Things to Do in Banana Islands
Banana Islands, Sierra Leone - Complete Travel Guide
The Banana Islands rise from the Atlantic like two green commas tossed on blue paper - Dublin Island and Ricketts Island, wrapped in sand the color of ground nutmeg. Salt air collides with the sweet decay of fallen breadfruit while waves slap the wooden jetty where fishermen unload silver barracuda still twitching in dawn light. Creole houses on stilts lean seaward, their tin roofs rusting to burnt umber, and Krio mixes with clipped British vowels drifting from doorways painted turquoise and coral. Afternoons melt into hammock-time here, where ice settling in your rum punch becomes the loudest sound.
What catches visitors off-guard is how each island owns a distinct character. Dublin pulses with industry - nets drying on poles, kids chasing footballs across packed sand, the diesel tang from the generator that coughs to life after sunset. Ricketts feels suspended in colonial dreams: bougainvillea tumbling over crumbling stone walls, church bells rolling across overgrown cemeteries, paths that release wild ginger perfume when you crush the leaves. Both islands share an end-of-the-road quality that seduces travelers who've grown weary of places that try too hard.
Top Things to Do in Banana Islands
Dublin Island's Slave Castle Ruins
Stone archways frame the Atlantic where the old British fort surrenders to tide pools. Seaweed drying on hot rocks scents the air while seabirds nest in the gunpowder rooms, their calls bouncing off walls blackened by centuries of campfires lit by freed slaves who later claimed these islands.
Booking Tip: Show up before 10am when the guard - an elderly man named Mr. Sessay who insists on being called 'Chief' - remains in good spirits. He'll unlock the rusted gate for whatever you pull from your cooler.
Swimming with Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphins
The water shifts from jade to sapphire as the pod approaches, their clicks and whistles audible even above water. You'll feel their wake push against your legs as they circle, curious about humans who don't hunt them with nets.
Booking Tip: Captain Moses runs trips from the main beach around 7:30am when the dolphins feed. Pack reef-safe sunscreen - he'll lecture you if you don't - and expect to pay in leones since his mobile money reader works maybe half the time.
Book Swimming with Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphins Tours:
Ricketts Island Jungle Trek to Lighthouse Point
Mud squishes between your toes as you push through elephant grass taller than your head. The trail reeks of wild nutmeg and something vaguely medicinal - locals swear the leaves cure everything from headaches to heartbreak - before opening to a 19th-century lighthouse with stairs that groan under your weight.
Booking Tip: Hire Junior, the teenager with the machete scar on his left hand. He knows which trees drop cannonball fruit and won't let you step on the tiny red frogs that appear after rain. Negotiate price over a Star beer at Mama Amina's bar first.
Sunset Drift Dive on the Wreck of the 'Maria'
The old Portuguese freighter lies on its side at fifteen meters, coral growing like neon cauliflower from its ribs. Shafts of late-day light turn the water golden as you fin through the captain's cabin where lionfish hover like underwater butterflies.
Booking Tip: Pack your own gear - Banana Islands Dive Club folded last year. The fishermen at Dublin pier will drop you for a negotiable rate, but be clear about pickup time unless you fancy sleeping on Ricketts with the bats.
Creole Cooking Class at Mama Hawa's Kitchen
Smoke from the charcoal stove burns your eyes as palm oil pops in the pan. You'll pound cassava leaves with a pestle the size of a baseball bat while Mama Hawa tells you about her grandmother's escape from a slave ship, all to BBC World Service crackling from her ancient radio.
Booking Tip: Classes happen when Mama feels like it, usually Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Don't mention you're vegetarian - she'll just wave her hand and say 'fish isn't meat' - but bring small bills for the market run beforehand.
Getting There
Speedboats leave from Government Wharf in Freetown at 9am sharp - miss it and you're waiting until tomorrow unless you want to pay triple for a private charter. The 45-minute ride involves everything from smooth glass to spine-jarring chop, depending on Atlantic mood swings. You'll smell diesel and flying fish, and might get soaked if you sit starboard. For budget travelers, the old fishing boat leaves Kissy Ferry Terminal at noon, taking three bone-rattling hours but costing less than a beer in Luxembourg. Both drop you at Dublin's concrete pier where barefoot kids will fight over your bags.
Getting Around
Banana Islands runs on foot power and the occasional motorbike. Dublin has sandy paths wide enough for two people walking abreast, while Ricketts requires single-file through jungle trails that turn to chocolate pudding after rain. Motorbike taxis - just dirt bikes with makeshift passenger seats - charge whatever you negotiate, typically a couple thousand leones to cross an island. Boat taxis between Dublin and Ricketts leave when enough people accumulate, usually every hour or so. Bring cash in small denominations since nobody makes change, and don't expect receipts.
Where to Stay
Dublin Beachfront: Simple thatch huts with mosquito nets and cold-water bucket showers, steps from where fishermen haul nets at dawn
Ricketts Eco-Lodge: Solar-powered bungalows built from reclaimed shipping containers, hammocks strung between palm trees
Mama Amina's Homestay: Three spare rooms in a Creole house with creaking floors and family photos from the 1970s
Banana Island Resort: The only proper hotel option, concrete blocks painted cheerful colors with a restaurant that serves overpriced lobster
Camping at Lighthouse Point: Pitch your tent where the old lighthouse keeper used to watch for ships, bring everything including water
Dublin Village Homestays: Rooms in local homes, basic but clean, with shared pit toilets and stories traded over evening palm wine
Food & Dining
The islands dine on whatever the Atlantic hauls in that morning. Dublin's main drag—more sand than street—is where Mama Amina flash-fries plantain so sharp it could cut gums, then slaps down barracuda steaks that eclipse your whole face. Ricketts keeps it tight and simple: Captain Moses torches lobster over coconut husks behind his house, and the eco-lodge turns vegetables barged from Freetown into vegetarian curry that lands harder than it has any right to. Everything costs less than a London coffee; a full plate runs cheaper than mainland Sierra Leone. Forget menus—you eat whatever bubbles in the pot, enamel plates clanking while the BBC mutters from a tinny radio.
When to Visit
March to May nails the balance: paths stay firm, sweat stays reasonable. June through October unleashes real rain—trails turn to rivers, boat captains get inventive—yet the islands empty and the jungle releases its green perfume. November to February brings postcard weather plus yacht crews bound for Cape Town, which means higher tabs and louder Americans. Ramadan shuts the islands down when Muslim families head back to the mainland—plan around it.
Insider Tips
Bring a headlamp; power dies every night and the paths between islands vanish when clouds swallow the stars.
Pack malaria pills but keep quiet—locals swear the islands are malaria-free (they're mostly right, but roll the dice elsewhere).
Download offline maps; phone signal lives in one corner of Dublin, inexplicably beside the cemetery.
Friday night spills into the Catholic schoolyard with palm wine and drums—bring rhythm and small bills for the collection plate that always circles.