened to the World Service on his shortwave radio, discussed international affairs and drank sweet tea. Waved goodbye and backtracked to the missed turning. On the way I met Stephanie, who was cycling in the opposite direction. She works for the Peace Corps and told me about her work for the provision of health care in the rural areas. She was on her way back from a meeting at a local hospital. Keen to avoid the dark I said goodbye and carried onto the missed turning.
Jangjang-burah or Georgetown as it was called in colonial times is sited on McCarthy Island in the Gambia river. There is very little through traffic as the north and south ferry crossings only take 3 cars at a time and demand is low. Its not possible to change money or use a cash machine there.
On the ferry crossing I got talking to a teacher and caretaker of the Methodist school, who asked me to drop by the school the next day. He directed me to the campment on the northern most bank of the river which is a peaceful, pretty but empty place. There's no electricity and lighting is supplied by oil lamps and candles. Monkeys run amok in the trees overhead and puppies are always on had to play. Shortage of guests meant I could complete a few chores and get an early night. Found a giant millipede in the circular hut, well it found me! I only knew about it as it crawled over my foot! yuck!


A fire engine from Avon and Sommerset county council, as part of the http://www.gafsip.org/ project


For some reason these birds followed me around??


Huts in the campment


Sunset over Jangjang-bureh campment

Day 09
Start: Jangjang-bureh
End: Farafenni
Km: 71
Now I'm running low on Dalais, the Gambian currency. So far its not been a problem as everywhere will accept CFA (Senegalese currency) which I have plenty of. The plan was to change money at a bank in Basse Santa Su, but I took one look at the chaos and queues and gave up! So I headed into Jangjang-bureh and had no luck changing cash. Farafenni was the next place and one days ride away.
Went to the Methodist school for the assembly. Met the headmaster and was invited in to talk to the children. I had to decline as I needed to get to Farafenni, a full days ride away. It never ceases the amaze me that the main route from one side of the country runs across two ferry crossings, each ferry only takes 3 cars and the service is hardly used outside the morning rush. The road from here to Barra is perfect ally smooth, curtsey of the Taiwanese government. The highway is impressive, wide, fast, well made and remarkably free of traffic. Cows outnumber cars.
On the road with the wind behind me and a wide open road should have been bliss, but 9 punctures later my will to continue vanished. I worked out how to modify the valve to work with my pump, so I didn't need to borrow one from the locals. As the inner tube was suffering from a manufacturing defect, I decided to flag down the next passing minibus and take it the last 25km to Farafenni for repair. On the minibus I got talking Kawsu Jatta, a teacher who had been to Jangjang-bureh to pick up his education certificates. We had an interesting chat about the education and further education systems in our respective countries. Time passed quickly. We arrived in Kau Ur and waited for a passing vehicle we could take the rest of the was to Farifenni. Nearly 2 hours later on no sign of any transport, a customs official who talked to us took pity on us and arranged for a government pickup to take us there. Off we set with the bike in the back and we soon arrived. I thanked them both for their help and company and found a place to stay.



Village with a rather grand mosque


Street life in Farafenni


Bike repair man... did a fantastic job repairing and servicing the bike


AWAITING BLOG ENTRY... here are the pictures anyway..

The Open road to Basang


Not something you want in a shoe!




The real road hazzards


The Barra ferry


On the Gambia river


Unloading at the ferry terminal


Fishermen on the beach in Banjul


Arch 22 is one of the largest and most impressive buildings in The Gambia. Built to commemorate the 22 July 1994 peaceful coup, it houses a museum at the top which affords spectacular views over Banjul


Football is everywhere!


Beach Cemetery just outside the city. What a place to be buried!


Golden Orb web spider... as big as your hand!


Place I stayed in Brikama. Run by a very friendly extended family


Meet the locals in Brikama


Kartong beach huts, always a pleasure to stay there.. Tree house accomodation provided.


View of the beach from another tree house




The gang who stayed there