Well the adventure has come to end and now the dust has settled, the sand has finally stopped coming out of my ears and shoes and life starts to take on the normal pace it is time to wrap this blog up.
Working backwards in time like any good archaeologist: the trip was an overall success. We arrived in Banjul on schedule only to find the organisers schedule was not as clear cut as our own. The auction was delayed till the following Sunday so we missed our beloved Jeep being sold off. It sold for £1040.52, less than the white jeep, dare I say it! The overall total made in the auction from group one cars was £20,973.65. However we have been promised photos, which will get uploaded along with a comprehensive set of other pics from the adventure. However like before the trip began trying to coordinate 3 sandmen is like herding cats, it only became possible when we were all contained in the space of our leather seated Cherokee with one common aim, so don’t hold your breath. The three jeep teams will all be having a reunion soon, to re-live some of the finer moments and swap pics.
Crossing into Gambia from Senegal at first seemed straight forward, but that was before we arrived at the ferry port. The system appeared to be squash as many vehicles and people around the gates, barely let the arrivals get off and then a free for all squash into the queuing lanes. Red Jeep pulled an impressive move somehow weaving through lanes much to the amazement of locals, as the freedom of the gates loomed in site a merc blocked his way, undeterred red jeep pushed on, resulting in the merc having its front lamp smashed in. A crowd gathered and no translation was needed to see that the merc driver was pretty narked. No problem says Kev, i'll be back in a min. Strolling back a little later with a mew lamp in his hand seemed to diffuse the situation. Later it was revealed that he had unscrewed it off the German teams Merc Hearse that they had been towing for the last few hundred km and had left a little way back. Hustlers worked their way through our convoy.. with sand broken phones; unwanted tyres and other random equipment were traded for cold beer. Time slipped by (seven hours) ferries came and went and the light faded. Finally we were off. Towing a heavy Saab we made our way onto the ferry. Which can be imagined as a very rusty Isle of White ferry crossed with a crusher’s yard and then had the equivalent numbers of people present at Glastonbury festival dropped onto it.
Driving through Senegal was pleasantly uneventful, and a blast of colour and freshness from the desert wastes and desperateness of the Sahara. A day trip to the colonial crumbling town of St Louis provided some needed relief from driving.
Saying 'desert wastes' is rather unfair. The landscape was incredible and very varied from Lawrence of Arabia drive as fast as you can flip your jeep or get stuck dunes to smash your suspension tussocks "was that a spring that just fell off white jeep, James?... nah its not important...." to choke and go blind, fix your fuel filter and eat cold tinned ravioli in the middle of a sandstorm expanses, to amazing sand polished rounded granite outcrops. The final stretch into Atar was spectacular climbing out of the desert and over a range of mountains, dropping down into another valley with interesting settlements of bee-hive shaped dwellings. A kamikaze camel bounced off the side of the jeep about 5km from Atar. Atar itself looked like a set out of Black Hawk down, with dodgy dealers trying to sell us fuel out of barrels. After 3 days unplanned in the desert we were down to what was left in our tanks! By the time we rolled into the capital we really looked like we had been lost in the desert. What I thought was a tan soon washed off and blocked up the plug hole. The next day saw an early start despite everyone being knacked. We were headed for the Senegal border and making a bid to catch the rest of the convoy before they began to think that perhaps we were under equipped and foolhardy for our route 2 expedition.. as if...!
The border bargained, bantered and negotiated by Kev went pretty smoothly. The road (un-surfaced track) to the border consisted of a dyke and bank used for irrigation and flood protection. After the desert this was nothing and we cruised down it. Trying to drink cold custard from a sharp tin can wile doing 80km an hour in retro respect proved not to be the best idea I had that day, although for the first time since the trip began I could stick my hair back out of the way.... Reaching the campsite in Senegal we found it already full with fellow teams. Beers were sunk and stories swapped,, From here on in, it would be on-mass convoy driving all the way to Banjul. The obvious happened and cars started to clap out every few km, even ours had an episode of overheating, although that turned out to be the result of human error (not screwing the radiator cap back on!) Mentioning no names James.. Then again if he was writing I am sure he would not mention the fact that I locked the keys in the Jeep the evening before in my rush to get to the bar. We remedied this with a tent peg and thin piece of mental provided by team Bodge...
The head gasket went on an old Renault 5 and despite pleas of common sense to just ditch it, it some how got dragged all the way.. We were considering offering up the new found skills of Hue and his now highly developed snatch tow manoeuvre,,.. Had we been allowed they may have just had to drag the front axel only! So stop start stop start we slowly closed on the border and ferry port.......... and thats where I came in...
So down to the important stuff.... see next blog posting
Working backwards in time like any good archaeologist: the trip was an overall success. We arrived in Banjul on schedule only to find the organisers schedule was not as clear cut as our own. The auction was delayed till the following Sunday so we missed our beloved Jeep being sold off. It sold for £1040.52, less than the white jeep, dare I say it! The overall total made in the auction from group one cars was £20,973.65. However we have been promised photos, which will get uploaded along with a comprehensive set of other pics from the adventure. However like before the trip began trying to coordinate 3 sandmen is like herding cats, it only became possible when we were all contained in the space of our leather seated Cherokee with one common aim, so don’t hold your breath. The three jeep teams will all be having a reunion soon, to re-live some of the finer moments and swap pics.
Crossing into Gambia from Senegal at first seemed straight forward, but that was before we arrived at the ferry port. The system appeared to be squash as many vehicles and people around the gates, barely let the arrivals get off and then a free for all squash into the queuing lanes. Red Jeep pulled an impressive move somehow weaving through lanes much to the amazement of locals, as the freedom of the gates loomed in site a merc blocked his way, undeterred red jeep pushed on, resulting in the merc having its front lamp smashed in. A crowd gathered and no translation was needed to see that the merc driver was pretty narked. No problem says Kev, i'll be back in a min. Strolling back a little later with a mew lamp in his hand seemed to diffuse the situation. Later it was revealed that he had unscrewed it off the German teams Merc Hearse that they had been towing for the last few hundred km and had left a little way back. Hustlers worked their way through our convoy.. with sand broken phones; unwanted tyres and other random equipment were traded for cold beer. Time slipped by (seven hours) ferries came and went and the light faded. Finally we were off. Towing a heavy Saab we made our way onto the ferry. Which can be imagined as a very rusty Isle of White ferry crossed with a crusher’s yard and then had the equivalent numbers of people present at Glastonbury festival dropped onto it.
Driving through Senegal was pleasantly uneventful, and a blast of colour and freshness from the desert wastes and desperateness of the Sahara. A day trip to the colonial crumbling town of St Louis provided some needed relief from driving.
Saying 'desert wastes' is rather unfair. The landscape was incredible and very varied from Lawrence of Arabia drive as fast as you can flip your jeep or get stuck dunes to smash your suspension tussocks "was that a spring that just fell off white jeep, James?... nah its not important...." to choke and go blind, fix your fuel filter and eat cold tinned ravioli in the middle of a sandstorm expanses, to amazing sand polished rounded granite outcrops. The final stretch into Atar was spectacular climbing out of the desert and over a range of mountains, dropping down into another valley with interesting settlements of bee-hive shaped dwellings. A kamikaze camel bounced off the side of the jeep about 5km from Atar. Atar itself looked like a set out of Black Hawk down, with dodgy dealers trying to sell us fuel out of barrels. After 3 days unplanned in the desert we were down to what was left in our tanks! By the time we rolled into the capital we really looked like we had been lost in the desert. What I thought was a tan soon washed off and blocked up the plug hole. The next day saw an early start despite everyone being knacked. We were headed for the Senegal border and making a bid to catch the rest of the convoy before they began to think that perhaps we were under equipped and foolhardy for our route 2 expedition.. as if...!
The border bargained, bantered and negotiated by Kev went pretty smoothly. The road (un-surfaced track) to the border consisted of a dyke and bank used for irrigation and flood protection. After the desert this was nothing and we cruised down it. Trying to drink cold custard from a sharp tin can wile doing 80km an hour in retro respect proved not to be the best idea I had that day, although for the first time since the trip began I could stick my hair back out of the way.... Reaching the campsite in Senegal we found it already full with fellow teams. Beers were sunk and stories swapped,, From here on in, it would be on-mass convoy driving all the way to Banjul. The obvious happened and cars started to clap out every few km, even ours had an episode of overheating, although that turned out to be the result of human error (not screwing the radiator cap back on!) Mentioning no names James.. Then again if he was writing I am sure he would not mention the fact that I locked the keys in the Jeep the evening before in my rush to get to the bar. We remedied this with a tent peg and thin piece of mental provided by team Bodge...
The head gasket went on an old Renault 5 and despite pleas of common sense to just ditch it, it some how got dragged all the way.. We were considering offering up the new found skills of Hue and his now highly developed snatch tow manoeuvre,,.. Had we been allowed they may have just had to drag the front axel only! So stop start stop start we slowly closed on the border and ferry port.......... and thats where I came in...
So down to the important stuff.... see next blog posting
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