Sunshine in West Africa

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It is an interesting place, the Gambia. Very African but also quite used to package tourists. Once away from the tourist hotels, life is very basic.

The weather is wonderful. Every morning is warm and by mid-day the sun is high in a clear blue sky. In the evening, it is still warm enough to eat outside – fresh fish, rice and vegetables are the staple diet. We eat out on alternate nights, otherwise cooking in our little apartment. The kitchen is tiny with one ring and a microwave, limiting the menu.

Our Kingfisher apartment is in a complex of four, with a very small shared pool - a bargain at £20 a night. There is only one other resident, seldom seen Bob - born in Harrogate and spending his winter in the Gambia. We really share the place with the birds, who fly around us all day and sing from dawn till dusk.

We have visited three nature reserves, all very low-key. All have colonies of monkeys to amuse us but the real treat is the number and variety of birds. Kites, vultures and osprey and lots of little birds with evocative names – firefinches, red-cheeked cordon bleus, village indigobirds and african paradise flycatchers. There are few visitors to these reserves and the only concerns is not to get lost in the empty vastness of them.

While travelling, we found a large fishing beach at Tanji. Dozens of multi-coloured boats pull in to the shore to be unloaded. Large bowls overflowing with fish are carried in on the heads of strong young men. On the beach, the fish are gutted. Some are then frozen, others salted in baskets. The catfish and herring are smoked on large open tables for three days – Gambian kippers! A smelly and noisy chaos.

Tanji was the first working beach we had come across. Where we are staying, in Bijilo, the beach is one long stretch of unspoilt sand and crashing Atlantic waves, as far as the eye can see in either direction. Occasionally there are sunbeds at the back of the beach, overflowing from a hotel, but largely it is beautiful and empty. Oh, except for the local “bumsters”. These are persistent young men who want to help you. They walk along at your side, introduce themselves and offer trips and services. Their objective is to steer you into a hotel restaurant or bar or to get you in their brother's taxi for a trip. Anything will do, as they get commission from everyone.

As we are old and rather direct, we manage to shake these guys off reasonable quickly but last night we acquired two Dutch “daughters”. The first we knew of this was being followed rather closely by two girls, clearly tourists. When we engaged them in conversation they explained that, by being with us, they avoided being hassled by the bumsters. “We thought we'd be your daughters” they said as we progressed along the beach and then through the lovely gardens of the posh hotel we all use as the path to and from the beach.

Transport is tricky. Locally it is not a problem as the taxis act like buses for a 14p fare up and down the coast. But, to get anywhere distant, the choice is cheap but terrible buses or hiring your own taxi which is expensive – especially if you want to go inland as this means very bad and slow roads. So, in a change of plans, we are next heading south rather than east, down the coast rather than along the river, to a small fishing village called Sanyang.

There seems to be a good mobile phone and internet service in the Gambia. Our trouble is it is not really connected to the outside world, so our phones, which should work, will only receive text messages. Getting to our email is very very very slow. In fact, as we type this we wonder whether it will ever get sent.

After a few days in the south, we will head north again for one night in the capital Banjul before we cross the river and then the border into Senegal. More soon.

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