Palm Trees, Police, and Problematic Ants

Our first night in Sierra Leone, we hit the jackpot—a glorious bush camp tucked away beside a wide, slow-moving river, surrounded by palm trees. It was the kind of spot overland dreams are made of: soft dirt and sand for pitching tents, plenty of space, and a perfect view of the water. If it weren’t for the ants (we’ll get to them), I’d say it was the perfect camp.

Our armed Sierra Leonean police escort added a bit of extra flair to the experience. They were visibly baffled by our decision to camp in the middle of nowhere instead of staying in one of the many hotels they kept insisting were nearby. “Why sleep outside? Locals are here! Hotels exist!” they asked, with what I assume was a mix of genuine concern and confusion at our apparent madness.

Paul patiently explained the concept of overlanding, and while the idea finally started to click, the police were adamant we needed protection. They stationed one officer with an assault rifle and another armed with a beanbag gun for crowd control(!!). At one point, they tried to say we needed four guards, but Paul managed to talk them down to the two officers we already had, he pointed out in Nigeria we didn’t need any.

To their credit, the police were respectful, professional, and genuinely concerned for our safety. We invited them to join us by the campfire, fed them, and they shared stories late into the evening. They seemed to enjoy the novelty of the experience—though they probably still think we’re a little nuts.

And then, the ants happened. Oh, the ants.

One poor person had the misfortune of discovering, around 4 a.m., that his tent was now directly in the middle of a bustling ant superhighway. And these weren’t your run-of-the-mill tiny picnic ants you may know. No, these were big ants—nearly an inch long—and they were not interested in sharing the space peacefully. They marched over, under, and straight through the inside of his tent, leaving him scrambling to evacuate.

As for me, I learned firsthand just how much these ants love biting when I accidentally stepped into a massive nest. Picture a living, moving carpet of ants, at least two meters wide, covering the ground. I can confirm they bite hard and with purpose. Not an experience I’ll forget anytime soon.

Our unlucky 4am camper had to strip down, de-ant himself, and haul everything out of his tent to wait for the ants to clear out. The police even helped him wipe down his tent and hang his gear, proving that armed escorts aren’t just for protection—they’re also surprisingly good at pest control.

Despite the ant drama, the camp was fantastic, and everyone still had a good time (well, except maybe for our ant-plagued friend). Today, we’re packing up and heading to Bureh Beach to find somewhere to stay. Here’s hoping for fewer ants and more relaxation by the sea!

Detours, Escorts, and Industry Drama

 Last night’s bush camp was a bit of a throwback. We ended up at the same power line access road we camped at the night before. It’s hard to describe it poetically, as it’s decidedly not scenic or glamorous, but overlanding isn’t always sunsets and riverside camps. Sometimes it’s just a dirt and bush patch under a buzzing power line and a shrug of, “Eh, it’ll do.” We take the good with the bad, and this was squarely in the “it’ll do” category.

Today, things got interesting. We set out bright and early for the Sierra Leone border, only to be hit with a wave of updates, each more surprising than the last. First, we heard that our plan to stay in a YMCA in Freetown had fallen through. Instead, we’ll be bush camping outside the city and commuting in tomorrow. It’s not ideal, but we’re used to rolling with the punches by now. (By the time I’m readying this post it’s changed again, we are heading to Bureh beach instead of Freetown, and will commute from there!)

The next curveball came courtesy of Sierra Leone itself. It turns out they’re not big fans of right-hand drive vehicles like Nala (she’s from the UK, after all). Their solution? A police escort to make sure we’re on the correct side of the road, as if Paul might suddenly decide to swap lanes just for fun. While it limits our flexibility, the silver lining is that we now have a built-in VIP convoy experience. The police seem more concerned about our road skills than the drivers around us, which is… well, charming, in its own way.

But the real bombshell came later: Madventures—a competitor company—has bought part of Oasis. This could mean big changes for how trips like ours operate, and Paul and Liz, our fearless leaders, are understandably frustrated and concerned by the changes. They’re both passionate about the Oasis style of travel, and it sounds like they’re working hard to keep that spirit alive.

It’s hard not to feel a little uneasy, especially since we’ve already had a less-than-stellar impression of Madadventures. Early on, we crossed paths with their truck and we helped some of their travelers who had been left stranded by Madaventures to sort out their own visas. It wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement of their operation. Seeing Oasis potentially absorbed into that doesn’t sit well, but for now, nothing’s certain.

Whatever happens, it’s just another chapter in the unpredictable book of overlanding. We’ll adapt, adjust, and keep moving forward. After all, overlanding isn’t about perfection—it’s about embracing the chaos, dirt, and occasional drama that come with the adventure.