Day 131-134

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ROC 10th -13th April 2007, Congo

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Day 131 10/4. Bush camp, 50km South of Nyanga, Congo
3°12.17'S 12°05.38'E. Miles today 90, Total Miles 11988
WalesHaving found ourselves parked on a steep hill on the track in front of the gate, we made our way into the nearest shack, where a steady beat of the Congolese sound was blasting from the radio. We waiting for the "official" to painstakingly slowly complete our details in the big book but not actually stamp the passports. Absolutely no conversation took place, purely as the music was so loud and we found ourselves bopping away to the tunes. We were approached by a rather jovial chap who introduced himself as the customs man. Bonus, we can get our carnet stamped here, we thought, as we had been told that we normally had to get it done in Nyanga, 50 km away. He spent ages searching our car and said we were to come to his office for the carnet stamp. But before that, we still had to walk across the track to the "real immigration office." Whoa, who's the daddy here? This man had four big stamps, flowers, a somewhat kitsch Christmas tree (isn't it April already) and an enormous and rather shiny poster of a Halberg Rassy 42 sailboat. Do we miss yachting, you may ask? Um, nope! Finally, we made our way to the customs and after much chit-chat, he asked us for a fiche with all our details on it and then promptly told us we had to actually go to Nyanga to get the stamp. Rob lost his temper at this point. "So, you're not the Customs" he said, " You're just wasting my time" and promptly snatched the carnet out his hand and stormed back to the car. And so we drove the 50km to Nyanga on a pretty special road. Once again, we were stopped at a police barrier (they block the road so you can't just sneak though) who insisted we had to get our passports stamped again. "But we already have our entry stamp, you see, right here" This particular process took some time as no matter how many times we showed him the visa and stamp for Congo, he insisted on writing the details for our Mauritania visa down. Oh, give me strength!!!!!! We caught the real customs man just in time as he was heading off somewhere yonder. But once again, we keep thinking about buying ourselves a set of fake stamps, as he made a right balls-up by filling out the exit section instead of the entry. What a lemon!. Feeling quite exasperated at this point, we looked for a quiet bush camp for the night and found a superb spot amongst the tall grass. I attempted to whip up a spaghetti cabonara but we were soon invaded by some very scary sounding buzzing creatures and so dived into the safety of the tent to munch away. Suprisingly good cabonara actually. Does anyone appreciate how long I have gone without sausages? Not counting tinned ones, of course.
Day 132 11/4. Yacht Club (Club Naval), Point-Noire, Congo
4°47.37'S 11°50.91'E. Miles today 173, Total Miles 12161
Hidden in the grass log bridge sand pit
Caused a small stir amongst the locals going about their morning duties, stopping them dead in their tracks as they spotted us amongst the tall grass. Once again, I feel this part of the trip would be so much more if only we could muster more than a "Bon Jour. Ca va? in French" Quite soon after breakfast, we made our way back on the bumpy, muddy track, marvelling at the openness of the grassy flat stretches of scenery. Have also noticed that everyone carries their load in a basket here (not on their heads like the rest of Africa) and it is held on by a piece of cloth tied around their forehead. They look exactly like ninja turtles and it is taking everything I've got not to shout out "Heroes in a half shell -Turtle Power" at them. Upon reaching the town of Kibango, we were stopped yet again by the police for yet another frigging stamp. We had enough time to look around the office and what greeted me, shocked me big time. On the walls was a series of photos of some hangings and killings that had taken place near here. Pretty grim and gory photos, this was just to remind us that we are actually in Deepest Darkest Africa. However, the police were super amiable and told us that it was better to take the new road to Point Noire, and so we took their advice and took a right turn after 10km or so. Now nick-named "The Rainbow Road" as the colour of the surface changes so often, it was still a pretty long and scary road, mostly used by logging trucks and wound it's way through contrasting dense steamy jungle and flat grassy savannah. Towards 5pm, we spotted a bush camp option in a section of forest but alas, were soon thrown out by the forestry commissioner doing his 5pm rounds. Bad timing. Just then, we noticed that road ahead suddenly turned to tarmac and with only 46km to go to Point Noire, we decided to go for it. We found our way purely by luck to the Yacht Club, (us ex-yachties always know where these places are) where we heard that you could camp for free. There was nobody around apart from a lot of military but they showed to the spot where the "tourists" usually camp. Keen to investigate the bar "Vegas" next door, we were delighted to find an air-conditioned haven with cold beers and scrummy free snacks. Not cheap but well deserved after a long day on the road. Poor old Dino looks a sight. Filthy. Oh yes and our GPS has being playing up over the last few days and we both went to bed dreading the thought of having to replace it here.
Day 133 12/4. Yacht Club (Club Naval), Point-Noire, Congo
4°47.37'S 11°50.91'E. Miles today 7, Total Miles 12168
Point-NoireAfter a superb nights sleep, we went off to explore the town and to use up the last of our Central African Francs, as they are worthless from now on. After a quick and cheap fuel top-up, we investigated the wonderfully modern, super fast net café, complete with mutant air-con. Halfway through, Rob got up to check on the car, only to find some small Congolese child had taken the liberty of washing Dino for us. Rob was furious, as he said they really should ask first and if we give him any money, then he'll never learn. I, on the other hand, felt really sorry for him, as he had done such a good job and surely this was him showing some entrepreneurial strength, rather than just plain begging. Plus, we were also quite embarrassed driving around this swanky town in a mud bucket but Rob admits to actually being proud. I subsequently slipped the boy some money but ha ha, was caught out. Geesh, was Rob annoyed! Anyway, a quick tour of the supermarkets (the Park and Shop is heaps cheaper than La Citie by the way) and we headed back to the Yacht Club, having spent all our Francs except for enough for a round of beers in the Vegas Bar tonight. Alas, back at the club we were met by the dude running the show, who explained that camping is no longer free and that we had to pay €2.30 each per night. Bollocks, there goes our beer money.
Day 134 13/4. Congo-Cabinda border
4°59.36'S 12°03.32'E. Miles today ?, Total Miles ???
It's already 30C and it's only 8am and the GPS has finally kicked the bucket. No problem, we thought, we don't really need it. We'll um, navigate by the sun. Yeah, let's be true adventurers. Humpf! Well, we got lost just trying to leave Point Noire. In my defence though, it was very overcast with no possibility of solar navigation and the manual compass didn't work inside the car! After a long hunt through town, we found one lonely Garmin Etrex looking for a new home. Absolutely ridiculous price, even with the 20% discount (the French shopkeeper took pity on us!) So bad, we are not going to reveal it. Daylight robbery! Very keen to keep moving south (now that we knew where it was) in search of cooler climates and less bugs, we headed off towards the enclave of Angola Cabinda on a pretty good tarred road. As usual, the border crossing took forever but at least it was a busy market crossing, which kept us entertained with a bit of people watching. Just how many plantains can you fit into a small trailer and approach the barrier at rapid pace hoping no-one will stop and ask questions? On departing the Congo, a very argumentative woman tried to make us pay for the carnet stamp but I think this was just because they thought we were entering. Not that we would have paid on entry anyway. Plus, we had to explain why the previous lemon had written in the departure section. Not easy when your French is minimal, I might add. "C'est un faux pas" I say. " Honey, is that really a word?" says Rob. Now, if only we had some plantains, we could speed this up.
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