Gambia – HandsOnDeck

Animal Magic in the Gambia

Gambia is an experience we will never forget – beautiful, dirty, happy, sad, calm and wild, it is a country of contrast that is rich in so many things, but poor in wealth. Read on as we discover more about this small, friendly country.

When we first met Fi and Iain they shared with us their plans to explore Gambia and, after a few days of meeting, suggested we join them on the adventure. We were completely unaware of what Gambia offered and, I have to admit, even had to look up on a chart to see where it was! Iain and Fi told us about the amazing wildlife up the river and how it was their intention to go and find the hippos and monkeys they had heard about from a small number of other sailors who had ventured to the upper stretches of the river where the salt water turns into fresh and the big animals live. We were sold the dream and we lapped it up and swallowed it, hook line and sinker and now our ability to be spontaneous and have flexible plans was being rewarded in spades.

Our experience so far in Gambia had been fantastic and we had reached the point that our senses were almost in overload after the time we spent at Bombale school, the amazing birds we had seen and, of course the crocodiles, monkeys and sea otter at Lamin Lodge. Now, as the river water turned fresh, we were entering hippo country and even if we saw nothing, we would still have had a truly memorable visit to this beautiful country.

We were heading for Deer Island and after motoring for about 7hrs, we anchored in shallow water in a gap between two island. That night we had our first experience of hippos, with a couple close to us making deep noises that sounded like horses blowing out through their lips and then deep groaning sounds. It was a surreal experience to sit in our cockpit, enclosed by a large mosquito net which looked like a middle eastern princes’ harem tent as it fell in folds from the bimini (cover over the steering wheel) and protected us from mosquito’s, tsetse flies and other horrible tiny biting things! We had a bright moon but could not actually see the hippo’s, just hear them.

Our journey continued up the river, which was now completely fresh water until we came to the small settlement of Kuntaur. As we approached loud music was blaring from the settlement side of the river, amplified by a large music system and speakers although we could not tell where it was coming from. As we circled looking for a good place to anchor, away from the noise, Fi came on the radio and reported she had seen a hippo on their starboard side. We were not far behind them and, sure enough, the hippo emerged from the depths of the muddy river and looked at us. We were about 30m away from it, so we spun around and found an anchorage a safe distance away so we could observe him. It was incredibly exciting to not only hear, but see the hippo as it ate, swam and wallowed in the mud. At one point he almost dried out in the low tide and allowed the afternoon hot sun to dry the mud on its back. It was a huge privilege to watch this magnificent animal and that night, despite the loud party across the river, it stayed close by, at one point coming between us and the river bank to feed further down stream.

The next morning we discovered, while walking through Kuntaur, that the music was a naming ceremony for a new born baby – a celebration that occurs at least twice a month, so the hippos must be used to the noise! We landed the dinghy at a lodge and was surprised to find a baby baboon tied to a tree. Apparently the lodge had found the baby and “saved” it, although the poor thing was terrified and obviously did not feel it had been rescued. The lodge had called a ranger from the animal sanctuary and by the time we returned it had been collected. Apparently the mother had been killed and the baby would not survive on its own. Very sad to see, but we later found out it had gone to Baboon Island which will release the baby back into the wild once it can fend for itself. Apparently the Baboons are a common sight, coming into the town each morning to scavenge food at the markets.

Close to Kuntaur are Wassu standing stones, dating back to between 750-1000AD. Built of locally mined laterite they were burial circles for royalty and warriors with the tallest stone marking the king’s grave. It is believed that his wife/wives were also buried at the same time, regardless of whether they were already alive or dead, along with all his possessions. Warriors were buried clutching their weapon also with their worldly goods surrounding them. It was an interesting place, located in a field outside of the town and has not been developed, or protected for that matter, but feels just like it must have felt thousands of years ago. Locals still come to the site and place small stones on top of the standing ones when they want a dream to come true.

While on the walk we saw lots of birds which were later identified as Bearded Barbet, Abasin Roller, Senegal Cuckal, African Jakara and a night heron, which looked just like a flying penguin! Walking back to the boat with beautiful fresh tapalapa we met a farmer tending his field of rice. He explained that this rice is native to Gambia and provides two crops per year. The field is flooded naturally by the river at high tide and all work is done by hand as they can’t afford machinery. A hippo can destroy one paddy field in one night, so farmers are not too keen on the large population of hippos that live in the vicinity.

On the dinghy ride back to the boat the hippo popped up very close to Cerulean which forced us to retreat rather quickly to Ruffian until we felt it was safe to try again! Once on the boat we had a spectacular view of the hippo, until we became a little blasé about having a wild hippo as our neighbour! The hippo lay on the muddy bank and baked in the hot sun, just a few meters from us. A couple of monkeys came down to the river bank – but not too near to the hippo – and sat cleaning themselves and each other for a while. It was a fabulous display of wildlife in the comfort of our mosquito netted cockpit!

We motored on just a few miles to the furthest point up river we were going, Baboon Island which marks the start of The Gambia River National Park. Baboon island in the middle of the river is about 2miles long and covered in dense native forest. A chimpanzee sanctuary has been established here and the breeding programme has been very successful. The programme started with 8 and there are now 125 chimpanzees on the island, not all were bred there as some were rescued from other countries. We met one of the eight rangers who look after the national park with very limited funding from the government. Modo was a lovely young guy who was obviously passionate about his role and the animals he looks after. It seemed an impossible task for such a small number of rangers to police, care for and manage the park and animals, as well as educate local children on the importance of looking after the safety of wild animals and their environment. Each night they feed the chimpanzees and monitor their health and development, knowing each one by name but they are by no means tame and can be very vicious. Some interesting facts we learnt about Chimpanzees:

Their lifespan is approx 50yrs
Once females are 14yrs they can start reproducing
Gestation period in 9 months
Multiple births are very rare and only one off-spring in 3 years
They build a new nest every night in the trees for the babies and females while the males keep guard. Each morning the nest is destroyed as they do not like mites.
They eat meat only once a week, maximum – like fish and chip Friday, but in their case it is the Red Colobus monkey which is in good numbers on the island and we were lucky enough to see one.
Other monkeys and apes swim, but a chimp does not.

Modo took us for a walk up a nearby hill, identifying numerous birds as we climbed to the vantage point and looked over the meandering river and islands. We looked down on a wet paddock where hippo often wallow in the mud, although not that day but we were not complaining as we had seen, and heard, plenty of hippos. As we motored along the river several popped their heads above the water to observe us as we glided past.

It was not possible for us to go any further up the river, for many reasons. There are cables across the river that we could not pass under, the river shallows although is still navigable and time was ticking on our visa, so we needed to start the journey back down the river to Banjul. Over the next few days we enjoyed some lovely sails as we made our way downstream towards the dreaded bridge. This time we would have the tide against us, but current with us at low tide, which meant if we had the calculations wrong, we would find it difficult to stop the boat before hitting the bridge. Once again, Steve went up the mast and we progressed towards the bridge. The water level markers we had photographed on the way up, showed the tide was lower than when we had previously been under the bridge, which gave me some confidence, however as we were approaching Steve commented that it looked really close and was touch and go whether we would get under. Not wanting to look up but doing it anyway, my sense of judging height v’s clearance was completely our of whack and it looked like Steve was going to end up on top of the bridge. Fortunately we both held our nerve and we made it under without damaging Steve or the boat!

We stopped in the small settlement of Albreda which is close to James Island where we anchored on the way up river. Albreda is believed to be the place where the author of Roots ancestors came from. It has a very interesting slave museum and we were guided through the village by Lamin who was very helpful and informative. As we came out of the museum we noticed Cerulean was not where we had anchored her and she was still dragging her anchor heading towards a fish farm. Steve and I jumped into Ruffian’s fast dinghy and Iain expertly steered us at high speed in strong winds and bouncy waves as we chased Cerulean across the shallow harbour. My heart was bounding as we watched our home being tossed about, out of control. We knew we had been lucky – it could have been so much worse and my toes curl when I think about it. We re-anchored, although it took a few attempts to get the anchor to grab the bottom and while Steve went back with Iain to finish lunch, I stayed on board.

We sailed back to Lamin Lodge and was welcomed back like old friends by Momodo (Manager of Lamin Lodge) and Karim (our wonderful boat helper). We spent a very special Christmas at Lamin Lodge with Karim taking us shopping for fresh fish on Christmas Eve – an experience all of us will remember for the busy roads, crowds of people, small street stalls, colourful clothes of the women and a big sign which read, “Be Covid Aware. Avoid large crowds!” below a very busy street scene! Although the country is mostly Muslim, Christmas is a public holiday and everyone seemed to be making the most of the festivities. Our Christmas day was spent with Iain, Fi and John, all fellow sailors and explorers. Lunch was on board Cerulean and as the sun beat down on us, we talked, drank and laughed until dark.

On Boxing Day Fi and I met Momodo for an early morning walk through the nearby market garden and rice fields to the Elephant Tree – a beautiful large tree that stands in a small wood with large roots that cascade down the trunk and a hollow centre which has been made into a shelter. The tree is a Kapok or Cotton tree as the seed pods produce a fluff which locals use to make pillows. The seeds are used for soaps and fertilising the gardens and the flowers are a rich source of nectar for bees.

As we walked, Momodo pointed out the various birds we saw, which were many, varied and colourful. We passed women working in the fields, bending over, keeping their backs very straight and bottoms up, as they planted, weeded and tended to the fertile gardens. A man was collecting juice from a palm tree, using a hoop made of bark to hold him as he climbed to the top of the tree. The tree had been tapped and bottles collected the precious liquid which is used to make a local drink. On the walk we saw Papaya trees, wild chilli’s growing and lots of local rice in the fields. The rice is picked, smashed and then separated out from the husks by throwing the grains in the air from a large round container and allowing the wind to blow the husks away. We had seen an old woman expertly doing this when we were up river but, because everything is still done by hand from sowing to picking to filtering out the husks, it is a slow and time consuming process for a country whose stable diet is rice. Gambian rice is excellent, pure and unbleached but they import huge amounts of rice from the USA to ensure there is sufficient food for the population. This has led to rice fields being left unpicked as farmers can not compete on price.

After the walk we met with Senna who had agreed to give us a lesson on cooking Gambian food. He took us shopping for the ingredients in the dusty streets of Lamin where people greeted us with a friendly shout and children came running out to see us. Back at the lodge Fi and I worked with Senna preparing the food over a charcoal fire in a big cast iron pot. We made Domada – a traditional peanut stew with fresh fish and whole chilli’s. There was enough to feed all the workers (and a lot of people who just hangout there!), which we did. After eating the “brothers” had huge respect for us and greeted us warmly with huge smiles.

We had been closely watching the weather and a good window was being forecast for us to leave Gambia on Tuesday 28 December. We motored back to Banjul the day before departing to complete the check out procedure with Mahmoud, who had helped us check in. After a slightly rocky start with customs refusing to stamp our clearance form without us paying them 500 Dalisi per boat, we proceeded to immigration without being separated from any of our cash! Immigration were lovely and pleased with the huge supply of pens left them by Ruffian!

It was time to do the final preparations to leave and start heading west, first to Cape Verde to reprovision, and then to the Caribbean. As we prepared the boat we reflected on our three weeks in Gambia and month in West Africa. It had been an experience which will probably change the way I live, think and prioritise things for years to come. In a country full of beautiful people from the babies tightly bound to the backs of their mothers, to the old men who are tightly bound to the politics of this country – whether religious or otherwise. It is a country on the verge of either great things, or disaster and so dependent on those in power making the right decisions, not just for them but for the people they represent. This nation lives off the fish they can catch, the food they can grow and the herbal medicines they harvest from the forests. If one of those building blocks falls over, the whole lot will topple. I will miss the cheerful smiles and waves as we pass by, the children clambering to hold my hand, the still anchorages in the mangroves, the amazing birdlife that surprised me every day, the opportunity to see rare animals up close, the daily tapalapas delivered to the boat fresh each morning, the regular calls of “Boss Lady” from familiar faces at Lamin Lodge, the colourful sunrises and sunsets and the dawn chorus that greeted the day. I have loved Gambia and, although I know I will not be back, I hope that Gambia stays with me for years to come.

Photo credit – most of the amazing animal/bird photos were taken by Ruffian. Check out their fabulous blog on Ruffian.uk

The Gambia River – A rich tapestry of life and nature

Gambia became independent of UK in 1965 under the rule of Dawda Juwara, the elected prime minister. He ruled for many years, becoming President in 1970 when Gambia became fully independent of UK, mainly due to the success of tourism and the rise in cost of groundnuts, grown in abundance in Gambia. There was some unrest, an unsuccessful coup and then in the 80’s the price of groundnuts plummeted at the same time as the IMF reduced levels of subsidies to farmers. This hit the economy and the people hard and resulted in a bloodless coup in the early 90’s led by a 29 year old lieutenant called Yahya Jammeh. Jammeh was later elected President, an incredible rise in power from lieutenant to leader of the country in just a couple of years! Under Jammeh a new airport, roads and schools were built and he remained popular by the rural sector, until he was voted out in 2016 in a democratic election. The most recent general election was held three days before we arrived and, when we had driven through Gambia to measure the bridge, it was clear that the previous President, Jammeh, still had quite a strong base of support even though we was living in exile in Sierra Leone. This was apparently due to him being responsible for building the roads and infrastructure while forgetting about the mass killings he instructed of anyone that opposed him or his policies!

The history further back is not a happy one – most of the slaves sold to USA and Caribbean came from Senegal and Gambia and there is a terrible legacy of lost families, rape, murder and total dehumanisation of these beautiful people. They are now so generous with smiles, love and inclusiveness it is hard to imagine that many of their ancestors were subjected to such cruelty.

I’m not sure whether it was us embracing Gambia, or Gambia embracing us, but as soon as we arrived, we knew this was a special place. It was not as dusty, or as busy, as Dakar, and the people were immediately more welcoming and relaxed. That’s not to say they won’t try hard to overcharge you or attempt to shame you into giving them things – in fact a lot of the time they are very direct about their lack of money and our apparent wealth, but we were all staunch in our belief that we would pay a fair price for items, but not be seen as charity or give money away without exchanging it for goods or service. It is hard though when someone won’t tell you a price for a service and tells you to “give from the heart”……!

When we left Lamin Lodge we motored, in no wind with a current to help us, stopping at James Island for the night. James Island has a ruin of an old fort, built when this was the main British Trading point in West Africa before Banjul became capital. It was also where slaves would be held before being bundled onto British, Spanish and Portuguese ships bound for the New World. We explored the small island, which we had to ourselves in the early evening, leaving on the incoming tide the next day. Although the tide changes, the current keeps flowing for about 2hrs after the tide turns, so it gave us plenty of time to prepare for a long day of motoring in no wind.

Further up the river, we encountered our first dolphins which initially stayed clear of us, but we could see them jumping and feeding from a distance. A large flock of pink flamingos took flight following the mangroves on the far shore, and then the dolphins came to play! It’s funny how dolphins seem to react when there is human interaction and appreciation of their presence. While we applauded and laughed at their antics they stayed with us, but as soon as we stopped watching, they disappeared.

We had wanted to get close to the bridge by the end of the day, but as the light started to fade, we were still over 20 miles from it so dropped the anchor in some shallow water on the south side of the river close to the mangroves and listened to the sound of the birds in the thick trees. We slept really well and awoke to hear Ruffian pulling up their anchor as we rushed to get ready to leave! The calmness of the river and the intense heat during the day, had a soporific effect on us and deep sleep came easily to us both.

As the bridge came into sight, we anchored on the south side of the river in 5m of water to wait for 5pm when the tide would be low enough for us to attempt to go under the bridge. While we waited, Steve went up the mast to remove our radio aerial, masthead lights and wind instruments to avoid them being damaged, just in case we had the calculations wrong! While Steve was still up the mast and I was manning the winch to ensure he was safe and able to descend when he wanted, we noticed a long fishing net drifting down the middle of the river and moving rapidly with the current and tide. One end of the net was attached to a small wooden fishing boat and we were alarmed to see if getting closer to us. I contacted Ruffian on the radio to alert them of the fast approaching nets and they attempted to warn the fisherman with a long blast of their foghorn. Sadly, the fisherman reacted too late and too slowly and it was with horror and helplessness we watched the net wrap itself around Ruffians anchor chain and then ours, surrounding both boats with netting – and all while Steve was still coming down the mast! Ruffian were anchored just ahead of us, so they caught the fishing net first and with the weight of it wrapped around their anchor chain, started dragging backwards. In between shouting at the fisherman to pull in his net and trying to stop their boat heading down stream with the fast current, Ruffian turned on their engine and immediately got the propellor fouled with fishing net. It was an awful situation, not helped by a very casual fisherman who then turned on Ruffian for damaging his nets and started blaming us both for anchoring in front of his nets, even though we had been there for several hours and he was nowhere to be seen when we arrived. We all felt terrible as we tried our best to warn him and the unhappy outcome could so easily have been prevented. As it happened, Ruffian then had to spend the next few hours untangling fishing line from their propellor and we missed the window to get under the bridge.

With the propellor working as well as Iain could get it, we set out to go under the bridge at the next low tide which was at 7am. It does not get light until 6:45am so when we started to make our way towards the bridge, it was still quite dark. Steve went up the mast so he could tell whether we had enough room to squeeze under, and we led Ruffian towards the bridge. We had current against us and approached the bridge in the very centre, dead on 7am. Steve and I talked to each other through headphones, Steve giving me a running commentary on how we were looking and whether he felt we would make it under the bridge. It was with huge relief that he confirmed we had space and as we went under, Steve put up his hand and touched the underside on the bridge! I let out an echoing whoop as we were swept under and spat out the other side, ready to explore the upper reaches of the river!

We motored on side by side with Ruffian, who has a shorter mast than us so easily slipped under the bridge, dodging fishing nets strung across the river. We approached one group of fishermen and bought a nice fish from them – so fresh it was still twitching! The four men were from Mali and lived on board their small wooden boat. We haggled the price down from 1,000 Dalasi (17 Euros) for two fish, to 200 Dalasi (3.50 euros) for one large one. We gave them a bar of chocolate as well, and they were very happy.

We motored up the river to a Bombale, a small village in the mangroves, opposite Elephant Island, an uninhabited island covered in thick mangroves. We took Ruffians dinghy to shore and stepped out onto rocks near a new road that was being built. A group of men and women were gathered near a hut on the waterfront and one of the men offered to guide us to the village. We walked along the red track that will become a new road, paid for by the Chinese, between large rice paddy fields towards the village. As we came close to the houses children started joining us, until we had a large group of children and adults walking infront, behind and beside us. We were introduced to the village elder – a man dressed in muslim clothing with a beard and very warm smile. We explained we were headed for the school and he asked if he could join us, and we responded we would be honoured if he did. We were met at the school by more children, the deputy principal, Kaifer, and the master, Momodou who gave us a warm welcome and tour of the school. The school had 250 pupils, split into morning and afternoon sessions. The classrooms were completely bare – no furniture, nothing on the walls except a blackboard for the teachers and no equipment. Children start school at the age of 7 in yr 1 and primary education continues until yr7, usually at the age of 14yrs, although if a child is not at the required level, they will be put into a year group that meets their needs. There has been a big campaign to encourage parents to educate girls and it was encouraging to see the number of girls was almost equivalent to the boys. However, although the national legal age for marriage is 18yrs, the various tribes follow different traditions, and some girls are married as young as 13 years old, so attendance numbers for girls in years 6 and 7 tend to fall. The school had recently started a new horticultural project, teaching children how to grow and look after plants. They had prepared a number of beds to plant vegetables in January, once the school returns from their “winter” break. It was incredible to watch the girls fetching water from the pump and carrying it on their heads to wet the dry soil. In the morning we saw girls walking with goat droppings in big bowls, carried on their heads and taken to their allocated garden to feed the soil.

We had brought a number of gifts for the school, including garden equipment, a good football, notebooks, pencils and crayons. They were greatly received, but felt inadequately trivial when we saw how desperate they were for basic items. The football became a coveted resource with the teachers playing with it for some time before the children were allowed to kick it around. Steve set up a skills training session with some eager and happy children and I loved hearing their laughter and seeing their enthusiasm as they listened intently to instructions.

Classes take place in English, although most of the time instructions were given in their native tongue so, although we were able to communicate with the children, it was at a basic level. There were about 13 teachers at the school, most of whom live in small dusty rooms overlooking the big yard, dominated by a large Baobab tree, which can be found all over West Africa and doubles as a place to meet, due to their large canopy and thick trunk which provides lovely shade from the fierce midday heat. We were asked to share lunch with them, which consisted of a dish of chicken on rice, or fish on rice. We were given spoons each (although there were not enough to go round so others used their right hand), and we all ate from the two pots put on the ground at our feet. It was an honour to share that time and food with them and, although it was 4pm and we were already thinking about the big fish we had waiting for us back on the boat, we loved the opportunity to spend precious time with these lovely people.

We invited the teachers to visit our boats, and one evening we hosted 10. On Cerulean, we hosted the teachers of, maths/English, science/horticulture, home economics, pre-school and French. Three of the teachers were women and one brought her 6 month old baby. Steve went ashore in the dinghy to collect them and as she was climbing on board the boat, I was thrown the baby as she tried to keep her balance. The poor child took one look at this frightening looking white woman and screamed – I think I must’ve been the first white person she had seen – poor girl! We loved having them on board although, to get to our dinghy, they had to wade through thick mud, so we ended up having a very dirty boat and dinghy!!!

It was time to leave Bombale and continue our journey up the river. We left early, leaving behind the call for prayer and shouts of “Two-Bob” from the children – a nickname for white people which becomes derogatory if a grown person uses it!

We wanted to get into the upper reaches of the river and we were on the hunt for hippos!

Note: Some of the photos, (including the drone shots) were taken by Ruffian. check out their awesome blog at www.ruffian.uk

Also, if any sailors are interested in visiting The Gambia, we are producing a handy information sheet with useful information about check-in, money, anchorages, what to bring and other things we would have loved to know before coming here! If interested, send us a message.

The Gambia – A bridge too far, or too low?

We arrive in Gambia for the start of a truly magical few weeks in a country full of smiles, wildlife and experiences which will remain as a last time of memories

We left Dakar in no wind on a Tuesday early afternoon, and motored south. We soon hoisted our sails and enjoyed some gentle downwind sailing, making our way through a long line of anchored tankers and fishing boats. We noticed a number of large Chinese trawlers anchored in the entrance to the harbour and my heart sank again! Letting the Chinese in to a poor country like Senegal, where fishing is done in small boats and poor people rely on their daily catches to survive, reaps disaster for these communities and the incredible birdlife.

On the advice of Zig Zag, a French boat we had met in Dakar, we stayed 20NM off shore to avoid small, unlit fishing boats along the coastline. As it was, the sail was memorable for so many reasons – lots of fishing boats, strange blue laser lights flashing, bright spotlights directed at us from unseen boats, no boats on AIS (our GPS tool that shows large boats) and a wonderful sail under bright clear skies. We had to slow the boat down as we did not want to arrive at the entrance to Banjul before light and on an outgoing tide, so sailed under jib only for most of the night, still making over 5knots.

As the sun rose, we were outside the entrance to the Gambia River and the tide had just turned. We entered the wide harbour to Banjul which had several wrecks of long deserted ships, scattering the shallow areas. It did feel a little like Pirates of the Caribbean as we dropped the hook in shallow muddy water beside Samsara, a boat we had met in Gran Canaria and, on hearing of our planned passage to The Gambia, John decided to change his plans and join us! John rowed over with Muhammed on board. We had decided to employ an agent to help with the check-in process as we had heard it was money well spent to avoid a lengthy process and requests for back handers.

Together with Ruffian, we started the process at 11.30am and by 4.30pm we were sitting in a restaurant with Mohammed enjoying a Fish Yassa and cold drink. Check-in was confusing and we were very glad to have Mohammed guide us. We visited immigration (several times), health officer, customs (twice) and an office which issued us with a river permit. Mohammed worked as a security officer at the port so knew all the right people which meant we were checked in quickly and with no demands or requests for extra money. Once checked in, we went to the ATM to get some local currency. The only back that accepts visa/mastercard withdrawals is the GT Bank and we were only able to withdraw 2000 Dalasis each time, but allowed to make three transactions a day. 1 Dalasis = 58 Euros, so we had to return to the bank a number of times before we had sufficient cash to last for our river adventures, as there are no ATM’s further up the river!

Sey Samba is the OCC Port Officer based in Banjul. We had been in regular contact with Samba since The Canaries and, together with Ruffian, were keen to meet him. He gave me his address and headed to his home. He lived next to the busy port in a small community of tin houses that were built around a dusty courtyard opposite the mosque. A man at the corrugated iron gate gave us a warm welcome when we asked for Samba and he excitedly led us into the house. Samba called to us from his downstairs window and we were invited into his home. We felt hugely privileged to be given such a warm welcome and we sat talking for a while. Samba has never been married and looked after his elderly mother until recently when she was moved into a nursing home. His mother had sold the house to the Port many years earlier with the agreement that they could continue living there until the Port were ready to expand. Sadly, that time had now come, so Samba and his extended family were waiting for eviction notices to arrive but had no idea where they would move to. What probably seemed like a lot of money 30 years ago, has long gone and the family have very little to survive on. It was a very humbling experience to be in their company. They asked for nothing and gave so much to us in kindness and time.

We returned to the boats and, while watching a large flock of pelicans on a nearby wreck, we pulled up the anchor and headed SW of Banjul, negotiating shallows and meandering rivers, to the infamous Lamin Lodge.

Lamin Lodge was built by Peter, a visiting German sailor in the 1980’s. He later married a local woman, Anna and when Peter died a few years ago, Anna took over running a managing this Lodge and two others up the river. We were welcomed to the anchorage by Mahmood and Karim who rowed out to meet us and direct us where to anchor. There were already about 10+ boats on moorings and anchor in the quiet river, lined with mangroves on both sides. Mahmood runs the Lodge and is Anna’s second in command when she is not there, while Karim is a Boatman, looking after visitors needs from water to laundry, delivering bread in the morning and helping arrange tours. Both were lovely, gentle men with warm smiles and open hearts. Mahmood was incredibly knowledgeable on birds, local customs, native animals and was a great source of information.

While with Samba we had talked to Anna over the phone and arranged to meet for drinks that afternoon. Mahmood ushered us to the top floor of the wooden lodge, to an area that felt like a treehouse, sitting above the canopy of the mangroves. Anna had wonderful poise, intelligence and a very considered way of speaking. She talked to us about her late husband, Peter, her son, her plans for the Lodge and organising things for us.

A new bridge has been built over the Gambia River, funded by the Chinese, and the height above water level at low tide, is hotly contested. The information we had received suggested anything from 17m to 20m and, as our boat and mast is 19m high, we needed to know whether it was possible for us to get under it! Sadly, the exciting part of the river starts after the bridge, so it was important for us to know before making the 60NM passage up stream only to find we could not get under it!

Anna arranged a car and driver for us the next day and then produced a plate of freshly made donuts to share with us. No sooner had the delicacies been put down when a mother and baby monkey appeared on the balcony and, faster than we could react, she had jumped on the table and snatched one of the donuts before retreating to a nearby table to devour her ill-gotten reward! After that we were a little more careful, consuming things quickly or, in Fi’s case, throwing a donut across the table when one monkey came too close! We were told they were Green Velvet Monkeys and they feed off the fruit of the mangrove trees. They also have an ingenious way of catching food, by putting their tails in crab holes in the mud, waiting for the crab to bite it and then whisking their tails up with the crab still attached, to enjoy their catch. As Mahmoud said to us, first they need to feel pain before they eat!

Oysters grow up the river, fixing themselves to the roots of the mangrove trees. The season starts again in January so they are waiting for them to get a little bigger before the women wade in the water, collecting them. They shell and sell the oysters to restaurants and locals, saving the shells which are burnt and the ashes mixed with seawater to form a fine powder which is used to whitewash houses, or mixed with dirt to make a cement like substance which is used in building.

The next day we all piled into the hire car and drove for 3hrs through the heart of Gambia to get to the Sena-Gambia Bridge – the new bridge across the river that links Senegal and Gambia. As we drove we watched in fascination as the countryside changed and temperatures increased. We went through numerous checkpoints where the police checked drivers papers, although we were waved through every one as the driver had four white people in the car! We did feel a little like royalty as we sped through small villages and people stared at the four of us crammed into a small car! When we reached the bridge, we explained to the chief guard what we wanted to do, and he happily gave us permission to walk across. We found the centre of the bridge and dropped a weighted rope over the side while Serco, our driver, leant precariously over the side to see when it touched the water. Once we’d established the length of the drop, we needed to measure the height of the concrete from the top of the arch of the bridge to the point we had measured from. We did this by Iain sending up his drone and telling us when the weighted end of the line was level with the top of the arch. Then, having got that measurement, we looked up the state of the tide and calculated how much lower the water would be at low tide. Having established all this, we worked out our 19m air draft would have a clearance of 800mm, providing the water level was no higher than the low tide on the day we measured. Fortunately, we were not at Spring tides, where the high and low water levels are more than usual, so we felt very confident we would be able to get under, and back without scraping our mast along the top of the bridge! For those interested, the bridge (centre arch) measured 22.5m from road level to water; the height of the concrete from road level to bridge arch was 3m. The low tide on the day was 0.8m and previous high tide, 1.7m. There was still 2hrs until low tide so we calculated another 0.3m of depth, giving us, giving us 800mm to wiggle room!

We returned to Lanin Lodge, very happy with the outcome and now confident we would be able to explore the further reaches of the river. As we returned we saw vultures, paddy fields, a herd of donkeys being driven to market, goats on the road and many colourful sights of rural Africa. We stopped in a small town called Soma and had lunch at a small shack. They only had one dish – Fish Yassa, which was excellent and we enjoyed watching the every day life as we waited for the food.

On our last morning before departing to go up the river Gambia, Fi and I joined Mahmoud and Karin for a birdwatching trip. They collected us in a wooden boat which is very low to the water at 7.15am, just as the sun was coming up and the birds were most active before the heat of the day set in. We paddled a very short distance around the corner of the river, with thick mangroves on each side, and were surprised to see a large crocodile on the bank, remaining stock still. This was a huge bonus for us as we continued to see a variety of beautiful birds which Mahmoud expertly identified for us while Karim paddled us to the best locations. As we returned back up the river at the end of the tour, we went passed the crocodile again to find a sea otter just along the bank from it. The sea otter was out of the water and scavenging on the bank for food. I have long wanted to see these otters as I remember watching them from an early age on a nature programme, where they were filmed floating on their backs with a shellfish on their tummy, using a stone to break open the shell. They are one of only a few animals who have mastered the technique of using a tool for their benefit.

It was time to leave Lamin Lodge – a place it would be so easy to spend all your time in Gambia. We wanted to explore the more remote parts of the river. Sadly the Chinese are making a presence here and we saw some large trawlers in the river – a place they had agreed not to venture. I don’t believe the local fishing industry can survive if the Chinese exploit this agreement and, once they discover the abundance of oysters up the river, the Chinese are going to want to take these to, leaving families and communities without any source of alternative income. It is sad to see this exploitation happening before our eyes – first the Europeans take away their freedom, and then the Chinese take away their resources. Gambia is known as the “smiling country”, which is presently a very accurate description of the beautiful people, but I think this will turn into a grimace once they realise they are being cheated of their wealth, yet again.

Note: All drone shots provided by Ruffian – Check out there excellent blog www.ruffian.uk