Every one of a hundred thousand cities around the world had its own special sunset and it was worth going there, just once, if only to see the sun go down. - Ryū Murakami

19 August 2019, Ebolowa to Ngoule Makong, 53.69km
Auberge Narstel 5,000CFA (R125)

Before leaving Ebolowa, we bought baguettes stuffed with boiled eggs and mayonnaise to eat on the road. I have never seen eggs peeled in such an expert fashion. The young man held each egg at the narrow end, tapping the shell with a small knife and flipping the cracked shell from the broad end. He then stuck the knife into the peeled half, and quickly slipped the remaining shell off the egg. Fast and efficient with little hand contact on the edible interior.
There was a horrible incident on the outer edge of the city. I heard a woman scream behind me and when I turned to look back, I saw an autocycle lying flat in the road and beside it the driver, face down and still. Several people ran to the scene, one lifting a boy I had not seen from behind the bike and moving him to the verge, and three others turning and carrying the driver by arms and legs to the roadside. Neither should have been moved, of course…
Our road was in excellent condition, the tar smooth and user-friendly, the terrain easier than that encountered for many, many days. We saw men sitting on the roadside reducing rocks to gravel by hand, chopping at rock with a hammer. We have seen cattle for the first time since Angola, today a small herd in a whitewashed kraal. And a chameleon dropped from a high tree, falling with an almighty PLOP onto the road beside me. When I approached him, thinking to move him off the road, he lay on his side, swelling his body defensively, looking a little stunned. But then righted himself and walked to the verge, lying down again beneath the first leafy bush.
Charl has a cold, which is never fun when cycling. We were very pleased, therefore, to be told at one of our softdrink stops that there is an auberge in Ngoule Makong. It is not easy to find, sited as it is off the main road behind the market and stadium, and completely unsignposted. We asked a couple of people who waved us down a dirt road; the last woman we spoke to offered to accompany us to the auberge, down a narrow track off the road we were on. She walked beside us in her bare feet, oblivious to gravel. At the tin gate, she called out “kong kong”, a sound often made to denote knocking.
We bought tepid drinks from our host (there are fewer fridges at shops and bars in Cameroon than in Gabon) and cooked pasta with bottled bolognaise sauce for dinner, not wanting to cycle one more inch.

For today's route see below photos
For overview route, click on ROUTE tab above…