Pointe Noire (Congo) : on logging roads
S 04°47.900’ E 011°51.232’
To get to Pointe Noire from Kibango the Michelin map is of no use and we were thus totally dependant on local advice. We were first directed to one, then to another, newer logging road which passes through the forested hills of the south-west Congo down to the Atlantic Ocean. Yhe road was fine at first with only the odd rickety-looking wooden bridge of some concern. Knowing that the huge logging trucks cross them too was reassuring, but the damage they do to the road was the downside. Their hammering of the laterite surface exposes the rocky subsurface leaving behing something which resemles an irregular array of rocks the size of rugby balls covered by a layer of ancle-deep powder. Together with some steep gradients and deep ruts from the heavy trucks presented us with the technically most difficult ‘road’ of the entire trip. In the forest road construction was still in progress (by Malaysian contract workers!) and once on the coastal plain the next callenge was waiting sand! Our progress was slow that day and we also had a few falls. By sundown we reached another check-point where we were assured that the rurface was good from there on. That was true for only a few kilometres. All day we hadn’t seen anything other than tiny villages, or rather strings of houses alon the road. The people were always friendly and sympathertic towards us and their smiles, thumbs-up and cheers raised our spirits to push onward – even into the night. The last 40 kilometres of asphalt were nailbiting nevertheless as we were on the last drops of fuel…
Pointe Noire lived up to its image as a pseudo-rich city driven by oil money. The main drag has European prices, there are some nice villas along the beach front (including one for the president) and some exotic 4X4s (e.g. Hummer) can be seen. Had it not been for Edgar who we met when asking for directions on arrival in Pointe Noire, we would have been at a loss to find affordable accomodation. Edgar was extremely hospitable and proud of his city and gave us a tour the next evening. Ten kilometres into the urban sprawl we had a drink together at his favourite road-side bar. But even in this oil town the lights suddenly go off.
To get to Pointe Noire from Kibango the Michelin map is of no use and we were thus totally dependant on local advice. We were first directed to one, then to another, newer logging road which passes through the forested hills of the south-west Congo down to the Atlantic Ocean. Yhe road was fine at first with only the odd rickety-looking wooden bridge of some concern. Knowing that the huge logging trucks cross them too was reassuring, but the damage they do to the road was the downside. Their hammering of the laterite surface exposes the rocky subsurface leaving behing something which resemles an irregular array of rocks the size of rugby balls covered by a layer of ancle-deep powder. Together with some steep gradients and deep ruts from the heavy trucks presented us with the technically most difficult ‘road’ of the entire trip. In the forest road construction was still in progress (by Malaysian contract workers!) and once on the coastal plain the next callenge was waiting sand! Our progress was slow that day and we also had a few falls. By sundown we reached another check-point where we were assured that the rurface was good from there on. That was true for only a few kilometres. All day we hadn’t seen anything other than tiny villages, or rather strings of houses alon the road. The people were always friendly and sympathertic towards us and their smiles, thumbs-up and cheers raised our spirits to push onward – even into the night. The last 40 kilometres of asphalt were nailbiting nevertheless as we were on the last drops of fuel…
Pointe Noire lived up to its image as a pseudo-rich city driven by oil money. The main drag has European prices, there are some nice villas along the beach front (including one for the president) and some exotic 4X4s (e.g. Hummer) can be seen. Had it not been for Edgar who we met when asking for directions on arrival in Pointe Noire, we would have been at a loss to find affordable accomodation. Edgar was extremely hospitable and proud of his city and gave us a tour the next evening. Ten kilometres into the urban sprawl we had a drink together at his favourite road-side bar. But even in this oil town the lights suddenly go off.
posted by Retobados at 3:45 AM
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