DAY FOUR
On day four, whilst the others toasted gently with their evenly spread Factor 400, I disguised myself as a mobile laundry; using extra T-shirts and shorts to cover the bits that hurt whilst trying to even up the bits that remained white.
By lunchtime I needed a break from the midday sun so Ian and I decided to go for a walk into Banjul.
We'd passed Independence Drive a couple of times and I'd been told there were some great views from the top of Arch 22 (built to commemorate the 22 July 1994 coup) which stood at one end.
It took precisely 10 seconds into our excursion before we were joined by a bumster. He was friendly enough and not at all threatening.
He recommended a particular suntan lotion, tried to give us directions and sight-seeing tips and generally just chatted to us.
We crossed the road about five times and changed direction about four times before he finally got the hint and gave up.
Arch 22 is worth the entrance fee for the views alone. As an added bonus there's also a cafe half way up and a small museum at the top.
We turned down the lift in favour of taking the stairs and my head was spinning by the time we reached the viewing platforms.
You can really get a birdseye view (remind me to tell you about the birds later - especially the vultures!) of the island.
It gives you a true perspective of Banjul City. From the beaches to the river, the affluent hotels to the tumbled down shacks, the litter and the goats.
It was about 2pm when we got back to street level and something strange had happened to the outside world.
Independence Drive had come to a complete standstill and a silence had descended.
Vehicles had parked in the middle of the street, stalls and shops had stopped serving - even the bumsters were noticeable by their absence.
For as far as the eye could see - on pavements on both sides of the road - Muslim men, women and children were at prayer.
The only people on the move were us and a handful of Gambian Christians. I felt as though we were intruding. I wanted to take a photo but thought it would be disrespectful.
It was the second of my 'lump in the throat' moments.
I've never witnessed the power of religion to such a degree. It's certainly not something you'd see in the UK.
D-I-S-C-O
The rest of the day was spent with more sunbathing, swimming in the sea and in the pool (making full use of the fact that the 'family from hell' were not about) and then a couple of drinks before supper.
After we'd eaten, Lamin found us a table close to the band - but we didn't get a chance to enjoy another beer.
In minutes we were cajoled onto the dancefloor by the staff and however hard we tried to escape, we were just ushered back for more dancing!
It wasn't until the band played its fifth rendition of the 12" version of "Give Me Hope, Joanna" that we finally made it back to our seats.
Against our better judgement - and inspired by our new found dancing skills - we decided to pay a visit to the hotel's "80s Disco Night".
That's where we met Heidi and Andi (two young policewomen from Manchester) and Kevin and Annette (who'd also been on the same Truck Safari as us). Hi to you all if you're reading this.
We danced non-stop until 2am.
In the words of the song; "Oh What A Night..."
DAY FIVE
Saturday was a lazy day. At last my tan(burn) had evened up so I could bare my bits once again. We HAD planned a night on the town in Koli - but we're all in our 40s now..... lol.
We ended up having an early night, ready for an early start and tour number two in the morning.
I enjoyed reading your blog