Nomad issue #23

DISPATCH
For reasons I
still do not know,
Patrice decided
this was the perfect
moment to practice
his elephant
trumpeting skills.
The elephants
didn’t hesitate and
charged.
I
have dreamt of visiting Gabon
for decades, but somehow it has
always been just out of reach. No
longer. As the plane started its
descent into Léon-Mba International
Airport the vast Congo Basin came
into view. Broccoli as far as the eye
could see. Simply mesmerising.
Libreville, French for “Freetown”, is
Gabon’s unassuming capital city of about a
million souls. Situated directly on the shores of
the Atlantic Ocean in the protected Estuaire
of Gabon, it exudes a supremely relaxed
vibe. One that just happens to be extremely
appropriate for the stifling equatorial
humidity. We headed straight for the refuge of
La Tropicana, a simple hotel with dark wood
paneled rooms situated on a picturesque
stretch of beach in the middle of Libreville
that has become a favourite amongst expats
visiting the country.
With only a day in the city, we were
excited to be immersed into what Libreville
had to offer. We navigated our way through
the manic traffic on the oceanfront boulevard,
swinging past the extravagant yet imposing
golden glass Palais Presidentiel, built by the
late President Bongo in the 1970s. Sadly,
visitors are not allowed inside and any
attempts at photography would also be
considered a major faux pas. We quickly
moved on to marvel at the architectural
wonders of the Ministry of Mines and Petrol
building which is positively futuristic. As
evening fell we strolled along the beach
to La Voile Rouge, one of the most popular
restaurants serving mouth-watering dishes with
a French flair best consumed in the warm sea
breeze.
Next morning, after a Parisian breakfast of
Pain au Chocolates, croissants and excellent
French coffee at Chez Paul situated on
Boulevard Quaben, we departed Libreville
heading for one of Gabon’s premier national
parks: La Lopé, a Unesco World Heritage
Site. While a six hour stint aboard the famous
Trans Gabon Railway is the easiest way to
make it to Lopé, the night-time departures
from Libreville’s Owendo Station mean that
you miss the opportunity to appreciate the
stunning scenery through which you travel.
Instead we opted for a sturdy landcruiser.
As a result we quickly became intimately
acquainted with the affectionately known
Gabonese massage.
The road out of Libreville deteriorated with
an insatiable appetite as massive potholes
erupted all around us. Despite slowing to a
crawl, our bodies were still regularly flung
through the cabin. It didn't matter, however,
as I stared out of the window at the tunnel of
vivid and vibrant greens.
After about four hours we pulled into the
town of Ndjolé, situated on the banks of the
Ogooué river, the fourth largest in Africa.
Ndjolé was never going to win any aesthetic
awards but there was still a special reason for
interrupting our journey east: lunch. Down by
the river there was an open-air kitchen of sorts
with individual stoves, each presided over by
a chef. It was a hectic affair. The moment we
arrived we were pounced upon with offers
from deliciously slow cooked meats to oily
potato chips and deep fried bananas, each
served with a smile.
As our journey continued eastwards,
somewhere along the way we passed the
village of Junkville (pronounced Chengué-ville).
An up and coming metropolis it was not - take
my word for it. We plunged ever deeper on
worsening roads, the rain making a muddy
mess ahead of us. Yet, somehow the lowhanging
fog made it a hauntingly beautiful
experience.
By mid-afternoon we were settled into
some simple cottages situated just outside of
Lopé village. Suddenly Patrice, the caretaker,
came to fetch us. He had spotted a couple of
forest elephants tucked away just beyond the
clearing. This was too good an opportunity
to miss! We followed enthusiastically, albeit
cautiously. He beckoned us closer until we
were no more than 15m from them. There they
stood, three of them - completely unaware of
our presence, feeding peacefully.
For reasons I still do not know, Patrice
decided this was the perfect moment to
practice his elephant trumpeting skills. The
elephants didn’t hesitate and charged. We
turned and ran, slipping and sliding through
the mud, the animals hot on our heels. From
the safety of the cottages we watched the
elephant signalling its displeasure one final
time at the edge of the clearing before slinking
away into the darkness. Patrice was in stitches
of laughter on the ground.
Come sunset we headed into Lopé
National Park with the conservateur, in search
of elephants, gorillas and whatever else this
magical place had to offer. It was the golden
hour. The undulating savannahs, framed by
the Ogooué River, turned a vibrant shade of
yellow. The gravel crunched happily under our
tyres. It was one of those Ernest Hemmingway
moments. We headed deeper into the park,
dropping down into dense forested patches in
the valleys. We stopped the car and listened
and looked with bated breath but the elusive
gorillas were nowhere to be seen. All I wanted
was a fleeting glimpse of one of the estimated
25,000 gorillas, but it was not to be. As we
emerged out onto another patch of savannah,
the sky was turning a deep shade of purple,
tall trees of an ancient primary forest creating
silhouettes on the horizon.
Suddenly out of nowhere, a sound erupted
from the tall grass to our left. It was two forest
elephants. They had been spooked by our
sudden appearance. The elephants and I
stared at each other, one of them lazily lifting
its trunk to taste the air. Then just as quickly as
they had appeared they disappeared into the
undergrowth. As the night closed in around us,
I promised myself I would return to see what
else Gabon had to offer.
NOMAD MAGAZINE 2019 45