Janet's diary. Travelling with Ollie in Africa
SENEGAL. Sunday 14th December
leaving Mauritania behind us we crossed the Barrage towards Senegal in high hopes and in just a few minutes arrived at the Senegalese side of the border only to be told by an irate little Policeman that the border was closed for the night. We then explained to him that the Mauritanian Officials had told us that this Post did not close; His reply was that this was not his problem, he was closed, so now we were stuck in between two countries not able to move forward or back. It began to look as if we would have to camp the night on the Barrage wall, not a good idea. Then all of a sudden he had a change of heart and beckoned for us to follow him into his little shack, he took our Passports but then as he was stamping them he told us that we must pay him one hundred French Francs for working after hours. Fillip told him this was far too much so he dropped it to seventy five, we said no this was still too much. He then asked for fifty, Fillip told him we did not have Francs and maybe we could give him ten Dollars, he agreed but said we must also give him Cadoux (a present). By this time he had returned everyone's Passports except mine, which he said he would keep until we paid him. Things were now getting a bit heated so at this point we said we would go and clear Customs then, as we were leaving his office, a French Mini bus pulled up containing four youngsters, they had obviously been given the same story as we had. At the Customs hut we were informed that they were also closed, and would also require more money to do our papers. By now we were getting thoroughly brassed off with the prospect of going in for more negotiations with another lot of bent officials. Steve now played his trump card. We had a letter with an official looking heading from our local society explaining who we were and that we were bird watchers and who to contact for our credentials. We had it because we thought it might rescue us in a difficult situation and Steve now decided the time had come to produce it. Steve, thinking that the guys we were dealing with were probably unable to read English very well gave it to them, telling them that they were delaying us and that he had important business with the minister of Tourism the very next day. This meeting he said was to make arrangements for a delegation of birdwatchers to visit Senegal. This seemed to impress the chief and after a lot of discussion with the rest of his crew he said he would fill out, stamp both our Carnets and we just had to pay 25 Francs tax, for which we would receive a receipt. As we left the Customs shed the chief told us that we would have to make insurance for the cars from a rather large lady, who had her office on the veranda of the customs shed, but as she wanted local currency and we didn't have any yet and wouldn't accept traveller's cheques we had say that we would get in our insurance in St Louis.
We now had to get Janet's Passport from the Policeman. When we got to his door he was still arguing with the French people and so we joined in the argument accusing him of keeping Janet's Passport illegally and telling him that he must give it back. This took him back somewhat and he threw my Passport at me and we made a hasty exit. After quickly checking to make sure that he had stamped it we returned to the customs hut, paid our tax and collected our Carnets. We were asked again for Cadoux and so gave some perfume samples, which seemed to please them. At this moment the irate little Policeman came dashing in, shouting and we were told to wait outside. Fillip had his ear to the door and overheard the customs officer explaining to him about the important letter that we had. The next moment the Policeman came out, pushed passed us, in even more of a rage and returned to his own hut. The Customs officer then explained that we would have to go back and show him the letter before he would open the barrier. All four of us crossed the road again, and when we reached his hut we peered through the window and discovered him on his knees praying. At first he ignored us, then he got up took his handcuffs out of a drawer and laid them on his desk, he then demanded to see the letter. Now he started shouting at Nele in French, saying that she was rude and did not respect him and then picked up the Handcuffs as if to threaten us. Steve had had enough of this pantomime and confronted him demanding his name and police number, saying to him that he was delaying us from important business. At this point it all got too much for him and he rushed out of the hut, we all followed him, and when we realised that he was going to unlock the chain Steve and Fillip quickly started the cars. As he released the chain I, feeling sorry for him, as by now he seemed close to tears, offered him some perfume samples. At first he refused then I said it was a present for his wife, he gave me a big smile and we drove through the barrier into Senegal. We drove as fast as we could for about 7 k's down the road before stopping to assess the situation.
That little episode had cost us two hours, several sample bottles of perfume, two small tubs of face cream and twenty five French Francs. It was a hard learned lesson; never arrive at a border post late in the day.
it was decided to bush-camp for the night and we pulled off the road. Picking our way through the bush in the dark we parked behind some trees which concealed us from passing traffic, there we made camp for the night. I cooked up some rice and found a tin of Marks & Spencer's chicken in cream sauce, the four of us huddled round the table and one small light, recounting our experiences of the day.Day 1. Mileage approx 200.
Monday. 15th December.
Half past seven, I awoke to wonderful Birdsong, it was daylight, and peering out of the tent I could see that we were parked on sand amongst Acacia trees and thorn bush. After some breakfast we packed the trucks and sorted out our traveller's cheques ready to change money in St Louis which would enable us to insure the vehicles.
At nine thirty we set off into town. On our way in we were stopped twice at Police checkpoints and asked to show our insurance. Each time we explained that we had been late going through the Border and were now going to get Insurance in St Louis, after a gift of a few cigarettes they let us carry on, but as we got near to the centre of town we were stopped again and this time the Policeman was not prepared to accept our excuses. He took the paperwork for both the cars, Carte Gris, etc, he also wanted our Passports, but we refused. He then told us then to go and change our cheques and make Insurance. We explained to him that we couldn't do this without our papers. He said that in that case we would have to go to the Police Station. By now our argument had attracted a small crowd who were quite enjoying the show. The Policeman then hailed a Taxi, jumped in and told us to follow him. On arrival we were told to put our trucks in a compound at the rear of the Station then were then taken inside and made to line up before the Station Sergeant a huge man who glowered down at us from behind a raised counter. The whole place was crowded with people shouting and milling around, behind us there was a barred cage in which a few, miserable looking, unfortunates were incarcerated. Our arresting Policeman explained our crime to the sergeant, but when Nele tried to explain our side of the story to the sergeant, which was that we had been unable to get Insurance on the Border because we hadn’t the right money, he started shouting at us and banging his fist on the desk, he said that we had committed a serious offence, we must leave our cars in the compound, give the keys to him and go to get Insurance. We were not happy at leaving the cars, so I elected to stay with the trucks while the others went to do the business. After they had set off, I sat on the steps of the Station with the trucks in my sight. A few moments later a very tall and very black young African, who introduced himself as Ibrahim, came and sat down beside me. He said that he had spoken to Nele in town about camp sites while we were being arrested, so had come along to the Police Station to find out how we were getting on. We chatted for a while and then he wondered off. My next companion was a distinguished looking Policeman in a uniform quite different to the others, lots of braid and badges; he was very charming and spoke good English. He asked me where I had come from and what I was doing at the Police Station. I told him of our predicament and I asked him about his excellent English, he told me that he was taking English lessons. We had been chatting for about half an hour when Ibrahim returned and at this point the Policeman said goodbye and left us, Ibrahim informed me that the man I had been chatting to was the chief of Police. It was some time before the others returned, having successfully obtained the necessary documents, these we presented to the Station Sergeant who then fined us three thousand CFA's per vehicle, the equivalent of about three pounds (perhaps the Police chief put in a good word for us). Our Keys were returned to us and we were told that we could go.
Ibrahim climbed in with fillip and Nele and with us following we set off to find the camping site. This was our first taste of a black, West African city, decaying old Colonial buildings, lots of noise and strange smells, people dressed in brightly coloured clothes, but there was so much more vitality than the Moslem north. St Louis is built on a sea water inlet and we had to cross two bridges on our way to the camp. Nearer to the camp we past through a fishing village it was crowded with people, fishermen were mending nets and women were smoking the fish, there were fish tables covered in straw and the place smelt dreadfully of rotten fish. After driving for another ten minutes along a rough pot-holed road we came to the camp site which was situated right on beach and after parking the trucks under tall fir trees we headed for the open air Bar and ordered five beers. This was our first alcohol after the Muslim North; boy did it taste good, even to me who is not the greatest beer drinker in the world. After a few more beers we set up camp and got ourselves organised.
Parked on the site there was an old white 110 Land Rover, the English couple who owned it, Mat and Gill, told us that they had come down on the previous week's convoy and had travelled with Nick and Sarah (the couple we should have joined with forces back in Morocco. They had parted company in Nouadhibou when Nick and Sarah had put their Land Rover on the train going north to Choum in the North of Mauritania to explore the desert there for a few weeks while Mat and Gill had come down to St Louis on the same route as us but hadn't encountered any problems. That evening we treated ourselves to dinner at the site restaurant. I had fish kebab while fillip and Nele and Steve had meat Kebabs washed down with few more beers: such luxury after the trials of the previous few days. We turned in at about Midnight and slept in our tent for the first time in twelve days, lulled to sleep by the crashing of huge Atlantic breakers on the beach and the wonderful thought that we didn't have to move on in the morning. Day 2. Mileage
Tuesday 16th December.
After a good nights sleep I woke at 6.45 to our first morning in St Louis, we got up at eight o'clock, our first lay-in for over a week. It was a lovely sunny morning and after breakfast I got to work on our mountain of laundry. After being on the road for a couple of weeks there was rather a lot and washing by hand was hard work, I didn't finish till nearly noon. Feeling hot and sticky Nele and I went for a swim. We left the boys tinkering with their trucks; Steve had decided to fit the wading kit which would enable us to cross deep water, if we ever needed to, while Fillip had to remove his exhaust, which now needed the attention of a welder. Our dip was very refreshing, although we couldn't swim properly as the beach shelved sharply, the waves were huge and there was a strong undertow. The afternoon was spent cleaning out Ollie and rearranging things, after our trip through the Desert everything was in a bit of a mess.
Later on in the afternoon the four of us set off to walk into the town. We had only gone a short way down the horrendously potholed track, when a car pulled up and out jumped our new friend Ibrahim, who insisted on accompanying us into town. The road ran along a narrow peninsula with the sea on our left hand and the Senegal River on our right. After a while we came to the fishermen's village that we had driven through on our way to the camp the previous day. It was quite an amazing place, even if it smelt to high heaven, there were long wooden trestles set up on the side of the quay, where the fishermen salted and dried the fish and beneath the trestles were piles of rotting fish heads which accounted for most of the stink. The other side of the road was lined with wooden shacks. Women were gathered around their doorways dressed in brightly coloured clothes, laughing and joking. We meanwhile, were being followed by a mob of ragged children, calling us Tubabâb (white man) and asking for cadoux (presents). We came to a bridge, the Pont Moustaph Malick Gaye (quite a mouthful) that crossed over the river into town. Here we turned left and visited the market, this would be our first lesson in bartering for goods in a West African market. The place was seething with people, the bustle, noise and smells assaulting our senses. A dirt road passed down the centre along which passed all sorts of decrepit taxis, cars and donkey carts. With the help of our new friend Ibrahim we brought vegetables and fruit, battering for everything, we even managed to find a shop where we purchased a large tin of baked beans and six eggs. We returned back the way we had come and crossed the bridge into the town. We started searching for a telephone to make calls home.
It was getting dark as Ibrahim led us through the narrow streets of this old crumbling, colonial city. He took us to what is known in West Africa as a telephone boutique, the first of many we would visit on our journey. These boutiques usually consisted of a small room, a desk and a couple of booths, you gave the number, that you wish to contact to the person behind the desk who then dialled it for you and then directed you to a booth to receive the call. I managed to get through to my mother, she sounded fine and I told her were we were all well and that we were both in good shape. This two minute call cost 300 CFA. We also brought post cards and stamps at the same shop. By know we were all feeling pretty hungry, Ibrahim said he knew of a good place to eat and led us via a couple of streets to a small restaurant it had plenty of local colour and very good food. Nele and I had Calamari Brochette and Steve and Fillip, Beef brochette, washed down with local beer. Ibrahim just had a Beer and then went off to find us some Bread. As we were finishing our meal, Matt and Jill who we had met earlier at the camp site plus two Belgian friends arrived. After eating they were going on, to a night club and Fillip and Nele decided that they would join them. We oldies elected to return to camp with the shopping.
Back at the camp I had just brewed coffee when who should turn up but Bernard and Pascal in the Land Rover Discovery. The last time we had seen them was on the Moroccan convoy. At that time Pascal had been driving a little red Renault 9 which he said he had managed to sell in Nouakchott for 4,000 French Francs after that he had joined Bernard and now they were now going to Mali to see the Paris-Dakar rally. They gave us some sad news about the German Bikers that we had first met back at Plage Blanch in Morocco and who we had last seen in the desert of Mauritania. Apparently while driving the beach to Nouakchott one of them had fallen off his machine and a 4x4 following behind, driven by some others Germans, had gone over him. Pascal said that he had serious head injuries and had been flown back to Germany, he also told us that a couple of cars had been lost in the sea which was the reason our guide Fidel had been insistent about leaving the beach half way and driving the awful road, but with the full moon and high tides, it was a safer way. We chatted on till about 11.30 exchanging news before turning in. Day 3.
Wednesday 17th December.
I was woken early by strange noises and when I stuck my head out of the tent I discovered they were being made by a baboon tethered to a dead tree in the next plot to the camp site. He had a rope tied around his middle attached to a chain which was very short and didn't allow him to move very far. He spent most of his time rushing up and down the tree or continuously rocking backwards and forwards. The poor creature appeared to have gone completely mad from boredom. He was well fed by people on the camp site, who threw him fruit and vegetables, but it was a miserable existence for the poor creature.
After breakfast I washed the sleeping bags and bedding while Steve did some more work on the truck and also changed Ollie's engine oil, he donated the old oil to Fillip, who then sold it to some Africans who had come to weld his exhaust pipe. Around midday Steve and I went for a swim and then had lunch, Sardines and Bread. Later on we set off walking into town to do some shopping. Just as we were leaving the site a rather ancient looking Land Rover stopped and offered us a lift. It was being driven by an Englishman accompanied by a French couple. He told us that he had been in Senegal for three months and was trying to sell the truck but without success, but we did think that even though it was a Land Rover it really was a bit of a heap.
He took us via a different route through the fishing village where the streets were mass of people and animals and then after depositing us near the old Customs building down by the Harbour we made our way through the town. This part of the town was very picturesque. Many of the buildings have crumbling stucco facades washed in pastel shades of faded paint with wrought iron balconies rusting away and windows with their shutters hanging broken and awry.
As we were purchasing mangos and tomatoes from a street seller we could smell the delicious aroma of baking bread and on locating the source and peeping through a doorway we could see bakers extracting bread from big old ovens. We wandered in and asked if we could buy some bread and they promptly wrapped seven hot loaves for us in an old flour sack. Simple moments that make life worthwhile
After this and more by luck than judgement we found the fish market and purchased some small fishes, we didn't know what they were but they were still alive so we knew that they were fresh. We made our way back along the quay and through the fishing village where there was so much atmosphere and you really knew that you were in West Africa where the people are so poor but always seem to be laughing and enjoying life. By the side of the harbour we stopped to watch about forty men all working on a fishing boat. They were bending long Mahogany planks to the shape of the craft while two men with huge hammers drove metal spikes into the wooden planks to secure them to the hull.
The setting sun was bathing the town across the water from us in a beautiful pink glow more sunset shots were taken and then by the time we arrived back at the camp it was quite dark. Steve set about cleaning and gutting the fish which I fried and served with fried potatoes and ratatouille. The fish were tasty but very bony and took a long time to eat. After our meal we sat in the cool evening air drinking coffee and chatting with Fillip and Nele till about ten thirty.Day 4.
Thursday, 18th December
I'm getting very lazy and had a lay in until about 9.30 this morning, another beautiful day on the beach in prospect. We sat and ate our breakfast to the sound of huge Atlantic breakers hitting the shore and then studied our maps, trying to decide if we should go to Gambia for Christmas. After breakfast Steve did the accounts while I did some laundry, for a change! But at least when we leave here we won't have any dirty clothes in the truck. This morning, Nele, clever girl, refitted the exhaust pipe to the African dream (that is the name of their 20 year old truck). Meanwhile a local Artist appeared on the camp site to paint Murals of African villages on the walls around the camp site, it was quite fascinating to watch him working. A little later his assistant came over to ask if any of us knew how to give an injection. He had cut himself and needed a Tetanus shot, he was in luck as Nele was a Nurse, he produced a syringe that he had obtained from the local pharmacy and she gave him the jab, closely watched by all of us, for future reference.
After lunch and a siesta, we set off to walk to the shops. It was a very hot day and we received the usual hassles from the children as we walked through the fishing village. We would have liked to have taken some photographs, but the people are not keen. A fisherman casting his net at the waterside got very cross and waved his fist at Steve when he tried to take his picture. We reached the town at about four o'clock and soon located a supermarket that Fillip and Nele had discovered. There were lots of imported goodies, but at a price. We brought some Dutch cheese and juice and some Spanish red wine but could not buy very much as we had to carry it all back to camp and as we were going to Parc du Djoudj in the morning we decided that we would stock up then.
We called in at the Bakery for bread, and then crossed the Pont Faidherbe, a huge iron bridge, over the Senegal River. The town is really hard work, you are constantly hassled by street traders, who are very pushy and won't take no for an answer, and then there are the children constantly asking for cadoux. It is such a shame as the old town is very interesting, especially around the Rue Pierre Loti, which was an old Slave market. Another interesting building is the Hotel De la Poste which began as a Gum Arabic warehouse many years before and then in the 1920's a pioneering airmail service from Toulouse to Dakar was established and it became a favourite stopping place for pilots. Today much memorabilia from those early airmail flights is displayed in the hotel reception rooms. The old houses here are interesting in having interior courtyards with warehouses on the ground floor and inward facing living quarters on the first floor.
We had planned to eat in town but it was only a quarter past five and the restaurants weren't due to open until 7pm. Feeling pretty weary from heat and hassle, we were just discussing what to do when up popped our friend Ibrahim. He said that he had just left Fillip and Nele, who were now returning to camp by horse and buggy, he offered to get us one but we declined and said goodbye but as we were walking away he came after us and asked if we would loan him 2,000 CFA, he said that he would pay us back tomorrow, somehow we had been expecting this and said sorry but we only had enough money for our evening meal and would have to go to the bank the next day. We took a Cab back to camp and when we got there Fillip and Nele were unpacking their shopping. I told them that we had seen Ibrahim and he had asked for a loan, they said he had also asked them for a loan of 3,000 CFA, and which they had given him. He had told them that he would come to the camp site later this evening to pay them back; we suspected that we wouldn't see him again. Fillip was furious and said he would go in search of him the next day if he didn't turn up. (We never saw Ibrahim again).
Friday 19th December.
the humidity this Last night must have been extremely high, for when I awoke I thought it was raining, but on poking my head out of the tent I discovered that it was just moisture dripping off the pine tree's that we were parked under.
We had decided that today we would move on, we felt that we had spent enough time with the youngsters and needed to do our own thing again. We got busy packing up the truck, taking down the tent and getting ready for the road again, by noon we were ready to leave. We went across to the bar for a farewell drink with Fillip and Nele, feeling rather sad, as we had been travelling together for the past two weeks and had been through some tough times together. Between the four of us we had gained a lot of experience and it had been good to have had their company for this difficult part of our journey. I think that we all thought that it was just, au-revoire and it wouldn't be long before we would meet again on the road through the West Coast but, as it would turn out fate would have other plans.
We left the camp site and drove into the city at about half past one. We made our way straight to the Supermarket that we had visited the day before; it was closed and wouldn't be opening again until 3pm. To wait would have made us very late getting to our destination so we brought, bread, eggs and fruit from the roadside and then headed north on the road to the Park National des Oiseuax du Djoudj.
We were only just outside the city limits when we were stopped by the first police check; they wanted to see our papers and also our fire extinguisher! Five minutes further down the road and we were stopped by another policeman, he said that we hadn't given way to the left, a traffic infraction, we must pay a fine. We played dumb, making out that we couldn't understand, as we only spoke English. In the end, frustrated, he let us go. We decided that in future this would be the best ploy when stopped by the police.
We had little trouble finding the turning from the main road to the park, but then somehow we managed to loose our way on this dirt road. We stopped for a policeman, who was hitching a lift and wanted to go to Djama, as it wasn't far out of our way we took him there, before leaving us he gave directions to the park, so we backtracked and found the turning. We arrived at Djoudj at about 4 O'clock, and discovered that there was a very nice little hotel just near the entrance but thinking that it would be to expensive we went to find the camp site, this turned out to be a muddy patch of ground situated next to a mosquito ridden swamp and a night's fee was 3,000cfa so we decided we could afford the hotel after all.
After checking in we sat by the pool and had a cold beer, what luxury. At five in the afternoon we made the short drive to the park entrance gate where I paid 2,000 CFA for a twenty four hour pass
Situated in the Senegal River delta the Djoudj Sanctuary is a wetland of 16,000 hectares and is Senegal's ornithological showcase and is rated the third most important bird reserve in the world. Comprising a large lake surrounded by streams, ponds and backwaters. It forms a living but fragile sanctuary for some 1.5 million birds, such as the white pelican, the purple heron, the African spoonbill, the great egret and the cormorant. We spent a very interesting hour driving around the reed beds, where we saw, in a short time, Stilts, Heron, Egret, Redshank, Greenshank, Cormorant, Plovers, Ducks, and Flamingos, all in large numbers. We left the park at a quarter past six and returned to the Hotel. Back in our room, we enjoyed our first hot shower for many weeks, such luxury. I then wrote my diary while Steve worked at the Newsletter on his laptop.
Just after 8pm we went for our evening meal on a terrace where there were three large, semi-tame Pelicans roosting by the swimming pool. We enjoyed a very nice dinner, salad with fruit to start with then Beef with mixed vegetables as the main course, followed by Lemon tart and coffee, all washed down with a bottle of rose wine. It was nice to enjoy a little luxury and very civilised after the previous few weeks. We were amused to see the hotel Patron, a French lady and well known locally in ornithological circles, eating her dinner with two pet chickens sitting on her knees and a parrot on her left shoulder. We turned in at 23.00. Day 6.Mileage 56.
Saturday, 20th December.
I had a rather disturbed night. Yesterday being Friday, we had taken our anti-malarial Larium so I don't know if that was the problem, or whether I am just not used to sleeping in a bed. I had a nice long hot shower deciding that I must make the most of the facilities while they were available, don't know when I will get hot water again. We had our breakfast on the terrace, then went to reception and arranged for a Pirogue trip in the park and paid our bill. Our night of luxury and the boat trip costing us 47.000 CFA, very extravagant.
Leaving the hotel at 9.50 we drove seven kilometres to the meeting point for the Pirogue. We had time for a short walk because the rest of the passengers had yet to arrive. Never before had we seen so many White faced Ducks, they were continually lifting off from the water in clouds, the noise was amazing. We also spotted a large lizard carrying a fat toad into the reeds. Our fellow shipmates arrived, there were seven of us including the boatman who loaded us on board and set us onto a course through the papyrus lined waterways. The numbers of birds observed was quite phenomenal. We spotted Night heron, Grey Heron, Goliath Heron, Hundreds of Egrets, Fish Eagles, Osprey, and a Grasshopper Buzzard. As we drifted along we saw Lilly trotters, Yellow Wagtail, as well as crocodiles and a huge python on the river bank. The boat was pushing its way through dense water Hyacinth then we came upon a huge colony of white Pelicans and cormorants, our estimate was that there were at least 10,000 Pelican, quite an incredible cacophony and smell. After two hours we were back on dry land, it had been a memorable experience.
At a quiet spot at the waters edge I set up our table and chairs for lunch where we ate watching black winged stilt and black tailed Godwit prodding around in the shallows in front of us while huge flocks of Storks, Pelicans and Egrets were flying overhead. Next we set off in search of the Grande Lac, this turned into a long, hot, dusty drive and when we finally found the lake were amazed by the sight that met us it was very hard to appreciate the numbers of birds that we saw there, there were probably one hundred thousand Flamingos and hundreds of thousands of ducks plus all kinds of waders in huge numbers, an amazing sight.
We could really have done with staying another day, but the expense of the hotel and the awful camp site, made us push on. Funny thing but compared to some of the camp sites that we were to experience later on in the trip would have led us to considered this one quite a good camp site!
At four thirty in the afternoon we drove back towards St Louis, hoping to find somewhere on the road to bush camp for the night, but no luck, just too many villages and we were still not sure if it was illegal. We decided to take the Djama road and hopefully find the place where we had camped with Fillip and Nele that evening when we had crossed from Mauritania. I had forgotten how bad a road it was, but after driving along it for about twenty minutes we finally found a place where we could turn off and camp
We tucked ourselves away behind some bushes, a couple of hundred feet from the road. I set about making our meal, vegetable pasta; it takes a long time to cook a proper meal, so we did not start to eat till after dark. Every now and again we would hear noises in the bush, beyond the lights of our camp, we had to keep them low so as not to attract attention to ourselves. When we investigated these noises they turned out to be the odd cow or goat investigating us. We climbed into the back of the truck and then Steve had trouble locking the door, with much banging he got it shut. He had just put the light out and we were settling down when an insect hit me in the face, it felt huge, Steve turned the light on again and I saw a large brown beetle. Steve tried to catch it but in the confined space it was impossible and he was so tired that he gave up and went to sleep which didn't please me and I just had to put up with it. I pulled the sheet up tight around my neck, gritted my teeth and finally fell asleep.
Sunday 21st December.
A couple of times in the night I woke, fretting about that Beetle, but after a while, I must have drifted off again. Dawn broke at around 6.30 and we crawled out of Ollie. My back was not at all good this morning; I don't know what I have done to it. We had a quick breakfast and were on the road to Dakar by 8.00. It was a clear run, only one stop and this by a policeman who had stopped us a week earlier on our entry into Senegal. He had recognised our truck and thought that he would try us for a few more cigarettes.
We were heading for the capital Dakar. The road was badly potholed but reasonably quiet, we were only stopped a couple of times by police and without to much hassle. I now think that it is a good idea to travel on a Sunday as the traffic is light and there are fewer people around.
The countryside was starting to change, lots of Baobab trees, some of them really huge. We got to Thies at around noon, a big town, in fact the third largest in Senegal, plenty of hustle and bustle. Unfortunately we couldn't find the right road out of town, (not unusual) we asked for directions a couple of times - difficult in broken French- and eventually we found the right road. The traffic started to get quite frenzied the closer we got to Dakar, some of the lorries that we saw, were so over-loaded, they looked about to topple over. A lot of the vehicles on the road are in such a bad state that you wonder how they manage to keep going. I can't imagine how the police have the cheek to find faults with the foreign vehicles, but they do. We arrived in Yoff, on the outskirts of Dakar where we had been told there was a good camp site, but now had difficulty in locating it. Near the Airport we stopped and asked a young guy for directions, he insisted on coming with us to show the way. We turned off the main road, down a narrow sandy track, which led us through a ramshackle fishing village and down to the beach. The Camp had a high wall all around it with no way to get the tuck inside. Because of big tides, fishing Pirogues were hauled out at the car parking place. Steve was not happy about leaving the truck here so we decided to drive back and look for somewhere else. We paid off our guide and then drove back to the edge of the City to try and locate a camp site, that we had read of in the rough guide, without success. The decision was made, to return along the main road, to Rufisque about 25 kilometres outside the city and where we had passed a camp site on our way through. We arrived there at two thirty. Camping W.A.S, looked okay. (God knows what W.A.S stood for)
Parking the Ollie we made for the bar. This was housed under a corrugated iron roof; it was open-sided and included the kitchen and lounge. I filled out the police registration form and the Patron pointed out the fridge containing beers, soft drinks and a few odd items of food.The patron told us to help ourselves, It was an honesty bar, and note what we had taken on a sheet provided. We would then settle up at the end of our stay. Staying at the camp site were four French youngsters travelling in a mini-bus who we had previously met at the disastrous Djama border crossing. They were an odd little group, two were paraplegic and they were all rather bohemian in appearance but once we got to know them they turned out to be really a nice bunch. Additionally there were a couple of piratical looking Portuguese guys, travelling in a saloon car, and a guy on his own in a big German Mercedes camper that had been on our Mauritanian convoy
After a welcome cold beer we set about organising our camp and while preparing dinner, The owner of the German registered camper van came over and introduced himself as Tony. We sat and chatted about our various experiences on the road down this far. Tony had also heard about the young German's motorbike accident in the desert and that, the guy had severe head injuries. Tony had also had trouble driving the beach in Mauritania. He had got bogged down on the last section and at one point the sea was washing through his truck. He had to pay the local fishermen 3,000 French Francs to pull him out. That evening I cooked dinner in the camp kitchen, omelette, mixed vegetables and melon for pudding. During the evening we had another beer with Tony, and happened to mention that we were going into the city the next day, he had been to Dakar before and his advise, because of the traffic, was not to take the truck but instead go in on one of the white taxi's that passed the site. We returned to our tent at about ten thirty to write Postcards. This was not the quietest spot in Africa, the camp site was situated beside the main railway line into the city and the trains, as they passed by the camp, seemed to enjoy blowing their hooters. Additionally and not very far away there was a Mosque where the Muezzin had been chanting away for the previous two hours. Because we were so exhausted we still managed to get some sleep. Day8. Mileage 7
Monday 22nd December
Our early morning call was the 5.00 express train which shook the tent as it thundered past, with a blast of its whistle for good measure.
Over breakfast, we discussed the merits of taking Ollie into Dakar and Steve had in the end decided to have a go but just then Tony came by to tell us that the two Portuguese guys were going into the City and would give us lift, I breathed a sigh of relief. At 9.30 we set off into town and were soon in the thick of the most horrendous traffic jams. We complain of the traffic at home in Jersey but this had to be seen to be believed, they even drive on the pavements. How pleased we were that we hadn't tried to drive ourselves in, we would have been completely lost. Our Portuguese friends, we discovered, came originally from Angola but now lived in Guinea-Bissau, and were on their way home. They seemed to know their way around Dakar well and dropped us right outside the American Express office on Independence Avenue. We went in and asked if there was any mail, we were so delighted to find they had cards from home and a fax from our friend Alex in South Africa for us. We searched for a Bank, trying all the time not to look like tourists out of fear of being mugged. Finally finding one we changed 2,000 French Franc travellers checks into CFA and then went after our next objective, a Post office, to post our cards. We searched; from time to time surreptitiously peeking at our rough guide and using our little pocket compass and eventually found it.Dakar is a seething mass of humanity but we were pleasantly surprised at the small amount of hassle that we encountered in the city compared to St Louis. I purchased fruit and vegetables from some very friendly Street traders who took the Mickey out of our appalling French. Then to our joy, we found a supermarket, mind you, not as we know them and sitting by the entrance there was a local man dressed in a, rather tatty, Father Christmas outfit, he was our first reminder of the approaching season. We purchased a couple of litre packs of wine and a Kilo of minced beef, best meat that I've seen for ages, tins of tomatoes and Tuna, two packs of Orange juice plus some crisps, cheese and bottled water. The bill came to 13,700 CFA, quite pricey. Every thing was put into a cardboard box for us and we set off to find our way back to camp. Outside the supermarket we asked a cab driver how much he would charge to take us back, he wanted 7,000 CFA we declined and went in search of the bus station to search for a white taxi. We found the bus station near the entrance to the Port, after picking our way along a road with open sewers,broken pavements and with some nasty looking liquid running down the gutter. Like all Ports it was a pretty lively place. Dozens of mini-buses were loading up with passengers, hordes of people were milling around and traders were passing their wares through the bus windows to the passengers inside. The traders were selling everything from a box of matches to a foam Mattress. We made our way through the throng and enquired for the bus to Rufisque, we thought that the bus that was pointed out looked full already, but the driver said to climb in. We managed to find seats and then once the side seats were full, isle seats were pulled down and so the bus was packed, but everyone had a seat. By now it was 1pm and very hot.
Our trip back to Rufisque was quite an experience; the driver went very fast and when he came to a traffic jam, would drive on the pavement to get through. The guy taking the fare stood on the back step and everyone passed their fare money, via the person behind, back to him. It passed hand to hand and no matter how much you passed back, your correct change eventually was passed back to you. The fare was 340 CFA for the two of us, a bit better than 7000 CFA and the journey took about 45 minutes. On the way my neighbour fell asleep with his head on my shoulder. The bus dropped us about half a mile from the camp site and by the time we arrived there we were exhausted, so it was straight to the bar for a beer and some bread and cheese. I spent the rest of the afternoon doing some washing and then cooking up a big curry, enough for two meals with the meat I had just purchased. A skinny underfed puppy that lived on the site came and sat under my table as I cooked. When I had finished I gave him all the trimmings from the meat, needless to say, he became my shadow for the rest of our stay. After dinner that evening the two Portuguese guys came over to say goodbye. They told us that they had tried to get the ferry from Dakar to the Casamannce, in Southern Senegal, without luck. Instead they were going to drive and were going at night to avoid Police checks. A little later on Tony came back from his evening out, with a young local girl on his arm. He introduced her to us, as an, “old friend”, ha ha. They disappeared into his van and we heard a lot of giggling. We turned in at eleven.
Tuesday 23rd December.
The early morning express thundered past the tent and as yesterday the driver sounded his hooter, I was now awake. I'd had the best night sleep for ages, my back feeling a lot better. Steve packed up the tent, we had breakfast and then he went and paid the bill, it was 15,700 CFA
We were off to Gambia for Christmas and left W.A.S camp (still didn't know what it means) at 9.30. Ollie had his tanks filled with diesel at the nearest garage. Steve enquired if they took credit cards, the attendant said yes so he filled the tank, 30,000cfa, the attendant then informed us that we must pay with cash, Steve wasn't best pleased and it was lucky that we had enough cash on us at the time, but that's Africa
We took the road to Mbour which because of potholes, old Lorries and Donkey carts was a very slow. Somewhere along the way we took a wrong turning and drove for 15 minutes before realising that we were on the wrong road. Turning Ollie round Steve drove back until we found the right road to the town of Fatick. This turned out to be quite a large town but quite devoid of road signs, so guess what, we got hopelessly lost once more. By now it was one o'clock with the temperature in the high thirties. We stopped several times to ask directions and at last found the road to our next destination, Kaolack. With the temperature rising all the time, we were now driving across large salt pans. In some sections the road was very good and in others it deteriorated into huge potholes and every now and then we would hit a stretch with no tar at all. These stretches, some as long as 3k's were really appalling. We stopped by the road for a drink and at the same time hid all of our CFA behind the dashboard as we had been told that it was illegal to export them from Senegal. As we were busy doing this two vehicles came along behind us. It turned out to be Matt and Jill in the white Landy with some friends in a saloon car. They stopped and chatted for a while and told us that they had been to Joal(no, that's spelt gaol) for a few days and now, like us, were on their way to Gambia for Christmas.