DAY TWENTY-TWO It was a very sad and sorry bunch that packed up the truck and drove away from a quarry littered with pools of chunder and piles of loo paper¹. It was a stinking hot day and the drive to Epulu seemed to take forever. One guy, Simon, who had been sick during the night and isn’t really the type of guy to stand up to a bit of hardship, passed out from dehydration.
We got to Station de Capture d’Epulu at about 4:00 and set up camp in a beautiful shady glade next to the rapids on the Epulu River. We bathed in the river and relaxed over cold drinks from the ranger station and played with some young chimpanzees that live at the station. Linda and I went to bed at 8:00 and fell straight to sleep.
¹ Somewhere in the Congo Jungle, buried in an unmarked grave, is a pair of blue and yellow Canterbury shorts. I loved those shorts. Those shorts were like a pair of shorts to me. But on that fateful night back in 1989, as I crawled from our tent with the cramping pain of diarrhoea full on me, those innocent shorts were suddenly and irreversibly ruined. They lie there still, interred in the jungle where they fell.