Gabon 3

Sette Cama Lagoons
With Ghislain we enjoyed fascinating ride through coastal lagoons lined with mangroves, watched hippos in the water from a safe distance and then saw both buffalo and red capped mangabey monkeys on swampy edges of the rain forest, along with a huge variety of birds. Finally we made our way to the narrow estuary that joined the lagoon system and the river feeding it with the sea, coming across fishermen smoking their catch on the bank beside their boats prior to taking it by river to market in Gamba.

 

The evening had turned into a cold, pitch black night by the time we returned to Sette Cama and we were chilled to the bone. Back in our very basic, no electricity, no hot water, wooden hut we were warmed by the huge meal we ordered from the village women some 5 hours earlier. It arrived on a two enormous trays covered with interesting looking pots, along with somebody’s best china and cutlery all neatly wrapped up in a tea towel; nothing had been forgotten. The food itself was fish stew: an assortment of vegetables with fish, which we thought was barracuda, in a tasty soup like sauce, accompanied by tubes of cassava steamed in palm leaves. We loved the stew, but found the cassava sticky, thick and rather unpalatable.
The Petit-Loango Rain Forest 
The following morning we were hardly able to contain our excitement; we were to spend the day exploring the Petit-Loango Reserve rain forest and beach. Ghislain was carrying the food for our picnic lunch, to be eaten on the beach in what he called a ‘magnifique’ location. This would be our first really close encounter with the rain forest, on foot with a knowledgeable guide and surrounded by the sights, sounds and smells of this complex and awesome ecosystem. We couldn’t wait, but Ghislain sensibly dampened our expectations by warning us that, as this was the dry season, we would be lucky to see much animal life, the animals being widely dispersed in the search for food.

 

The only way into the Reserve was by pirogue, and we clambered aboard along with Ghislain and two rangers under instruction, who would act as ‘tail end Charlies’ and our protectors; in the dense rain forest we could come face to face with something large, angry and dangerous before we knew it. As we went, Ghislain advised on the do’s and don’ts of rain forest safety.

 

We slowly made our way through a maze of muddy channels weaving through the tentacle like roots of the mangrove arching over the water, with azure blue tropical sky just visible where the arch was incomplete. The coxswain pushed the nose of the boat into a narrow opening and, where mangrove met rain forest, we disembarked; in Indian file we followed Ghislain along a narrow track created by elephants in search of food. Surprisingly, enough sunlight filtered through the canopy hundreds of feet above us to illuminate the forest floor, but the dense growth and the massive trunks of ancient hardwood trees normally restricted our field of view to thirty feet or so.

 

 

An Encounter with a Forest ElephantIt wasn’t long before Ghislain stopped and raised a hand for us all to do the same; in an excited whisper the message was passed back, ‘forest elephant ahead’. The dark shape of the elephant could just be made out, about 20 feet away through a green haze of immature trees and as we edged closer, another excited whisper, ‘female with baby’. Now a goggle-eyed gaggle of camera grabbing rain forest tourists, we edged closer with cameras raised for ‘that’ shot. The elephant became aware of our presence and turned to face us; we stood still and waited hoping that she would move more into view.
  
She certainly did, but not quite in the way we had anticipated! As we lent forward expectantly, there was a blinding flash of light; Liz was behind us and, doing her David Bailey bit, had taken a photo of us taking a photo of the elephant. We had been expressly warned by Ghislain, flash photography was a complete no-no in the relative gloom of the rain forest; animals panicked and attack became the best form of defence. Add to this a mother protecting her calf and we were now in deep trouble! The mother, ears extended, grabbed a tree in her trunk, pulling it out of the ground and made towards us, shaking the tree all the while. Thanks Liz!

We were in a state of frozen panic until Ghislain called out ‘follow me’; it was surprising how many of us were able to fill the square foot of space behind him as he moved to safety. We were moving at a fast walk and mentally breathing a sigh of relief when panic once again had us in its icy grip; inadvertently Ghislain was leading us straight towards the calf. The mother went into full enraged protective elephant mode and charged; this time Ghislain yelled, ‘run’! With the sound of pursuit of just behind them, Liz and Susanne thought their last moments had arrived, only to realise that it was our ‘tail end Charlies’ who, showing an amazing turn of speed, flew past them and disappeared into the forest ahead. Thanks guys!

Once she felt her calf was safe, the mother stopped, turned back and without a sound she was swallowed up by the rain forest. After a pause to regain our composure and reunite ourselves with two sheepish trainee rangers, we continued on through the forest, all the while marvelling at the majesty of nature that surrounded us. 

 

 

After about 4 hours, Ghislain led us out of this cathedral of a forest and before us lay the beach. The setting was truly ‘magnifique’; a deep blue shimmering sea edged by sand, a dazzling white in the sun, here and there tall, slender palm trees waved in the breeze as if beckoning us to share the shade they had created. We accepted their invitation, sat down beneath a clump and had an excellent picnic of rice and fish covered with a spicy sauce all of which Ghislain, amazingly and rather like a magician, had pulled from his back pack along with china plates and cutlery! After which we spent an hour or so relaxing and snoozing, pure bliss. It couldn’t have been a more idyllic spot for us; a truly memorable occasion and setting.

Later and to top it all, as we prepared to leave, a forest elephant came strolling along the beach towards us; recognised by Ghislain as a grumpy old bull we kept our distance and, probably fed up with our attempts to photograph him, he retreated and disappeared back into the forest. On our return journey to the pirogue pick up point, we walked back along the edge of the rain forest, overlooking an expanse ocean over which the sun was sinking towards the horizon and encountered forest buffalo, monkeys, warthogs and birds of all kinds. What a great day it had been.

  

Back to Pointe de PangaWe left Sette Cama on 16 July and began our long journey to the Congo border by retracing our route to Tchibanga, stopping to buy food at a market in Gamba before taking the ferry across the Nyanga. It soon became apparent that this particular ferry was not designed to take the two heavily laden overlanding vehicles it had on board; water began to wash over the front ramp as we struggled down river and by the time we disembarked the water was swilling around the tyres!

  

We made it back to Pointe de Panga and spent another night on ‘The Ledge’, a spot we loved dearly. That night we were again rewarded with another amazing display of phosphorescent plankton; as we were looking out to sea, Peter noticed a large black rock that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It became clear that it was no rock, it was moving through the surf towards the beach! Before our astonished, almost unbelieving eyes, a hippo came out of the surf and spent a few minutes on the beach below in a fruitless search for food before waddling, in that ponderous style that hippos have, back through the surf and sank out of sight into the sea. Unforgettable!
To Tchibanga The following morning we woke to discover that we had a flat tyre, our first problem after nearly 15,500 miles. With Philippe’s help, Peter soon got the spare tyre on and we then headed to ‘Chitty Chitty Banga’ where we stocked up on fresh and tinned food in a Lebanese (so no surprises there!) supermarket; Susanne carefully selecting the ingredients for the evening meal and, thankfully, Liz avoiding buying frozen chicken! As we left Tchibanga we came to a police check point; the lone police sergeant manning it was giving the occupants of the car in front a very hard time, after a considerable amount of finger wagging they were waved on their way and he approached Boris. Already slightly tipsy, he explained how thirsty this job made him and asked us if we had any whisky for him.

There was no way were we going to give him any alcohol, so Peter tried the Baptist ploy we had used successfully in the Cameroun and explained the implications of our adopted religion for someone asking for alcohol. It must have gained something in translation, as the policeman explained what a good family man he was, how Christian his family and then, on bended knee, sought Peter’s blessing! A sign of the cross, a hand on the head and a ‘bless you my son’ later and we were on our way with Liz, who had contained herself up to then, busting into a fit of giggles. That night Susanne cooked us a long promised, really good Swiss mountain dish of pasta, potatoes, cream and onions mixed with an apple sauce, very different and very good indeed. Yummy, thank you Susanne!
Towards KoulamoutouThe next morning, the 18 July, we continued north towards Koulamoutou, past decrepit shacks with clean white washing draped over the bushes around them and then began to cross the Massif du Chaillu mountain range, leaving the burning savannah behind as we once again entered rain forest. The piste we had chosen was as bad as any we had encountered, added to which its infrequent use had allowed trees and bushes to obliterate from view all but the ruts immediately in front of us.

 

We had a hard time finding a camp site that night and in the end had to be content with parking on the side of the piste. As dark descended and we finished our supper, the gloom was pierced by headlights. The vehicle stopped, the occupants got out and came towards us; fearing the worst we were relieved to discover they were officers from the headquarters of the regional gendarmerie. They told us that a tourist was killed nearby a few years ago and said that we should move immediately to the next village, about twenty minutes away and that we should have registered with them in the last town we passed through. Oh dear! Registration was done on the spot and we said we would move on once we had finished our meal. Job done, doors slammed and they edged their way off down the track.

We decided that rather than drive in the dark to a village we knew nothing about, we would stay put and hope to be safe that night. If nothing else the insects certainly got us, the no-seeums were just awful and the next morning poor Suzanne and Philippe looked as if they had chicken pox, again! We were thankful we had ignored the gendarmerie; the next village was nearly 45 minutes away and the piste horrendous, with muddy, deep water holes, rickety bridges and steep, near precipitous descents. Nothing that Boris couldn’t handle in the daylight; between admiring the scenery, Liz just held her breath and hung on for dear life!

This remote area was where Pigmies lived in villages deep within the forest, but judging by the size of some of the people we saw, individuals had gravitated towards the trackside villages. They were the exception, the majority of the remaining thousand or so Gabonese pygmies have stayed in the forest, following a traditional hunter-gatherer lifestyle and their cultural belief in the value of the forest and respect for the powers of nature and the spirits, that dates back to when they were the first people to live in what is now Gabon. It is somewhat ironic that the other ‘Johnny-come-lately’ tribes consider these people to be second class citizens.

  

We were exhausted by the end of the day, reaching Koulamouto, a small, bustling regional capital on the confluence of two mountain rivers, as the sun was setting. We made our way to the Catholic Mission overlooking the town. There was space for only one couple and Philippe and Susanne, bless them, insisted we took the room and they slept in their Landrover. The 20 July was a Sunday and we were woken (as we hoped we would be) by early morning Mass and the inspiring African singing which accompanied it, reminding us of Yaoundé.
Franceville 
Since entering the Massif du Chaillu, we had been experiencing much cooler temperatures by day and night; Sunday was no exception, as we left Koulamoutou it was touching a perfect 70 degrees. We were now on a wide, red, dusty and often corrugated main road so we hoped to make it to our next stop, Franceville, in one day. We made Franceville after a marvellous drive; leaving behind the mountains and the Gabon rain forest for the last time, then travelling through a vast, seemingly endless rolling savannah; something not readily associated with equatorial Africa and in parts ravaged as ever by fire.

 

Franceville, in the far east of Gabon was only some 60 miles from the Congo border and, apart from Libreville, this was undoubtedly the wealthiest town we had seen in Gabon. We shouldn’t have been surprised; it was only 15 miles from the birthplace of the President, Omar Bongo, the world's longest serving political ruler and, thanks in part to annual $30M sweetners from ELF, also one of the wealthiest, had spent government money lavishly, his tribal capital and in the middle of a rich mining area producing over 30% of the world’s manganese. President Bongo had spent lavishly in an attempt to put Franceville on the international stage; however the airport with a runway capable of taking jumbo jets never handled any international flights and the Intercontinental Hotel stubbornly remained over two thirds empty. But, hey, the roads were bitumen not mud and this was the only place outside of Libreville with traffic lights and they worked!

We stayed for three nights in the Crystal Motel where the air conditioning was a welcome relief from the heat and humidity. Liz and Susanne found a dear sweet woman who washed all our grubby and smelly clothes. Gosh, it was good having clean clothes again! Once again our main concern was with the Angolan visa, our cyber space plea for help from the extended family issued in Libreville was beginning to bear fruit; Andy miraculously had found a contact in the DRC who was kindly producing a watertight and very official looking Letter of Invitation, whilst Peter’s cousin Dominick had sent an email to his diplomatic colleague and friend, the British Ambassador in Kinshasa, introducing Peter and explaining the problem. Both Philippe and Peter were ‘on the case’, spending hours in a claustrophobic and very hot cyber cafe, becoming increasingly frustrated at the slow and intermittent connection whilst sitting cheek by jowl with young men badly in need of a bath and some carbolic soap! But still no solution, so everything was now hanging on sorting the situation out when we got to the capital of the Republic of Congo, Brazzaville, on the bank of the Congo River. If we couldn’t, then it would be a big full stop and the trip was over!

 

One afternoon, ignoring the heat and humidity, Suzanne and Liz made the long climb to the Intercontinental Hotel for a swim. The pool had seen better days and the hotel very down at heel with obvious leaks in the ceilings, cracks in the walls and peeling paint throughout. The manager gave the impression that things could only get worse. Oh dear, what a waste of ill gotten gains and, sadly, how typical.

As we approached the end of our stay in Franceville we had an attack of postcard fever, writing over 30 in one afternoon! Along with some letters and small packages, Liz took them to another Presidential white elephant, the huge and very impressive, but very empty main post office in the town centre. Faced with a daunting pile of international mail, the clerk’s normally well ordered and quiet day turned instantly into a nightmare; unused to having to deal with mail on this scale or of this complexity he became more and more flustered, constantly getting the stamps muddled up until, much to his relief, he ran out of them! As this represented a last chance to post PC’s from Gabon, Liz agreed to handing over the mail and the money for the outstanding stamps (a fairly substantial sum), leaving the clerk to sort it out later. Was this sensible, Liz? Well the jury is still out, but it does seem that a slim majority of you did get your PC from Gabon.
The Cirque de Lekoni We left Franceville for the Republic of Congo on the morning of 23 of July, after first stocking up with food for the five nights of bush camping we reckoned it would take us to get to Brazzaville. Our route took us through the President’s village, unsurprisingly it was an immaculate tarred road all the way and the village, Bongoville (!), boasted street lights, brick bungalows and sports stadia. Although we were still driving through the vast savannah that linked Gabon with the Republic of Congo, as we left Bongoville we were increasingly surrounded by massive rolling hills, a precursor to our climb onto the Bateke Plateau.

After lunch we reached Lekoni, the last settlement of any importance before the border. Here we planned to visit the nearby Cirque, a spectacular crater created in the plateau’s surface by thousands of years of water erosion. We were on a rarely used route and Lekoni offered the only chance to clear immigration and customs before the border some 15 miles away. Having done this we then needed to find someone who could guide us to the Cirque. Hotels are often a reliable source of reasonable guides, the only hotel in Lekoni was no exception.
Cirque de LekoniWe quickly found an eager young man and squeezed him into the front of Boris and he took us along a rolling sandy piste through parchment yellow savannah speckled with stunted shrubs and bushes. After about twenty minutes we crested a rise and suddenly laid out beneath us for over half a mile was the cirque. It wasn’t until we got out of Boris and stood on the edge and looked down into the vast crater that we were able to make out the most extraordinary lines of serrated peak like structures rising up from the crater floor over 300 feet below; their colours were amplified by the late afternoon sun and the scene was a spectacular finale to our time in Gabon.
  
It didn’t take us long to decide to spend our last night in Gabon right there in glorious isolation, under the stars on the rim of the crater. First though Peter had to return our guide to Lekoni and we watched him for some time riding the rolling sea of savannah; climbing over the hills, only to vanish into the next valley then reappearing again, before finally disappearing as a small dot in the far distance. There was no mistaking his return when we heard Boris’s noisy engine getting louder and louder as he got closer! What a spot and what a great camp fire (thank you Philippe!) we had that night; sitting around it, reminiscing about our adventures in Gabon, under a clear starry sky with the Milky Way trailing across the sky above us, a translucent white scarf of star dust.

 

The following morning, the 24 July, we retraced our steps to the main road, still brand new tar, and drove the final 15 miles to the border, past villages repositioned to accommodate the new road and with huts of shiny new corrugated iron that glistened in the sunlight. At the border, the tarred road ended and we bade Gabon farewell, heading into no-man’s land on an orange yellow, sandy track.