Well done getting through Nigeria. Another challenge overcome, and hopefully enormous satisfaction when you look back.

Despite the aggro and expense, your route into Cameroon sounds more attractive than Kyle’s inland one. Potential rip-offs seem preferable to long off-road sections and wild camping in the boondocks (against FCO advice).
And once I’m getting closer I will take your advice and look into potential sea/air routes to bypass some of the badlands. Maybe less satisfaction, but a lot less hassle.

Good luck with the Congos. I’m guessing that after them life will get much more agreeable.

One question: do you use the Maps.me app? It works offline once you have downloaded each country or regional map, and there is a “hotels” function which has got me out of a scrape a few times (and taken me to some strange and interesting places).

We stayed in Douala for a while. My CRF1000 had blown a fork seal way back in Guinea. There have been some rough roads since then. The oil has pretty much stopped leaking out now. There is just enough coming out to wet the caliper but not enough to run down and drip onto the wheel rim. Despite having new brake pads before leaving the UK the left pads are down to metal and scraping the disc. The right side has been well lubricated with fork oil of course! We needed to get some new seals and pads sent out to us.

The previous weekend was the King's Coronation and consequently Monday was a national holiday in the UK, so the spares, although ordered on Saturday, were dispatched on Tuesday. With overnight delivery from the suppliers, Belinda received them on Wednesday and DHL'ed them the same day. They arrived in Douala on Friday morning which is amazing service on DHL's part.

Sadly that performance isn't matched on the Cameroon side. The customs do everything they can to prevent the timely flow of goods anywhere. We went to the DHL office the package was addressed to. No, it's not coming here said the counter staff. Try going to the airport.

At the airport office various staff looked at each other before a waybill was printed. They then motioned for me to go upstairs to a customs office. The three people inside sat at desks chatting. One motioned to take the paperwork. He put it on his desk and carried on chatting. After a lengthy wait he left and gave it to custom woman 2 to deal with. She put it on her desk and carried on chatting. A long wait later she looked at it, tapped a lot of keys and wrote a number down. 67% import tax.

Clearly extortion so I said no. She referred it back to customs guy 1 when he returned. He made various implausible excuses but eventually told her to recalculate, now it was down to 55% tax. After over an hour of this, that was as good as it was going to get. Downstairs to pay at the money counter. Cashier on her phone ignores everyone. A helpful local guy, who is familiar with the procedure, pushes my paperwork to her. She puts it on her keyboard and ignores it.

I wait and eventually she says it's not on her system. Customs is one system, the money is another etc. A long wait later she takes the 55% tax and adds another 2% to it for her services. Back up stairs to get the payment approved by two obnoxious customs guys in a different office. Neither is interested but one starts wanting more paperwork and shows a document of unknown origin which isn't necessary. I remain calm and through Google translate ask politely for help.

He motions to obnoxious customs guy 2 to do something. OCG2 can't do it so OCG1 comes over after stamping the receipt from the cashier. They motion for me to go downstairs. Back downstairs, next to the cashier is another kiosk. Woman takes all paperwork and copies it. She keeps some and gives me some of the copies and motions for me to go outside. Still no one shows any interest in finding my parcel, I ask a security guard for help using translate on the phone.

He motions for me to take a seat. Nothing happens. I ask him again and he goes off to look for someone. Guard comes back with a thumbs up signal which is hopeful. Sometime later I see a man with a parcel about the size I was expecting. Various scans, form filling and signing later he hands it over. 2.5 hours to collect a parcel. I relay this (somewhat boring) story to give you an idea of how things work out here and why it takes so long and costs so much, to ride through Africa. You can't rush it or change it and extortion, corruption, indifference and lack of work ethic in the government departments is just the way it's done.

While in Douala we decided to try and get the Congo visa. There is a consulate in Douala and they told us we needed copies of documents and accommodation reservations. They gave directions to a copy shop up the road. We made a hotel reservation, emailed it to the copy shop, they printed it and made copies of Yellow Fever certificate etc. Back at the consulate we handed over all documents and 60 000 CFA. The reception lady told us to come back on Tuesday to collect the passports. It was 4 days to wait but the visa was processed and ready on Tuesday.

Douala to Sangmelima

Brake pads fitted, Congo visa received, ready to continue. We planned to go to Yaounde and see how far we could get. As it turned out the roads were good, the town traffic was slow but kept moving and we made good time. At Yaounde, we decided to continue to Sangmelima. It's a long way but there were only two corrupt cop roadblocks on the way. One just wanted money, the other wanted our boots. Not sure what he thought we would ride away in if we gave away our boots!

Some lovely stretches of road and the first time for a long time we could just ride without constantly being stopped. It did rain but being hot and humid it wasn't worth putting on rain gear until it really started to pelt down. It didn't last long and by then we were boiling in the rain gear. Sangmelima is quite a big town and finding a hotel and fuel was easy. There was no electricity but the hotel used a generator at night so there was light and some AC.

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Sangmelima to Ouesso (Cameroon/ Congo border crossing)

This stretch was a complete unknown. Google earth showed roads with white lines so we assumed it would be paved and it was. Border crossings are always unpredictable and can take hours and hours to complete. The plan was to ride to the closest border town and check in to a hotel, then cross the border the following day.

In fact the road was excellent. We were in rural Cameroon and riding the best road we'd seen in Africa since Morocco. We made good time to the border town but it clearly wasn't somewhere you'd want to stay so we decided to cross the border and ride to Ouesso.

Leaving Cameroon was super easy. For once the immigration office was next to the customs office, in the first for the passport stamp, in to the customs for the carnet stamp and we were done. Rope barrier was lowered and we were out of Cameroon.

Next came a series of buildings, roads, signs but everything was deserted and there was no barrier. Is this the border, should we continue, what if it is the border and we haven't done the paperwork? Best to go back and look again. Second time round a friendly guy in military uniform and a big gun approached. He explained the complex is not used, just carry on riding until you get to a rope barrier, that's where the paperwork is done.

True enough we came to the rope barrier. First up was immigration. Sat silently waiting while an officer finishes what he's writing. He then takes our passports and very slowly peruses them. Then very slowly finds a book to write all the details in. Finally he stamps the passport twice. Next door is the customs office. No problem here, customs guys are friendly and efficient, they know what a carnet is and how to fill it in and stamp it.

Next door is the vaccination check. Yellow Fever guy writes all details in a book. We're all done, superb, best crossing ever..... but of course, too good to be true. On the way back to the bikes passport guy calls us back to immigration and takes our passports. Long wait, no information forthcoming but eventually a big guy in a Kaftan type outfit, chunky gold necklace, dark glasses and a holstered pistol arrives. He places the gun on the table before sitting down, then puts the gun in the drawer. He peruses the passports and asks some questions. First guy is evidently junior to pistol guy. Some discussion between them later, he stamps our passports again and we're good to go.

Just as we get to the bikes a third passport guy runs after us, we have to go back to the passport office. No information but a few questions about where we are going, a further delay but we were cleared (for the third time) to go.

At the rope barrier two guys want to record the details in their book. They also demand a fee of 1000 CFA each for lowering the rope barrier. We ask for an invoice, more just to prove to them that we know it's corruption than actually wanting an invoice. They know they've been rumbled so we pay it and it's fun and laughter all round. They lower the rope and we ride through.

It's 5 hours to Ouesso and 14:30 so arrival will be at night. Not ideal but there is nowhere else to stay. The road to Ouesso was broken up in a few places but generally very good to excellent. Only two roadblocks. One for Forestry commission and one for second immigration check. Neither asked for payment. There were other barriers but they were lowered as we approached or were down and we were waved through. A long day but effectively covered two days riding and a border crossing in one day. A good result.

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Ouesso to Owanda

A shorter day was planned as it was too far to make Brazzaville in one day and we'd had a long day the previous day. Plan was to ride from Ouesso to Owanda. Hopefully arrive early afternoon and get a local sim card and find a hotel. The road was really good. Paved all the way with lovely views of dense green jungle on both sides. Lots of dwellings along the way. About 4 roadblocks but only one stopped us and asked for our passports. He took them into a hut and there was a long delay. Not sure what he was doing but he eventually gave them back and lowered the rope barrier.

In Owanda we found a hotel but it didn't have internet so we went up the main road to the local sim card booth. While buying sim cards we were accosted by a uniformed police man and two non uniformed guys. Uniform 1 advised we had to give our passports to non uniform man 1, then go to the police station. After getting sim cards they escorted us to the police station. Some confusion followed and clearly we were not being given a choice of leaving.

To cut a very very long story short, they accused us of being in the country illegally, claiming we didn't have visas, even though the chief was looking at the clearly legible Congo visa page in our passports. It was a tense time which ended when Richard overheard something in French about a stamp. Evidently they couldn't find the border post entry stamp and assumed we had somehow sneaked into the country without crossing an official border post. Once Richard found the relevant stamp and pointed it out the chief did lighten up and say everything was in order. Then there was a further delay due to form filling but we were relieved to be leaving the police station with our passports in hand.

It was all conducted in French, it is a French speaking country after all, but it does heighten the tension when you're in a police station and don't know what's going on. At one point a policeman came in and asked if I spoke English, I said yes and he asked what I wanted, i.e what was I doing at the police station and what did I want from them. A perfect question, now if only he could could find out the answer and let me know! After it was all settled we went back to the hotel we had found earlier and checked in.

The hotel had a patio area which overlooked the river, a lovely spot for a sundowner although the edge had been taken off the whole experience by the earlier events. While sitting on the patio, the English speaking policeman turned up to say hello, not in uniform now he took a seat at our table. We had a social chat and bought a round of drinks. We asked why we had to register and he explained they had a foreigner go missing sometime ago but nobody knew anything about him so now they keep tabs on all foreigners in town. We learned a lot about the town and what the police there deal with. Drownings in the river, snake bite deaths, road accidents, crime etc. For a 28 year old he's seen quite a bit.

He did WhatsApp me frequently after that asking where we were and where we were going so it may not have been a purely social visit.

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Owanda to Brazzaville

The day got off to a bad start. We were loading up for our 7am departure and there were two guys lurking by the hotel gate. When they saw me they came over, neither in uniform but one in baggy sports attire said he was an immigration officer. Was he, hard to tell, so I carried on loading the bike. He insisted I give him my passport. Risky giving your passport to a stranger in a hotel car park so I waited until Richard arrived as backup. We did let him see the passports and he wrote down the details. Then the other guy did the same. Who knows who they were?

We then set off to fill up with fuel but the service station was closed. We had range to get to the next big town so decided to start riding. Two small villages had service stations but no fuel. The bigger town had three garages, the first said no, carry on to the next one. The second one was closed and the third was unoccupied and out of service. We didn't have the range to go to the next town but there was a police roadblock ahead. We rode up and I asked the police how we could get "essance". Mainly using hand signals he communicated that he could get fuel in a container for us. We used a calculator to confirm the litres and cost. If we had understood the situation correctly, we must wait and someone would bring fuel to us.

That is what happened and the head policeman gave instructions to the two minions who brought us 40 litres of fuel in drums on a moped. The irony of buying black market fuel from the policemen at a roadblock wasn't lost on us. Also this was all friendly, no demands for documents or false allegations of wrongdoing, in total contrast to our experience with the Owando police the day before. While waiting for the delivery, the police guys pointed to a building and advised us it was a Patisserie. After fuelling the bikes we went to get pastries and drinks before heading off with a goodbye wave to the police.

The road was generally fine, paved most of the way with occasional potholes and some sections where the road had completely disintegrated. We passed a few more fuel stations, either with long queues or no fuel but we were OK now, we had enough to get to Brazzaville. We then came to a Total service station with fuel and no queue so we took the opportunity to fill our reserve bladder tanks and bikes to the max. The scenery was changing to grass plains, mountains and some cattle ranches.

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