On the Trail to Lac Télé
My trek to the heart of the world’s largest tropical peatland in the northern Republic of Congo
By Morgane Cournarie | August 31, 2023
At the end of the Boha road, the sun had barely risen over the trees that form a wall of green where the Likouala forest begins. Already steaming hot, the air dripped with humidity. Shouldering our packs, Ms. Nguidzi turned her head, saying, “this way,” and led us along a narrow footpath into the forest. Mr. Tchicaya, a highly dedicated ranger, took up the rear.
Located in the heart of the world’s largest tropical peatland, the Lac Télé Community Reserve represents the only community-managed protected area in the Republic of Congo. Our guides and porters are Bomitaba people.
Located in the heart of the world’s largest tropical peatland, the Lac Télé Community Reserve represents the only community-managed protected area in the Republic of Congo.
All five were born here in the small village of Boha, on the banks of the Likouala-aux-herbes river. They know the trails in the reserve better than I know the streets in Brazzaville where I have been working for the Wildlife Conservation Society for three years. WCS supports community efforts to conserve the forests, rivers, and swamps of this immense, intact, wetland.
At the heart of the reserve sits the almost perfectly circular lake that gives the reserve its name. Lac Télé is surrounded by swamp forest. Strangely no rivers flow into or out of the lake. Stranger still, Lac Télé is said to be home to a mysterious creature known as Mokélé-Mbembé in Lingala, the lingua franca of Congo. Some people say the creature is a dinosaur.
All our senses were tuned to the sights, sounds, and smells of this most fantastic place. We spotted a leopard’s fresh footprint, clearly outlined in the dark soil along the trail.
It would be three days before we reach Lac Télé. Before we left Boha our hosts performed rituals to keep us safe on our trek to the lake. To reinforce these safeguards, a village elder armed with a spear walked at the head and another at the rear to ensure that none of us upset the eidolon, the spirit of the forest. The sounds of the forest mesmerized all of us into a blissful silence, always looking for any sign of wildlife.
We spotted a leopard’s fresh footprint, clearly outlined in the dark soil along the trail. I saw and traced my fingertips along gorilla scratches on a termite mound (signs of someone looking for an insect lunch). All our senses were tuned to the sights, sounds, and smells of this most fantastic place. Our guides stopped often to gather mushrooms, slice of a section of edible liana, and drink water scooped out of small ponds with improvised leaf cups.
Walking to Lac Tele, deep in the forest, I found myself happy and serene — with no phone and no responsibility to handle whatever problem might arise at work, at whatever time of the day or night. To be clear, I am passionate about my work. But for these eight days, my concerns were simply to follow the pace set by the elders, watch my step, and stay hydrated.
I had no fears, no worries, As soon as we switched off phones and stepped into the shade under the forest canopy, I left all my doubts and worries behind.
After 39 kilometers, we entered the original village of Boha. In the early 20th century, French colonizers forced the inhabitants to move from their ancestral lands to be closer to the navigable river, and thus more easily controlled and taxed. Over time, the village was swallowed by the forest, leaving only centuries-old fruit trees as a living legacy of what once was. We watched two red river hogs foraging in the ground.
The last 3 kilometers of the trip would be the hardest — through swamp with trees standing on gigantic aerial roots intertwined like a 30-fingered hand, searching for something in the mud. Everywhere, invisible sink holes dared us to avoid falling in.
One minute I was looking at hornbills in the tree canopy, the next I was chest deep in a hole. The mud was so thick I could barely move my legs.
But here in the forest, I had no fears, no worries, I knew we would all make it to Lac Télé. As soon as we switched off phones and stepped into the shade under the forest canopy, I left all my doubts and worries behind, and lived for the moment.
The last 3 kilometers of the trip would be the hardest — through swamp with trees standing on gigantic aerial roots intertwined like a 30-fingered hand, searching for something in the mud.
I am not sure I had ever been this tired before. But just as I began to question my sanity, Mrs. Nguidzi yelled “Look!” Through the leaves, we could see shimmering bright lines of light. It’s the Lake! As we approached the water’s edge, a cold breeze greeted us, blowing off the lake. It felt good.
To celebrate our arrival and follow tradition, the elders insisted we wade into the lake fully clothed. We left our bags close to the two small wooden shelters used by local fisherman to smoke their catch. The water of the lake is like tea — hot and dark brown with the tannins from all the leaves that have accumulated over thousands of years. Lac Télé is shallow, and we walked towards the middle.
With the mud sucking at my boots with every step, I reveled in the moment, astounded how lucky I was to be the first woman from WCS to wade into Lac Télé in over 20 years. The reserve is a truly unique place. There is none other quite like it on earth.
A beautiful stronghold for wildlife, this vast forested landscape serves as a vital and enormously powerful living engine — pulling carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere and storing it safely.
A beautiful stronghold for wildlife, this vast forested landscape serves as a vital and enormously powerful living engine — pulling carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere and storing it safely. It is also home to vibrant communities that depend on this ecosystem for their wellbeing, and have a deep cultural connection to the plants and animals.
Morgane Cournarie is the Technical Director for the Congo Program at WCS (Wildlife Conservation Society.
