There are many ways to sail the world. We decided not to follow the masses, but rather to move away from the usual blue water routes and visit countries and places that are not regularly visited by cruising sailors. After Morocco and the Cape Verde Islands, we therefore sailed eastwards instead of westwards to visit the West African countries of Senegal and Gambia.
Contrary to all the warnings and concerns that we had to listen to when planning the route, we experience a helpfulness and hospitality here that is unrivalled. Our "Aracanga" is currently floating in fresh water, far inland in Africa on the mighty Gambia River. But first things first.
Clearing out with obstacles
100 nautical miles - that's how far it is from the south of Senegal to The Gambia. We allow 24 hours for the relatively short journey along the West African coast. We would have liked to stay longer in the Casamance, as the river and the region of the same name in the south of Senegal are called. But unfortunately our cruising permit has expired.
The only "Port of Entry" in Senegal is Dakar, and it is not possible to enter the country at any other place. However, you can also get an exit stamp in Casamance, as you only need to visit immigration to leave the country and not customs.
So we anchor off Elinkine and make our way to the Immigration Police office. There, however, we encounter language barriers with our rudimentary French - and an officer who is more in the mood for palm wine than work. He tells us to go to the airport and clear out there.
There, however, the stamps for the passports cost a considerable "tip", as we know from other sailors. It is exactly as we were told at the beginning of our stay in Casamance: The country is very safe and the people are incredibly helpful and friendly. The only people you have to be wary of are the officials.
So now we're in a dilemma: one of them doesn't want to clear us out and the other wants a lot of money for it. So we discuss the situation back on board and phone a sailor friend we met here. The next morning we try our luck again and our friend accompanies us. He casually shows the officer his passport with the exit stamps from Elinkine, and we all act as if there was just a big misunderstanding yesterday. Half an hour and 15 euros in "fees" later, we have our stamps in our passports and make our way north. It works!
Course Gambia
The weather forecast predicts some wind, so we want to sail the first half and then cover the rest under engine power. That was the plan. However, we couldn't get any diesel in Elinkine, so the remaining fuel was divided between our "Aracanga" and our friends from the "Streuner" so that there should be enough for both boats as far as Gambia. Then we set off under engine power with the slowly setting low tide through the flat, well buoyed pass out into the Atlantic.
The hoped-for wind does not materialise there, so we only set the mainsail to stabilise the boat a little in the swell and continue under engine power. 100 miles at an average of four knots means 25 hours, with a diesel consumption of generously calculated one litre per hour that means 25 litres. With our 30 litres in the tank plus five litres in reserve, we should be able to cover the entire distance under engine if necessary.
And so it is. In absolute calm and poor visibility, we chug slowly into the night. Around 11 p.m. we lose sight of the light of the "strays". The coast off Senegal and The Gambia is very shallow and rich in fish, and there are countless fishermen in their elegant, colourful pirogues both day and night - which makes for a sleepless night.
The fishermen set nets, which usually float below the surface and are marked with flags. However, as we now realise, some nets float on the surface and pose a danger to us as they are not illuminated and can easily become entangled in our propeller. As we have no chance of recognising the nets in the pitch-black night, we don't move away from the throttle so that we can switch the lever to neutral in an emergency to prevent anything worse from happening.
We get caught twice. Fortunately, the net is only hanging between the keel and the rudder and not in the propeller. Nevertheless, we have to get into the water to push it under the rudder and free ourselves. It's a bit queasy to go diving in the pitch dark, especially as we saw two large sharks at dusk, but we have no other choice.
The rest of the night passes without any significant incidents, but the next shock comes at dawn: a few miles from Banjul, our tank is empty - we have used considerably more fuel than calculated. So we pour in the last five litres and set the genoa despite the almost absolute calm. We call the "Streuner" on the agreed channel on the radio, but she doesn't hear us. However, we see their boat on the horizon ahead of us and slowly get closer to them. They are also bobbing in the doldrums.
Their engine has overheated due to a clogged cooling water filter, but this is quickly rectified. We get another five litres of diesel from the two of them, so we should now have enough fuel for both boats until we reach our destination of Banjul. A few miles before we arrive, the same thing happens again. This time the "strays" have run out of diesel. We hook them up to a long tow line for the last few metres.
Happy arrival
Just as we are about to drop anchor in Banjul, the capital of The Gambia, at the first available spot, the pilot boat comes towards us and instructs us to tie up to the dredging vessel "Samo". So we take the "Streuner" alongside and again go alongside the working vessel, whose crew give us a very friendly welcome. One of them immediately rushes off to get us two canisters of diesel, another one makes his way with us to immigration.
We have heard and read very different things about immigration in Banjul and are therefore curious to see what awaits us. We are asked to enter the cramped office and take a seat opposite an official: "How long do you want to stay?" - "Until November" - "No problem, you'll get a visa for one month, which you can extend to three months, and then you'll get resident status." That was easy. The atmosphere is very relaxed, we fill out a few forms and crew lists, a few questions are asked about where we're coming from and where we're going, and then we show photos of winter in Germany. Back on board, ten litres of diesel are waiting for us.
As so often in West Africa, we are once again overwhelmed by so much helpfulness. The crew offers to accompany us to customs and the harbour master the next day. We make an appointment for eight o'clock in the morning. We then make our way to our anchorage, which is ironically called "Half Die", which somehow fits in with our crossing. However, the area actually owes its name to a cholera epidemic that killed half the population in 1869.
One of the crew members of the dredger is released from work the next day by his boss to accompany us to customs. The main customs office is in the centre of the city and the officer explains that it's Friday morning and he doesn't really want to work so close to the weekend. After a brief back and forth, he hands us the forms to fill in. Once all the fields have been filled in, we are given the same form again to make a copy.
We are sent back to the harbour with the documents, where the official there inspects our boats and then stamps the papers. The customs officer in the harbour tells us that he can't swim and that it's already Friday. We agree to show him a few pictures of the boat and five minutes later the documents are stamped. That's it!
River cruise with Bordtiger
The Gambia is primarily known for the river of the same name, which meanders broadly and powerfully through the flat mangrove country and which we would like to navigate on our "Aracanga". The land is not much wider than the river - it is said to be as wide as the British cannons could once shoot on both sides of the bank - and is surrounded on all sides by Senegal. In the west, The Gambia borders the Atlantic Ocean with what are said to be the most beautiful beaches in Africa, it is also known as "The Smiling Coast of Africa".
Before we can start our river journey, we have to make a few preparations, as the supply situation is poor away from the coast. Banjul is dusty, noisy, dirty and yet fascinating, friendly and full of charm. On every corner there is Cafe Tuba, the local, spiced coffee for 5 Dalasi, which is about 9 cents, as well as the local bread Tabalabba with omelette for 20 Dalasi.
During our errands, we find a small baby cat in the dirt of a dusty suburban street in the blazing sun, meowing heartbreakingly and in a condition that lives up to the name of the neighbourhood "Half Die". Riki, in particular, is not impressed by the suffering animal, and without further ado we put her in a cloth bag to nurse her up on board. In the meantime, the little one has settled in well on board and keeps the rest of the crew on their toes. He has been given the name "Half Die" because of his home and his condition.
After two days of preparation, we finally get on the river, for which we want to take our time. The Gambia River is wide and has only a weak current. The tide, on the other hand, creates a strong current that changes direction every six hours and, depending on the phase of the moon, is three to four knots strong, and even stronger in the rainy season from May to September.
So we plan our tour according to the tide and travel eastwards with the tidal current, which gives us extra miles. In the estuary, the river is over three miles wide in places, and you can often only make out the opposite bank in the haze.
About 15 miles upriver lies James Island, our first destination. The island is a small, barren, hostile piece of land that was heavily contested during the colonial era due to its strategic location and was developed into a fort. Over 100 people lived on the 0.3 hectares of land, which is only two feet above the water level, at times. It was a trading post, defence facility and slave transshipment point. Whoever ruled the island ruled the river.
Our next destination is Tendeba, a larger town by local standards about 50 nautical miles inland. Here we get petrol for our outboard motor, which we couldn't get in Banjul. The "petrol station" is a cubbyhole a good metre square, where an adolescent fills petrol from a canister into old wine and gin bottles and sells them by the litre. On our walk to the petrol station and back, we are accompanied by a large crowd of children who all want to take something off our hands and carry it for us.
Anchoring at the zoo
From Tendeba, we continue eastwards with the rising tide the next afternoon. There are about 20 children on the pier waving to us as we motor towards midstream. After the previous day's 35-nautical-mile trek, we only want to sail a short leg today and look for a quiet side arm where we can anchor in the middle of nature, far away from civilisation.
It is extremely hot during the day - between 35 and 40 degrees - and we are glad for every bit of shade on board. The river is now much narrower and "only" one nautical mile wide. There are reliable charts for the main river, so we have no problems with the water depth, which is usually between six and ten metres. Things get exciting when we turn sideways into one of the numerous creeks, where there is usually a shallow sandbank at the entrance. Once over the shallow section, water depths of up to ten metres and a narrow side arm overgrown with mangroves await us again.
A few bends in the river later, we drop anchor and feel like we're in a zoo. Countless birds sit in the mangrove thicket and lie in wait for prey, from small kingfishers to mighty eagles, huge herons and pelicans. There are also crocodiles here, although you hardly ever see them; as soon as they feel they are being watched, they dive away. You shouldn't swim here, however tempting it may be. Yesterday we saw a large crocodile just a few metres from the boat.
Freshwater sailors
Further east, the brackish water slowly turns into fresh water. The landscape and vegetation also change here. The mangroves on the coast give way to mighty freshwater mangroves up to 20 metres high, whose roots hang down into the water from a height of many metres and give a real impression of African jungle. The further east we travel along the river, the more frequently the mangroves thin out, revealing a view of the barren hinterland. There, rolling red hills alternate with rice plantations, mighty baobab and kapok trees, palm plantations and the occasional small village.
The river repeatedly divides into individual side arms that enclose large islands. The Gambia River is known for its islands, which are home to a rich variety of water birds and wildlife. One of our most important companions over the last few days is our binoculars, which are always ready to hand in the cockpit to scan the banks for crocodiles or hippos.
Crocodiles can be encountered in salt and fresh water, while hippos are a little more picky and can only be found in fresh water. The further east we travel, the more likely we are to see them.
The next waypoint is the new bridge over the Gambia River, which was only opened this year and with a clearance height of 17 metres (no guarantee, this is only what we have heard) is fortunately no problem for our small boats. After spending the night anchored at the bridge, our next destination is Bombale, a small village on the northern side arm of Elephant Island, where we are given a warm and hospitable welcome, as we have been in all the other places so far.
The further we travel upstream, the simpler the villages and living conditions of the people in the villages become. As is so often the case, the problem here is that relatively more money is spent on the towns than on the rural population. We realise this as soon as we land at what used to be the jetty for the fishermen: all that remains is a pile of stones with a few broken pillars that you have to balance carefully over to avoid ending up in the river mud.
It is about 300 metres from the landing site to the village along a red sandy track with rice fields to the left and right as far as the eye can see. When we arrive in the village, we are greeted by a huge kapok tree and an even bigger crowd of children, who all shout "Toubab" and take us by the hand. But we are not only the attraction for the children, but also for the men and women of the village. Everyone wants to introduce themselves and asks our names.
The next day we visit the school, which is always a good opportunity to learn something about the country and its people. The school is a simple building without electricity or water. Teaching takes place from kindergarten to year nine, in shifts, partly in the morning and partly in the afternoon. We are taken from classroom to classroom, where we chat to the teachers and pupils and everyone is happy about our visit and a little change in the everyday teaching routine.
After the tour, we sit in the "teachers' room", a single desk in the shade of a mango tree with a few folders and a break bell on the table, and learn about the school's problems, first and foremost the school well with its faulty pump. The teachers dream of a solar-powered pump and a school garden where they can grow fruit and vegetables and thus provide some variety in the menu. We experience the same problem again the next day. Kebba, a young man from the village, shows us around and shows us the village vegetable garden, which looks more like a piece of desert.
Only a few square metres are cultivated, where cassava, tomatoes, chives and a handful of other plants grow. The rest of the garden lies fallow. Here, too, the reason is a broken well. Kebba dreams of an electric pump so that he doesn't have to pump every litre of water hand over hand from a depth of twelve metres. He wants to know if we can help him. We can contribute a certain amount, and perhaps someone will feel inspired. Perhaps together we can realise one of the "village pump" or "school pump" projects. If you are interested - you can write to us or donate to our "coffee fund" with the subject "Bombale". On the way back we will stop again at the small village of Bombale. It goes without saying that the money will be passed on in full.
Every time we visit a new place, we get to know lots of people, every new acquaintance is an enrichment, and sometimes we can also give something back. For example, our yellow dinghy, which is not so suitable for the sea but is good for the river, has found a new, proud owner here in Bombale. And with a bit of luck, we were able to get the village's only outboard motor running again.
The trip to Africa is something very special for us. We live close to nature and get to know places that are rarely visited by other sailors or tourists. It's very safe here, we haven't locked our boat for months. The locals are extremely hospitable and helpful, and the nature is breathtakingly beautiful.
The only catch - precisely because of this pristine nature, we can't just jump into the water here to cool off. We cool off in a bucket: the first freshwater shower in a long time.
Further information, pictures and articles about the voyage of the "Aracanga" at Ahoy.blog.
