Lady luck is trumped by African administrative ineptitude.

With many an "eeeeee" we picked up Daisy and his extraordinarily heavy bag (god knows why....except for a £100 poly-cotton tarpaulin) and did exactly as any self respecting trio of Brits on Tour would on such a reunion: went to the beach for a beer! This soon turned into several beers, and culminated in some sort of jungle themed bar with a perilous number of water features for such an inebriated bunch. We did meet some French expats who usefully gave us their numbers to help with getting into national parks etc. Sadly we didn't remember they'd given them to us until several days later!

After a cosy night with 3 in a bed (bar the period I inexplicably chose to sleep on the concrete floor) we awoke with some of the driest mouths ever known to man. Day in particular who had spent the previous 36 hours either on an anhydrous Ethiopian airways flight or putting away copious lagers. Alfie, being a complete pervert, went for a 2 hour run, while the sane 2 of us dragged ourselves out in search of water. Normally we try to keep things on the cheap, but in our state Daisy and I were in no position to argue with Alfie's high rolling mood so we splashed some serious cash on omelettes with all the trimmings in search of better health.

We knew the next day was going to be a big one....the first day the Port would be open after the 4 day holiday to get the chopper out, so we set about finding a nice campsite for D-day eve. This we found at Costa Brava (I think....its definitely not Costa del Sol) although Alfie, ever the perfectionist decided it wasn't quite right so went in search of somewhere better. He failed, although did try and convince us that the workers compound he's found was more idyllic than our deserted white sand beach, but he did find a shop selling refreshments...between the two we were sorted. I skinny dipped and even washed. What a dream!

Early doors start in the morning as the beautiful beach was a long way from the port...both geographically and emotionally, and we wanted to be first in. Being a little early Alfie predictably dragged us out for a pain au chocolat (he's yet to subscribe to the lean regime of the Ramrod Rally) and then it was go time. TIA, so we of course spent several 15 minute waiting periods in the wrong offices before someone thought we might be interested to know where indeed the right office was. Once in the right office, hope gently waned as the to and fro-ing failed to result in any happy news. Despite being over a week late already, they think the boat will be in the port on Firday. Shit! In fact the only thing they managed to do for us was give us an invoice for 272 Euros which apparently we are to gracefully pay once our package has arrived, for the privilege of having them drive the car from a boat onto the dock. Today did not go well.

If there's one thing we learnt from parts 1 and 2 its to roll with the punches. So we propped our chins back up and decided we'd head to Loango national park as planned and come back next weekend to have another crack at battling African bureaucracy. On our way out we got a wheel bearing tightened assuming the mechanics knew what they were doing. They didn't, jacking it up on a 10% slope and promptly dropping it on its hub!