21/2/12 Every shithole has a friendly animal

 

21 February, 2012

I have finally arrived back in Onal after a gruelling 3 nights away and some frustrating flying. My earlier blogs liken Banio camp to the devil’s sweaty ass crack, so it was with anything but delight that I was informed I’d be flying up there one day, SPENDING THE NIGHT (I tried not to groan when William said that but I can’t guarantee he didn’t hear me) before returning the next. I would then spend two lovely nights in town, flying to Banio and back in one day (usually the way we do it) in between.

The night in Banio was uneventful, I was prepared, took laptop, iPad, book and cellphone with me to ensure I would always have something with me to make the time fly. It is such a mouldy, rank, rundown place with revolting toilets that I chose not to shower but rather to sleep in my sweaty clothes from that day and double-hit the deodorant in the morning. So a little more sticky but with freshly brushed teeth at least, I headed back to PG the following day and spent the night in the hotel.

Next morning I was due to fly back to Banio to change more crew. Now it was a bright, sunny day, the entire flight could be done along the coast (so even if the weather got really bad I could still happily fly along the beach and land anywhere if I really needed to), and I was intending to refuel, reload the new passengers and return just after lunch. Consequently I decided rather than lug a bag with all my stuff backwards and forwards, I’d leave everything in the hotel to be waiting for me when I got back that afternoon. I wouldn’t have time for any of it anyway as I’d be flying all the time.

Upon arriving in Banio I immediately began the refuelling with the help of the fire personnel. But this time something wasn’t right. We could hear the fuel running into the helicopter, the petrol pump was running along at top speed, but the fuel gauge wasn’t increasing on the dashboard. I really hoped the fuel gauge wasn’t faulty – you don’t want to be flying over dense jungle with no real idea of how much fuel you’re carrying. I kept telling the fire guys to check their fuel pipes, taps etc. because something was wrong. Long story short, they finally looked into the fuel bowser itself and it was bone dry! I didn’t have enough fuel to get back to PG. I wasn’t 100% certain that I even had enough to detour to Onal to pick up some more. And apparently they weren’t happy sending the fixed-wing to a runway on the way home and decanting some fuel for me.

Guess who got another night in Banio!!! The new bowser was apparently on a barge and would be there the next morning. Oh happy day. No fresh clothes, no toothbrush, no soap (not that I’d want to shower), no computer, no iPad, not even a book! And it was 12pm. I wanted to cry. If I wasn’t such a manly man I’m sure I would have!

To add to my misery the camp puppy was delighted to see me back again and proceeded to jump up at me, showering me with wet beach sand. Poor dog has one glazed over eye and some nether region infection that is very unsightly. But she is very sweet.

And there I sat. With over 24 hours to wait and without even being able to watch TV in English. Purgatory! As I sat feeling decidedly sorry for myself the Camp Boss came over to ask me if I’d like to come with them to the river. “Just to see it”. Sure, I’m not exactly busy and this would at least give me something to do.

The “dock” on the banks of the lake – if you look very carefully you can see the town across the water on the other side	The villagers fishing boats

We took a 15min drive the 5km down to the banks of the river, bolting along thick sand roads in a Toyota Land Cruiser. Being such an important person I got to sit up front so at least had a seat to cushion me as we bounced insanely over tree stumps, boulders and big sand ruts. The boat I quickly realised we’d actually gone to meet was late, so we drove back to a tiny nearby village (literally just a few huts) to wait for it. I took plenty pictures in the village because this is very typical of what I’ve seen along the river banks while flying from camp to camp.

The small village – that’s it!	Wooden houses and corrugated iron roofs

It was 6pm, starting to get dark, and the white boy’s skin was exposed. Anti-mozzie spray in PG. Malaria drawing in around me like a cold, evil fog. I started walking around the village. Around and around. If I don’t stand still long enough, the bastards can’t bite me! The village had a few chickens, two very cute little goats that kept climbing on top of each other when lying down to sleep, and someone’s little kid who took a long time to get used to all the strangers that just showed up in his playground. He settled down in the sand and started playing with a big nail and the cardboard tube in the centre of a toilet paper roll. Which was when I noticed he wasn’t wearing a nappy but was wearing a small pair of filthy underpants, and he’d very recently shat himself and it was all squeezing out the sides and getting coated with sand. When he wandered over to his mom, digging at his bum to try to show her what was wrong (she had her head buried in a cellphone and never looked at him) he was flinging little globules of sand turds with every step. So much of lovely!

This seems to be the campfire room – kitchen/dining room	Wooden homes and solar panels for lights – no normal electricity

Chilling and waiting for the pirogue – and the malaria	Two very cute little goats

Finally the boat arrived, but instead of picking the passengers up and heading back, the Camp Boss told me to get on it. As I followed him on I did think for a moment that if I was being kidnapped I was probably the most willing captive they’d ever had! We shot across the water of the lake to a small town across the way where the Camp Boss got me to follow him through the huts and buildings as it grew dark. We stopped at a small store where he bought some toothpaste and soap (which I later discovered was for me), before continuing deeper into the town, him pointing out different buildings along the way, until we ended up at a shebeen where he bought us each a beer.

They’re collected in the forest and look and taste like Hazelnuts	Camp Boss – waiting for the boat. Not sure what the pursed lips pose is for…

Such a decent guy who was obviously well aware of the fact that I wasn’t thrilled to be staying in Banio, not that I tried to make it obvious – they live there and I would hate to be rude and make them feel I can’t stand their crappy camp. After the beer, which I explained I couldn’t pay for as I had no money (again, sitting in my hotel room in PG) we headed back to boat in pitch dark, he called the boat “skipper” and we pelted back across the dam at full speed. I really have no idea how they know when we’ve reached the other side cos I never saw it until we started to slow down to land at the jetty!

Small town of Ndindi – cash store	And shebeen store

And that was that. Not quite as painful as it could have been, especially with nothing to keep me occupied. I had a massively long lie-in the next day, fuel arrived at midday and by 1pm we’d left for the flight back to PG.

Just relaxin, havin a Bud (or Regab in this case)	As a welcome back to Onal we finally had our swan pastries again!! Not nearly as good as the first ones.

10/2/12 I need waterproof shoes in Gabon!

 

10 February, 2012

So I gently opened my eyes to greet the early, 06h45 dawn, then closed them and smiled contentedly as my body began booting up and getting itself ready to wake up. Suddenly the door to my container was banged on loudly and the boot sequence accelerated rapidly with a quick 2 foot levitation. I stumbled to the door wondering who the hell would wake me like that. We only started flying at 8:30 so this was inexcusable!

Emergency! Someone injured at one of the drill camps and I had to leave immediately! My helipad guy stood watching me as I took off my Spongebob Squarepants pyjamas and pulled on my tighty-whities and then my flightsuit. Well I wasn’t awake, but I was ready to go. He had waited for me because I had special, VIP transport to take me to the pad… Now why can’t I have that every day?! Quick pre-flight and then a brief fumble as we had to pull the seats out of the chopper to make room for a stretcher. Then into the air for the 45min flight to Ethekamba. Upon arrival I was told that the patient had a suspected heart attack and couldn’t talk. They then drove him up to the chopper, whereupon he climbed out, gingerly to be fair, and climbed into the chopper chatting quite ably in English (an Indian guy). Perhaps he wasn’t in the mood for French and the medic took that as a symptom of loss of speech…

Stretcher installed and ready for drama!	Look how the bushes on the beach grow in a slanted wedge due to the onshore winds

The weather the whole day has been shocking and we ducked and dived around and under massive rain showers and thunderstorms. I dropped him off at Port Gentil where the rain was pouring. And as I stepped off the skids of the helicopter I felt my shoes step into little puddles on the tarmac. And these shoes love water. So much, in fact, that they suck the water up like sponges and I spend the rest of the day risking foot rot as I squelched around everywhere…

As I landed back in Onal, looking forward to some coffee and hopefully a bite to eat (it was now 13h30 and lunch is from 12h00-13h00) I was informed that 5 passengers were waiting to be flown back to Port Gentil! Well they could wait, I could feel the grumpiness starting so food was a priority! Grabbed a very quick bite to eat before loading up (seats, then passengers) and heading all the way back to PG (an hour each way). Even more thunderstorms building, and this time I’d left Onal with 40% fuel, which is a realistic 1h20 endurance. Within 20mins of leaving Onal I was hit with a massive headwind and again had to duck and dive around tall trees and low clouds and rain and raced as straight as I could for PG. The cloud was lower than the tops of the transmission towers in the town and it was raining hard!

Building foundations noticeable in what is essentially a quagmire	And this isn’t special flooding – this area has looked like this every time I’ve flown into PG! Still fully inhabited.

So I’m learning more about the crazy weather in this country all the time. Can’t be scared of flying in heavy rain here! And I’m impressed at how they manage to still build houses etc where the ground is so waterlogged most of the time that many people have large pools of water for gardens whenever it rains.

Boats in gardens and floating rubbish

7/2/12 Do you people know what “doucement” means?!

 

7 February 2012

Seriously, not matter how many times I ask them to speak slowly they always nod in understanding and then continue at the same speed as they started with! I have (at least I think I have) recently discovered that when they say “40 000” (and I’m spelling it phonetically) in French they seem pronounce it “ka mille” rather than “karant mille”. This wouldn’t be the end of the world if not for the fact that 4000 is “katr mille”. This led to much confusion and them needing to get a calculator out to type the number for me to see it. All because they don’t talk properly! Silly people!

So yes, I’m back in my hole for a third tour, quite probably the last, but when it comes to decision point anything can change, so we’ll wait and see when I get there.

My trip back to Gabon started with a 1-time flight (like Ryanair for the overseas people) to Johannesburg. Since I am always worried about delays to flights causing me to miss my international I fly up a good few hours early, so on landing in JHB I stayed sitting while everyone else leapt to their feet and then stood for 15mins while the doors were opened and everyone ahead of them slowly shuffled off. In fact I was literally the last passenger to get off. I had my dark glasses on as I’d been staring out the window on the bright and hot summers day in JHB (a dig at the Europeans who are digging their cars out from under 6 feet of snow!)

Anyway, so I’m sitting and chilling as the last guy walks past me to get off the plane, then he turns around and comes back to me, just as I get up to get my bag. “Oh sorry”, he says, “I thought you were blind and was coming back to ask you if you needed any help”. Made me laugh but a nice guy to come back to help me.

In the airport, my geeky eye saw the “self check-in” machine so thought I’d give it a go. Really impressive! I stuck my passport photo page into the machine and immediately it showed who I was, which flight I was on, what the flight details were, and had printed me a boarding pass. Brilliant! All I had to do, it said, was drop my bag off at the baggage drop desk and that was that. Wow! No queues! So I headed to the baggage drop desk. Where there was a queue. Not a long one so wasn’t too perturbed, and still buzzing from the bit of techy check-in geekness I had just witnessed. I had my bag weighed, was given a little paper stub with its weight on it, and then told to join the normal check-in queue to hand my baggage in at the check-in desk! WTF?! How much of a waste of time is that?! Instead of queuing for one desk which does everything, SAA offers a “much more convenient” process of going to three separate places and standing in two separate queues – one of which being the one you’re trying to avoid in the first place!! Someone is being paid a salary by SAA to come up with these awesome passenger service schemes.

In Libreville I was struck by how lucky I was to have been through this all before. Its very daunting for a first timer because so little is organised and logical that its very easy to get caught up in the confusion and end up in the wrong place or following the wrong people. Most people, including the officials, are not always wearing uniforms, which adds to the uncertainty. On my way to baggage claim a guy walked up to me (note he is on the air side of security) and told me to follow him. I start following him wondering what trouble I’m in when I see that he’s leading me to the baggage carrousel to help me find my bag…. Aaah, the penny dropped and I quickly overtook him, saying I knew exactly how to pick up my own bag, thank you. The thing is he never actually asked me if he could help me – he instructed me to follow him, like an official.

No sooner had I walked out of arrivals onto the main concourse the rest of them started gathering around to help. The problem was I didn’t know who my agent was who should be meeting me there (she doesn’t stand at the doors with your name on a sign or anything – you have to hunt for her throughout the airport) so while I insisted I knew where I was going and didn’t need any help I very clearly didn’t have a clue where I was going and was wandering around aimlessly. So they never left.

Anyway, because I couldn’t find the agent who had my ticket for Port Gentil, I missed the last flight and had to stay in Libreville for the night. Which is fine – arrive late, leave early, no food either way, but finally got to PG and then flew the chopper back to Onal. On landing a man marched up to the chopper and I wondered what I had done wrong. (see how I’m always feeling guilty… what’s with that?!) Turns out he’s the Chief de site (Onal camp boss). Named Jean-Luc. Amusingly in essentially the same position as the captain of the Enterprise… Hell of a nice guy and speaks English!!

Yesterday I flew to the Chinese camp again, but this time we were driven to the drill site directly. Was a 20min drive through bush, which I recorded a little bit of – just to show the roads and height of the jungle. I also got them to stop so I could get a pic of a stunning lake right next to the road with dead trees, black water and waterlillies everywhere. This is how water-logged this country is. The leaches must be plentiful!!

Pooling of water in the jungle	A very dusty ride through the jungle – giving an idea of the denseness of it…

The flight to Ethekamba from Onal was interesting. I think I was flying government officials inspecting the drill site. One of which was a colossal woman who weighed 125kg! (everyone has to be weighed with and without their bags). I barely got off the ground with 5 passengers, their baggage and full fuel! This woman was missing half her teeth and eating just before we got into the chopper. The flight was an hour and on landing she barrelled out of the aircraft frantically grasping for a bread roll the way smokers light up the minute they get off the plane! I felt for the other three women in the back, on narrow seats with very little room. Strangely the skinniest lady sat in front with me. She was tinier than me and I wondered why she wasn’t made to sit in the back to put a bigger person in front. Must have been more senior, I guess…

Well, no pics really this time, but wanted to just leave something (long-winded as ever) marking my arrival for a long 4 week stint… Leave comments when you can – gives me something to read. I (unbelievably) forgot to save a bunch of movies onto my laptop before flying back, so have hardly anything to watch. I’m going to lose my mind!!

14/1/12 Tarzan and Jane

 

14 January, 2012

As a reward for all my hard work sitting on my ass in Gabon, Cath and I took the first weekend I was back off and headed into the midlands to a spot she had heard about where the rooms are built into the side of large trees. Its called Sycamore Grove and while quite overpriced for what you get, certainly is a novelty and a great way to chill and slowly acclimatise to traffic, people and cooler weather.

Listening to the cows eating from the balcony (with no curtain)	Front door into bedroom

I just wanted to add some pics of our room here. The tree house is built on stilts and is double-storey. The bottom floor has the bedroom with little balcony overlooking a field of cows and the berg in the background, and the upper floor has another balcony and a Jacuzzi bath and shower.

Narrow spiral staircase heading upstairs	Small wooden cabinet. Even the hinges are solid wood!

I think I have met one of the clumsiest girls ever as, in the space of 5 minutes, she attempted to open the bedroom curtain with a little bit of a flourish and pulled the entire curtain off the rail, opened the small door onto the balcony by breaking the wooden door lock, returning into the room from the balcony hooked her foot in her carelessly discarded bag and skidded across the bedroom on her face, and finally while sending a text message on her phone to one of her friends somehow (inexplicably) managed to stab me right in the eye with her finger! This girl needs corks on the ends of all her kitchen knives!! Being the gentleman that I am I assured her I would never make mention of her propensity for disaster to the readers of my blog…

Upstairs towards upper balcony	Jacuzzi bath – couldn’t get Cath to pose naked in the bath… SO reserved!! ;-)

We did have a great weekend with good weather without humidity in the upper 90% and I even disclosed my big geek secret of being a Geocacher to her which we did for most of the Saturday, and she was politely supportive and appropriately enthusiastic. Just how much of that was politeness with a smattering of pity shall remain to be seen…

Geocaching next to a railway line	Lunch break in Notties

10/1/12 The very arduous return to SA…

 

10 January, 2012

Yes, I have been quiet, but being back in civilisation brings with it a mass of responsibilities and activities making blog updating difficult.

The jetty where cargo ferry and passenger boats dock for Onal	The jetty with a boat very similar to ours

I left Onal camp on the 10th January, after having sat in my cabin for 10 days (over the third of my tour) without flying a minute due to paperwork not having been done by the Gabonese authorities allowing us to carry on operating in the country. This meant that all transportation to and from camp was made in boats. Since Gabon is essentially mostly low-lying, the majority of the population makes use of long, narrow “speed boats” for getting around. These can be anything from dugouts (a hollowed out tree trunk) to decent, metal-hulled boats such as the one we were to travel in. The problem is it takes over 5 hours to get to Port Gentil on these boats. And the times vary greatly depending on the health of the engines and what you hit underwater while travelling. Part of me wanted to cry just at the thought of 5 hours on a boat instead of 45mins in a plane, while the other part was kinda keen to experience a boat ride in Gabon. This latter part was short-lived.

Beautiful scenery-monkeys & birds making a noise across the water	… and water loaded with fish!

We arrived at the “docks” down the road from Onal camp at midday to await the boat bringing people up from Port Gentil (including the pilot replacing me). Since the boat is travelling through unpopulated jungle there is no means of getting an ETA or in fact any communication from the skipper. We just waited. At 13h30 the boat finally rounded the bend in the river and docked (apparently they hit something on the way up which delayed them). I had a 15min handover chat with the new pilot before boarding the boat for the trip to Port Gentil.

As we pushed away from the bank I did a little mental arithmetic and worked out that we “should” get to PG just before sunset if the trip only took 5 hours. Cutting it a little fine for my liking, but nothing to be done about it. We started up and puttered off. Still puttering slowly round the first bend, I hoped we’d hit a bit of speed or we’d need a week to get to PG. As if on queue the engine stopped. Engine cover off, plenty head scratching, engine cover on. Restart and at crawling pace we TURNED AROUND and headed back to Onal! More mental maths confirmed that even if we left at first light the next day I’d never be able to make my flight! Since I was again flying back via Addis Ababa my flight left from Libreville around midday the following day, and I could never get to PG, then fly to Libreville to be on time for my flight out. Doomed, I tell you. Doooooommeddd!!!!

All aboard the Sweat Express!	Now why can’t I sleep through it?!

As I wailed aloud and beat my breast an engineer from the camp drove down to fiddle with the engines. Clearly a very good fiddler as within an hour we were on our way again, and this time both engines were firing on all cylinders (well the one they each had, but you know what I mean). The trip itself was fairly uneventful. The pain in my ass, however, deserves mention. The seats were curved fibreglass seats (like in a canoe or a paddle boat at the beach). No cushion. In addition to which we were all required to wear a life jacket; a massive orange one like the old lifejackets my sister and I wore as kids for waterskiing (when you can barely see past the huge orange bits next to your face). And because it rains all the time in Gabon, the boat (which seats around 24 passengers) is completely enclosed with a massive canvas roof and walls. So it absolutely bakes inside! They open the front flap for a through-draught but it doesn’t keep you cool. Eventually (after about hour 3) I removed my lifejacket and sat on it. Sod the rules.

Awesome skiing water!	There be fresh air outside!!

The sun started setting as we belted along the winding channels towards PG. And in this part of the world the sun doesn’t really set, it falls off the edge of the earth. In 20 minutes I couldn’t see through the dirty plastic windows, but we were still pelting along at break-neck speed. Even once it was completely dark (and in a river channel in a jungle that’s pretty damn dark) we still kept going. I hoped the skipper had a radar installation on board, but I suspected he didn’t.

Small villages and huts now and again along the bank	Slightly more established village with a church

Suddenly, as we passed a tiny village of a few huts on the side of the river we throttled back and the skipper shouted across to the folks on the bank. I had no idea what was said but the passengers in the boat erupted! Everyone started shouting at everyone else but all I could hear was the odd word from the skipper, “risque” and “dangereux”. When one of the passengers began chanting “You can’t drive a boat” in French the skipper hit the throttles again and we continued into the darkness. Great, I thought, how the hell am I going to save my laptop and ipad when we crash and sink?!

Scaffolding in Addis, even for quite large buildings	No metal scaffolds visible anywhere!

Within 10 minutes we finally rounded a bend to see PGs lights across the bay and everyone, particularly the skipper, no doubt, breathed a huge sigh of relief. We docked at 20h30, but at least we were in PG and I would make my flight!

See rows of satellite dishes in garden	… and cables from each flat to a dish (bumpy bus ride produces blurred pics)

The return flight with Ethiopian airlines and their movie system which didn’t work as well as the grotty hotel I spent the night in in Addis isn’t particularly important, and this blog has gone on enough. But one note is that it was marvellous to be doing the return trip as someone who now knew how the system worked. All the mass confusion and stress from the trip up was replaced with focus and the speed to elbow my way to the front to avoid most of the queuing. I even got to help a couple who looked as lost as I did on the way up.

Water tanks on the roofs of most buildings through Addis	Such a smart little travellin man!