Travel brings wisdom only to the wise. It renders the ignorant more ignorant than ever. - Joe Abercrombie

21 August 2019, Mbalmayo to Yaoundé, 59.81km
AirBnb Bastos 14,000CFA (R350)

Yaoundé is a sizeable city of 2.5 million, and distinctly African, though similarities to large Asian cities abound. Its sidewalks, unevenly paved with deep holes that can plunge the unwary into drains, are crowded with pedestrians and traders; its roads are busy with stop-start traffic, manic with two- and three-wheeler vehicles transporting passengers and goods; it is dusty and polluted and cacophonous.
Built across seven hills, it is not an easy ride. Around 20km lay between the airport on the city’s edge and our reserved Airbnb accommodation in the northern suburb of Bastos. 11km from “home” it began to drizzle, then to pour with the very first rain of the rainy season, thunder rumbling. Suddenly people were running for shelter in bars and restaurants, or haling share taxis and leaping into them, or covering their displayed goods with plastic sheeting. Almost immediately the road felt slick beneath our shoes and we too took shelter in a bar, parking the bikes at the dress shop next door and growing increasingly chilled while Charl drank a cold beer.
After 30 minutes or so, the rain eased and we got back on the bikes, but in minutes the skies opened again and in no time at all we were soaked. Getting wet in the rain is not the problem; staying safe is. Visibility is reduced, braking on a slippery surface is less secure, running water obscures potential hazards such as potholes and open drains. The drains, clogged with refuse, could not cope adequately with the volume of water, which poured from them in torrents, flooding low-lying roads. Waterfalls dropped from the corners of buildings, the rain overwhelming the gutters. On one section of flooded road, I waded knee-deep through dirty water, refuse floating and swirling, while behind me cars waited patiently, unable to pass.
Here’s the thing I love about Africa (and about Asia). People, and particularly drivers, are extraordinarily patient and tolerant, showing a zen-like willingness to accommodate others. This makes it possible for share taxis to drop and collect anywhere, and two-wheelers to carry unwieldy loads that make them wider and slower than they should be, and hawkers to trade, and cyclists to hold up the traffic. There is virtually no aggression* … one could learn a thing or two from African cities. [*This does not apply to South Africa where city drivers are notoriously aggressive… in the countryside we have found them to be well-behaved.]
Before departing Mbalmayo on a cool overcast morning, we bought baguettes from two young women trading on the sidewalk who stuffed them with spaghetti and boiled eggs for us to take away. An odd combination, but filling our fuel needs if not our culinary. We ate the first outside the cathedral at the north end of town, just beyond a stand of palm trees where bats where flying in to roost.
The road was not as good as it had been before, with some potholes and some roadworks. Charl showed me how touch-sensitive is a “drooping mimosa”. And we saw two enormous, headless Gaboon Vipers for sale on the roadside, and live caterpillars for sale, and skewered roasted larvae for sale. I bought one skewer with three larvae, thinking perhaps I would be brave enough to try it, but in the end I was not. Could I have done so as a Survivor contestant with $1 million on the line? Guess so…
Our Airbnb is on a steep road near the La Salsa restaurant. On the east corner is the residence of the Nigerian ambassador. Other neighbours are also well-heeled, with security guards in sunflower-yellow overalls to open their gates. Pizza for dinner one road south. We’ll be here awhile, applying again for a Nigerian visa and others…

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