Senegal 2026

RAS Trip to Senegal
The timing of the trip to Senegal was predicated on the rainy season which starts towards the end of April as the inter tropical convergence zone follows the sun northwards. Most participants expressed a preference for it to not to coincide with Easter, so the window for what was to be a very nearly three-week trip was actually quite tight.
We originally had eight aircraft down to attend but unfortunately, we lost three in the run up due to medical, family and mechanical issues. We were lucky to have five aircraft as Richard Menage got his C206 back from a complete engine overhaul only a week before we left. Sadly, one of the casualties was our trip leader, Marie-Josee Hunter, but fortunately Richard had been with her on the recce back in November 2025 so was able to seamlessly step into her shoes.
The brief for the trip was to meet in Marrakesh on Friday, 10 April. With the threat of poor weather in northern Europe a group of three aircraft comprising Richard Menage (with Jean-Michel Munn), Gilbert Greenall (with Melissa and Leila) and me (with Sophie) travelled from the UK and overnighted in San Sebastian on 7 April. This would give us four days to make it to our rendezvous in Morocco. The first mechanical issue occurred as Gil was travelling from Jersey to La Rochelle when his undercarriage would not retract - luckily, they found a friendly mechanic who resolved the problem. It was also here that we had our first experience of the chaotic nature of landing at Spanish airports. Gil’s paperwork for arrival at San Sebastian was not up to their required bureaucratic standard and he was denied permission to land. A diversion to Biarritz proved to be equally problematic after they tried to charge him an extortionate amount for an unplanned diversion and overnight accommodation, however we managed to rearrange a slot at San Sebastian and the group was united.
The following day more chaos ensued and our flight plans to Grenada were refused as we did not appear to have the correct mandatory handling agent lined up despite having emailed them weeks before. Richard Menage was reprimanded for not asking permission to push his aircraft into the vacant start or shutting engine down box on the apron! The next mechanical problem occurred on departure; the retract “gear unsafe” warning light came on in my Lance. I knew the gear was up as the plane was flying properly. On landing at Grenada it was very comforting to have Jean-Michel diagnose the problem to be a failed switch in the undercarriage bay. The purpose of the switch is to ascertain that the undercarriage has indeed retracted properly but with the switch broken this was not going to happen. We were always going to encounter some bad weather on our route south and with an hour to go we hit a weather bank around the high hills north of our destination. Menage went under and through it, Gil went over and then through it and I went round it! Our prearranged handling agent failed to materialise, and we ended up requesting the refueller ourselves. We then walked about 200 yards across the apron to the GA terminal where we were told that we should in no circumstances have done that!
A good night in Grenada and a less chaotic departure to Marrakesh the following day, although Malaga air traffic refused our clearance request to transit their CTR meaning we had to take a route way out to sea.
Bear Gosling (with Terry Holloway) and Chris Cobham (with Afandi Darlington) left a day later than us and, after a gentle meander through France and Spain, ended up in Jerez on 9 April. Their experience of Spanish airports was better than ours and although Jerez is more expensive it appears to be more used to dealing with GA traffic.
Meanwhile our three-ship formation had made it to Marrakesh where we refuelled and were taken to our hotel about 45 minutes’ drive away. This was a charming Moroccan Kasbah owned by a friend of David Ponte. After three days of hard flying a day off was very welcome. We were joined by the other four who flew from Jerez on the 10 April, and Seamus Lyons who had flown commercially from London. It was our colourful and entertaining host’s birthday and that night we were included in his celebrations where a local band had us singing and dancing around the tables. That evening the heavens opened - torrential rain and hail, the courtyards were awash, carpets were rolled up and furniture moved. A dramatic sight that does not happen often.
There were ongoing questions about whether we really did have permission for our flight the following day into that part of Morocco known as Western Sahara. Marie-Josee had been tearing her hair out for several months trying to secure this. Western Sahara is one of those disputed bits of territory of which the Moroccans administer about 95%. The handling agent was trying to deal with it as was our host who had a senior family relative in the military. No one, except us, seemed too concerned. Our worry was that if permission was denied the whole trip could have been jeopardised and all the fuel that had been carefully positioned at strategic places along the route would go to waste together with all the prepaid hotels etc etc. As it happened, the magic piece of paper arrived that evening.
We woke early, as the following day was one of the longest flying days of the whole trip; 420nm to Laayoune followed by 270nm to Dakhla. However, as the saying goes “the best laid plans don’t survive first contact with the enemy”. The enemy proved to be the weather and our flight plans. We arrived at the airport having all filed our VFR flight plans on Skydemon and were shown to the very smart GA business centre where our wallets were emptied with some of the most expensive handling charges anyone could imagine, and Avgas priced at €4 Euros a litre. No wonder the owner of the business drove a very smart Porsche!
As to be expected Bear was ready to go first and, when he radioed in for start, he was told that the conditions were not VFR and that his flight plan had been refused. It turned out that they did not recognise the Skydemon reporting points in lat/long. We ended up being transported to the control tower where we filled in the old-fashioned paper flight plans which needed to have ALL the names of the unpronounceable VFR reporting points along our route. So having anticipated an early start we eventually got airborne after midday. One of the quirks of flying in Morocco was when checking-in at each reporting point, not only did we have to provide an ETA for the next, but we had to list each remaining reporting point ahead.
Strong tailwinds whisked us south and the trip to Laayoune was spectacular. This started with the Atlas Mountains with its lush valleys which soon gave way to very rugged desert followed by sand as far as the eye could see. Our route took us along the coastline and soon we were landing at Laayoune. Our prearranged drums of Avgas were wheeled out to us on a cart and the team of refuellers did a magnificent job of using a hand pump to fill up all of the aircraft. A ridiculously cheap landing fee was paid, another paper flight plan filled in longhand, and we were soon on our way down the coast again with our strong tailwind.
We landed in Dakhla at about 7pm local time where another very efficient team refuelled us, again with a hand pump, flight plans were filled in for the following day and we were soon on our way with a team of chaotic taxis to The South Bay Hotel. Dakhla is a kite surfers paradise, and the few palm trees tell the story by not having any leaves on the windward side.
The first Moroccan beer that evening tasted delicious. We were joined at dinner time by Birame Coulibaly and two of his colleagues who had flown from Dakar the day before. Birame is the President of the Dakar Aero Club, and they had come to escort us across Mauritania and down to Senegal the following day.
An earlyish start saw us depart Dakhla at about 10.30 local time having cleared customs and received our briefing from Birame. About 45 minutes later we crossed into Mauritanian airspace where each aircraft had an individual clearance. On first contact they wanted to know the clearance number. Soon Gilbert was told that he did not have clearance and that he needed to leave their airspace. So out to sea he went. Mercifully, Birame had a Starlink set up in his plane, so a call was made back to HQ in England. Cindy was soon onto the Mauritanian Embassy in London and before we knew it over the radio came the good news that Gil’s permission had been granted. However, Gil had by now not only headed a long way out to sea but had also gone into radio silence and stealth mode! Contact was made on our chat frequency and after a bit of persuasion Gil was back on stream again! Strong tailwinds saw the faster planes cover the 490nm in just over three hours and we were soon landing at St Louis on the northwestern coast of Senegal.
The visibility on this leg was not good with an inversion at about 4,000’ which seemed to keep a layer of haze at the lower levels which is where the strong tailwinds were. Haze was going to prove to be an issue for a lot of this trip, but it did clear for our return journey. However, the expanse of the Sahara Desert was clear to see with just mile after mile of sand and sand dunes with the contrast of the Atlantic Ocean on our right-hand side. On landing there was the wonderful African chaos of customs, refuelling using the rotary hand pumps that we had all brought with us, baggage handlers who wanted tipping for not doing very much and security that sometimes meant one could go back to the planes on the apron and sometimes not. It was also here that we met our guide who was to join us for the whole trip. Jean Phillipe was a brute of a man – when pressed he admitted to weighing 110kgs – and my heart rather sank with the thought of him weighing down my plane for the whole trip.
A minivan took us to the Hotel la Poste for a late lunch and we were soon in a horse drawn carriage being shown the sights of St Louis which is the oldest European settlement in West Africa and served as the capital of both Senegal and French West Africa. We toured the main island, which was the old administrative district, and then the Langue de Barbarie which is a thin strip of land separating the river from the Atlantic Ocean. It was teaming with people and animals, mostly goats, who all seemed to rub along together. Fishing is a large part of the local economy, and it was fascinating to look at the fishing boats that venture out daily into the treacherous seas. We were joined by Casey Norman who had flown commercially to Dakar and then taken a five-hour taxi ride to St Louis!
The Hotel la Poste is an interesting establishment that retains its old colonial charm and was famous for having served as the headquarters of the Aeropostale pilots who transported mail from Europe to South America in 1920’s and 1930’s.
An early start the following day saw us take what our guide Jean Phillipe told us was a one-hour journey to the Djoudj National Bird Sanctuary. For those, like Sophie and me, who are avid twitchers this was a treat but the bus journey took closer to two hours. When we got there the park ranger could not find the key to his safe which is where he kept the tickets he needed to sell us so that we could visit the sanctuary. Welcome to Africa! The pilots were getting twitchy because we had a longish flight later in the day and, having seen as many birds as we were going to, we headed back to St Louis Airport.
In the extreme heat of the day, we were soon on our way to Simenti which, as the crow flies, is 260nm from St Louis. However, as soon as we were airborne, Dakar control routed us to the south to avoid a danger area that appeared to have a base of 5,000’. They did not like the idea of us flying underneath it, so this added at least an extra half an hour onto most journeys. The airstrip at Simenti was a huge gravel strip in the middle of a very wooded area that is part of the Nikolo-Koba National Park. We were greeted by two armed guards and a pair of rather beaten-up Land Rovers that took us to the Nioko Lodge which was a very comfortable establishment on the banks of the Gambia River. The view of the river was magnificent and one could see very clearly some huge crocodiles lounging around in the slow flowing waters. Any ideas that we were going to go for a swim in the river were soon dispelled!
The following day we took three vehicles and toured around the park looking at wildlife which included warthog, baboons and various antelope including bush buck, water buck and cobb. For those who were interested, the birdlife was spectacular and with the help of the local bird expert we identified over 80 different species. The afternoon temperatures were well into the 40’s and an afternoon spent lounging around the swimming pool was enjoyed by all.
An early start on the morning of Wednesday, 15 April saw us into the safari vehicles for the 45-minute transfer back to the airfield where the armed guards were presented with the Royal Air Squadron footballs and some money. Jean-Michel had briefed us all on the best way to depart from the gravel strip which was to conduct the engine run up checks - mags and propeller pitch - while beginning the take-off roll to minimise the risk of small pebbles nicking the propellers. Successfully executed we were all soon on the ground at Tambacounda after the short 50nm flight.
We were greeted by 12 very excited children who had been selected by their school on merit to experience a short flight. The combination of both excitement and apprehension was very clear to see. Some loved it, others were terrified and couldn’t get back onto the ground quick enough but, at the end, all the participants were presented with RAS footballs. Like a lot of Africa, Senegal is a football mad country, and it was gratifying to be able to give them something that was going to be very useful to the children. Refuelling was again by hand pumps that we had. We were soon ready to go but were told that we needed to wait because there was a military plane about to arrive. Shortly a C130 belonging to the German Luftwaffe arrived and unloaded masses of bedding onto the apron. Talking to the crew it appears that they were on exercise with the local military in Senegal and its neighbours including Mali.
Our next stop was Kedougou in the southeast of the country where Senegal borders with Guinea and Mali. The terrain that we flew over was very different to that of previous days in that it was quite hilly but still very parched. Kedougou looks and feels like a trucker’s town with the main road from Dakar to Central Africa running through it. Huge trucks with shops and petrol stations scattered around the place to service the trucks and their drivers. We were taken to our hotel which was a very basic establishment in a walled compound. The rooms were individual tin huts with one light hanging from the middle of the ceiling a bed and an electric fan, but it did the trick. The showers had only one tap so there was no chance of temperature control even if there had been any pressure in the water system. Having said that a cold shower is what we were all after as it was oppressively hot. A high-pressure system over the middle of the Sahara Desert was feeding very hot air from the northeast.
In the afternoon we loaded up into the minivan and were taken to see a Bedik tribe encampment. The Bediks are a small tribe numbering roughly 6,000 people who escaped from Mali in the 11th Century to get away from wars and empires. They live in the remote hills and cliffs around Kedougou. Their religion is Christian based and adheres to ancient traditions. The encampment that we visited housed about 400 people in a dense cluster of thatched roof huts. At the end of our visit, we parted with a football and some money in exchange for some of their traditional ornaments.
After a quick breakfast we were soon on the road back to the airport where a group of 15 children were waiting to be taken flying. This time Bear was pushed into action. One of his passengers was so terrified of the whole experience that she clung onto his arm very tightly, and he had to prise her hand off him in order to be able to land. Back on terra firma, Bear went to see that she was OK and she curtsied to him. Too much emotion! With the football presentation done, flight plans were filed – we were by now getting rather good at the paper forms again – we had to sit around for an hour because the Luftwaffe C130 was taking up the whole apron at Tambacounda where we needed to get back to refuel for our flight to Cap Skirring.
So having planned to fly before the heat really set in, we eventually departed Kedougou at 1pm for the 45-minute flight to Tambacounda. By now it was getting hot. Very hot. Our refueller was a bit of a unionist and kept demanding more baksheesh. Richard’s C206 had an issue with the vacuum and his artificial horizon. Jean-Michel soon had the front of the instrument panel off and the problem was identified. The pipe from the vacuum had collapsed due to the intense heat resulting in a kink like you sometimes get in a hose. We were determined to not leave any fuel on the tarmac for our unionist refueller to take advantage of so all aircraft were filled to the brim, as were any jerry cans. We took off at 3.30pm with the OAT knocking on 50 degrees. Like all airstrips in Senegal, this one was plenty long enough for us to get airborne but one felt that any altitude gained was courtesy of the curvature of the earth. Our route took us over The Gambia. Their airspace goes up to 4,500’ so we were all aiming to get to 6,500’. With oil temperatures rising and a stepped approach to gaining altitude very few of us made it to the desired height. I was certainly by now beginning to resent having the hulk of our guide in the back of my plane, not helped by the fact that he had by now proved himself to be a completely useless guide.
There were no dramas for infringing Gambian airspace and we were soon on the ground at Cap Skirring on the southwestern coast of the country where the temperature, with a stiff northerly wind, was much more amenable to the one we had left on the edge of the Sahara Desert. A scheduled flight turned up soon after we had landed and nearly blew all our aircraft off the apron where we had been instructed to park in a not altogether sensible place. With no other flights due it was decided to sort this out in the morning. A few vehicles took us to the Hotel Hibiscus which was significantly more comfortable than where we were the previous night.
A relaxing day saw us head off in long boats to an island in the mangrove lagoon where we were served a delicious seafood lunch. On the way we embarked on a spot of fishing which was successful, but they were minnows. The starters were raw oysters that were still attached to the mangrove poles that they had lived on all their lives which were singed over an open fire. Not for the faint hearted but quite delicious. After lunch we were treated to a tribal dance which circled round a large hollowed out tree trunk drum. The African rhythm can only be envied – even the smallest of children jumped around in perfect timing. Being Africa, time had slipped by meaning that we ran out of time to visit the port at Cap Skirring.
After an earlyish breakfast we were back to the airport to take more youngsters flying. This time the 12 children had swelled to 18 and they were definitely a whole lot older than the previous cohorts. It transpired the selection criteria had morphed into whose son or daughter you were rather than anything to do with merit. Luckily, we were joined again by Birame in his Saratoga so we planned a 20-minute flight with three children in each aircraft. This went well and, and with our last remaining footballs dispensed with, we were soon on our way heading north.
After a short 50-minute flight over the top of Banjul, the capital of the Gambia, we landed at Djilor Pout Pout. This is a very smooth gravel strip with the main apron only 100 yards away from a very comfortable Ecolodge on the edge of one of the side shoots of the main Gambia River estuary. This was one of the few days where things ran to schedule and we arrived in time to really enjoy the place.
After a leisurely breakfast on the morning of Sunday, 19 April we departed for the 40-minute flight to Dakar. Due to the thick haze we had, ever since we arrived in Senegal, we instituted a take-off sequence with the fastest aircraft going first to minimize the risk of a mid-air encounter. With the wind blowing straight across the runway I decided that we should taxi to the western end of the runway and take off to the east. Not only would this mean that the departing aircraft would not cover everyone else in dust, but it would also result in bigger separation. Being in the slowest aircraft, Bear was scheduled to take off last which gave him the opportunity of departing on the westerly runway which he did and then, using his air racing skills, managed to overtake Chris who had performed a gentle Jumbo type circuit to get on track. Chris was not amused!
We landed in Dakar at the old international airport which is now a military base, a private jet centre and the location of the Dakar Aero Club. We were greeted by Birame and his team who quickly refuelled all aircraft and washed off the layers of dust and grime that had accumulated ever since we had left Europe. We checked into the curiously named Noom Hotel before heading out to visit an art exhibition and meet the volunteers who run the Dakar Women’s charity which we had all agreed we would contribute E250 per aircraft to. In the evening, we were joined by other members of the Aeroclub for a buffet back at the club. We said our goodbyes to Leila and Casey who flew back to the UK on scheduled flights that evening.
Our last day was meant to be a trip to Goree Island which is famous for its pastel-coloured architecture and tragic past as a major transatlantic slave trading centre. However, our useless guide had failed to register that the Island is closed on Mondays. We ended up instead visiting the North Korean built monument overlooking the city followed by another delicious lunch at Le Lagoon which is owned and run by a very weathered Frenchman who has been there for ever. In the evening it was off to the Embassy where we had a cocktail reception with His Majesty’s Ambassador and other dignitaries. This was a bit of an underwhelming experience, the Embassy looked as though it could have done with a lick of paint and the Ambassador didn’t appear to be particularly interested in us or what we were doing.
It was wonderful that our trip organiser Marie-Josee came and met us in Dakar. She was to join us in our flight north while Richard Menage left the group due to business commitments.
The prevailing northerly winds bring colder moist air off the Atlantic which, when it meets the land, results in a lowish layer of cloud first thing in the morning. We woke early on the morning of Tuesday 22 April to start our big journey back to Europe and the UK with some quite low mist. Most planes could have reached Dakhla directly from Dakar but with headwinds forecast at low levels and there still being some of our fuel on the tarmac, we flew the 105nm to St Louis. By the time we got there, the weather had cleared.
Sub Saharan Africa was to throw one more curved ball. We had refuelled, cleared customs, filed our flight plans and were in our aircraft ready to go. But when I asked for start approval we were denied as the Mauritanian authorities, yes them again, said we didn’t have the right permissions. Eventually the problem was resolved, and we were on our way.
One of the great things about having a diverse set of brains on a trip like this is that someone will spot something that no one else does. With the strong tailwinds that we had experienced on our way south it was only reasonable to expect that these same winds would hinder us on or journey north. But Afandi knew of a little button on the Windy App that showed that at about 8,000’ the headwind actually turned into a tail wind. And that is what happened. My journey north took only 10 minutes longer than the same journey south over a distance of 490nm. We all arrived in good time at Dakhla where the refuelling was as efficient as on the way down. We cleared customs and all was set for an early departure the following morning.
We followed mostly the same route home but having been fleeced royally in Marrakesh we flew to Laayoune then onto Essaouira where we overnighted. My Sophie left us in Dakhla to get back to the UK for a family event, so we were five aircraft and ten people. Seamus was meeting friends and family in Grenada so three aircraft, Menage’s 206 flown by Seamus and Marie-Josee together with Gil and Melissa and me with Jean-Michel headed to Granda to experience the airport handling circus again. The other two aircraft, Bear and Terry together with Chris and Afandi, went back to the relative, yet expensive, calmer experience at Jerez. The latter grouping took a more leisurely route back to the UK from southern Spain. We, on the other hand, having finally escaped Granada with their weird procedures pressed onto Lourdes Tabres where we refuelled and overnighted. Gil and Melissa had a more relaxed return to the UK via La Rochelle while Jean-Michel and Marie Jose routed direct to Old Warden. I set off on my own under strict instructions to be at Compton Abbas by midday which I did with half an hour to spare.
This was the most magnificent trip. The planning that went into it was immense and everything that could have gone wrong, such as fuel and permissions, all went to plan. The weather in Northern Europe couldn’t really have been kinder to us. I flew 6,500nm in 45 hours, the scenery that we saw was just amazing from the fields of France, orange groves and mountains in Spain, the rugged northern coastline of Morrocco, the Atlas Mountains, deserts, sand dunes, wadis, the different colours of the sea, the lifelines of the Senegal and Gambia Rivers, the vast expanse of Senegal with is rugged and inhospitable parched earth that borders the expanse of the Sahara desert and the forests of the game reserve. Although we did have a few mechanical issues it was very comforting to have a qualified aeronautical engineer with us. Jean-Michel could often be found dressing propellers that had picked up a nick along the way. In Senegal itself, the people were charming, very welcoming and not at all pushy.
Huge thanks to Marie Jose, Richard and Cindy - and of course to all the participants.
Written by Peter Fernandes