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Published: January 23rd 2013
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Getting from the Gambia to Senegal was a little tortuous. Before dawn, a taxi took us to the middle of a dark Banjul market. From here, we walked down an alley to the ferry. In the waiting area, hawkers were offering water, snacks and ladies underwear. Useful if you forgot your bra and pants, I guess.
We boarded in the dark and watched the dawn come up over the river Gambia. Banjul slipped away and Barra slowly appeared in the distance. It was cold on the 45 minute crossing – we were in fleeces for the first time on the trip.
Once in Barra, we bargained with the next taxi driver and half an hour later we were at the border, where we seemed to be the only people crossing. We walked straight in to the office of a large jovial, uniformed gentleman who filled in the ledger, stamped our passports and bade us farewell from the Gambia. Then we walked the fifty yards into Senegal, to a similar gentleman in a similar office who filled in his ledger, stamped our passports and welcomed us, in French, to Senegal.
Our third taxi took us to the “gare routiere”.
Here we got into a “sept-place” – an old Peugeot estate with an extra, third, row of seats. We bargained for the entire middle row – there was a five hour journey ahead and we wanted the extra space.
After a little wait to get a full passenger load, we were off but very soon the tarmac ended and we hit dirt road, then potholed tarmac, then dirt … and so it went on all the way. Often the pot-holed tarmac was worse than the dirt, so the cars drove along a dirt track at the side of a pot-holed road. Looking up the road, cars were snaking left and right as if in some giant slalom.
After about two hours we pulled over into a garage. We were glad to be able to use the toilet – indescribable – but not so glad to see the bonnet come up and screwdrivers come out. They decide that the problem was a leaking coolant hose. It was replaced in a few minutes and we were off again.
After eight hours we made it from Banjul in the Gambia, to Saly in Senegal. Five cars and one boat; 180
miles/305 km; and just £16 each in fares.
As we travelled, we realise that Senegal is much poorer than the Gambia. Villages are made up of square mud huts, thatched with local grasses and clustered in fenced compounds. There are few cars but many donkey carts. Everywhere there are begging children.
The countryside is very flat, with huge salt flats and large areas of scrub dotted with gigantic baobab trees. Skinny cattle and goats graze here and there but otherwise we saw few signs of agriculture.
We are staying in Saly, a holiday town for the French, which has miles of sandy beach. Senegal was once part of French West Africa and we seem to be the only Brits in town.
Behind the beach there are small complexes of modern “African huts” in beautifully kept gardens. But just one road back from these, donkey carts outnumber the cars and goats wander the sandy streets. The difference between the wealth of the western tourists and the poverty of the local population is much more noticeable here than it was in the Gambia. Our rented three bedroom hut was very comfortable – and much better than anything in
the villages we had passed. Around us, only a few other huts were occupied. We noticed both here and in the Gambia that many tourist facilities were very quiet and some were closed up completely.
Saly has both a local market and two supermarkets. The latter had everything we could wish for but the local market was more interesting – and cheaper. Not only could we buy fruit and veg – we recognised most of it – but also re-cycled western clothes. These had been brought to Africa by aid agencies, only to be sold on in the local markets.
We have walked the long sandy beaches both north and south of Saly. Walking south got us to the town of M'bour, one of Senegal's main fishing ports.
From a distance the beach might have been a biblical scene. Filling the bay were thousands of brightly painted pirogues. Hundreds of men and women in African robes unloaded the boats and carried trays laden with fish up to waiting horse carts. Once full, the horses then stumbled up the beach, weaving around the beached boats, the fishermen mending their nets and random piles of fish laying on the
sand. There were people, fish and horses everywhere – smelly and noisy; colourful and fascinating.
Walking north from Saly along the beaches, we eventually reached the tidal river estuary lined with mangroves which has been designated the Somone nature reserve. We took a small boat up stream and we were lucky enough to see three osprey – one diving for fish – as well as pelicans, herons, gulls and terns. It was very tranquil and unspoilt, we were the only visitors.
The weather continues to be beautiful with sunshine every day. We are still surprised at how cool it is in the early morning – the sun does not rise until 7:30. However it soon warms up and, by lunchtime, it is almost too hot, even in the shade! From cool to mega-hot in five hours.
On Friday and Saturday we plan to travel to the very north of Senegal, to St Louis, with an overnight stop in Dakar. Farewell to our beach chillin', we'll need to wake-up for a few days of travelling.
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