Traveling Overland via Public Transport in Search of the Great Central African Jungles to Discover a Treasure Trove of Wildlife in Lobeke National Park & Being Charged by a Silverback Gorilla

Into the Heart of the Congo Rainforest: A Journey Through Cameroon

May 2007 – My goal in Cameroon was to travel deep into the Congo rainforest, one of the most mysterious and wildlife-rich places on Earth. I had my sights set on Dzanga-Sangha National Park in the Central African Republic (CAR) or Nouabalé-Ndoki National Park in the Republic of Congo (RoC)—with Nouabalé-Ndoki as my first choice, as it was known to be the most remote and untouched.

Reaching either park was no easy feat. Due to instability in CAR and the logistical challenges of RoC, the best way in was overland via Cameroon.

The Call of the Congo

The Congo Basin rainforest had long fascinated me. I imagined dark, untouched forests teeming with wildlife—forest elephants, elusive leopards, and lowland gorillas. Few people I knew had ever ventured there, except for a missionary from my childhood who shared stories of living among Pygmy tribes.

I knew this trip would be an adventure unlike any other, with terrible roads, rampant corruption, extreme isolation, and the constant threat of tropical diseases. But that only made it more appealing.

Assembling the Team

For this journey, I invited two good friends from Minnesota, Jason and Scott. Neither had ever been to Africa before, but both were eager for the challenge. Since there were three of us, we could pool our money to hire a guide—a necessity for navigating Cameroon’s bureaucratic red tape and language barriers.

Through the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree travel forum, I found Matta Koje, a local Cameroonian who came highly recommended by other travelers. He wasn’t exactly a professional guide but more of a translator and fixer, claiming to have traveled to the places we wanted to visit.

We negotiated a small daily fee for his services, agreeing to cover his accommodation and food. I meticulously researched the route and logistics, and Matta assured us everything was possible.

With plans finalized and anticipation high, we set off for Cameroon—ready to chase the dream of exploring one of the most remote rainforests on the planet.

Our route in Cameroon

Battling the Roads and Corruption in Cameroon

We had two weeks ahead of us, which seemed like plenty of time—but given the ambitious itinerary, the horrendous roads, and the fact that we were traveling entirely by public transport, we knew every mile would be a challenge.

We began our journey in Douala, a sprawling, chaotic city that, if you’re not careful, can drain every ounce of hope from you. Our first night was spent in a dingy hotel, where we finally met our guide, Matta Koje.

The First Hurdle: Money Exchange

Before leaving the city, we needed to exchange money into Central African Francs (CFA)—something we wouldn’t be able to do once we left civilization. The problem? Counterfeit bills were everywhere.

To avoid getting scammed, I had printed images of real CFA bills before the trip. Matta and I headed to a black-market vendor, where we could get the best exchange rate while carefully inspecting each bill.

Surviving the “Bush Taxi” Gauntlet

For the next few days, we crammed ourselves into bush taxis, the dilapidated, overcrowded trucks that serve as public transport in rural Cameroon. These were no ordinary taxis—they were stuffed with people, chickens, goats, sacks of produce, and all manner of cargo.

The roads were long, bumpy, and brutal. Every ride felt like a test of endurance, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The Police Checkpoint Shakedown

I had been warned by other travelers that corrupt police checkpoints would be an issue. The key, they said, was to stay calm, never show frustration, and absolutely never pay a bribe.

The further east we traveled, the more frequent and more corrupt these checkpoints became—especially in isolated stretches of road.

Most officers started drinking by noon, and by afternoon and evening, they were usually drunk and even more demanding.

It was routine for drivers to pay bribes to speed things up, but when the police spotted us—three foreigners—they saw a bigger payday.

They would demand our passports and yellow fever vaccination cards, using any excuse to hold them hostage for a bribe.

Our Strategy: Outsmart, Not Pay

I had a plan.

Before leaving, I made sure that each of us had multiple photocopies of our passports and yellow fever cards. At every checkpoint, instead of handing over the originals, we gave them copies. This frustrated their attempts to hold our real documents ransom.

Most of the time, it worked—but occasionally, they insisted on seeing the originals.

That’s when Matta stepped in.

Matta: Our Secret Weapon

Matta was street-smart and assertive, and he knew exactly how to handle these guys.

We would spend 20 minutes rebuking every attempt at extortion, with Matta firmly standing his ground. The officers tried everything:

• Asking for money outright as a “gift”
• Claiming our visas were invalid
• Saying our yellow fever cards were expired

It was all nonsense, and we knew it.

We played along, smiling, nodding, and insisting everything was in order.

We even told them we were children of U.S. Embassy employees—a tactic that made them hesitate.

Sometimes, even local passengers on the bus would intervene on our behalf, tired of being delayed by the endless corruption.

It was mentally exhausting, and at times, we would barely leave one checkpoint before hitting another five minutes later.

Victory: Holding Our Ground

Despite the relentless pressure, we never lost our temper, never gave in, and—most importantly—never paid a bribe.

By the time we made it through the worst of the checkpoints, we were drained but victorious.

This was only the beginning of our adventure, and already, Cameroon was proving to be as wild and unpredictable as we had imagined.

Our bush taxi crossing a typical Cameroon village

Loading the bush taxi. 

The Waiting Game: Bush Taxi Realities

Each new leg of our journey began the same way: waiting for hours at a bush taxi station, hoping for enough passengers and cargo to justify departure. There was no set schedule—the vehicle left only when it was completely full—which meant we could be sitting for one hour or five.

These bus stations were unsavory places—chaotic, crowded, and filled with the pungent mix of sweat, exhaust fumes, and street food. The bathrooms were cesspools of overflowing sewage, forcing us to master the art of dehydration before each trip.

At first, the waiting was frustrating, but soon, we learned to embrace the slow pace. We played cards, entertained local kids, and simply observed life unfold around us.

There was something strangely meditative about it—being forced to slow down, to let go of control, and to accept that in Cameroon, things move when they move.

Me, Scott and Matta wasting away in a bush taxi station

Baggage of one of the bush taxi passengers

Late Arrivals and Nighttime Motor Taxi Rides

No matter what time we expected to arrive, we always got in hours later than planned. The bush taxis moved at their own unpredictable pace—breakdowns, police checkpoints, unexpected detours, and overloaded cargo delays were all part of the journey.

By the time we finally rolled into town, it was always late at night.

Exhausted and stiff from the long, bumpy ride, we still had one more challenge: getting to our hotel.

With no other transport options available, we had to rely on motor taxis—small motorcycles driven by fearless locals who navigated the dark, potholed roads with alarming confidence.

With our heavy backpacks slung across our shoulders, we each climbed onto the back of a bike, gripping tightly as our drivers weaved through the dimly lit streets.

There were no streetlights, no traffic rules, just the faint glow of distant lanterns and the occasional headlights of passing trucks. The night air was warm, thick with dust and the scent of burning trash, but after a long day on the road, the cool breeze on our faces was refreshing.

Though the rides were often nerve-wracking, they were also oddly exhilarating—a final jolt of adrenaline before we could finally collapse into bed.

Motor taxis-typical form of transportation in town

Deeper Into the Jungle: Reaching Yokadouma

As we traveled further east, the landscape transformed—the jungles grew thicker, the roads more rutted, and the air more humid. We were venturing into Cameroon’s deep interior, where the modern world faded, replaced by raw, untamed wilderness.

Yokadouma was a true jungle outpost—dusty roads, wooden shacks, and a feeling of isolation that was both thrilling and intimidating.

The Bush Meat Market

With no bush taxis running from Yokadouma to Libongo, we had extra time to explore the town while searching for an affordable vehicle and driver for the next leg of our journey.

This gave us the chance to visit the local bush meat market, a place as fascinating as it was unsettling.

Here, hunters sold everything the jungle had to offer—from smoked antelope to pangolin, and even elephant meat. One vendor offered us a slab, but we declined, unsure if it was legal or safe to eat.

Taking photos in the market was another challenge. The locals were wary of cameras, and many refused to be photographed. Given the nature of the goods being sold—some possibly illegal—it was easy to see why.

Curiosity and Unfamiliar Faces

Everywhere we walked, we stood out. Unlike larger cities where foreigners were an occasional sight, here in the far east of Cameroon, we were the only outsiders.

People stopped what they were doing to watch us as we passed, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

It was a reminder that we were far from the tourist trail, deep in a part of Africa that few travelers ever reached.

Bush meat market selling monkeys, antelope….

Marketplace

Market place

Children with cigerettes in the marketplace

Local dress for men

Usual sight of a woman carrying materials carefully balanced on their head

Yokadouma

The Joy of Simplicity

One thing I’ve noticed in almost every poor country I’ve traveled to is the way children find joy in the simplest things.

In Yokadouma, we saw kids laughing, running barefoot through the dusty roads, and playing with whatever they could find—sticks, old tires, scraps of fabric fashioned into makeshift soccer balls.

They didn’t need expensive electronics, flashy toys, or video games. Their creativity and imagination turned the most basic objects into endless sources of entertainment.

It was a humbling reminder—happiness doesn’t always come from having more, but from making the most of what you have.

Kids playing soccer in the mud with a deflated soccer ball

Kid with his wooden home made toy truck

The Ride to Libongo: A Jungle Journey Like No Other

After hours of searching, we finally found a vehicle and driver willing to take us to Libongo. The problem? His car was tiny, battered, and completely unfit for the rough jungle roads ahead. But with no other options, we took the risk.

The driver blasted Congolese music, his enthusiasm making up for what the car lacked in reliability. Then, unexpectedly, he stopped along the way to pick up a young Baka (pygmy) girl, whom he casually introduced as his girlfriend.

The car was already crammed beyond capacity, but we didn’t want to upset the driver. Keeping him in good spirits was essential—if he got annoyed or changed his mind, we could be stranded in the middle of the jungle.

At first, the girl squeezed onto Matt’s lap in the back seat. But as the road grew rougher, she climbed onto the driver’s lap—while he continued to drive.

An Unexpected Revelation

As the journey continued, something became clear—this wasn’t his girlfriend, but a prostitute he had picked up using some of the money we had paid him.

We sat there, stunned, unsure how to react.

There wasn’t much we could do—the road ahead was long, and we needed to get to Libongo.

So, with a prostitute on the driver’s lap, Congolese music blaring, and our tiny car bouncing over treacherous jungle roads, we continued deeper into the heart of Cameroon’s wild frontier.

Our vehicle to Libongo

Colorful hood decor of our driver

Into the Heart of the Rainforest: The Road to Libongo

The journey to Libongo took us deeper into the dense rainforests of eastern Cameroon. The road was a muddy, rutted track, winding through the jungle with no villages for miles—just endless trees, the occasional logging truck carrying massive felled trees, and the rare glimpse of a Baka pygmy settlement.

Meeting the Baka Pygmies

Whenever we passed a cluster of Baka huts—simple thatched shelters lining the roadside—we stopped to visit. Unlike some of the villages we had encountered earlier in our trip, the Baka people were thrilled to receive us. They welcomed us with laughter, curiosity, and genuine warmth.

My friends Jason and Scott had brought along pencils and beef jerky sticks, thinking they’d make good gifts. But when we handed them out, we quickly realized the Baka had no idea what either were.

We tried to explain:

• The pencils? Useless to them—they had no paper, and many had never written before.
• The beef jerky? They had never seen anything like it and struggled to understand that it was food. We had to demonstrate how to peel off the plastic wrapping before eating it.

Once they figured it out, they absolutely loved it.

Shark-Like Teeth: A Unique Beauty Standard

As we talked and laughed, I noticed something striking about many of the Baka women—their teeth were sharpened into points, giving them a shark-like appearance.

At first, I thought it was a genetic trait, but later I learned that they file their teeth down deliberately—a centuries-old practice believed to enhance beauty.

It was fascinating to witness yet another example of how different cultures define beauty, often in ways that seem completely foreign to outsiders.

The Baka were small in stature but full of energy, and despite their simple way of life, their happiness was infectious. Meeting them felt like stepping back in time—into a world still untouched by modernity.

Baaka Pygmy Hut

Scott towering over the Baaka

Baaka woman with filed teeth to make them appear sharper

Baaka lady showing us the inside of her hut

Brothel Hotel

Our bathing water brought to us in a bucket from the river at another glorious hotel we stayed at

My hotel room with my tent set up on the bed to protect me from the inside of the room 

Music, Dancing, and a Baaka Celebration in the Jungle

No matter how small or remote, every jungle village had at least one bar—usually a makeshift shack with massive, bass-heavy speakers blasting Congolese music.

These bars became the heart of village nightlife, attracting locals who mostly couldn’t afford to drink but would still flock to the music.

Dance Floor Prodigies

One evening, we sat in a dimly lit jungle bar, sipping warm beers while the rhythmic beats of Congolese rumba pulsed through the wooden walls. Suddenly, a swarm of village kids—some as young as five—poured into the bar.

They owned the dance floor.

These kids moved like professionals, grooving and popping their bodies with a natural rhythm that seemed almost instinctual. Their footwork was effortless, their timing perfect—they put us to shame.

We watched, completely amazed, as they danced to the music with pure joy and uninhibited energy.

A Baaka Celebration Under the Stars

In another village, just outside of town, a Baaka pygmy camp sat nestled in the jungle. The chief, a wiry man with piercing eyes and a mischievous smile, welcomed us warmly.

Through our guide Matta, we proposed an idea:

“Would the Baaka be willing to perform a traditional celebration for us?”

The chief didn’t hesitate.

The price? A bag of rice and a bucket of locally brewed moonshine.

That night, as darkness fell, we gathered under the jungle canopy.

The Baaka musicians appeared, their faces painted in intricate patterns, their clothes tattered but adorned with beads and shells. They carried handmade instruments—drums carved from tree trunks, flutes made from hollowed-out wood, and rattles fashioned from dried seeds.

Then the celebration began.

The Baaka sang in high-pitched, hypnotic harmonies, a style of polyphonic singing unique to their culture. Their voices echoed through the jungle, weaving together like an ancient, otherworldly symphony.

As they sang, they danced—wild, frenzied movements, spinning and stomping, their bare feet kicking up dust.

The music, the firelight, the rhythmic drumming—it was primal, mesmerizing, raw.

For hours, we sat there, transfixed. This wasn’t a show. This was their way of life, their connection to their ancestors, the spirits, and the forest itself.

When the night ended, we handed over the rice and moonshine, which was received with great cheer.

We left feeling like we had experienced something truly special—a moment of pure, unfiltered culture, untouched by the outside world.

Children dancing in the Bar

Baaka Pygmy Village Performance

Woman in Bra Dancing

Me with Baaka Chief

Me in background watching the Baaka performance

Journey Down the Sangha River: Crossing Into the Wild

After days of battling rough roads, endless checkpoints, and corrupt officials, we finally arrived in Libongo, a grimy, lawless river border town on the edge of Cameroon, just across from Central African Republic (CAR).

This was where we would cross into Republic of Congo (RoC) by boat—a journey that promised to be both expensive and unpredictable.

Securing a Boat—And Avoiding a Bribe

We needed a motorized pirogue (a long, wooden canoe with an outboard motor) to take us down the Sangha River to Bomassa, RoC—a journey deep into the Congo Basin rainforest, through some of the most untouched jungle on Earth.

Matta handled the negotiations.

If the boatmen saw us, they would triple the price immediately, so we stayed out of sight while he haggled.

At the same time, we had to get an exit stamp from Cameroonian immigration—another potential money grab.

Sure enough, the border officials demanded a “fee” for the stamp.

I kept a straight face and told them that as U.S. citizens, we were not authorized to pay any fees to government officials and that if they wanted money, they would need to contact the U.S. Embassy.

That did the trick.

They grumbled but ultimately stamped our passports without payment.

The River Into the Unknown

We secured a boat, but it wasn’t cheap. The driver knew we had no other options—this was the only way forward.

The six-hour journey down the Sangha River was surreal.

The river sliced through pristine rainforest, with no villages, no roads, no signs of human activity.

It was just dense, unbroken jungle—a green wall of trees stretching endlessly in every direction.

For the most part, we dozed and relaxed in the humid, sweltering heat of the boat, listening to the distant calls of unseen birds and monkeys echoing through the canopy.

An Unexpected Village Visit

At one point, we spotted a small village on the CAR side of the river and decided to stop and stretch our legs.

The moment we stepped onto shore, the entire village came out to greet us.

Men, women, children—even the village chief—all gathered around, wide-eyed with curiosity.

It was clear that foreigners rarely, if ever, stopped here.

We shook hands, exchanged smiles, and spoke in broken French.

The village was a cluster of mud-brick huts, with smoke curling from cooking fires and kids playing barefoot in the dirt.

It was one of those raw, unfiltered moments of travel—a glimpse into a world few outsiders ever see.

After a short visit, we pushed off the shore and continued our journey downriver—deeper into the heart of the Congo Basin, toward Bomassa, Republic of Congo.

Scott having a nap on the Sangha River

Mighty Sangha River

A Remote Village Deep in the Jungle

As soon as we stepped off the boat, the entire village erupted in excitement.

Men, women, and children gathered around us, eager to interact with the rare foreign visitors who had unexpectedly landed in their remote community.

This village, isolated deep in the jungle along the Sangha River, had no road access, no electricity, and no modern conveniences. Life here was dictated by the rhythms of the river and the surrounding rainforest.

A Warm Welcome and a Strong Drink

The village chief greeted us with a wide, toothy grin and invited us to see his home.

As a gesture of hospitality, he offered us a taste of his homemade banana wine—a strong, cloudy liquid that had clearly been fermenting for a long time.

I took a cautious sip and instantly regretted it—the overpowering gasoline-like burn made my eyes water.

I glanced at Jason and Scott, who had the same reaction.

The chief, however, took a big gulp and grinned proudly, clearly enjoying the fiery brew.

Gifts for the Villagers

Wanting to show our appreciation for their hospitality, we handed out pencils and beef jerky bars as gifts.

The pencils puzzled them at first—a few villagers held them up curiously, unsure of their purpose.

The beef jerky bars were even more confusing—they stared at the wrappers, then at us, clearly wondering how to eat them.

I peeled one open and took a bite to demonstrate.

The villagers tentatively followed, chewing slowly before breaking into smiles.

They loved it.

After spending some time exploring the village, we said our goodbyes, shook hands, and climbed back into our boat.

As we pushed off from shore, the villagers stood along the riverbank, waving and shouting their goodbyes as we disappeared downstream—continuing our long journey through the heart of the Congo Basin toward Bomassa, Republic of Congo.

Group photo with the CAR Villagers

Village Boy

Chief Drinking Banana Whiskey

Kids holding pencils we gave them

Pretty village girl

A Frustrating Detour in the Heart of the Congo Basin

After an exhausting, expensive, and difficult journey, we finally arrived in Bomassa, a remote river village in Republic of Congo (RoC) and home to the headquarters of Nouabalé-Ndoki National Park—one of the most pristine rainforests in Central Africa.

But instead of the warm welcome we had hoped for, the park rangers looked at us like we were ghosts—completely baffled by our arrival.

They weren’t accustomed to foreigners showing up independently—most visitors arrived on expensive package tours, flown in on private charters after booking through exclusive tour operators.

We, on the other hand, had traveled for days overland, by bush taxis, dugout canoes, and motorized pirogues, determined to experience the rainforest without spending thousands of dollars.

No Reservation, No Entry

The rangers were immediately hostile and demanded proof of a reservation.

I explained that we had no way of booking in advance, that their park had no real communication channels for independent travelers, and that we didn’t need a lodge or a guide—we had our own tents and food.

Their response? “The park is full.”

Full? In one of the most remote and least-visited places on Earth?

It was clear that the issue wasn’t space—it was that we weren’t wealthy, high-paying tourists.

I pleaded with them to reconsider, asking if we could speak to the park warden, but they told us he wouldn’t be back for a few days—maybe.

We now faced a tough decision:

1. Wait in Bomassa, hoping the warden would allow us to enter, knowing we might be turned away after waiting for days.
2. Return to Cameroon and try to visit Dzangha-Sangha National Park in Central African Republic (CAR) instead.

A Risky Plan: Entering CAR Without a Visa

We had no visa for CAR, which meant that if we went that route, we’d be completely at the mercy of border officials—and they would almost certainly demand a massive bribe.

To make matters worse, the pirogue operator needed to return to Cameroon immediately, with or without us.

Feeling frustrated and disappointed, we reluctantly left Bomassa and headed back up the Sangha River toward Cameroon.

A Nightmare on the River

As night fell, a violent thunderstorm rolled in, drenching us with freezing rain.

For hours, we were hammered by wind, rain, and lightning, completely exposed in our open boat.

Then the worst happened—our motor died.

Drifting helplessly in the darkness, with no way to move upriver, we realized that our entire plan was now in jeopardy.

Our guide, Matta, lost his patience—he was furious, threatening to quit and go home.

With no other option, we waited for hours in the storm until our boatman managed to get the motor running again.

By the time we finally reached Libongo, we were exhausted, soaked, and frustrated.

With Dzangha-Sangha still hours away and our guide on the verge of abandoning us, we made the difficult choice to give up on CAR entirely and stay in Cameroon instead.

Our new plan: Visit Lobéké National Park, a remote section of the Congo rainforest on the Cameroon side of the border.

We spent one night in Libongo, drying off in a cheap, grimy hotel, before making arrangements in the morning to enter Lobéké—hoping that, finally, we could experience the rainforest we had come so far to see.

Storm on the Sangha River

Misery on the Sangha River

A Renewed Sense of Hope: Into the Wild Heart of Lobéké

After the frustration of being turned away from Nouabalé-Ndoki National Park, we woke up in Libongo feeling a renewed sense of optimism.

We learned that we could arrange a cheap trip into Lobéké National Park, a vast and wild section of the Congo rainforest on the Cameroon side.

Unlike Nouabalé-Ndoki, no reservations were needed, and there were no hotels, no luxury lodges, and no tourists—just raw, untamed wilderness.

In town, we found some park rangers with a 4WD vehicle, and within hours, we were on our way.

A Logging Road Into the Depths of the Jungle

The drive took us deep into the pristine rainforest. Despite the presence of an old logging road, the forest was incredibly well-preserved, with no settlements or human activity—just endless, towering trees stretching in every direction.

For several hours, we rumbled down the dirt track, stopping occasionally to clear fallen branches from the road.

Eventually, we reached a narrower turnoff, leading even deeper into the jungle.

We followed this track for as long as possible, pushing through dense foliage, until we finally hit a massive fallen tree blocking the road.

With no way around it, we abandoned the vehicle and continued on foot.

The Journey to the Bai: A Wildlife Haven

Our destination was a bai, a natural clearing in the rainforest where mineral-rich water and clay attract huge concentrations of wildlife—from forest elephants to gorillas, bongos, and buffalo.

For the next few days, we would be camping in the bai, sleeping in our tents on a raised wildlife-watching platform overlooking the clearing.

With our backpacks loaded, we set off on foot, disappearing into the depths of one of the wildest and most untouched places on Earth.

Our jeep navigating small jungle choked roads in Lobeke

Kid selling a lizard on side of the road near Lobeke

Lobéké: A True Wildlife Paradise

Lobéké far surpassed my expectations for wildlife.

This was the Central African rainforest we had come all the way to Cameroon to see—raw, untouched, and teeming with life.

There was little to no infrastructure, just a rickety wooden platform overlooking the bai where we set up our tents.

But none of that mattered—because from that platform, we witnessed some of the most incredible wildlife encounters of our lives.

A Front-Row Seat to the Congo’s Secret World

From our elevated perch, we watched in awe as:

• Forest elephants wandered into the clearing, using their trunks to scoop up mineral-rich mud.
• Massive forest hogs rooted around the bai, their shaggy coats glistening in the humid air.
• Elegant antelopes cautiously approached the water’s edge, always on high alert for predators.
• Monkeys swung between the trees, their calls echoing through the jungle.
• Chimpanzees rustled the canopy above us, occasionally letting out deep, guttural hoots.

At night, the sounds of the rainforest were deafening—a symphony of insects, frogs, and distant animal calls that never let up.

Trekking Through the Heart of the Rainforest

During the day, we hiked for hours between different bais, accompanied by Baaka pygmy guides and park rangers.

The trails were wild and unforgiving, winding through dense jungle, muddy swamps, and towering trees.

At times, we encountered other Baaka hunters, moving through the forest with the stealth and ease of their ancestors.

One encounter stood out—our rangers seized a bundle of dried bats from a Baaka man, claiming it was illegal to hunt them inside the park.

But instead of confiscating them for conservation purposes, the rangers ate some on the spot and saved the rest—likely to sell them later.

This moment summed up the conflicted nature of conservation in Central Africa—where wildlife protection is often overshadowed by the harsh realities of survival and corruption.

Despite this, Lobéké was everything I had hoped for and more.

It was wild, untouched, and alive—a rare glimpse into a world that few outsiders ever get to see.

Jungle clearing-bai

Forest elephant

Hundreds of African grey parrots

Where we slept on the wildlife viewing platform

Playing cards with all of the down time we had in between hikes

Matta holding the dried bats our rangers seized from a pygmy hunter in the jungle

Jason and I posing next to a giant tree

A Close Encounter with a Tree Viper

Like most people I travel with, Jason and Scott abhor snakes.

I, on the other hand, love them.

So when we stumbled upon a bright green venomous tree viper on the ground, I was ecstatic.

Scott, however, was not.

I crouched down, camera in hand, eager to snap a perfect shot.

But just as I did, the snake decided it had enough of me—and took off.

Straight towards Scott.

The Chase

Scott, seeing the snake coming right at him, did what any sane person would do—

He ran.

The problem?

So did the snake.

For a few heart-stopping moments, Scott was unknowingly locked in a comical game of tag with a venomous serpent.

He ran one way—so did the snake.
He dodged left—the snake adjusted course.

It was pure chaos.

Finally, the viper changed its mind, veering off into the undergrowth and disappearing.

Scott, however, was traumatized.

I, on the other hand, found the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

venemous tree viper

A Face-to-Face Encounter with a Silverback Gorilla

The day had already been one of the best wildlife days of my life.

I had just seen a massive bongo—a rare, elk-like antelope—crash through the jungle. That alone would have made the trek unforgettable.

But I had no idea what was coming next.

The Roar of the Jungle

Minutes later, the air erupted with a sound so primal and deafening, it sent chills down my spine.

It was a deep, guttural roar—like something out of Jurassic Park.

My mind scrambled to process what I was hearing.

Our pygmy guide whispered, “Gorilla.”

Then, with urgency, he motioned for us to follow him further down the trail.

I whispered to my friends, recalling everything I had read about gorillas:

“If we are charged, do not run. Hold your ground.”

Gorillas, I had learned, bluff charge—but only if you stand your ground.

Run, and you trigger their instinct to chase. And if they catch you, they might push, bite, or maul you.

I was trying to be brave.

But our guide’s next words made my heart skip a beat.

He told us that a friend of his had been killed by a gorilla in this very forest.

Face to Face with King Kong

The roaring grew closer.

Then closer.

Suddenly, the guide motioned into the jungle. He had spotted the silverback.

I crawled forward, my heart pounding. My friends stayed back.

Peering through the dense foliage, there he was—a massive Western lowland silverback gorilla.

He was only 20 feet away, staring right at me with burning intensity.

His muscular chest rose and fell, and then—
BOOM BOOM BOOM

He began beating his chest, baring his massive fangs.

He looked like a real-life King Kong—a living, breathing force of nature.

My guide whispered, “Stay low.”

I was ready to take the perfect shot.

Then, the guide offered to take the photo for me, motioning to a better vantage point on the other side of a bush.

I hesitated.

“No, I got this,” I whispered.

That was my mistake.

The Charge

As I crawled forward for a better view, the gorilla exploded.

With an earth-shaking scream, he charged.

His massive arms pounded the ground, his feet thundered toward me.

Instinct Took Over

I ran.

Everything I told my friends about not running?

Gone.

I sprinted for cover, diving behind a tree.

I peeked out—

The gorilla had spotted me again.

With another roar, he charged again.

I ran again, crashing through the jungle, expecting at any moment to feel his giant hands on my back, pulling me down.

But he never pounced.

I stopped behind another tree, gasping for breath, and turned to look.

The silverback had stopped.

His family—his reason for charging—was now safe.

He gave me one last warning stare, then led his group away into the jungle.

A Memory, But No Photo

I never got my photo.

But I got something far better—

A raw, unforgettable moment of true wildness.

One where, for a few fleeting seconds, I was no longer a tourist in the jungle—

I was just another creature, face to face with the king of the forest.

The Journey Back: Trading Bumpy Roads for the Rails

After an unforgettable stay in Lobeke, it was time to make our way back to Douala.

But this time, we decided to ditch the bush taxis and try something different—the train.

Taking the Train Through the Heart of Cameroon

The train ride from Yokadouma to Douala was longer than taking the bus.

But it was also far more interesting—and a lot more comfortable.

Unlike the bone-rattling, potholed roads we had endured for days, the train allowed us to relax and take in the scenery.

Outside the window, the landscape shifted from dense rainforest to rolling fields and small villages.

At each stop, vendors would rush to the train, holding up grilled meats, fruit, and bottled drinks for passengers to buy through the windows.

The ride was long, but it gave us time to reflect on our experiences in the jungle.

The encounters with Baaka pygmies, the corrupt police checkpoints, the harrowing silverback gorilla charge—

It had been a wild adventure, and now, as we rumbled toward the coast, we were heading for one last stop before flying home.

Relaxing in Kribi: A Beachside Escape

From Douala, we traveled south to Kribi, a laid-back beach town along the Atlantic coast.

After weeks of rough jungle travel, Kribi was exactly what we needed.

We checked into a beachside hotel, where the sound of crashing waves replaced the jungle’s chorus of insects and howler monkeys.

The highlight of Kribi was its famous waterfall, Chutes de la Lobé, where a river cascades directly into the ocean—one of the only waterfalls in the world that does this.

We spent our time in Kribi relaxing on the beach, eating fresh seafood, and simply enjoying the slower pace of coastal life.

It was the perfect way to end our adventure through Cameroon’s untamed wilderness.

Heading Home

From Kribi, we made our way back to Douala for our flight home, knowing that this had been one of the most challenging, eye-opening, and rewarding trips of our lives.

From corrupt border crossings to wild gorilla encounters, from riding in overloaded bush taxis to camping in the heart of the Congo rainforest, Cameroon had been an adventure in every sense of the word.

And despite all the challenges, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Kribi waterfalls on beach that I almost drowned on when swimming across the river

Exploring Limbe: The Shadow of Mount Cameroon

After soaking up the laid-back beach vibes of Kribi, we made our way to Limbe, another coastal town but with a very different feel.

Unlike Kribi’s golden sands, Limbe’s beaches were volcanic black, a striking contrast to the lush green backdrop of Mount Cameroon, the active volcano that looms over the region.

Limbe was vibrant, with a mix of local fishermen, expats, and traders from nearby Nigeria, just across the border.

The fresh seafood was outstanding, and we indulged in grilled fish straight from the ocean, served with spicy Cameroonian pepper sauce and fried plantains.

But our real adventure began just outside Limbe, where we set off on a trek to one of the most remote waterfalls in the region—Bomassa Falls.

Mount Cameroon Volcano

Local fisherman

Hiking on the lava fields

Bomassa Falls: A Brutal Hike, an Epic Swim, and a Rocky Escape

Bomassa Falls was not for the faint of heart—a full-day trek through dense primary rainforest, starting in a tiny, remote village along the Cameroon-Nigeria border.

When we arrived at the village trailhead, we were met by the entire village, including the chief.

Before we could even set foot on the trail, we were told that a guide was mandatory—not just one, but three guides.

Whether this was a genuine rule or just a way to extract more money, we couldn’t say—but we had no choice but to agree.

With biting ants swarming our legs and the humidity pressing down on us, we pushed forward into the jungle.

The Trek: Sweat, Ants, and Jungle Heat

The hike was long, steep, and grueling.

The trail was barely visible, winding through thick jungle, with biting ants swarming our ankles every time we stopped to catch our breath.

Sweat poured down our faces, our clothes clung to our bodies, and the air was so thick it felt like we were breathing through a wet sponge.

But when we finally arrived at Bomassa Falls, every step had been worth it.

The Falls: A Hidden Gem in the Jungle

Bomassa Falls was breathtaking.

Towering cliffs surrounded a plunging cascade of water, dropping into a crystal-clear pool deep enough to dive into.

We wasted no time—jumping in, letting the freezing water wash away the sweat, grime, and ant bites.

Floating beneath the thundering waterfall, staring up at the jungle canopy, we had one of those rare travel moments—the kind where all the exhaustion fades away, leaving only the pure magic of the place.

But unfortunately, the return trip was not as pleasant.

The Ambush: A Bad Deal Turns Ugly

Back at the village, our taxi was waiting, but so was the chief and an angry mob of villagers.

Suddenly, the mood shifted.

The chief demanded more money.

We calmly explained that we had already paid what we agreed upon—a deal is a deal.

But they weren’t having it.

As we turned to leave, the first rock flew.

Then another.

Within seconds, a full-on attack erupted, with villagers hurling rocks, sticks, and whatever they could find at our taxi.

Our driver threw the car into reverse, spun around, and gunned it out of the village as more stones slammed against the car.

Welcome to rural border travel.

Back in Limbe: Shaken, But Unscathed

By the time we made it back to Limbe, we were still buzzing with adrenaline.

We had dodged a dangerous situation, but it was a harsh lesson in how quickly things can turn south in remote villages where tourists are rare and money is scarce.

Bomassa Falls was an unforgettable experience—
A brutal trek.
A hidden jungle paradise.
And an escape straight out of an action movie.

This was Cameroon—
Wild, raw, unpredictable… and always an adventure.

Bomassa Waterfalls

The three of us swimming in the Bomassa Falls

Heading Home: The End of an Unforgettable Journey

After two intense, unforgettable weeks in Cameroon, our journey was coming to an end.

From Limbe, we made our way back to Douala, a city we had barely seen but were more than ready to leave.

Douala was hot, chaotic, and suffocating, but it was just a pit stop—our final night in Cameroon before catching an Air France flight to Paris.

Reflecting on the Journey

As we sat in our hotel, replaying the highlights of our trip, it was impossible not to be in awe of everything we had experienced.

✔ Crossing Cameroon from west to east by bush taxi
✔ Battling corrupt police at endless checkpoints
✔ Navigating unpredictable border crossings
✔ Venturing deep into the Congo rainforest
✔ Tracking wild gorillas, dodging charging silverbacks
✔ Surviving jungle thunderstorms and a broken-down boat
✔ Camping in the heart of the forest, watching elephants, chimpanzees, and bongos in the wild
✔ Dancing with Baaka pygmies, trading beef jerky for stories
✔ Hiking to hidden waterfalls, then escaping rock-throwing villagers

This had been one of the most challenging, eye-opening, and rewarding trips of our lives.

A trip that tested our patience, pushed our limits, and revealed a side of Africa that few travelers get to see.