As I leave the Ivorian border post, all of a sudden I need to stop for a couple of minutes to allow my eyes to readjust under the midday sun. It seems as though
5 days of strong emotions in the capital have gone by, between infamous bureaucracies, diabolic exorcisms, bicycle mechanics, body healing, aesthetic transformations and little rest. I keep going with a great deal of effort, with infected legs and half of my skull numb without apparent wishes to wake up in the near future.
One of the most frightening days of my life, part of some of the most extreme days that I have experienced travelling, is finally behind. Now I look around, on my first day of rest in a very long time and the fascination overwhelms me.
5.45 A.M. I open my eyes. I slept 2 hours and I suffered the rest. The thin walls of my tent reveal the first light of day. The jungle is quiet, the elephants are gone and many insects have already gone to sleep ceding the singing to the daytime birds that are already beginning to wake up.
It took me two hard weeks through the jungle to make the 550 km to the last village in northeastern Gabon and there, in Mekambo, the easiest part was over.
Rest periods on a trip of many years are necessary, but more rest than necessary may also end up being counterproductive. Getting back on the saddle after living 3 weeks in Luanda, among friends, events and hang outs, required a great effort.
