Whilst dealing with the customs formalities in Congo I'd had a tip from a Lebanese guy at the border about a Catholic mission in Souanke that had rooms they let out, and it was just as well because between the border and there I saw a grand total of zero hotels.
It may have been spartan, but it was clean and ideally placed to head onwards the next day to Bomassa for some gorilla spotting.
As far as Ouesso, the road was brand new tarmac with only one vehicle on it (me), but after some confused formalities and a ferry crossing at the river there, I was on to dirt track forest roads that weren't even on my map. From the crossing, it was around 100km along these tracks to Bomassa, the village closest to the station at Parc National Nouabale Ndoki. It was a bright sunny day but the trees meant that driving was generally in the cool shade, and I was making steady progress when, after taking my eyes of the road for just a second my front wheel hit something and went out, sending me crashing to the floor yet again and the bike a 180 degree turn. Fortunately, the landing was soft and there was no significant damage to the bike (or to me), other than a load of my gear strewn along the road after a pannier exploded open. I got up, brushed as much dirt off me as I could, and then went to pick up the bike. And couldn't. The ruts in the soft mud meant that the wheels were higher than the tank, and efforts to pick it up just resulted in the bike sliding rather than lifting. In other parts of Africa, this is the moment when someone would come wandering round the corner and give me hand, but I hadn't seen another soul for hours; I was on my own with this one. Making things worse was the fact that a swarm of what are known locally as sweat bees had discovered my location, and kept me in a permanent cloud of yellow buzzing irritation. Swatting ineffectually at the bees and swearing profusely, I pulled off all the luggage and tried again to lift the bike, and eventually, when my rage had built up to Hulk like levels I found the strength I needed and hauled the bike back up. Still being bombarded by bees (and having been stung by one that had been hiding in the sleeve of my jacket), I strapped the luggage on as fast as I could, fired up the bike and then... fell off again ten yards down the road. The tread on the back tyre was completely filled with mud and was providing no grip, so I repeated the whole process, this time with the added fun of cleaning the tyre out too. My swearing was now extremely loud. I finally got away without issue, and was back on the road to Bomassa.
My little setback had cost me some time, so it was dark when I rolled into the camp. However, when I was greeted by a fellow Brit who told me that they had just opened up a crate of beers and would I like to join them, any remnants of a bad mood were immediately lifted. It turned out that there were several Brits working at the station, and I had also arrived at the same time as a Canadian couple who had cycled up from Kinshasa, and an ex NI policeman and ex British Army officer who were working privately as anti-poaching advisors. It was really nice to just be able to sit and chat in English, and as ever great to hear other people's stories about what they had been up to and how they had ended up in this remote corner of the world. The staff were really nice - when I asked about going to see the gorillas they told me that they were technically closed, but they said that they would work something out and we arranged a trek for the next day. My evening was rounded off by an impromptu police search of all my belongings; I was staying in a weird, half deserted building in the village with the Canadian couple, and when we arrived back in the evening the police (possibly the worse for drink) were put out by the fact that I had not registered already and so they opted to throw their weight around by getting me to take all of my possessions out and put the on the floor, explaining what each of them was. Ah well, if it makes them happy.
At a respectable hour the next morning I was back at the station, and along with my guide (a former English teacher) and a team of trackers we set out. It wasn't until later that found out that the trackers were from the local pygmy tribes, and while they weren't the three feet tall, sharpened teeth pygmies of 19th century European tales of Africa, they were pretty small and looking back at the photos I probably should have realised sooner! After a half hour drive (complete with forest buffalo sighting) we had a 30 minute trek through knee deep swamp (I loved it) and then an hour of more regular jungle trekking before we made it to the base camp. The whole way to the camp, my guide had been talking about the fact that there were two groups of gorillas, but that the best one was Kingo's group as he was the biggest, the group tended to stay together and interact more, and they had some babies that were very entertaining, but when we arrived we found out that his group were hiding out in the swamp so we would be going to see Buko instead. I just wish they hadn't told me all that stuff beforehand!
Buko's territory is pretty close to the camp, and we found him after 20 minutes or so. There is no disguising the fact that gorillas are seriously big, and standing 5 metres away looking at a big male casually sat down chewing on some plants was a fairly awe inspiring sight (though actually less scary than seeing chimpanzees with all the tales of their face biting and genital ripping; at least this guy would just beat me to death Marquis of Queensbury style). Gorillas aren't the most active animals, and today they seemed to be especially chilled, content to just sit in bushes looking the other way and eating. Personally I would have loved to see some more activity and interaction, but these are wild animals not performing monkeys. I was a little disappointed at the time, but now looking back with hindsight I can appreciate just how good it was to see them in their forest surroundings.
I spent the night in the forest (in quite a swanky tent with a bed and everything), and we trekked back the next morning, arriving in time for a spot of lunch with the others where it was suggested I could join a trek to Wali Bai in the afternoon. A bai is a forest clearing, often with a water source, where animals gather; this one was about 3km away so off we went on foot. We had with us the village chief, who seemed to know everything about the forest - he told us which plants were used for stomach ache, which ones were used for fuel, which ones for building materials, a real font of knowledge. We got to the bai, a beautiful place to sit and relax and listened to him talk us through some of the history of the place (how for example there were fewer animals at the moment coming to the bai as a result of poaching, and how a fly infestation drove the local okapi population so crazy that they couldn't eat and died out), but halfway through this one of the trackers signalled that there was a forest elephant nearby. We had heard nothing, but sure enough just 20 metres or so from the platform where we were a female emerged from the bushes. It was incredible how quietly she moved, and we sat and watched as she came down towards the water, then changed her mind and disappeared off down the track. Having missed the forest elephants on Mount Cameroon, I was chuffed to bits. Once the coast was clear, we set off down the track, but ten minutes in the tracker leading indicated that there was another elephant in the area. This one was a male, and was not being quiet, crashing around noisily near the water. Unsure of what direction he was heading in, we held back waiting for the all clear (the last thing we wanted was four tonnes of angry elephant charging towards us down a narrow track!), and once the tracker figured that he was happily larking about by the water we crept past.
That evening we had a few more beers back at the station, and then the next morning after some goodbyes it was time to hit the road again, back through the forest and across the river to Ouesso, and down more empty new tarmac to Oyo.
It may have been spartan, but it was clean and ideally placed to head onwards the next day to Bomassa for some gorilla spotting.
As far as Ouesso, the road was brand new tarmac with only one vehicle on it (me), but after some confused formalities and a ferry crossing at the river there, I was on to dirt track forest roads that weren't even on my map. From the crossing, it was around 100km along these tracks to Bomassa, the village closest to the station at Parc National Nouabale Ndoki. It was a bright sunny day but the trees meant that driving was generally in the cool shade, and I was making steady progress when, after taking my eyes of the road for just a second my front wheel hit something and went out, sending me crashing to the floor yet again and the bike a 180 degree turn. Fortunately, the landing was soft and there was no significant damage to the bike (or to me), other than a load of my gear strewn along the road after a pannier exploded open. I got up, brushed as much dirt off me as I could, and then went to pick up the bike. And couldn't. The ruts in the soft mud meant that the wheels were higher than the tank, and efforts to pick it up just resulted in the bike sliding rather than lifting. In other parts of Africa, this is the moment when someone would come wandering round the corner and give me hand, but I hadn't seen another soul for hours; I was on my own with this one. Making things worse was the fact that a swarm of what are known locally as sweat bees had discovered my location, and kept me in a permanent cloud of yellow buzzing irritation. Swatting ineffectually at the bees and swearing profusely, I pulled off all the luggage and tried again to lift the bike, and eventually, when my rage had built up to Hulk like levels I found the strength I needed and hauled the bike back up. Still being bombarded by bees (and having been stung by one that had been hiding in the sleeve of my jacket), I strapped the luggage on as fast as I could, fired up the bike and then... fell off again ten yards down the road. The tread on the back tyre was completely filled with mud and was providing no grip, so I repeated the whole process, this time with the added fun of cleaning the tyre out too. My swearing was now extremely loud. I finally got away without issue, and was back on the road to Bomassa.
My little setback had cost me some time, so it was dark when I rolled into the camp. However, when I was greeted by a fellow Brit who told me that they had just opened up a crate of beers and would I like to join them, any remnants of a bad mood were immediately lifted. It turned out that there were several Brits working at the station, and I had also arrived at the same time as a Canadian couple who had cycled up from Kinshasa, and an ex NI policeman and ex British Army officer who were working privately as anti-poaching advisors. It was really nice to just be able to sit and chat in English, and as ever great to hear other people's stories about what they had been up to and how they had ended up in this remote corner of the world. The staff were really nice - when I asked about going to see the gorillas they told me that they were technically closed, but they said that they would work something out and we arranged a trek for the next day. My evening was rounded off by an impromptu police search of all my belongings; I was staying in a weird, half deserted building in the village with the Canadian couple, and when we arrived back in the evening the police (possibly the worse for drink) were put out by the fact that I had not registered already and so they opted to throw their weight around by getting me to take all of my possessions out and put the on the floor, explaining what each of them was. Ah well, if it makes them happy.
At a respectable hour the next morning I was back at the station, and along with my guide (a former English teacher) and a team of trackers we set out. It wasn't until later that found out that the trackers were from the local pygmy tribes, and while they weren't the three feet tall, sharpened teeth pygmies of 19th century European tales of Africa, they were pretty small and looking back at the photos I probably should have realised sooner! After a half hour drive (complete with forest buffalo sighting) we had a 30 minute trek through knee deep swamp (I loved it) and then an hour of more regular jungle trekking before we made it to the base camp. The whole way to the camp, my guide had been talking about the fact that there were two groups of gorillas, but that the best one was Kingo's group as he was the biggest, the group tended to stay together and interact more, and they had some babies that were very entertaining, but when we arrived we found out that his group were hiding out in the swamp so we would be going to see Buko instead. I just wish they hadn't told me all that stuff beforehand!
Buko's territory is pretty close to the camp, and we found him after 20 minutes or so. There is no disguising the fact that gorillas are seriously big, and standing 5 metres away looking at a big male casually sat down chewing on some plants was a fairly awe inspiring sight (though actually less scary than seeing chimpanzees with all the tales of their face biting and genital ripping; at least this guy would just beat me to death Marquis of Queensbury style). Gorillas aren't the most active animals, and today they seemed to be especially chilled, content to just sit in bushes looking the other way and eating. Personally I would have loved to see some more activity and interaction, but these are wild animals not performing monkeys. I was a little disappointed at the time, but now looking back with hindsight I can appreciate just how good it was to see them in their forest surroundings.
I spent the night in the forest (in quite a swanky tent with a bed and everything), and we trekked back the next morning, arriving in time for a spot of lunch with the others where it was suggested I could join a trek to Wali Bai in the afternoon. A bai is a forest clearing, often with a water source, where animals gather; this one was about 3km away so off we went on foot. We had with us the village chief, who seemed to know everything about the forest - he told us which plants were used for stomach ache, which ones were used for fuel, which ones for building materials, a real font of knowledge. We got to the bai, a beautiful place to sit and relax and listened to him talk us through some of the history of the place (how for example there were fewer animals at the moment coming to the bai as a result of poaching, and how a fly infestation drove the local okapi population so crazy that they couldn't eat and died out), but halfway through this one of the trackers signalled that there was a forest elephant nearby. We had heard nothing, but sure enough just 20 metres or so from the platform where we were a female emerged from the bushes. It was incredible how quietly she moved, and we sat and watched as she came down towards the water, then changed her mind and disappeared off down the track. Having missed the forest elephants on Mount Cameroon, I was chuffed to bits. Once the coast was clear, we set off down the track, but ten minutes in the tracker leading indicated that there was another elephant in the area. This one was a male, and was not being quiet, crashing around noisily near the water. Unsure of what direction he was heading in, we held back waiting for the all clear (the last thing we wanted was four tonnes of angry elephant charging towards us down a narrow track!), and once the tracker figured that he was happily larking about by the water we crept past.
That evening we had a few more beers back at the station, and then the next morning after some goodbyes it was time to hit the road again, back through the forest and across the river to Ouesso, and down more empty new tarmac to Oyo.
