How do I condense the magnitude of experiences between where I left off and now? It’s certainly been a minute; central Africa has been an entirely different experience to west Africa and I come to you now armed with a wealth of stories to regale you regarding this incredible part of the world.

Firstly, yes, my bike did eventually leave the ship. It was actually unloaded the next day as promised. All good and I was soon under way through Cameroon. Getting to the bike involved its own combination of events, being stopped by the army and prevented access to the port for one. But all things are resolved with time and persistence.

It must be noted that my time in Cameroon was exceptionally brief. Once I was on the move, I only spent two days in the country. Eager to finally be heading south I wanted to get a move on, and that I did. After the manic nature of Nigeria, Cameroon practically felt like a meditation retreat. Even Yaoundé was pretty calm (and home to the amazing Fred Garage where Donkey received some long overdue TLC). The road south of the capital was absolutely brilliant. Mile after mile of twisting, well made tarmac heading through continuous jungle (a theme that has largely persisted until now actually). Entering Gabon was a breeze, the difficulty seemed to have been taken down a notch, everything had become more relaxed. Central Africa was feeling pretty good.

Gabon, I must say, is sublimely beautiful. The rain forest is endless, all-encompassing and completely rich with life. You smell it as you ride along, you glimpse wild animals through the trees like peering into tiny windows of an alien world. For whatever reason one day I decided to get up at 5am and ride nearly 400 miles (probably because I was finally out of the rain that had plagued me for weeks and into the warm embrace of the dry season). It was great. I crossed the equator, miles of jungle and pretty much the whole of Gabon, arriving in the final town before the Congolese border for the night.

After my big day I was looking forward to a chilled evening hiding away from the world in a hotel. That was not to be however as the only one in town was closed. Instead, I found myself in a barn, next to a church acting as the evening entertainment for what felt like the entire village's stock of children. From the moment I pulled up and set about fixing my newly leaking fork seal with a piece of old plastic bottle, they swarmed towards me. Evidently there aren’t a great deal of white people passing through the area and they eagerly grasped the opportunity to practise their best English, touch my hair and generally stare intently at whatever I was doing. After a bath under the communal tap it was time for dinner, I’d managed to reduce my ensemble from about 30 to 10 by this point and we could all now at least fit in the barn. Cooking with my audience was a new experience, but from their expressions I gathered I was not the only one wanting something to eat. I duly offered the bar of chocolate and pineapple juice I’d been saving from Yaoundé and as if in an instant, the offerings vanished in a flash of greedy hands and hungry stomachs. Everyone fed and happy we settled into an evening in the barn, playing checkers on my phone until it was time for everyone to head off and me to sleep. It may not have been what I had in mind, but seeing the intense joy that chocolate and virtual board games brought to that bunch of kids was worth a thousand nights in the finest hotel.

The next day was looking pretty adventurous. The crossing between Gabon and Congo involved a 160 mile completely unpaved stretch with a fairly nasty reputation. Luckily, the dry weather had turned what is for some as a multiday slog through the mud, into a brilliant five-hour blast across fantastic scenery, kicking up a huge cloud of red dust as I charged along the remote track, channelling by best Toby Price energy and trying not to get too carried away siding the little WR out of corners.

I’m now on my third day in the Congo and I love it. The people are extremely warm and friendly (for the most part) and the good news is that I received my Angolan eVisa confirmation just before writing this. After a day tomorrow exploring the national park to the north of Pointe Noire, I’ll hopefully be heading to Cabinda to try to sort out the ferry to take me to mainland Angola. Here’s hoping the experience is a little easier than getting out of Nigeria. We’ll see…