Gambia and the Guineas

Apologies, it’s been a while since my last post understandably.. As most of you will know by now my journey came to an abrupt end (to be continued of course!) on December 31st, in Nigeria, while on my way up to the Cameroon border..many anecdotes to be told about this event but for now, I shall carry on from where I stopped the story. ( I am safely back to the UK now and recovering home, which will give me the opportunity to catch up on blog posts !).

Arriving at the Lac Rose - finish line of the Paris-Dakar rally - felt like an important milestone. Not only I had done my own Paris-Dakar (well London-Dakar) but I was on the gate of West Africa.

The lac rose - those boats are use to harvest the salt.

After spending the weekend by the lake, I went into Dakar to start the visa’s game, from one embassy to another. Taking time to service Harriet which needed some TLC after all the sand from the Sahara and the crash with the dog on the way from St Louis. It’s been good to be riding around without the weight of the luggage and making my way slaloming through the traffic, just like if I was living there, going to work every morning.

Senegal strangely reminds me of France, not so much because they are speaking French but they seems to have kept a lots of heritage, from the road signage to the Gendarmerie and Pompiers (fireman) uniforms, baguettes, name of the streets and school system.

After easily getting my Guinea-Bissau and Guinea visa, the Cameroon embassy was being a pain and I had to wait almost two days at the consulate itself waiting for my passport supposedly coming any minute.

It took less time for my new camera to leave England (on the Monday) and arrive in Dakar (on the Wednesday morning !) than to process that visa. I rode back from the Embassy quarter to Ngor to have a celebratory drink and crêpe at the Noflaye Beach, France Gall’s restaurant , might sounds a bit cheesy but I always loved France Gall’s songs (probably the only CD that’s ever been in my car the past two years as some of my friends can attest).

I was really ready to go back on the road again. It’s strange, as I soon as I stay away from riding for a couple to a few days I get nervous and just eager to get back on the road, but also I still felt like the journey was only starting. Getting out of Dakar that day took me ages on a Friday, but eventually felt good to get out, I was aiming for Palmarin, a smaller village 200km down the coast, and would be meeting Tony, Sandrine and Robert for the night.

After setting up camp, and with no sign of the other guys I aimed for the beach, the sun was going down and the beach was desert, the sea was warm, I felt I was finally into the journey. I decided to spend the day in Palmarin, it was the opportunity to get up to date with my laundry and explore the village. Following the beach we walked to the village with the guys in search of ingredients to cook dinner. It was a great afternoon, the kids were really friendly and keen to play football and have pictures Sharing a meal around the table with the other traveller that night we decided to hit the road together the following day but we would split in different and meet in Bissau as we all needed to get our Côte d’Ivoire visa.

The shortest way to Guinea-Bissau involved crossing the Gambia, the country is surrounded by Senegal and yet so different. I travelled with Robert, his Volkswagen van and Tony and Sandrine decided to bypass Gambia because of their carnet. No more rubbish by the side of the road came as a positive surprise, the last elected president enforced a law a few years ago that, one Saturday per month people would have to pick up all the rubbish, using police forces to make sure it would be happening. And as a result, with tim people started to be more conscious-minded about throwing rubbish. What a different this is making ! I spend the night in a little Eco camp run by the village next to it. Tumani Tenda, overlooking the Gambia river. It was amazingly quiet, apart from me snizzing, full of cold.

I encountered my first piste on the way to Bissau. Guinea-Bissau has to have the worst roads on the continent.. dangerous heavily potholed tarmac road, making it impossible to average a correct speed, so much that I just ended up riding in the ditch most of the time..

Bissau isn’t a great city either, but I would be stuck there for a couple of days while processing my visa for Côte d’Ivoire, it was good I wasn’t the only overlander at least we could entertain ourselves. Tony and Robert were keen to buy a little pig that we could roast, and so on our way back to the campsite, through the villages/ suburb of Bissau we started a quest to find what was going to be tonight’s dinner, and to buy the little animal out of one of the family. I am not sure I appreciate it the same way once it was in my plate after seeing the little thing screaming out.

After a couple of day in Bissau it was time to hit the road again, heading north to the border for Guinea, the further away from the town, the better the scenery was getting and the roads too, piste ( soil or sand) are often better than tarmac road. People in the villages seems happier and busier than Morocco or Senegal and there is much less trash than in cities. That night we camped just a few meters away hidden from the piste, 30km away from the border . Still a few locals passed by in the evening, curious, a group of kids standing and looking at us, what must seems a strange ritual to them.

Taking a picture with the kids in the village by the campground in Bissau.

Guinea had some really good stretch of nice road going up hills with some amazing view. Although the days were hot, the nights at higher altitude became very pleasant, and it felt good to actually feel a little cooler at night. After a couple of nights sleeping in the bush, it was good to have an early stop that in Dalaba. The We were allowed to set camp at the back of a formerly prestigious hotel, and to use a shower in one of the room. The view from the garden overlooking the valley was amazing as the sun went down.

As we were getting inland the nights were getting cooler, I didn't have the flysheet of my tent on and got absolutely frozen and soacked overnight.

The track to the border was getting quite rough, crazy to think that this is the main way from a country to another, bigs ruts, muddy holes or filled with water.

At the end of that little track was an immigration officer holding a rope, the official border. He let us pass, I was travelling with Jonas. Tony, Sandrine and Robert had gone ahead that morning.

We were now in Guinea, a former French colony, also the first country in west Africa to become independent and have his own currency, even different from the rest of west africa. One of the immigration officer was quite proud of this and consequently clearly not keen on French people..from history but also a whole lot of political reasons. Jonas who is German had a greater success, I kept quiet.

They let us go ! We hit the piste until Koundara where we meet a road sign we like to see now and again “This road has been financed by the European Union” (maybe we should have installed those type of road signs in the UK too…anyway !) this was the sign of great road with no potholes for a few kilometres ! Whoop whoop!

Charlotte RochenardMarch 15, 20201 Comment