Kinga Ambe

I didn’t like the look of the map last night. We couldn’t practically continue with the Ouaka [river] because it would have taken us as far north as east. So a net zero, progress-wise, in our southwesterly drive and leaving us deeper in the mountains. Our good map runs out at 1°East. But at the western edge, it showed the headwaters of a large watercourse that flows in our direction. Trouble was there were three big hills between us and this river. The biggest was like a wall: six 40-meter [131-foot] contours in about 300 meters [328 yards]—a steep one. If we headed west and then south it looked like we could avoid the worst part of the hills and still get to our creek. But it would add about two kilometers [1.2 miles] to our distance. This was the option I was going to shoot for.

We left our little oil palm paradise and headed west. We soon hit a creek that penetrated to the west. We followed it up, but it was choked with dense veg. The elephant trail was dead. We crossed the sandy-bottomed creek at least once every 50 meters [55 yards]. I have been trying to keep my feet out of the sand because I am down to the raw skin in a lot of places. I need to build up just enough dead cells so it doesn’t hurt anymore. This creek wasn’t making it, in other words. I took a look at the map and decided to bite the bullet and climb the wall. It was exactly like I imagined on the map, straight up for 240 meters [262 yards]. It took us the better part of an hour to get to the top. Bebe was not happy. I said, “Kinga ambe.” (The hills are finished.) He looked at me and laughed an unbelieving laugh. He won’t be convinced until we hit the Ngounie.

All we had to do was go right back down the other side of the wall—just as steep, just as high. Had to be done—so down we went. We hit hill number two at the bottom of the wall, right back up, only about a 150-meter [164-yard] climb. On our way up we hit our first human sign since the Oumba: an old trail that led to the south with machete cuts less than a year old. We topped out and went right back down. We hit three or four ravines, little up-downs. Crossed the last creek at 14:30 local. One more hill and we could reach our southwesterly creek.

Trouble was, rain hit, and Denis was already tired. The forest all day was that underwater type: all the trees covered in moss, the roots above ground, soils saturated, a real rain forest. There were large boulders in the creek, something people around here don’t like to sleep next to. I asked Bebe if we should camp. He already had a raffia umbrella above his head; he looked at me indignantly and said, “Here!” Up we went, conquering the last of the hills, 200 meters [219 yards]. The veg was dense up top, like an elfin forest. The mist was heavy. We were thick in the clouds. Now down to the creek. Had to keep a close watch on the compass, 20 or 30 degrees off and we could easily find ourselves either back in the Ouaka, or some other basin to the north.

We made our way along a crest that had an ancient elephant trail that was abandoned. We were able to get only a few hundred meters out of it and I decided to head down to the creek. A hundred meters [109 yards] down, we started hitting house-sized granite boulders. We could hear water way down below somewhere. It started raining again; it was already 17:00 local. We made it finally down to a creek and found a spot in the mist.

The guys are starting to act like people who have been out in the rain too long: despondent and sometimes defiant. Ipenda announced tonight that they have eaten all the foufou—which means they have been preparing food in the morning after my departure. We now have one sack of rice after this evening’s meal and who knows what else. So that gives us tomorrow, the next day, then we’ll get the third day out of that evening meal. We will be on the Ngounie. If we can find somebody, some food at Ngounie we’ll be OK. If not we have three days of zero rations. I still have about 20 Cliff bars, so I will have some nourishment. I can also keep Denis going. I will keep the rest because these guys have mismanaged the food—no sympathy.

There is virtually no wildlife here except for the occasional group of monkeys and porcupines. It looks to be completely secondary here, mostly small trees and very weedy. It’s hard to tell though because this rain forest is alien to me.

It’s 22:44 and the rain is pelting down again. During the day we got three millimeters [0.1 inches] then about seven millimeters [0.3 inches]. This one is going to top 35 [1.3 inches] easily, maybe more like 50 [2 inches]. No wonder it looks like we’re walking in a fishbowl. We’re going to need scuba gear soon.