On the road to St Louis .........Mimi fell asleep straight away and Teo was bright as a little button, fascinated by all the birds coming in to roost over the marsh lands we drove through. We had been told of a brilliant campsite 16 km south of St. Louis, about 90 km in total on

a road with the deepest potholes we'd encountered. Now it was nearly dark so all three of us were on pot-hole watch.

We made pretty good progress, all things considered until we were 500m from the camp site. We saw the sign for the

campsite but it was unclear exactly where the road was. We took our best guest but it turned out to be deep sand and we

were stuck. I got out and found a perfectly good hard track just 10m to our right. We tried pushing her back but to no

avail so Mick uncoupled the trailer by which time loads of kids had turned up, all ready to push. This time Pinky flew

back at great speed, straight into the trailer - ahhhh. Luckily she only smashed her tail lights, but poor Pinky, it was like

she'd been subjected to rape and battery. We finally found the campsite, which was amazing and had our first beer for

over a week (a long time for us as you all know) - (my praying mantis is back but this time he's on my little finger making

typing quite difficult.) When we woke the following morning it was hard to believe that Paradise could possible be that

close to Hell.

The campsite was in a nature reserve on the edge of the river which is separated from the Atlantic Ocean at this point by

a long spit of land called the Langue de barbarie. They had canoes with which we could cross the river and walk over to

the sea and then explore the inland waterways full of herons, egrets, hornbills etc. In the campsite they had loads of play

structures including treehouses and tight-ropes. It really was heaven so we stayed three days, just about enough to

recover from our Rosso experience, although having just relived it to write about it, I'm not sure I'll ever fully recover!

Next stop Sali, the french equivalent of the Gambia to the British. All the beach front taken up by big hotels, just alittle

more chic and subdued than the British version. We had to drive right through the town before we found a sign to the

beach. We followed the road which passed through some gates and into a large field scattered with building plots.

However, there was the sea so we parked up to investigate - it was lovely. The security guard appeared and we asked if

we could camp there, no problem came the reply. So there we were right on the beach between huge holiday complexes.

On the road to St Louis .........Mimi fell asleep straight away and Teo was bright as a little button, fascinated by all the birds coming in to roost over the marsh lands we drove through. We had been told of a brilliant campsite 16 km south of St. Louis, about 90 km in total on a road with the deepest potholes we'd encountered. Now it was nearly dark so all three of us were on pot-hole watch.

We made pretty good progress, all things considered until we were 500m from the camp site. We saw the sign for the

campsite but it was unclear exactly where the road was. We took our best guest but it turned out to be deep sand and we

were stuck. I got out and found a perfectly good hard track just 10m to our right. We tried pushing her back but to no

avail so Mick uncoupled the trailer by which time loads of kids had turned up, all ready to push. This time Pinky flew

back at great speed, straight into the trailer - ahhhh. Luckily she only smashed her tail lights, but poor Pinky, it was like

she'd been subjected to rape and battery. We finally found the campsite, which was amazing and had our first beer for

over a week (a long time for us as you all know) - (my praying mantis is back but this time he's on my little finger making

typing quite difficult.) When we woke the following morning it was hard to believe that Paradise could possible be that

close to Hell.

The campsite was in a nature reserve on the edge of the river which is separated from the Atlantic Ocean at this point by

a long spit of land called the Langue de barbarie. They had canoes with which we could cross the river and walk over to

the sea and then explore the inland waterways full of herons, egrets, hornbills etc. In the campsite they had loads of play

structures including treehouses and tight-ropes. It really was heaven so we stayed three days, just about enough to

recover from our Rosso experience, although having just relived it to write about it, I'm not sure I'll ever fully recover!

Next stop Sali, the french equivalent of the Gambia to the British. All the beach front taken up by big hotels, just alittle

more chic and subdued than the British version. We had to drive right through the town before we found a sign to the

beach. We followed the road which passed through some gates and into a large field scattered with building plots.

However, there was the sea so we parked up to investigate - it was lovely. The security guard appeared and we asked if

we could camp there, no problem came the reply. So there we were right on the beach between huge holiday complexes.