At 2000 and something metres, in a rat infested shack with a corrugated iron roof, with hay on a large flat wooden board for a bed and the wind whistling through every tiny opening, I wonder whether my decision to climb Mt. Cameroon was a good one. This is night one of a 3 day, 2 night trek up West Africa’s highest mountain, and at 4095m is the highest I have ever been. I snuggle down in my sleeping bag with my 4 bedmates and try to get some rest before the climb to the summit in the morning.
After an uncomfortable night and a breakfast of a tin of beans cooked in the can on an open fire, we set off. The path is immediately steep and the terrain of volcanic rock unforgiving. Our group of 11 quickly spreads out along the path as we set our own paces. Breathing becomes laboured as the altitude and months of inactivity take their toll. Through gaps in the cloud we glimpse the rooves of the town of Buea below us and out to sea is the island of Bioko (Equatorial Guinea). It is with relief that we make it to the final hut which marks the start of the final ascent and the end of the really steep section. It is bitterly cold until the sun comes out for a fleeting moment and we lie on the grass basking in its warmth.
An hour later we are on the summit in a swirling mist and buffeting wind that makes it difficult to stand. When the cloud clears for a few minutes, the view is spectacular, however we don’t linger for long as there is nowhere to shelter and the wind is unrelenting. Heading down is much quicker than the way up as the first part is steep scree that we can run down. This gives way to a lava flow from the 1901 eruption that is tough on the ankles to walk on and looks almost like coral as covered in colourful litchens. This quickly becomes tiring and as the lava gives way to savannah and we wonder whether the end is anywhere in sight. Our mood perks up when we arrive at the many craters of the 1999 eruption and the landscape seems more like the moon. The craters are surrounded by grassy valleys through which fires are raging (apparently deliberately to keep the mountain tidy).
Luckily we are close to the end of the 10 hour hike as there are a few creaky knees, shakey legs and blistered feet amongst us. We are all drained and it is all we can do to cook up some instant noodles, cup-a-soups and crash into our tents by about 7pm.
The next morning we are up at 4.30am to commence the long slog back to civilisation. It is pitch black and we all stumble over tree roots as we wind our way through the forest. As the first glimmers of dawn approach we traverse more lava flows and eventually reach the edge of the forest.
After an arduous downward hike through the rainforest, we approach the wooden houses that mark the edge of a village and see a group of people crowded outside the front of one. We wave at them and they beckon us over. They are drinking palm wine and want to share it with us – it is 11am! We gladly partake in a few sips before walking the last 100 metres to the end point – a bar of course! We each have a few celebratory beers whilst waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. On the tiny tv on the bar the Race of Hope is on. This is a running race up and down Mount Cameroon that happens every year. What we had managed to struggle through in 3 days the winner accomplished in 4 hours!
The next few days are very painful for everyone as we deal with altitude induced hangovers, sore muscles and blisters. Luckily after a quick stop in Yaounde, the capital, we are off to the beach at Kribi where the sand is pristine and yellow, the tree branches bend over and almost touch the warm water and there is nothing to do except relax.
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Overland to Cape Town 