SkoFarSoGood

Just been told that P766OPP (or as was) has been auctioned today in Banjul, making 43,000 Dhalasis, which is £1000. Good to know that those Gambians appreciate a nice bit of Czechnology. I’ll follow the Gambians’ progress in the Olympics with interest!

Not really part of the PBC, but given that anyone who has commented has said I’ve only been talking about cars and pooing…

I managed to go the whole trip without any major illnesses or poo disasters.  Which makes it ironic that the last meal i had on the trip proper (in the airport at Banjul) gave me the raging poos.  So bad when I came home that I was up every half hour through the night doing hot chocolate which smelled so bad it make me physically sick.  And then spent the next day incapable of anything.  Hardly the return home I had envisaged, for sure.  Hopefully I’ll be well enough to work this week, ‘cos I need the money!

Thanks to all who have donated while we’ve been away - it was good to see the totals have gone up during the trip!

Due to an early night I woke up about 6 and then got up about 7.  As I write this I’m sat outside room 8 of the SGH, beautiful blue sky above me, palm trees swaying slowly in the morning breeze.  It’s warm enough for t-shirt and shorts, and all sorts of exotic-sounding birds can be heard in the background above the dull roar of the morning traffic in the distance.  It’s quite an idyllic scene, punctuated only by the odd polite horn being sounded or one of the staff walking by.

So, what have I learnt on this trip then?

Well, as far as the trip is concerned, there are things I’d do differently.  I’d bring a more powerful car, rear-wheel drive, and with wider tyres, and with stronger, higher suspension, all of this mostly for the desert and for the dodgier roads that we came across.  I’d do more detailed GPS pics of the towns, but other than that, I think it was all good.  I’d not bring as many jerry cans (1 would have sufficed easily for us, 2 in a more juicy car but only just), and I’d pack a bigger bag for coming home with.  Aside from that I think we got it mostly spot on.

Africa is massive.  It’s easy to forget just how far it is between places as it’s so easy to get on a cheap flight and within hours be thousands of miles away.  But when you have to drive that distance you realise that it’s a long way in reality, and that there are parts of the planet that have very little there in terms of civilisation - they’re just huge and empty.  Southern Morocco was a real surprise, despite the map; you can drive for hours and see nothing other than mileposts and microwave relay stations.

Africa is also a place of huge contrasts, both internally and to Europe.  As you get more south, things become more ‘African’, and the people’s ways change.  In Marrakech, some of the shopkeepers seemed a bit pushy, but if you play their little dance and have a joke with them, everything is good and everyone has a good time - they don’t react well to people just saying “no” and once you learn that it’s great fun.  But come more South into Mauritania and Senegal and it becomes far more in-your-face.  All the kids beg, essentially.  What amazed me was that when they came out to wave at us, they were actually shouting out loud “Cadeaux” (meaning gift) - it’s become a pavlovian response to foreigners to ask them for a gift.  Yesterday a sweet little kid saw inside the car and saw I had two Christmas mice (which mum bought for the car for xmas and I took it on myself to get home safe and sound), and he just shouted “GIVE ME THIS TOY”.  Incredibly rude behaviour by western standards, but aside from that it seems that many are just thinking that a hand-out is the way forward, and expected.  I can’t see how anyone can progress if they’re expecting a freebie to keep them going.

It’s also important to remember that they have no concept of personal space - it’s very easy to get angry in such situations as the Barra ferry as you’re not being left alone, they pile all over you and are unrelenting in asking you the same question over and over, and it’s difficult to ignore that and stay polite - again they don’t react well to getting annoyed, in the same way the Moroccan salesman won’t do if you’re rude.  Treating it all as a game became fun, but you have to be stern as well at times.

Mad Dog said something yesterday that made me think - if someone had said “send £500 to the Gambia” I wouldn’t have done it.  But that’s really what has happened.  The Skoda probably stands me at about £500 at the moment, all in, and I’ve given it away.  Certainly I could have made money on it had I fixed it up and MOTd it, and maybe sold it for £500 or so.  So really myself and Laura have made quite a generous donation to the country, and hopefully that will go on to provide service for a Gambian, possibly meaning they get a taxi for little money and can feed or house their family better as a result.

This started out as a driving adventure, with charity as a bi-product.  We’ve raised around £1000 for UK-based charities (mostly down to Laura’s good work at work), which I’ll be honest I’m a little disappointed with - everyone else seems to have made at least double that.  But now that we’re here, the charity and its effect here has become more important - seeing how well we’ve been received by most of the Gambians here shows that they really do appreciate what’s being done, and hopefully the car will go on for a long time and the money from the sale will help others too.

I’ve met some great people on this trip, and had a great time.  There’s been some difficult stuff (mostly dealing with the corruption, particularly in Senegal, and also me being an idiot a couple of times in the sand and getting stuck for no good reason), and some great fun as well.  I’d like to thank Laura for being totally moan-free, and thank Ian and Ali from the Essex boys and Ian “Mad Dog” Handley in particular for being a great laugh throughout (or nearly so!).  Last of all, a big thanks to P766 OPP for providing (with some help from me) us with faultless transport throughout, comfort, security and even economy.  Only one puncture and a bit of gearbox oil and the addition of spring assisters, otherwise no work was needed on the whole trip, and over the 4399 miles it averaged around 40mpg.  Not bad for a £155 Skoda.

A much quicker way home

Woke up at 8, craving water, drunk lots and woke up an hour later probably still a bit drunk, but got up and had breakfast and found everyone else was similarly battered. Aside from Mr. Wood, of whom there was no sign. The time to meet the BHC was soon upcoming and a trip into his den revealed a terrible smell and a very badly hungover Simon! Still, he managed to get himself up in time to go, and the three of us were wearing our new shirts, and we went off in the Merc (a smooth and Air-conned ride) down to the High Commission. We had to give in our phones and cameras and were ushered into the air conditioned office to meet the man himself, who was really pleasant and very nice, offering some good ideas on how to get the challenge better known, and to show that the Brits do something for Gambia, something doubted by the President.

Then it was back to the Safari Garden to find that Al and Ian had resurrected the Oldsmobile! Whether it will make the parade is unknown, but at the moment it’s being bolted back together, while I wait for my fourth All-Day breakfast of the stay, Mr. Wood taking the opportunity to eat and maybe get 10 minutes’ sleep before we crack onto the parade!

We set out around 2:30 for the parade, with a police car or two and a couple of mock-harley bikes as outriders (although the bikers weren’t wearing any gloves, scary), firstly to the stadium to wait for TV to turn up in the intense heat (not good when most of you are a bit worse for wear from the night before), and then into Banjul itself for the meeting with the Mayor and Arch 22. The way into Banjul was the way we’d come out, and it was interesting to see things we’d missed (such as a massive wrecked boat) on the way in, and there were a LOT of people out and about to greet us. The old town is very African, with some very old colonial-era buildings looking run down and in need of work and everything looking a bit broken down. At this point Mad Dog decided to take on the Bronco (we were right behind), and came off a LOT worse for wear, with the front bumper missing about half of it, and a huge rip in the left front wing, needing some quick repairs (or rather removing the rest of the bumper) before meeing the Mayor.

But when we got to the offices, the mayor wasn’t there! He was out doing something election based as it was ‘only’ two weeks away. There were others there from the council, but it was difficult to know who as there was a microphone, but it was plugged into the video camera recording the event, meaning that we couldn’t hear him at all - he seemed to think we could so he was talking quite quietly, so we just nodded and clapped at what seemed the right times. Mad Dog did another speech, which we could hear, and then a big group photo, and back to the cars, where Mad Dog removed his front bumper using the approved tools (a hammer and his feet).

Then it was time for an iconic part of our trip - probably the real end of it, the drive under Arch 22, which is usually closed to private vehicles. It’s a large arch at the end of one of the roads in Banjul, and this was really the end of the trip (or I would count it if the car broke down now), so we all took a slow drive through the massive arch, in our case playing the theme from Superman on the ipod while we did - maybe I’ll think of that every time I hear it now.

We were then back onto the main dual carriageway back to the stadium, and driving very slowly with the police escort and people overtaking us. There were several junctions we got to where the traffic had been completely stopped for us, and we felt quite special as a result, creating havoc in afternoon Banjul! We took a different route back to the stadium, taking in some of the less salubrious areas of the town, and were welcomed by the locals all around, clapping and waving and shouting “welcome”, which really did make a huge difference to us - there have been several points in the last few days where it’s all seemed a bit odd as if no-one knows we’re here.

On the parade...

Back view of the parade

At the stadium all the cars were lined up and then there was local dancing (with one of the costumes made of sacks and with a face mask really reminding me of the Mighty Boosh), speeches, free beer (and soft drinks!), and general jolliness. Our “group” lined all the cars up (although there was in my mind an interloper in the shape of the Nova), and had pictures taken with us all on the rooves of the car - those of us who were brave enough anyway - and so on; now it really felt like it was over, and almost as if everyone wanted to drag it out as long as possible.

At the stadium

After half an hour or so of this, we broke formation (somehow CrazyGolf got dented in the process….) and went back to the hotel, and removed all the things from the car to take home which suddenly meant I had a way-too-small bag to come home with - it’s rammed solid and still I have issues. Pack a bigger bag next time!

When I was in tiznit I felt sad to be giving the car up, but now it seems OK and the right thing to do. The last thing to do with it was remove the number plates as a memento - front one for Laura, back one for me. That made it seem quite final. Others had given in their keys to reception and their V5s, but I kept hold of mine for the simple reason that I knew we had a dinner tonight and no transport laid on, so that would make things a bit cheaper and easier. We set off in a convoy of about 5 cars when it had got dark, with the Essex Boys and Joogy as passengers as well, and went to a place run by ASSET which had shops and a restaurant for another buffet meal and more dancing from the same lot again. The dancers were good and the girls kept the rhythm well with bamboo instruments they banged together, but they really should sack the drummer who was poor and spent most of the night annoying Ali by whistling for no reason with a football whistle. Good show, aside from that, and of course the bowl came round again - odd to have the same gig twice?

We decided we’d go back to the hotel and predictably Joogy got caught on the way out by some guy claiming to be his best friend, etc., but eventually we were ready to go - the best friend hung around, and oddly I seemed to be unable to move the car properly, moving CrazyGolf several feet down the road before I was free. The hanger-on said “excuse me, you’ve hit that car”, so we trundled off into the night, and proceeded to get very lost in the dodgy part of town - bad roads, people all over the place, cars with no lights, you name it. The first time I had no sat nav in the car was the first time I really needed it, and driving at night here isn’t recommended.

It’s even LESS recommended when you’re in a car that has no Number Plates, no Insurance, No Registration, No tax of any kind, illegal tinted windows and probably overloaded as well. If I’d been drunk I could have scored a full house, but fortunately I’m not a mentalist. What was the upside was because of the lengthy parade route we found out where we were (I took a picture of one of the buildings as it had wonky wooden scaffolding) and getting to the Safari Carden from there was easy - just a quick bit of flat out 5-up on the dirt track, and then we were done.

4399 Miles on the clock.

It was quiet when we got back, so we just had a bit of a drink and then went to bed.

Google Earth file: pbc-jan-10.kml

Woke up hideously early (the bed’s a LITTLE soft, not good for me at all), and then sat outside typing everything up from the past day, which has so much happen. We have a fairly slack day today, but tomorrow and Friday there’s a lot on. I’ll see if there’s anything we can help with while we’re here, maybe they need something doing that I can fix or something….

Not a lot got done though at first - breakfast was a buffet type thing, and then time to do a condition report on the car and a bit of schpiel to help sell it. Then all the stuff we’d brought that could be given away or auctioned was dropped off at Geri’s house, and suddenly we had a back seat on the car - first time it’d been seen in 3 weeks.

This was then made use of driving to the Gambian Experience office to get our plane tickets - again we were stopped by the Police only to congratulate us for coming to Banjul! The office was in a lovely hotel, and the rest of this part of town seemed very nice - clean and tidy with lots going on - a marked contrast from Nouakchott, for instance. The ever lovely Ian from the Essex boys continually mocked the power of the Skoda with the “where’s the power?” comments there and back. But still accepted a lift!

Then several of the others decided to clean their cars, which meant I’d better clean mine or look well out of place. Amazingly OPP came up quite well, only the gaffa tape marks from the desert bonnet loss making it look tatty - the rest of it is looking OK and only a few small extra dents from this trip. The smell of EP90 is from the one oil seal leaking it a bit onto the exhaust and making a LOT of smell for it. The sumpguard is quite dented and the front crossmember is about 2″ back from where it should be, but it’ll give years of good use, I think.

Then the much-loathed Oldsmobile was rolled in, and everyone descended on it to see what was wrong. Much messing about led to the diagnosis that the fuel pump was done in, despite it having been replaced by some moroccans recently. The scary thing was that they’d actually done it, and left twisted, live connections in the fuel tank - if they’d touched in the vapour in the tank, they’d have been history, and well done history at that. As I type Russ and Ali are trying to sort it out as we had the pump out and running so maybe all is not lost - it was a pity they had to be towed the last 20k, and might miss out on the parade tomorrow.

In the evening there was a BBQ buffet laid on for everyone by ASSET, and that was good having everyone together, with tables round the Safari Garden pool, all having a chat, good food and a drink. We were given T-Shirts for the rally to wear at the parade, which were sponsored by the Arab-Gambian Islamic Bank. Afterwards we went to “The Strip”, where there were a selection of bars (although the one we went to by taxi first involved them trying to take us somewhere that looked like it would be organ donor/front page news instead), and then there was… some vodka. And some more, and a trip to a bar that had a good band playing Bob Marley and some Soca as well, with everyone having a good time. Before we knew it it was hometime. At 4am. By this time Woody was drunk beyond belief, having drunk a town’s worth of Sambuca and at one point made this speech to me:

“When I first met you in Spain I thought you were a weirdo. Then in the desert, I thought you were a weirdo. Now… I think you’re a weirdo”.

Nice.

He stayed on, and apparently went for a 5am swim in the pool. Not a great way to prepare for meeting the British High Commissioner, a job that him, Mad Dog and myself had been duly elected to by Geri.

Ok, I cut yesterday short but I’m tired so sorry. Had a pretty cool relaxing day, emptied the stuff we had in the car and gave to the lady who organises donating all the stuff. Washed the car so it would look nice when auctioned and also as we were doing the parade tomorrow it had to look good rather then covered in dirt and desert!
Laid around the pool and later on went for a walk down the beach which was beautiful.
A buffet was laid on at the hotel on the house, so that was cool!
Had a few to many sherberts at the hotel and we then decided to go into town and visit a few bars. Not sure how many drinks I had but the measures were pretty big!! I remember telling everyone I loved them as usual and also Ali gave me a shoulder massage which was AMAZING, I’d have passed him! I decided to tell everyone this repeatedly for the rest of the night, good.
We got home at 4am, I didn’t realise this I thought it was only 1am, oops!

Woke up at 6am (or shortly after thanks to Mad Dog’s engine), and was pleased to find out that we weren’t dead, and also that no local had arrived to collect some rent. Got everything packed and then had a last Senegalese breakfast, and then off onto the road. The highway did the usual trick of being far above the standards I was expecting - for the most part very good, smooth tarmac, with the occasional pothole, mostly in the little towns on the way. At several of these there were police, but they waved us through each time. After one of them there was a raised embankment on which the road was built over what looked like a river delta, and at the other end a fresh crash between two lorries - the local police were making measurements, so clearly not that backwards here then! The two lorries looked a right mess, although there didn’t seem to be any casualties.

We got to Mbour soon enough, and had to make a turn to the next place, Kaolack. This was missed (clearly with hindsight) and we had to back track, making another error before finding the right one was done with rudimentary french which did the trick. On the way out of town we were stopped for the first time, this time by the Army who wanted to see our document we got at the border allowing us passage through the country. They checked that and then waved us on our way - this was a much more pleasant experience and much more like it - if the rest of Senegal was like this then it’d be OK, just a pity that some thieving twats in St Louis ruined it for everyone else.

Kaolack was no different to any other city we’d been to - hectic and random, with all sorts going on. I saw a moped get hit in the back (gently) by a minibus and no-one give a monkey’s - the minibus didn’t stop and the moped seemed to appreciate the forward impetus. We found the turning near the city centre and headed South, going past what seemed to be a market but wasn’t the main one of the town. The road was only wide enough for one car now as the rest was taken up with people and their wares, but on the south side of town we knew we’d reach the “Trans Gambian Highway” as mentioned in the Lonely Planet map and therefore it should be much quicker and easier to get along there.

In short, I couldn’t have been more wrong! This was the worst bit of tarmac we’d been on in all the time we’d been in Africa - pot-holed, uneven and a complete nightmare to drive on - the Sahara was way smoother, and pot-holes in tarmac are far more damaging to the car than dirt ones, ‘cos they have much sharper edges. We bailed out and drove alongside on the dirt track usually used for donkeys and had to play chicken a couple of times. On the far side of the embankment and bridge there was the turning for Karang (the border town), so we took that and the road was no better there either - lots of dodging potholes meant slow progress and weaving all over the road, sometimes making best progress by straddling the side of the road and the dirt track, but always with total forward concentration - in a car one of these bumps taken badly at speed could mean a “baker” moment!

We reached the first small town, and the road got even worse - progress was quite slow here, but these roads were what I was expecting all over the country really, so we’d done well overall. The rear suspension on the Skoda was losing its damping completely, especially on my side, meaning that it was having a hard time and there wasn’t a lot of grip at the back, interesting when turning hard to avoid a pothole…

We had to stop several times to let CrazyGolf catch up, and took the opportunities to take pictures, muck about, and in one case Mad Dog decided to remove his filler cap flap (which would no longer close) using the correct tool - a hammer. Videoed for posterity, too. We then cut across some salt flats which were MUCH smoother than the road, and really hard - it felt like concrete to drive on, not sand and salt.

The last town we reached before the border was really quite large, and looked almost like a Moroccan resort on the entry - it was on a river and looked really developed. What helped with this was the smooth tarmac that had suddenly appeared. And to our amazement it carried on all the way to the border! I guess it’s true that some countries tart up their cross-border facilities to make themselves seem grand and rich - certainly we were pleased ‘cos it was getting to be quite slow before that.

When we passed through Karang and reached the border, another typically African scene awaited us - total mayhem, a customs and police point, and NO directions whatsoever. All they’d need to do would be put up a sign saying “1 - Police. 2 - Customs” or something, and everything would be simple. As it was we had to find out randomly what was what. The customs guys weren’t remotely interested in us, and the Police only a little more so aside from one overly keen jobsworth who kept telling us to go back to customs, even though we’d been there, so we went there 3 times in all. Only thing was I found out that a local bringing a car in here only pays the face value of 2500 CFA for the paperwork we’d been reamed 90 Euros for. Racism at its finest, folks - institutionalised and involving profit.

Then it was into Gambia - a 20 yard drive. Parked up and spoke to the Police guy who was friendly on the surface, but playing a bit dumb and checking us out. It turned out he knew all about the PBC and was just testing us, and then we were into the Customs to get our passports checked and stamped, which was done quite quickly, passing a detention cell with a few miscreants in it looking displeased. The guy said “have you brought anything for the office” (a present…) and we played dumb and then said no. He said “no problem, on you go”, so Mad Dog gave them his tea supply anyway, which pleased them. Hope they like tea, it’s 1kg!

Next up we were onto the road to the Barra ferry, which was wide, gravel and corrugated, meaning it was quite hard work for the car, but great fun. The Police stops congratulated us on being there, and the kids all cheered - it was really good to be there at last, finally in a friendly country and one which speaks English. After a stop to get our tickets for the ferry, we drove onto Barra itself, and were immediately surrounded by the local hustlers, all of whom were our “best friends” and going to work it so we’d get on quickly. Even though there were only about 6 cars in front of us. The officials at the gate are also on the take, taking us inside and insisting we give them something for getting them on (that’s your job, kids), and so on, but in the end we got on the ferry, me having bought a Gambian string vest to replace my Senegalese T-shirt, and we were all on the ferry.

Various hustlers tried the “we worked it for you”, and some old bloke gave it the “I’m the boss man here, give me something” routine, but they soon had to get off the ferry as they didn’t have tickets.

At this point it really hit home - we were nearly there. Even if the car died now, it was only about 15km on the other side, so we could tow it. We could see Banjul. We were on the Barra ferry.

We’d done it without any major issues. It was a fantastic hour crossing the river on this knackered out old tub of a boat, with all the locals looking at us like we were mad. OK, probably me more so in a cowboy hat and string vest, but there you go…

When the ferry docked we were already in the car, and as it hit the port it felt like we’d been hit a few times, but soon enough we were off the ferry and onto the road, actually in Banjul. Now we’d done it! Some idiot reversed into the car gently and then drove off (moron), but it didn’t really matter. We were on our way to the Safari Garden hotel, and soon enough some crazy guy in a Volvo 850 rocked up alongside us on a dual carriageway and said to follow him to the Safari Garden Hotel, which we did (by a different route to the one we’d been given, meaning we were a bit worried for a minute), and then we really were there - it was all becoming very real, as we could literally just leave the car there and it would be done.

Plymouth - Banjul? Done. 4350 miles, from my house to Banjul via Millau and a few other detours. In a £155 Skoda.

We had a nice surprise after Geri had given us a talk - they did and all day breakfast, so one was eaten, and then after the Essex Boys, Team Steve and the Bakers turned up, another one was as well, as well as a Spanish measure of Vodka and Coke.

Dinner was up the road at the Ritz, and I had Monkey Chops, which disappointingly weren’t made from Monkey, but were very good, being a steak fried in breadcrumbs. We’d even managed to get a room at the Safari Garden, sharing it with the Essex Boys - a bit tight in there, but meaning we’d only pay £10 per night each, and not have to worry about finding anywhere else….

Google Earth Files (breaks due again to sulky sat nav in the heat): pbc-jan-08a.kml  pbc-jan-08b.kml pbc-jan-08c.kml

Got up and left Zebrabar at about 10am. We were not looking forward to the journey as we were expecting the same treatment from all the police as we experienced from St Louis. Little did we know we would be pleasantly suprised!
We went through a few towns and whenever there was police they just waved us on, great! The towns were mostly small but typically African the road markets selling fruit etc, so I videoed quite a bit of that.
We stopped off to get some petrol as alot of people needed to fill up. We had some ladies come over to us trying to sell us peanuts and doughballs. We bought a bag of peanuts and then the lady asked if I would swap a bag of peanuts for Darren which her and I both had hysterics at! I’m not sure Darren was amused ha ha! I gave her a toy for her baby and a couple of giggles later we head off!
Also there were loads Baobab trees, my favourite kinda of tree so it was really cool seeing alot.
Traffic started building up as we got closer to Dakar and it got increasingly hotter, a lovely mixture. We had the people trying to seel you stuff as you had stopped in your cars, mainly SIM cards and biscuits thatwere similar to Rich Teas by the looks of them.
While driving on we came across a cow that had obviously keeled over and died, it was pretty yuck as it had swollen into a big balloon and looked to fit to burst at any minute, glad glad we would miss that.
SLOWLY arrived in Dakar, I’m afraid to say I didn’t really think it was anything spectacular, it was just likeany other big city, hot, smelly, manically busy and as usual dusty! We stopped off at the Hotel Oceanic where the other guys were staying who went on the night before, all the rooms were full so Ian Baker went to see if there were any available rooms elsewhere. We waited to see what he would come back with, got hassled a bit but I’m pretty good at saying no and switching off. Ian came back and advised the budgetplaces were full but there was a hotel for about £50-£60 a night, a few of us didn’t want to spend that much (Crazy Golf, Bronco and Mad Dog) so decided to leave Dakar and find a village outside of Dakar and camp.
Getting out of Dakar was as interesting as getting in, traffic was crazy but we eventually got out. We found a village in the lonely planet that sounded pretty cool, so headed there. Unfortunately as we have discovered on this trip the lonely planet is not hot on its maps for finding these places they recommend, plus Africa doesn’t have good road signs…… We found where this town should be just as it was getting dark but the place didn’t seem to exsist nor were there places to stay! So we all decided to head up back to the main road and find a camping site we had passed earlier…we did however find a sign for a place to stay whilst routing back and asked some locals where it was. Well Helmet from Crazy Golf did, the thing was he was speaking to them in French and asking where we could stay and the next minute we turned around and he was gone!!! After a few worrying minutes he came back with these guys and said there was no where open now but they were willing to put us up in a house they were squatting in for 40 euros, we politely declined and legged it up a steep hill in our cars away from them. Good!
We found the signs for the campsite we had seen earlier and went down a dirt track it said to follow “le fleches” which none of us had a clue what that meant so drove down a bit more turned a corner into the middle of nowhere and camped there, ace! Free camping! We were all a bit worried we may have some crazed villagers find us in the middle of the night or we were actually in a field of bulls but all was ok.

Got up around 7:30, despite plans to the contrary, and got everything sorted out before another lovely breakfast of porridge and yorkie. By this time, we’d become very popular with the Zebrabar animals, including Piano the Dog-Key and the cat, who’d slept on top of Ian’s car. They clearly know that when people are packing up they might get something worth eating, although in this case there was nothing doing. The bill needed to be settled, and was a reasonable 58 Euros, not bad considering we’d had two meals each, and a few drinks too. The Bakers’ was more like 200 euros!

Ready to leave Senegal

We got everyone together (having towed Ian’s car out and jump-started it), and headed off, and soon realised that I didn’t have a fire extinguisher, but luckily Rita and Rob had a spare, so I was now fully legal, in preparation for the many stops we were bound to have. Even though it was early, the heat was still quite noticable, and it would only be getting stronger.

The roads in this part of Senegal aren’t bad at all - they are mostly good tarmac, with the odd pothole here and there, mostly in the little towns that each road is littered with, each being very similar with loads of people milling about, and dirt areas each side of the road with people selling stuff or trying to thumb lifts.

The first town of significance we came to was after about 30km, and I was sure we’d be stopped there, and as I was on point I was ready to stand my ground and behave impeccably. We saw police there, but they waved us through, having stopped a very dodgy looking lorry in front of us. A small victory!

After about another 50km of dry landscape, there was a larger town, and this was again preceded by a roadblock, but once more the Police didn’t give a monkey’s about us - they were again each involved with an HGV, and didn’t even look up. Splendid. We then went into the town proper which was a really typical African place with lots of people selling fruit and all sorts of stuff, and a thousand small shops each selling their own wares, and more Mobile Phone outlets than you could shake a stick at. This was all set amongst thousands of people going about their business (whatever it may be - I’m not sure how any of them actually DO anything), half of them balancing things on their heads, and many of the women wearing the most immaculate and brightly coloured clothes you’ll see this side of a (garish) catwalk. The rest of the town was more messy and industrial with the typical stacks of Peugeot 504s ready for breaking or taxi service, whichever is more profitable.

We stopped at a petrol station, as the others needed fuel. Eventually some peanut selling women came over, and I bought a bag for 25p or so. She then made a joke to Laura about swapping me for a pack of peanuts. Not a great offer, but the best I’ve had in a while!

Outside La Boutique

More miles passed, with more arid Savannah passing by. We bypassed Thies with a new bypass road which was quite new, but very badly signposted, but fortunately I picked the right random exit and we were still on the way to Dakar. As we got close, the traffic became solid, about 15km out from the town. The road was stuffed with people selling SIM cards and biscuits, each man thinking that he was going to get a sale despite there having been 30 before him with identical wares. No dice for any of them. The traffic eased a bit when it became two lanes (although someone would always force a third now and then), and headed into Dakar proper.

The outskirts - what a mess. Everything I’ve come to expect from Africa and a whole lot more. We reached the auto mile, which was just a load of breakers yards, each specialising in their own parts - some had only panels, some engines, some axles, some suspension. You could probably make an entire car if you stopped at each shop. OK, it’d be a shagged Renault 12, but it’d still be a car. Next things became a bit more foody, with various massive amounts of fruit on show, and a dead cow that looked fit to burst - it was so full of gas that its legs were wide apart, despite being laid on the ground. Nasty. I wondered how long things just got left about, but then I saw a renault 4 that looked to have been there forever….

As we approached the town centre, it got a bit tidier, but still ramshackle. There were new car dealerships and all sorts of common businesses, and then the town centre itself. I was expecting something along the lines of French Colonial, but really it was just another town centre. The main square was relatively impressive, but nothing fantastic, and we soon found the hotel where the others were staying, only to find out there was no room there.

Ian Baker went out to find some hotels and only found ones that were too pricey for the rest of us, and I’d only found cheap ones that were fully booked (and even if not I think I’d have skipped them!), so the rest of us decided to head out of town and down the coast a bit on the way to our destination tomorrow, the gambian border.

A quick stop in Dakar

On the way out of town it was much the same story as the way in - 15km of terrible traffic, although the opportunity to buy cashew nuts from the one woman who seemed to be selling them was welcome, as was 5 litres of water for 500 local (about 60p). Fuel was paid for in Euros and changed by the pump boy at a fair rate (he had a pocket FULL of notes, a whole load of money), and then we chose the place to go to from the Lonely Planet book….

… and couldn’t find it. Their maps are, frankly, rubbish, and took us at least an extra 30km to no avail. We drove all over the place and ended up in a seaside town that had some “chambres” advertised, so we followed that sign only to find some local kids trying to hawk out their bedsit/crack den for 45000 local, and the advertised place closed on Mondays! A hasty retreat was bid once Helmut had returned from his single-handed fact-finding trip…

We headed back to the camping sign we’d seen earlier, but gave up on that after the track went nowhere, and in the end just found a place off the track to camp. Out in the open, with Baobab trees either side, in a bit of scrubland, we set up camp and ate. It was lovely - warm, quiet and a bit dodgy into the bargain. Hopefully we’ll not awake to find locals on our doorstep…

Google Earth Files (breaks due to Sat Nav sulking in the heat!): pbc-jan-07a.kml  pbc-jan-07b.kml  pbc-jan-07c.kml

The last leg of the tour! Woke up about 6am, washed and showered in the facilities (ok they wasn’t any so we didn’t) and headed for BANJUL!
We had to head for Kaolak first and get through the Senegalese border and the Gambian one also.
The journey was interesting proper African roads were appearing, pot holes everywhere or just random bits of tarmac….now I really did think we would see this way before now so we have been pretty lucky really.
The cars all survived it though, bless them and we arrived at the border. This was relatively pain free compared to the other borders we have been through so far. Did the usual going to the police and showing passports and then to the customs bit, although the Senegal customs couldn’t be bothered so just moved us on, fab!
We were in Gambia, woo hoo! The customs guy there was odd, started off really friendly then got slightly shirty so that was nice. We showed him papers, he said we had to go to Customs, show them our passport and then come back to him and he will check our vehicles and whether they are on the list for the Banjuk Challenge. All this was done and ended up all being ok, onwards now to the ferry from Barra to Banjul!!!
We had to go to a place to get the tickets which costed about 5k CFA francs per car. Again all was good there, we had a couple of people ask us for “presents” but it was suprisingly less then what we were used to.
Got to the port and waited for the ferry to turn up. Got harassed by a few guys asking for our tickets and offering us everything under the sun, we pretty much ignored them but as it was soooo hot we gave in and bought some cold drinks for an overmarked price, but hey.
The ferry turned up, bit of an old thing but it floated! The journey was pleasant enough and as we saw Banjul coming up all was good!
Got off the ferry……. we arrived!!!