update 14.
drunken officials, steamy jungles and a whole lot of rain
8 April - 16 May, 2007
Total kilometers cycled: 20,894
Equatorial Guinea and Gabon
Specific country info on routes & roads/food & accommodation/the locals available here.

In good time the boss stumbled in, obviously back from a drinking spree in the local bar. He was slurring his Spanish so badly we could hardly make out what he was trying to say, but it seemed to boil down to us paying 2,000 CFA each for the privilege of passing his checkpoint. We pointed out that no one else at the previous 10 roadblocks had asked for any money. Our resistance set him off on a tirade and he began ranting and raving for a good 15 minutes. When he had calmed down a bit, we restated that our visas and passports were in order and kindly asked that he allow us to continue on our way. Wrong move. He started in on another harangue and then disappeared (with our passports in hand) to return toting his Kalashnikov. We got the message and quickly dug out the 4,000 CFA to pay up. Only now it was 'too late' he said and we 'disrespectful foreigners' would have to return to Bata (100 kilometers away) to obtain a travel and photography permit. He was a 'professional' after all and couldn't allow undocumented visitors to traipse around his country without the proper authorization. We were in a bind. Being in the midst of yet another downpour we decided it was best just to sit obediently in our corner and wait to see how the situation played out. When el jefe referred to Eric as hermano and suggested he roll the bikes in out of the rain, we began to have glimmer of hope. After all, we told ourselves, there is a good side to everyone--even armed thugs in uniform. In the end, he let us go, but the passage fee had gone up to 6,000 CFA and naturally no receipt was issued. $12 was a small price to pay for our freedom we decided.

Equatorial Guinea oil-rich and at l east some of the wealth seems to have trickled down to the lowest levels. Our hosts lived in a well-built wooden home and even had a TV and DVD player. The government had yet to provide running water or electricity, but the generator was turned on especially for our visit and we enjoyed (well not really) an evening of African pop videos with the family.

But back to our departure. This is Africa and It goes without saying that the boat was seriously overcrowded. We were wedged in under the weight of the bicycles and on top of those were gigantic woven baskets and various sacks of goods. The man steering the boat from the back had zero visibility and relied on a boy atop our bicycles to navigate him through the waters. Apart from the numbness in the lower body things weren't going too badly until we hit some choppy waves. The canoe started taking in water, women started screaming, babies started crying, men started shouting and through all this we tried to remain calm despite being surrounded by panicking Africans. There were only six life jackets for the 40-odd passengers aboard and we were not among the lucky recipients. Well, we didn't capsize. but that little adventure sure got the adrenalin flowing.


Pythons, crocodiles, monkeys and turtles...everything is fair game for the cooking pot in Central Africa. Bush meat is a staple in this part of the world and often it's best not to peek under the lid to see what's cooking. Beans --with a generous serving of mayonnaise and Maggi-- continue to be our staple meal outside of larger towns (where we might hope for an omelette and rice), and while they used to be a meal of last resort, we now count ourselves lucky when we come across them. Nobody comes to Africa for the cuisine.


We've been reading warnings in our guidebook about impassable roads since we reached Guinea way back in October. Still we were surprised to find a veritable river flowing some 300 meters across the 'road' where we were supposed to pass on our way to the Congo border. We hopped off our bikes to do a little reconnaissance and were soon joined by a fully-loaded mini-bus and a pick-up. The men rolled up their trousers and trudged off to check out the depth of the water. It didn't appear to be deeper than mid-thigh, but the current was strong and we could see that the Africans were having trouble staying upright. Looked like a no-go for us on our heavily-loaded bikes.
As we continued to contemplate the crossing, a Land Rover arrived from the other direction, gathered up speed and plunged through the flooded area in quite spectacular fashion. Four more such crossings awaited us on the road to Ndendé, the driver told us. In one 500 meter inundated section, he explained, the water was waist deep. This was definitely not doable on the bikes. By this time other vehicles had pulled up, were dissuaded by the news and decided to turn back. We waited around for another hour in the hopes of hitching a ride on a passing truck, but the stream of traffic had dried up. Word about the bad road conditions had obviously gotten around.

The next morning as we headed out of Mouila on our way to the border for our second attempt, we stopped to chat with some truck drivers and get an update on road conditions. It had rained during the night, so we weren't expecting good news. The flood waters had subsided, they reported, but thought passing on a bicycle would be impossible. We were in a dilemma. Should we check back into the hotel and wait another day, knowing the rains could continue and the situation might worsen? Should we ride on and risk getting stuck between two flooded areas in some godforsaken village where it would be a question of going hungry or munching monkey? Or, should we take the wimpy way out and hop on this sturdy-looking 12-wheeled truck and make it to Ndendé in a matter of hours rather than perhaps days. We opted for the truck.

A trip to the local hospital confirmed that Eric has come down with malaria for the 3rd time in less than a year. He's fighting a high fever and aches all over, but should be feeling better as soon as the anti-malarials kick in. We've had our share of bad luck (Eric's accident, broken low-rider, damaged camera, a bout of malaria for each of us, two chipped fingernails) over the last few months, and sometimes we're not far from throwing the towel in.
Less than 50 kilometers separate us from Congo. The locals tell us road conditions deteriorate on the other side of the border, so travel won't be easy. Another obstacle to steer clear of will be the so-called 'ninja rebels' who are running a low-level insurgency in the region near Brazzaville. Travelers before us have been strongly advised (and some forced) to take the train rather than risk a possible attack on the road. Both physically and mentally, this is a tough part of the continent to cycle through. Fortunately, the kindness of the locals and the beauty of the landscapes keep our spirits up (and of course your emails of encouragement help, too).
The coming weeks promise to be full of adventure and a few hardships as well. We'll update you soon to let you know how we fare with the rigors of the Congos.

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