Game for Gambia!
If you want bargain winter sun, this West African country has it all (plus direct flights)
Roughly the size of East Anglia, The gambia sprawls along the banks of a West African river up to six miles wide, and was one of Britain’s first and last colonies (1664-1965), famous for peanuts, chimpanzees and magnificent beaches.
As it happens, I have some family history here. My great-greatgrandfather, Dr hart gimlette, sailed up the gambia River in 1861 with the Royal Navy. They were here to suppress slavery. he fought in two vicious battles and wrote home about the crocodiles, monkeys and Mandinka warriors.
Today, it’s democratic, largely Muslim and multilingual. There are eight main tribes. ‘We have no natural borders,’ said our driver, ‘everyone’s here. We all rub along.’
During our winter, temperatures in the gambia are gorgeous, and the sea is warm. There are direct flights, no time difference, and plenty of beachside hotels.
Even better, a holiday here won’t break the bank — in fact, it costs half the price of Caribbean equivalents. We began on the river, deep in a mangrove forest. The reserve, Makasutu (‘ Mecca in the forest’), is considered to be charmed. People leave it alone, so wildlife runs riot. With more than 600 bird species, it’s a carnival of feathers and colour. The Mandina River lodge has houseboats on the creek. I loved this place with its boardwalks, thatched spires and a bar like a giant straw hat.
Kingfishers came to the swimming pool and every now and then a huge troupe of baboons called by, in the vague hope of scraps.
At the Senegambia, a beach hotel, blocks of rooms were enveloped in lush tropical gardens, with monkeys and vultures. The beach is endless. The sand was black in parts, and speckled with shells like the night sky. In the evening, we’d walk to the Strip, a street of restaurants. Everyone was here: politicians, shoe-shiners, the beautiful and the donkeys.
Ngala lodge was one of my favourite hotels. It was smaller and had its own cove. Built around a colonial villa, its lawns rippled down the beach. We went out to Cape Point and the Calypso Bar, a restaurant at the mouth of the river with a giant tree house.
I also ventured into Banjul — Africa’s smallest capital, with everything cracked and crumbling. one of the suburbs is called half Die, which says it all. I did, however, find a plaque to my ancestor’s comrade, lieutenant hamilton.
Even better was the National Museum — a treasure trove of indigenous artefacts and colonial junk. We also stopped at Juffureh, the village made famous by Alex haley in his book Roots. our guide even produced a ‘distant relative of Kunta Kinte’. For 100 Dalasi (or £1.17) I could take her picture.
Saba, the battlefield, was exactly as my ancestor described; swampy and overgrown. I did, however, find stumps of mahogany, all that was left of the Mandinkas’ stockade.
Back at Ngala lodge, we talked about coming back. gambia has warmth — in every sense.