Traveling to The Gambia on an Adventure Cruise - Condé Nast Traveler
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It wasn’t a particularly compelling picture—we were in the small port capital of Banjul, Gambia, where palms and minarets punctuated a skyline otherwise dominated by low-slung buildings with rusted tin roofs—but we happened to be visiting on Gambia’s independence day, which commemorates the West African nation’s independence from Britain, and the cheers and gunfire coming from down below felt like an appropriate tribute to Julie’s globetrotting milestone. Julie had always been an avid traveler, but recently widowed, she had ramped up her world exploration; recent trips included Papua New Guinea and Madagascar. We had exchanged friendly hellos over the previous couple of days, but snapping her portrait was the perfect ice breaker, especially as we were both traveling solo. Our polite exchange of pleasantries quickly morphed into a conversation about adding the word “the” in front of a country’s name. The definite article was rather pejorative when placed before Ukraine and Sudan, but in Gambia—or The Gambia—the locals insisted on its inclusion; it harkened the nation’s namesake river, a source of great pride. Cruising The Gambia on the 'Harmony G' Brandon Presser The Gambia might have been been Julie’s 150th—or even 180th—country had it not been for a Greek sea captain who, around a decade ago, took his small cruiser, the Harmony G, up the River Gambia for a looksee. He was instantly captivated not only by the dramatic wildlife, but by the warm and inviting people who welcomed him into their communities wherever he made landfall. A plan was made for the Harmony G, which usually plied the waters of the Cyclades in the summer months, to sail through The Gambia from January to March—the driest time of year. A blight in tourism due to the spread of ebola in nearby countries delayed lift off, but this year with the support of Peregine Adventures, several small groups of 20-some passengers—including Julie and me—sailed deep into the recesses of a country that’s largely been off of everyone’s tourism radar, save a smattering of European birders who brave the interminably rutty roads. As our weeklong journey continued upriver, Julie and I began to accrue a gang of regulars at our dinner table onboard: a couple of retired teachers from Australia, a Canadian professor based in Dakar traveling with her American friend, and a New York filmmaker looking for inspiration for a new project. After comparing our best snaps of the day—be it craning egrets or colorful barter markets—evening chatter would inevitably devolve into fish-this-big stories from other recent trips. Everyone made sure to work in a nightly mention of the fact that they were cruising virgins, preferring to beat their own path; yet here we all were, captivated by a sense of adventure and romance of reaching a place where a car simply couldn’t go. Mooring at the village of Kuntaur was a highlight for our group, as we were invited into local homes and followed down dusty streets by inquisitive teenagers—we even traded WhatsApp numbers with the most outspoken villagers (Buba sent me 20 photos of his rice harvest the other day). At the farthest point upriver we boarded a smaller craft—a rickety wooden boat—that sailed onward as the waterway narrowed, passing a horde of wading hippos and a colony of wild chimpanzees reintroduced to the region during a conservation project in the 1970s. In a way it all felt too easy—like cheating—that we could carry our creature comforts with us like a turtle as we journeyed so intensely through a destination unaccustomed to visitors. But our lifeline—with its running water, air conditioning, and plenty of feta salad—has unexpectedly primed The Gambia for soft adventure. So it certainly doesn’t have to be your 100th country. CNT Collection