CURRENTS

So today we are in The Gambia and heading off on a ship’s excursion to a beach resort. Not that there was any rush, as we weren’t due alongside until 11am and our tour didn’t leave until 12:15, so we enjoyed a leisurely morning before venturing ashore.

Stepping off the ship, we were greeted by what can only be described as another rather uninspiring working port. Dust filled the air, the smell of tar lingered everywhere, and guests were thoughtfully bringing both back onto the ship via the soles of their shoes. As we disembarked, we spotted the Navy Seals and an impressive collection of Pelican cases, no doubt containing equipment far more exciting than sunscreen and beach towels, loading up into a heavily armoured vehicle. Apparently, security concerns had eased enough for them to leave us to our own devices. Whether that meant things had dropped from Defcon 1 to merely “good luck everyone” remained unclear.

We then boarded what would soon become the notorious Bus 12.

Bus 12 looked like it had been proudly serving the public since sometime around the early 1980s, possibly earlier. It was hot, noisy, and sounded distinctly unhappy just idling in the car park. After a lengthy wait, we eventually set off. Well, “set off” might be overstating things. We sort of limped away from the port at a pace that suggested urgency was not one of Bus 12’s strengths. It appeared to have access to only a limited selection of gears, resulting in a journey that was equal parts bumpy ride and mechanical brutality test.

About ten minutes into the trip, our guide’s phone rang. Two guests had apparently missed the bus. To our disbelief, we turned around and headed back to collect them. This involved a spectacular U-turn across a busy main road, temporarily bringing traffic in both directions to a standstill. We crawled back to the port where the offending couple casually wandered aboard without so much as a hint of apology. The rest of us sat there silently, practising our patience.

Eventually, we resumed our journey.

What should have been a 20-minute drive turned into nearly an hour thanks to Bus 12’s apparent inability to exceed 20 mph and our unexpected rescue mission.

At last, we arrived at the Ocean Bay Hotel & Resort, which at first glance looked perfectly acceptable. We were ushered into the foyer, much to our confusion, as our priority was reaching the pool and finding a cold drink. It soon became apparent that the staff weren’t entirely certain we were actually arriving that day. Employees hurried into position, the beach bar sprang into life, and preparations suddenly began at an impressive pace.

Once shown to the pool area, we discovered the soothing holiday ambience was being provided by a team demolishing the pool bar with jackhammers. Seeking a quieter spot, we wandered down to the beach, only to find it completely deserted. No guests, no sunbeds, and very little evidence that anyone had been there recently.

At the beach bar, we attempted to order four beers for ourselves, Craig, and Joyce. We asked if we could simply run a tab. Apparently not. Local currency only, no dollars, no cards. Faced with this obstacle, we cancelled the order and headed back towards the pool. After some discussion, we were informed that dollars would in fact be accepted, although every round came with its own bill. Eventually, after a bit of negotiation, they agreed to let us stack the receipts and settle up later.

Progress.

We settled under a large wooden pergola and reflected on the day’s adventures so far. Following numerous complaints from guests, the demolition work was eventually halted, which was nice because from that point onwards all the noise was coming from us rather than the construction crew.

Around 2pm we were informed that the complimentary buffet lunch was running out. This seemed odd as most of our fellow bus passengers were still outside around the pool. Curious, we wandered into the dining room and discovered around 60 local professionals helping themselves to the buffet. Quite what arrangement had been made was anyone’s guess, but it certainly looked as though our excursion fees were contributing to a wider community lunch programme.

Not wanting to miss out, we quickly secured a table and loaded our plates before supplies dwindled further.

After lunch we returned to our designated drinking positions and were joined by Mark and Sharon, fellow ATW cruisers. Together we continued our determined exploration of the local beer selection. With each successive round, the bottles seemed to become slightly warmer, suggesting the resort had perhaps underestimated the thirst levels of cruise passengers.

Meanwhile, Lorna and Joyce headed off in search of rum with our guide. They returned shortly afterwards carrying a couple of bottles and news that another was being sourced from elsewhere by a shopkeeper. Quite where “elsewhere” was remained a mystery, but we weren’t asking questions.

Lorna had done an excellent job negotiating, and thanks to her efforts our cabin bar was now fully restocked. This was particularly fortunate as we had completely run out the previous day, which was beginning to feel like a genuine emergency.

At around 5:30pm we slowly made our way back to Bus 12 for the return journey. There was a slight concern as to whether the bus would actually make it back to the ship, but there was only one way to find out.

We had to walk some distance down the road to board, presumably because the reverse gear had been left somewhere between the resort and the port.

Everyone settled nervously into their seats.

The first ten metres were uneventful. Then the engine stalled.

The driver struggled to find a gear, eventually deciding that using the starter motor as an alternative propulsion system was the way forward. The bus lurched and bounced down the road until the engine finally burst back into life. This process repeated itself numerous times throughout the journey, each stall providing fresh entertainment and a renewed appreciation for modern vehicle maintenance.

Against all odds, Bus 12 delivered us safely back to the port.

Upon returning to the ship, we immediately headed to the Waves Pool Bar, opened one of our newly acquired bottles of rum, and mixed it with complimentary cokes from the bar.

After the day’s adventures, it felt like exactly the right thing to do.

Later that evening we headed up to The Terrace for dinner and a catch-up with Rick and Diane, who had also endured an eventful day involving their transport breaking down and a similar amount of unexpected drama.

As we swapped stories over our meal, it quickly became clear that The Gambia had delivered an unforgettable experience to just about everyone who ventured out on a ship’s tour today. It seemed no excursion was complete without some form of mechanical failure, logistical challenge, or minor adventure.

In fact, as more guests returned to the ship, the stories just kept getting better. By the end of the evening, it was beginning to feel as though the excursions had been less about sightseeing and more about seeing who could make it back with the most entertaining tale.