Day Three. Sanyang to Kololi. 25km
Sunday 9th March. One week later we returned to Sanyang. Using geli-gelis we hopped from town to town along the coast, travelling in reverse approximately the route we would walk the next day; Fajara to Kololi, Kololi to Turntable (a roundabout at the junction of the airport and coastal roads), Turntable to Tanji, Tanji to Sanyang village (inland) and a final vehicle from there to the Sanyang fishing centre. Just before dusk we watched a bizarre cigar-shaped cloud form over the sea. We ate a meal at Rainbow Beach Bar, and sat with a drink under the star-studded black sky, watching energetic crabs running in and out of the lapping waves, and feasting on a dead fish they discovered. Further down the beach we could see the lights of torches as people unloaded contraband from boats arriving under cover of darkness. Then we slept overnight in a guest room, where Louise chose to lock herself in the bathroom to escape from a spider, and subsequently had to kick the door off its hinges in order to get out.
We were up and walking at (nearly) first light. Boats were setting out from Sanyang beach. Even on a relatively calm day, the small wooden boats look vulnerable on a large sea. We rounded Sanyang Point at the top of the bay, passing another lodge, Kobokoto, where I stayed with visiting friends at Christmas. The next bay sweeps past the village of Tujering and up to Solifor point one of the most westerly places in Africa where a long spit of sand and shells protrudes into the sea, and is slowly revealed as the tide recedes. The water was still quite high but we paddled out on this spit and were battered with waves breaking onto us from both sides. They came in perpendicular directions, from northwest and southwest, and when two waves met they produced a very large splash, and if you happened to standing at that point of convergence then you became very wet. It was odd, and a little scary with strong currents, so we did not stay out there long. Nearby a cluster of pelicans mellowed on a rock, looking smug, and we watched them as we ate our breakfast in the shade of a tree.
The next stretch bumps round a couple of corners before opening into Tanji bay. To access this bay we had to pass a red rocky headland and at high tide this involves clambering over the rocks. But the sea was receding for us and we were able to wade through knee-depth water in front of the rocks. Tanji is a daytrip destination for tourists so there are many beach-bars dotted along the bay, and the owners called out as we passed, seeking our custom. We pressed on, past the fish market and smoke-houses, greeting those who took an interest in us, and arrived at the mouth of the River Tanji. This is a more serious river then any we had crossed so far. The road bridge is not far from the beach but for some reason that escapes me we determined that to use the bridge would be cheating. So Louise bravely decided that I should ford this river and discover the best place to cross. The current ran fast in the river itself, but as it joined the sea the strength of the water was slightly reduced, and it was not too deep there. We traversed the river holding our bags above our heads, and clambered out onto the sand, disturbing an enormous flock of seabirds and causing them to flap nosily into the sky and wheel around above our heads before setting on a sandbar in the shallows.
North of the river we discovered a most beautiful stretch of coast. For a long way we walked on a sandbar between the sea on our left and a long lagoon on our right. On the far side of this pool were the trees and thick greenery of the Karanti Bird Reserve. After the bustling activity of the fisheries on Tanji beach, we enjoyed the stark empty isolation of this place. Offshore we viewed through binoculars the Bijol Islands which are part of the Karanti Reserve. These low-lying islands are a breeding ground for numerous birds, and also green turtles and monk seals. After a little way we turned another corner, crossed the shallow outlet from the lagoon and stepped onto Brufut Beach, which at low tide is wide, smooth and clean. From this point onwards we could see Kololi in the far distance, the destination for this day, still 10km away. Parts of Brufut beach are lined with crumbing cliffs of red soil. In places the rocks have collapsed onto the beach in dramatic landslides. Other sections appear to be held together by the roots of enormous Baobab trees. We saw a group of boys throwing pebbles up into the branches, aiming to knock down the large dry fruits, which can be crushed and mixed with water to make a popular local drink.
Half-way along Brufut Beach we arrived at the recently completed Sheraton Hotel Complex, a tastefully appointed cluster of luxury suites (I could be an estate agent), presented in local styles and materials (probably imported), a symbol of profligate decadence and decadent profligacy. Wealthy tourists can stay here for an all-inclusive holiday. Many of them will never leave the site, except to return to the airport by air-conditioned coach at the end. Gambians will never see the profits, which go directly to foreign owners. The food, drink, towels, linen and consumables for the hotel are generally imported, allowing minimal benefit to local businesses. It is easy to complain about this type of place, and it is good to campaign against world disequilibrium. But this is the way things are; in our world lavish opulence lives alongside grinding poverty. This is just as true in Liverpool and Basildon as in Sao Paolo and Mumbai. So in an appropriate and meaningful protest against global capitalism we sneaked off the beach and penetrated the Sheraton site. We brazenly lay on Sheraton sunbeds (and were handed fresh Sheraton towels by an attendant), took a refreshing swim in the Sheraton pool, rode in the Sheraton glass elevator to the top floor for a view of the ocean, and enjoyed a Sheraton bread roll each from an uncleared lunch table on the terrace. I am satisfied that we made our point, and indeed I intend to make a similar protest next time I pass that way.
(Follow this link for a more considered look at responsible tourism).
After an hour we tore ourselves away from our parasol, reapplied suncream, and continued along the beach. As Brufut fishing centre came into view there emerged a curious sight; a line people in red and blue outfits were going through the familiar standing / kneeling / prostrating routine of prayer, shoulder to shoulder across the beach. It is an everyday occurrence to see people praying in any place (at work, in the market, at the side of the street, and on the beach) but what was unusual here was the similarity of the outfits that everyone was wearing. From a distance I thought they were pilgrims from a particular sect who had come to their holy site. But as we drew close we saw that they were all boys and young men. It turns out that this was a gathering of schoolboy football teams, all dressed in red and blue tracksuits (some having Gambia printed on the back, and others with Chelsea).
In these final kilometres there were a number of large jellyfish washed-up on the beach, including the notorious Portuguese Man of War. These are a peculiar sea-animal that look like a transparent pasty with a red stripe on the ridge and purple tips. They normally have green tentacles attached to one side that resembles a clump of grass. Louise asked me if it is possible to eat jellyfish; I am not sure exactly where she was going with this line of thought, but perhaps she was suffering from too much sun. Our feet and muscles were sore and our skin a little tender. So it was a great relief to arrive at the Senegambia Hotel in Kololi and collapse into a chair on their beachside terrace. We drank Julbrew and watched the sun deepen in colour and become a funny squashed shape before sinking into the Atlantic. We changed out of beach clothes into something almost suitable for a restaurant, and devoured pizza at Paradiso. We had walked further on this day than in the total of the previous weekend. And the next morning, and the next evening, it still felt like it.
Read Coast Walk Day 4
Return to Coast Walk Introduction and Index
