Banjul or Bust! December 2009
Every year an organised/unorganised charity event called the Plymouth to Banjul Rally takes place. The challenge consists of finding a cheap, left-hand drive car and, with minimal modification, driving it across the Sahara Desert from the UK to Banjul in The Gambia. Once there the cars are auctioned off and the money donated to local charities. Sounds simple right? Well actually it was.
The idea had appealed to me for many years but unfortunately the timing of the event had never quite worked for me or my co-driver, Dave. We knew that if we were ever going to do it we just had to pick a time that fitted us, get on the road and do it. The best time turned out to be the start of November, about a month before the official rally started. Good old ebay provided the car in the shape of a 1992 Rover 218 diesel with 270,000km on the clock and one careful owner. Price £340. Julian, the official rally organiser, kindly provided us with the rally roadbook and where to take the car in The Gambia so that it could be entered into the charity auction. True to the spirit of the original rules of the rally we decide not to spend much money “improving” the car and, other than oil & filter service and a new cambelt, left it all well alone. Also in the spirit of adventure our spares box consisted of a roll of gaffer tape, a bottle of RadWeld and a tube of metal glue.
Europe
It really couldn’t have started much worse! The traffic on the M25 was so bad that by the time we reach Dover we were way too late to catch our cheap day return to Calais. A new and expensive ticket delayed the crossing until the early hours of the morning and left us with several hours to kill. Dave lost his rucksack containing all his trip cash and freaked out. Luckily we traced it back to a local fish & chip shop and managed to get it back. The weather was nasty, high wind and rain, but finally we made it to France. The next two days were all about covering as many miles as possible and we managed France on the first day and Spain on the second. The weather got worse, with torrential rain, gale force winds and freezing temperatures all the way. It even snowed in Spain! We slept in the car and only stopped to eat and drink, so needless to say it was a pretty exhausting experience and when arrived late on the second day in Torremolinos we were both very happy indeed to see the back of Europe.
Morocco
The ferry to Tangier was on time, the sea was calm and the sun was shining, so finally things were looking better. Even the Moroccan customs proved to be a breeze and we were through it in less than hour. Next stop Rabat. Ordinarily we wouldn’t have bothered going to Rabat, but just before leaving the UK we had discovered that you couldn’t get Mauritanian visas on the border anymore and the only place to get them was Rabat. However, finding the Mauritanian embassy turned out to be a bit of a nightmare, as we had no guidebooks for Morocco and no maps and only very vague directions from a German lady who had been there the day before. We finally found it late that night, more by luck than anything else, and settled in for another night in the car. We made the applications first thing in the morning and the guy processing the visas said come back for your passports at seven o’clock, so we drove off to find a hotel. The plan was to do some sightseeing in Rabat for the day, pick up the passports in the evening and head out to Marrakech first thing the next morning. The sightseeing went to plan and so did the driving back out to the Embassy. However the picking up of the passports bit failed miserably. They were closed. After much head scratching we worked out that what they had probably said was to come back in seven hours, which would have been about three o’clock in the afternoon, rather than to come back at seven o’clock. I knew I should have paid more attention to my French lessons at school! The day finally made it firmly into the ‘one to be forgotten’ category at a local restaurant were my much anticipated fish tajine turned into a fish platter of variously incinerated, bony minnows and Dave’s meat platter magically turned into two meat platters when the bill arrived. Needless to say my fish platter also just happened to be the most expensive item on the menu. Welcome to Morocco!
In the end it didn’t delay us by much as we picked the passports up early the next morning and made our way out of Rabat and inland towards Marrakech. Moroccan roads are great and we made it to Marrakech by early afternoon, parked the car up and just happened to walk past a Lebanese café. Having spent a lot of time in the Middle East, I have picked up the unhealthy habit of the occasional Sheesha pipe, and the unmistakeable sweet fruity tobacco smell was just too tempting to resist. An hour later, thoroughly chilled out and feeling good about life we located a little hotel just off the edge of the el Jemaa Fna square, with secure parking nearby. We spent the rest of the day and evening sightseeing and wandering around the bazaar looking for souvenirs.
The next morning the road took us south and over the Atlas Mountains. We chose to drive the wonderfully winding road over the Tizzi n Test pass, which gave stunning views all the way, and was well worth the extra dive. Once out of the mountains it was into the desert. The next section through the Western Sahara, annexed by Morocco back in the 1970s, was like being back in Europe. More long days of driving, stopping only to eat and drink, and sleeping in the car. Of course the scenery wasn’t the same. Here is was barren sand and rocks, with the Atlantic Ocean drifting in and out of view and the occasional dusty, drab town to break up the monotony. Plus the days were getting hotter and the nights colder. The car was taking it all in its stride and barley missed beat. Best of all the engine temperature remained constant even in the heat of the desert. The only sore point was falling foul of the infamous Moroccan traffic police scam. Our involved not stopping at a cunningly hidden stop sign, written in Arabic. That will be £40 please sir! Er, I don’t think so. Sorry me no speak French. Sorry me no got £40. Sorry me only got £10. Yeah you have a nice day too – Grrrr!
Mauritania
A bumpy, dusty half hour drive across no mans land brought us to the Mauritania customs. No mans land is one big minefield so keeping to the right track is strongly recommended. Not that easy when there are tracks going all over the place. I just followed in the tracks of a little Peugeot which was just a head of me, going on the theory that he would blow up first if we were going the wrong way. I’ve been through a lot of dodgy borders in my time and this was no different. Wander around a lot trying to find out what to do. Keep asking anyone who looks like they might know. Try to avoid paying bribes wherever possible. Above all stay calm and chilled and don’t rush. A few hours later we were all sorted and on our way, and with an extra couple of passenger to boot. I’d got talking to a local desert guide, Dahid, about doing a couple of days off road into the proper sandy Mauritanian desert. Having yet to make our minds up about whether or not to do it, and seeing the chance of making some money, Dahid and his friend jumped into the car for a free lift to Nouadhibou, Mauritania’s main northern town, just an hour’s drive from the border.
We arrived at a guest house in the town with enough time to take a quick look around, not that there was too much to see. Lots of locals dressed in traditional flowing sky blue robes and heads heavily rapid in cloth, just how you would imagine desert nomads to look. However in amongst the urban sprawl it looked rather anachronistic, but made great photos anyway. The next morning we agreed to do a couple of days driving in the desert and agreed with Dahid to leave later that afternoon. It gave use a bit more time to explore and we took a drive to the beach to stare at the hundreds of rusting shipwrecks that stand as evidence of numerous insurance scams. We also learnt that Mauritania had sold its fishing rights to the EU and now the locals can’t afford to buy the fish anymore. No doubt the money generated by the deal will help make the rich a bit richer.
When we finally left Nouadhibou, we had picked up two more vehicles, a little Peugeot and a camper van, joining us on our trip to the desert. A couple of hours of driving down the main north to south road and we left the tarmac behind and headed off into the desert. The scenery was stunning and the driving pretty easy. In fact it was like driving along a massive sandy beach. Sand as far as the eye could see and great herds of camels, grazing on the sand by the look of it! As with all things there was a sting in the tail, and in this case two stings in the tail. The first was the hard to see wadis, dry stream beds that come out of nowhere and test the suspension to the limit. The other was a little Peugeot and a camper van that kept getting stuck in the sand. I guess digging them out was kind of fun, but when we finally got to our camp we were all tired and happy to be there. Also our low water light had just come on, so it wasn’t a minute too soon. A quick check under the bonnet revealed no water in the expansion box and a rather alarming stream of water coming from the bottom of the radiator. So thus ended our very short desert trip and in the morning we filled up with water, bunged in the RadWeld, which sealed up the leak, and headed back to the safety of the tarmac road - although perhaps safety was the wrong word. We’d heard from the guys in the camper van that just a couple of days earlier, 3 Spanish tourists had been kidnapped on the road we were just heading down. The early reports seem to indicate they had been taken by Al Qaeda in the Margreb. So after a rather tense and watchful 4-hour drive, and perhaps two dozen check posts, we rolled into Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania, very happy to still be safe and sound.
Not wishing to hang around too much longer in Mauritania, we decided to press on for the Senegal border early the next day, and having heard many accounts of how bad the border crossing can be we took Dahid’s friend Sidi with us to smooth the way. We paid a few quid for it, but it work a treat as didn’t even get out the car once and it was all done in not much over an hour.
Senegal
The change from Saharan desert to Sub Saharan greenery happened really quickly and so did the change from nice tarmac roads to a pothole nightmare. The first 60km or so after the border was just awful and very hard work. But after that, things improved a bit and it wasn’t long before we were skirting St Louis on our way to the Zebrabar campsite. This little oasis is set in a beautiful bird reserve and truly was paradise after so many days in the desert. We spent a couple of days here just relaxing in the sun, swimming in the sea, drinking beer and doing a bit of sightseeing in nearby St Louis, the picturesque, if slightly run down, pre-independence capital of Senegal.
On a tight schedule we soon had to hit the road again and this time we were heading for Dakar, the current capital of Senegal. Horrendous traffic queues on the way into the city led to the car overheating and further investigation revealed that the temperature sensor for the fan had come loose, so the fan wasn’t kicking in to help cool the engine down. Other than the radiator leak, that proved to be the only mechanical issue we had - oh except for one punctured tyre. Not bad for a 17-year old British car! We stayed in Dakar just long enough to visit the Isle de Goree, a former centre for the slave trade, and now wonderfully picturesque tourist trap. Heading south again we made the last push to The Gambia border and encountered the worse roads of the trip so far. Massive potholes made it far safer to drive on the verge rather than the road, and it was a great relief to finally make it to the border. One final bureaucratic slog and hooray we made it to The Gambia.
The Gambia
However there was the small issue of the ferry from Barra to Banjul, which turned out to be another 3-4 hour wait, so when we finally made it to our hotel in Banjul it was well into the night. The owners were very happy to see us, and told us the main rally had been cancelled because of the kidnappings and we would probably be the only ones to make it this year. Personally I was more interested in the beer and a good night’s sleep.
So that was it; 7 countries; 14 days; 4,000 miles; 2 friends; 1 car; job done! The car was bought for £340 and sold at auction for just shy of £1,300 all of which went to the local ASSET (The Association of small Scale Enterprises in Tourism) charity, which does just what is says on the tin.
Did I enjoy it? Hell yes! Would I do it again? Hell no!
The idea had appealed to me for many years but unfortunately the timing of the event had never quite worked for me or my co-driver, Dave. We knew that if we were ever going to do it we just had to pick a time that fitted us, get on the road and do it. The best time turned out to be the start of November, about a month before the official rally started. Good old ebay provided the car in the shape of a 1992 Rover 218 diesel with 270,000km on the clock and one careful owner. Price £340. Julian, the official rally organiser, kindly provided us with the rally roadbook and where to take the car in The Gambia so that it could be entered into the charity auction. True to the spirit of the original rules of the rally we decide not to spend much money “improving” the car and, other than oil & filter service and a new cambelt, left it all well alone. Also in the spirit of adventure our spares box consisted of a roll of gaffer tape, a bottle of RadWeld and a tube of metal glue.
Europe
It really couldn’t have started much worse! The traffic on the M25 was so bad that by the time we reach Dover we were way too late to catch our cheap day return to Calais. A new and expensive ticket delayed the crossing until the early hours of the morning and left us with several hours to kill. Dave lost his rucksack containing all his trip cash and freaked out. Luckily we traced it back to a local fish & chip shop and managed to get it back. The weather was nasty, high wind and rain, but finally we made it to France. The next two days were all about covering as many miles as possible and we managed France on the first day and Spain on the second. The weather got worse, with torrential rain, gale force winds and freezing temperatures all the way. It even snowed in Spain! We slept in the car and only stopped to eat and drink, so needless to say it was a pretty exhausting experience and when arrived late on the second day in Torremolinos we were both very happy indeed to see the back of Europe.
Morocco
The ferry to Tangier was on time, the sea was calm and the sun was shining, so finally things were looking better. Even the Moroccan customs proved to be a breeze and we were through it in less than hour. Next stop Rabat. Ordinarily we wouldn’t have bothered going to Rabat, but just before leaving the UK we had discovered that you couldn’t get Mauritanian visas on the border anymore and the only place to get them was Rabat. However, finding the Mauritanian embassy turned out to be a bit of a nightmare, as we had no guidebooks for Morocco and no maps and only very vague directions from a German lady who had been there the day before. We finally found it late that night, more by luck than anything else, and settled in for another night in the car. We made the applications first thing in the morning and the guy processing the visas said come back for your passports at seven o’clock, so we drove off to find a hotel. The plan was to do some sightseeing in Rabat for the day, pick up the passports in the evening and head out to Marrakech first thing the next morning. The sightseeing went to plan and so did the driving back out to the Embassy. However the picking up of the passports bit failed miserably. They were closed. After much head scratching we worked out that what they had probably said was to come back in seven hours, which would have been about three o’clock in the afternoon, rather than to come back at seven o’clock. I knew I should have paid more attention to my French lessons at school! The day finally made it firmly into the ‘one to be forgotten’ category at a local restaurant were my much anticipated fish tajine turned into a fish platter of variously incinerated, bony minnows and Dave’s meat platter magically turned into two meat platters when the bill arrived. Needless to say my fish platter also just happened to be the most expensive item on the menu. Welcome to Morocco!
In the end it didn’t delay us by much as we picked the passports up early the next morning and made our way out of Rabat and inland towards Marrakech. Moroccan roads are great and we made it to Marrakech by early afternoon, parked the car up and just happened to walk past a Lebanese café. Having spent a lot of time in the Middle East, I have picked up the unhealthy habit of the occasional Sheesha pipe, and the unmistakeable sweet fruity tobacco smell was just too tempting to resist. An hour later, thoroughly chilled out and feeling good about life we located a little hotel just off the edge of the el Jemaa Fna square, with secure parking nearby. We spent the rest of the day and evening sightseeing and wandering around the bazaar looking for souvenirs.
The next morning the road took us south and over the Atlas Mountains. We chose to drive the wonderfully winding road over the Tizzi n Test pass, which gave stunning views all the way, and was well worth the extra dive. Once out of the mountains it was into the desert. The next section through the Western Sahara, annexed by Morocco back in the 1970s, was like being back in Europe. More long days of driving, stopping only to eat and drink, and sleeping in the car. Of course the scenery wasn’t the same. Here is was barren sand and rocks, with the Atlantic Ocean drifting in and out of view and the occasional dusty, drab town to break up the monotony. Plus the days were getting hotter and the nights colder. The car was taking it all in its stride and barley missed beat. Best of all the engine temperature remained constant even in the heat of the desert. The only sore point was falling foul of the infamous Moroccan traffic police scam. Our involved not stopping at a cunningly hidden stop sign, written in Arabic. That will be £40 please sir! Er, I don’t think so. Sorry me no speak French. Sorry me no got £40. Sorry me only got £10. Yeah you have a nice day too – Grrrr!
Mauritania
A bumpy, dusty half hour drive across no mans land brought us to the Mauritania customs. No mans land is one big minefield so keeping to the right track is strongly recommended. Not that easy when there are tracks going all over the place. I just followed in the tracks of a little Peugeot which was just a head of me, going on the theory that he would blow up first if we were going the wrong way. I’ve been through a lot of dodgy borders in my time and this was no different. Wander around a lot trying to find out what to do. Keep asking anyone who looks like they might know. Try to avoid paying bribes wherever possible. Above all stay calm and chilled and don’t rush. A few hours later we were all sorted and on our way, and with an extra couple of passenger to boot. I’d got talking to a local desert guide, Dahid, about doing a couple of days off road into the proper sandy Mauritanian desert. Having yet to make our minds up about whether or not to do it, and seeing the chance of making some money, Dahid and his friend jumped into the car for a free lift to Nouadhibou, Mauritania’s main northern town, just an hour’s drive from the border.
We arrived at a guest house in the town with enough time to take a quick look around, not that there was too much to see. Lots of locals dressed in traditional flowing sky blue robes and heads heavily rapid in cloth, just how you would imagine desert nomads to look. However in amongst the urban sprawl it looked rather anachronistic, but made great photos anyway. The next morning we agreed to do a couple of days driving in the desert and agreed with Dahid to leave later that afternoon. It gave use a bit more time to explore and we took a drive to the beach to stare at the hundreds of rusting shipwrecks that stand as evidence of numerous insurance scams. We also learnt that Mauritania had sold its fishing rights to the EU and now the locals can’t afford to buy the fish anymore. No doubt the money generated by the deal will help make the rich a bit richer.
When we finally left Nouadhibou, we had picked up two more vehicles, a little Peugeot and a camper van, joining us on our trip to the desert. A couple of hours of driving down the main north to south road and we left the tarmac behind and headed off into the desert. The scenery was stunning and the driving pretty easy. In fact it was like driving along a massive sandy beach. Sand as far as the eye could see and great herds of camels, grazing on the sand by the look of it! As with all things there was a sting in the tail, and in this case two stings in the tail. The first was the hard to see wadis, dry stream beds that come out of nowhere and test the suspension to the limit. The other was a little Peugeot and a camper van that kept getting stuck in the sand. I guess digging them out was kind of fun, but when we finally got to our camp we were all tired and happy to be there. Also our low water light had just come on, so it wasn’t a minute too soon. A quick check under the bonnet revealed no water in the expansion box and a rather alarming stream of water coming from the bottom of the radiator. So thus ended our very short desert trip and in the morning we filled up with water, bunged in the RadWeld, which sealed up the leak, and headed back to the safety of the tarmac road - although perhaps safety was the wrong word. We’d heard from the guys in the camper van that just a couple of days earlier, 3 Spanish tourists had been kidnapped on the road we were just heading down. The early reports seem to indicate they had been taken by Al Qaeda in the Margreb. So after a rather tense and watchful 4-hour drive, and perhaps two dozen check posts, we rolled into Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania, very happy to still be safe and sound.
Not wishing to hang around too much longer in Mauritania, we decided to press on for the Senegal border early the next day, and having heard many accounts of how bad the border crossing can be we took Dahid’s friend Sidi with us to smooth the way. We paid a few quid for it, but it work a treat as didn’t even get out the car once and it was all done in not much over an hour.
Senegal
The change from Saharan desert to Sub Saharan greenery happened really quickly and so did the change from nice tarmac roads to a pothole nightmare. The first 60km or so after the border was just awful and very hard work. But after that, things improved a bit and it wasn’t long before we were skirting St Louis on our way to the Zebrabar campsite. This little oasis is set in a beautiful bird reserve and truly was paradise after so many days in the desert. We spent a couple of days here just relaxing in the sun, swimming in the sea, drinking beer and doing a bit of sightseeing in nearby St Louis, the picturesque, if slightly run down, pre-independence capital of Senegal.
On a tight schedule we soon had to hit the road again and this time we were heading for Dakar, the current capital of Senegal. Horrendous traffic queues on the way into the city led to the car overheating and further investigation revealed that the temperature sensor for the fan had come loose, so the fan wasn’t kicking in to help cool the engine down. Other than the radiator leak, that proved to be the only mechanical issue we had - oh except for one punctured tyre. Not bad for a 17-year old British car! We stayed in Dakar just long enough to visit the Isle de Goree, a former centre for the slave trade, and now wonderfully picturesque tourist trap. Heading south again we made the last push to The Gambia border and encountered the worse roads of the trip so far. Massive potholes made it far safer to drive on the verge rather than the road, and it was a great relief to finally make it to the border. One final bureaucratic slog and hooray we made it to The Gambia.
The Gambia
However there was the small issue of the ferry from Barra to Banjul, which turned out to be another 3-4 hour wait, so when we finally made it to our hotel in Banjul it was well into the night. The owners were very happy to see us, and told us the main rally had been cancelled because of the kidnappings and we would probably be the only ones to make it this year. Personally I was more interested in the beer and a good night’s sleep.
So that was it; 7 countries; 14 days; 4,000 miles; 2 friends; 1 car; job done! The car was bought for £340 and sold at auction for just shy of £1,300 all of which went to the local ASSET (The Association of small Scale Enterprises in Tourism) charity, which does just what is says on the tin.
Did I enjoy it? Hell yes! Would I do it again? Hell no!
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