the arched opening to a large cave in the south bank ;
the mountain-side is one mass of rock covered with the
unbroken forest ; and the entrance to this cave is just on the
upper wall of the south bank’s promontory ; so, being sheltered
from the current here, we rest and examine it leisurely. The
river runs into it, and you can easily pass in at this season,
but in the height of the wet season, when the river level would
be some twenty feet or more above its present one, I doubt if
. you could. They told me this place is called Boko Boko,
and that the cave is a very long one, extending on a level
some way into the hill, and then ascending and coming out
near a mass of white rock that showed as a speck high up on
the mountain.
I f you paddle into it you go “ far far,” and then “ no more
water live,” and you get out and go up the tunnel, which is sometimes
broad, sometimes narrow, sometimes high, sometimes so-
low that you have to crawl, and so get out at the other end.
One French gentleman has gone through this performance,
and I am told found “ plenty plenty ” bats, and hedgehogs,
and snakes. They could not tell me his ñame, which I much
regretted. As we had no store of bush lights we went no
further than the portals ; indeed, strictly between ourselves, if
I had had every bush light in Congo Français I personally
should not have relished going further. I am terrified o f
caves ; it sends a creaming down my back to think of them.
We went across the river to see another cave entrance on the
other bank, where there is a narrow stretch of low rock-covered
land at the foot of the mountains, probably under water in the
wet season. The mouth of this other cave is low, between tumbled
blocks of rock. It looked so suspiciously like a short cut to
the lower regions, that I had less exploring enthusiasm about
it than even about its opposite neighbour ; although they
told me no man had gone down “ them thing.” Probably
that much-to-be-honoured Frenchman who explored the other
cave, allowed like myself, that if one did want to go from the
Equator to Hades, there were pleasanter ways to go than this.
My Kembe Island man said that just hereabouts were five cave
openings, the two that we had seen and another one we had
not, on land, and two under the water, one of the sub-fluvial
ones being responsible for the whirlpool we met outside the
gateway of Boko Boko.
The scenery above Boko Boko was exceedingly lovely, the
river shut in between its rim of mountains. As you pass up
it opens out in front of you and closes in behind, the closely-
set confused mass of mountains altering in form as you view
them from different angles, save one, Kangwe— a blunt cone,
evidently the record of some great volcanic outburst, and
the sandbanks show again wherever the current deflects and
leaves slack water, their bright glistening colour giving a
relief to the scene.
For a long period we paddle by the south bank, and pass a
vertical cleft-like valley, the upper end of which seems blocked
by a finely shaped mountain, almost as. conical as Kangwe.
The name of this mountain is Njoko, and the name of the
clear small river, that apparently monopolises the valley floor,
is the Ovata. Our peace was not of long duration, and we
were soon again in. the midst of a bristling forest of rock; still
the current running was not dangerously strong, for the
river-bed comes up in a ridge, too high for much water to
come over at this season of the year ; but in the wet season
this must be one of the worst places. This ridge of rock runs
two-thirds across the Ogowe, leaving a narrow deep channel
by the north bank. When we had got our canoe over the
ridge, mostly by standing in the water and lifting her, we
found the water deep and fairly quiet.
On the north bank we passed by the entrance of the Okana
River. Its mouth is narrow, but, the natives told me, always
deep, even in the height of the dry season. It is a very considerable
river, running inland to the N.N.E. Little is known
about it, save that it is narrowed into a ravine course
above which it expands again ; the banks of it are thickly
populated by Fans, who send down a considerable trade, and
have an evil reputation. In the main stream of the Ogowe
below the Okana’s entrance, is a long rocky island called
Shandi. When we were getting over our ridge and paddling
about the Okana’s entrance my ears recognised a new sound.
The rush and roar of the Ogowe we knew well enough, and
could locate which particular obstacle to his headlong course