It is not yet day when I leave, there is a lot of fog, the goal of the day is to get to Oyen, a town about one hundred kilometers from the border with Cameroon. The road for the first hundred kilometers is paved but full of potholes, the speed cannot be high, but it doesn’t matter, I have the whole day ahead. The landscape that I see passing is that typical of the forest, lots and dense vegetation, all green. After about a hundred kilometers the road becomes almost perfect, and therefore, given the little traffic, I increase my speed a little. Along the way many small villages, but at the beginning and end of them, checkpoints where motorcyclists normally do not stop, but punctually stop me, passport verification and everything else. The nuisance is that in this way I risk not getting anywhere. I only stop the time to get petrol, drink and eat something. I know I have to rest, I’m very tired, but fortunately my concentration never fails. I arrive in Oyen at one o’clock, I decide to go to the border, there are two scabby borders and if I pass them today, tomorrow I can arrive more calmly in Dogala, where Pier, a gentleman who had already hosted Franco last year, is waiting for me. I arrive at the customs of Gabon, thinking it will take me a long time, given the checks I had during the day, however, ten minutes and I will withdraw my passport. I head to the customs of Cameroon. At the entrance of the border there is a wooden shack. Inside, a man and a woman who, with a book containing passport data and obviously all handwritten, take an hour to write the list of all the visas I have on my passport. After half an hour, annoyed I ask him (in Trentino) what the data of the other visas are for. He asks me where I go to sleep and a little annoyed I reply that it depends on how long it takes to put the stamp on my passport. Two minutes later I had my passport and off we went. Now I’m going to look for the Custom for the carnet. After a few kilometers I find the office and in five minutes I’m back on the bike. It’s half past four, in Ebolowa there are about a hundred kilometers away, first I had decided to stop in Ambam, but then given the time, I decide to proceed towards Ebolowa. Around six o’clock they are about thirty kilometers away, but unfortunately I puncture the rear tire. In order not to miss anything, it begins to flood. No problem, I take out the repair kit and in five minutes I am ready to go. I arrive in Ebolowa at half past six, it is getting dark, I fill up and then I go looking for a place to sleep. On the street I find a guy who takes me to a small hotel at a good price but above all has wifi. I can tell home that everything is fine, but also Pier who is one day early.