Our southbound journey took us down the western boundary of Parc Nationat de Benoue, but the only wildlife we saw was a single, small brown duiker (small antelope) in the grass just off the road early in our drive. The country became greener as the morning wore on and we started up the Massif de L'Adamaoua, a long haul on which we overtook the Encounter Overland, before cruising into the southern city of Nganundere.
Kel dropped us in town at a lousy market while he took the shoppers to a great one! Ate bread, peanut butter, soft drink and sweetened yoghurt for lunch, wandering the short main street. Sick of peanut butter sandwiches.
Drove in circles trying to follow instructions to the road out of town to Chutes de Telo. Eventually found two roads and a "Militaire Station" sign that didn't indicate which road. We took the wrong one and 100m up had to stop at a manned barrier. When Ben went about 30cm too far the guard lifted his machine gun and released the safety switch - a frightening reflex! Another smiling soldier intervened, pleasantly directing us while the scowling machine gun Jerk kept his gun on us, reinforcing how and why situations can escalate so quickly.
Having followed a long, twisting dusty road we turned off along a fast-flowing creek in search of the chutes. Came across a herd of cattle being hassled and hit by three tiny tots, one wearing a brightly striped wool hat. An adult shepherd then appeared and happily lead us back down the creek to an area of relatively flat rocky ground. The thunderous sound of water drew us down a rough path through grass and shrubs to a breathtaking sight: a huge cave lush with vines and ferns, everything damp with spray from two cascades, one small and one large, pouring from the rocky lip above and crashing into the pool below, the larger drop foaming with the force of water. Afternoon sun gilded the pool and a rainbow arched through the falling water. We stood in silence just looking at this watery paradise.
Several of us stripped off for a glorious group shower, washing each other’s backs before scrabbling over rocks into and out of the pounding water, and shrieking from the force and freezing cold. At one point we looked up and saw the Swedish voyeurs lined up with cameras pointed at us.
Washed clothes beside the pool, just out of the fine mist, then climbed back up to camp. Had time to hang our washing across the road before a blue and orange Encounter Overland truck invaded our wonderland. They must have heard our disappointed groans even above the sound of the water. At least we’d had time to enjoy the beauty and serenity.
They camped so close to us that someone quipped that they were sleeping closer to our truck than we were. I understood the complaints, but the EO passengers weren't as bad as the others said and we could at least be civil. Spent the night round a campfire, sharing dinners with Tassie, Peter the POM and, later, Chrissy (Mum) and Vicki, waiting for some very sad looking chocolate cake to cook. Good excuse to keep the fire burning at least, on a very cold night.
The EO fire exploded late in the evenig, showering sparks into the air and over several people though none hurt; later heard that Bob bolted upright in his bed thinking the cakes had exploded and Ben had to reassure him. Late-night toast and vegemite, Peter the POM giving the consolidated Commonwealth Conserve of Cameroon his heartiest approval. Yes, these they are a loud bunch, but fun.
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