Day Seven. Madiyana to Buniada Point and then to Ginak Niji (via Senegal). 15km
Saturday 17th April. In the morning it was pleasing to find we had not been eaten by leopards or manatees. The advantage of sleeping on the uncomfortable ground is that as soon as there is light, you become pretty keen to get up and start the day. In our case we had a little more walking to do, and an international boundary to sneak across. First we took advantage of a shipping navigation tower located nearby that could be climbed by its steel ladder. At the top of this tower is a large white placard which, when lined up with another marker on a rig a mile out in the ocean, indicates a safe passage for vessels between the rocks and into the Gambia estuary. I climbed a little way up this tower to get a view over Ginak Island, and back towards Banjul. However, I became perturbed by the wobbly behaviour of the ladder and chickened out before I was very high, failing in the process to get any good photographs.
But even from beach level it was possible to see all the way back to Fort Bullen in Barra. We could see the first ferry of the day crossing from Banjul. In Banjul it was possible to identify Arch 22 and the pair of minarets on the new mosque. Further along we viewed the coast we had previously walked towards Banjul, with Cape Point in the far distance. With binoculars we could make out the tower of the peanut oil plant and the floodlights of the Independence Stadium in Bakau, not far from Louise’s house.
We made our way towards Buniada Point, where were found pelicans serenely swimming on a lagoon, but they were disturbed by our presence and flew away and out to sea. Pelicans are large birds, and they take off from the water with a great effort of flapping and complaining. But once airborne they can soar on thermals, eclipsing even the vultures with their ability to glide majestically in groups, turning circles around each other against the blue sky. On this stretch of beach we found the green shells of sea urchins, some still living and complete with black spikes, and others empty and spikeless. And at some point after Buniada Point, we crossed the frontier between The Gambia and Senegal. This border, drawn by the British and French in colonial times, needlessly divides Ginak Island into a Gambian South and a Senegalese North. However, the border is of little consequence to the local population, who pass freely between the villages on either side.
At the north-western tip of the island we found a small lodge built to serve French tourists coming by river pirogue from Toubacouta in Senegal, on excursions for a night or two on Ginak. We discovered that we had walked into a cul-de-sac, that the route ahead was blocked by mangroves and sea water, and that the only way out from this point would be to return the way we had come. But fortunately the attendant at the lodge offered to take us to the nearby village of Ginak Barra in his canoe, and he punted us across the water using a long pole. Here we were greeted as celebrities, and we ate lunch from a village bitiko in the shade of a bantaba shelter, surrounded by local children. Next we asked to be shown the way towards the village of Ginak Niji, and some boys started us off on the right road, and were kind enough to leave us alone when we asked.
We had finished our coastal expedition, but still had a good distance to walk. We had to get back into The Gambia, find somewhere to sleep, and locate transport back to Barra. Away from the coast the heat became intense. The sun was high in the sky, and we were glad to find shade beneath cashew trees alongside our dusty track. We regularly paused to rest and drink water (we had new bottles from the bitiko in the village). At one point we lay under a tree beside a marijuana field, and slept for a while. Some boys came by with a tub of harvested cashews, and reassured us that we were on the right road. Eventually we came to the village of Ginak Kajata, and then shortly afterwards to Ginak Niji, where we stayed the night in a simple local lodge overlooking the bolong.
The next morning we woke as the sun rose over the bolong, and washed in a bucket of river water provided in the outdoor bathroom. We crossed the water by canoe and waited for the Landrover taxi to Barra. We rode along sandy tracks, across salt flats and through mangroves. Some of these parts must be almost impassable during the rains, and I can see why they use a Landrover. We arrived at the Barra ferry terminal, and sailed to Banjul.
We have walked the whole coast of The Gambia. Where next? Perhaps Greenland? Or Chile may be. But not yet; I need a rest.
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