FIRST OVERLAND NEWSLETTER 28

In recent Newsletters, we have been serialising extracts from 'Operation Enterprise' — a report described as 'An account of the gruelling 10,000 mile reliability trial over the Sahara Desert, jungles and mountains, undertaken by the Turner-Diesel Trans-African Test Team.' This was in 1954/5, and they were test-driving (for reasons explained in Newsletter 23) a Turner-powered Land Rover (107" NUK952) across the Sahara to Kenya and on to Rhodesia. The leader, Ken Hill, wrote 'Operation Enterprise' as a record of the event, and has allowed me to quote from it. Now we go...

Into the Congo
For the full story of these last eleven days we must retrace our steps to Bangui, French Equatorial Africa, where on the afternoon of Monday, the 23rd May, we embarked on the ancient canoe ferry. To the chanting of the native paddlers we travelled for one-and-a-half hours over the water with a silent prayer for the safety of our frail transport and her precious cargo, for we now have a great affection for our "old Land Rover," she has carried us two-thirds across Africa and through many adversities.

We grounded on the soft, sandy beach, and after completing Customs formalities, etc., started off into the Congo along a mud track bordered with gigantic trees, whose topmost branches intermingled, shutting out all light apart from one or two shafts of sunlight that filtered through in yellow streaks, the air was cool, but a soft, musty smell of dank and rotting vegetation pervaded the atmosphere. We stayed the night in the main square of a native village, the vegetation on the sides of the road being too deep to penetrate.

Tropical Storms
Jock Allum slept in the back, I had the front seat, and Crosby-Jones was lent a hut which he shared with two or three of the local inhabitants. On Tuesday morning, the 24th May, we were away at daybreak, and immediately ran into torrential rain. The previous afternoon's run had been free from rain, although the track showed signs of being slippery, as the sun had been unable to penetrate the dense foliage to dry the surface. But now we had come out of the forest belt and running through a great plain covered with coarse grass growing in thick clumps more like reeds than anything else, and the rain swept mercilessly down the track, turning it into a river bed. We were lashed and buffeted about by a strong wind, and for two hours or more all nature seemed let loose against us, and then, as though by magic, everything ceased and we were running on a dry road with a blue sky above.

It is fascinating to experience these storms, they cover such a precisely defined area it is almost possible to draw a line across the track and stand with one foot in the rain and the other in sunshine. The weather continued in this manner for most of the day and we passed alternately through stretches of dense jungle and charming emerald green glades, across rivers and cool streams showing themselves for a few yards then delving down into the earth through thick vegetation and rocky beds.

In the evening we came to a Roman Catholic Mission, and on enquiring if we might camp in their grounds were most kindly received with an invitation to an evening meal that would brook no refusal, and Jock Allum and Crosby-Jones were most generously given rooms for the night while I retained my position in the front seat of the vehicle. I may say this is quite comfortable, particularly if one puts a foot (or both) out of the far window or occasionally transfers them to the glove compartment by way of variation. The mosquito net can be fixed at either end by attaching the tapes to the traffic indicators and bolts of the tropical roofing, and inside the vehicle to the driving mirror and cab light.

Through dense jungle
The following morning, Wednesday, the 25th May, we bade our friends goodbye and set out for Buta, the first and only place of any size before Stanleyville. The morning was cold, damp and misty and continued so until late, about 10.30 to 11 a.m. when the sun finally broke through to disperse the damp and warm things up somewhat. After a short break for lunch we entered the dense forest again, and drove for miles along a thin red ribbon of murram track with enormous forest giants towering above us, their great upper branches interlocking to form a gigantic cathedral structure above our heads.

Slow progress
As we rushed through the gloom of these vaults our headlamps lit up the thick dank vegetation at the base of these monsters and scurrying feet and flapping wings registered a protest at our passage. In the distance, a tiny rectangle of light led us to the limit of this murky domain where it was good to feel sunshine and fresh air. Progress was slow on this section, as there were numerous small ferries to negotiate, and when we arrived some malignant spirit had always contrived to arrange for the boat to be on the opposite bank or intermittent rain squalls sent the native paddlers rushing for shelter. Consequently, it was 10.30 p.m. when we drove into Buta, so we thought, only to find we had travelled far enough eastwards to advance our watches one hour, so in reality it was 11.30. However, we got into the local rest house, and very pleased we were to see the beds.

Corrugated roads
The morning of Thursday, the 26th May, we left Buta, somewhat later than was our custom, but we were told the road was quite good and all rivers bridged. I do not know on what standards our informant based his opinion, but the track was terrible with rocks, holes and corrugation as bad as anything we had encountered. The bridges were intact, but had to be tested as best we could by jumping up and down on them*, and the most recent storms had brought down trees, parts of which projected into the roadway. We ultimately reached Stanleyville at 10 p.m.

Royal visit to Congo
The following morning, Friday, the 27th May, we were aroused very early by a great military rehearsal, in preparation for a state visit to the Congo by the Belgian King. Consequently, this day was very frustrating, I could get no mail from the police station until mid-day, the bank was closed (although I was fortunate enough to find an official later on who very kindly opened the bank mid-afternoon and let me have some money). The Shell agents would not sell us a lesser quantity of fuel than a 44-gallon drum, but we wanted merely to top up our tanks with 10-15 gallons. This necessitated a further delay while I found the Shell representative (a direct employee) and he took us to a diesel pump where we were able to get the quantity of fuel required. I may say this is not an isolated case, both at Niamey and Bouar we were faced with the same refusal to sell fuel in quantities less than a complete drum.

To Mombasa
All in all, a most unsatisfactory day and we finished up by staying the night and leaving at dawn on Saturday, the 28th May. This day we travelled as far as Mombasa through pleasant rolling countryside and woodlands, passing Putnam's Camp in the late afternoon. This Camp was originated by an American (Mr. Putnam) who spent his time catching and training Okapis, a specie of buck with a long giraffe-like neck, and elephants. A little apart from the Camp we came upon four elephants by the roadside, and I thought they were in their natural state (i.e. very fierce) and after some minutes of careful manoeuvring, up wind, down wind and all the rest of the business, I photographed them and returned to the vehicle highly pleased. Then, to my astonishment and no little annoyance, a wretched native came along, went directly up to the largest elephant and patted it like a dog, it was quite docile and chained by one leg to the ground. We spent the night at the Pigmy Hotel, very pleasantly situated on the edge of the forest.

[*Remember the footage of Pat Murphy doing just that in the 'First Overland' DVD?]

In the next Newsletter the Expedition finally reaches Kenya — just as the 10,000 miles comes up on the clock.

Arthur Goddard