I have had some amazing Spring Break vacations and some memorable Easter holidays in the past, but this year’s Easter and Spring Break really took the cake. God has blessed me immensely throughout the last several years by giving me wonderful, dedicated friends. One such friend, Caroline Rose, demonstrated unbelievable dedication by making huge sacrifices to take a two week trip to visit me in Africa. Her visit was a great encouragement to me and a whole heck of a lot of fun.
After some significant worrisome delays, Caroline arrived here in Nigeria on March 30th. Two days later, Gretchen, Katie, Caroline and I flew to Cameroon for a week of fantastic mid-term vacation. Karen, Equi, and their daughter, Ifolo, had arrived in Cameroon several days earlier and met us in Limbe, Cameroon at a Ocean View hotel. Upon arriving in Cameroon, we were taken aback by the startling difference between this country and its neighbor, Nigeria. There was a refreshing amount of peace, order, and clean air that we could only dream of in Ibadan. This is probably due to the fact that there are something like 15 times more people in Nigerian than are in Cameroon. The atmosphere and terrain in Limbe was simple gorgeous. We lounged for two days on a beach with mountains at our backs and a lovely warm ocean breeze in our faces.
The plan, of course, was to climb the highest mountain in West Africa which also happens to be an active volcano. Our concerns about the approaching rainy season were compounded when our second day on the beach was inundated by an outrageous monsoon. Nevertheless, on Wednesday morning, we arose by 5 AM, stopped by the French bakery for some fresh pastries and yogurt, and drove to the foot of Mount Cameroon in Buea. As spoiled Americans (though it also seemed proved a necessity), we hired six Cameroonian men to act as porters and carry our food, water, tents, and other belongings up the mountain. We planned to hike up and down the mountain in three days, spending one night in or around a hut and the second night in tents only. After repacking our things for the porters, we started the trek up the mountain at around 7 AM. The morning was spent hiking through something like farmland and then a beautiful rainforest. By noon, we ascended above the treeline and began climbing up steep grasslands. Soon we reached some incredibly steep inclines covered in small volcanic rock which caused very slow going. With exhausted legs, we were all to glad to see our destination for the evening by 3 PM, affectionately known as “Hut #2.” After a nice warm meal, we were ready to crash by 7 PM. As we were joined that night by two other hiking groups, the porters kindly set up our very small tents near the rough hut and we bedded down for the night. Unfortunately, my tent was placed squarely upon two large rocks, which made the falling asleep process a bit difficult for Caroline and I. If that was the only trouble of the night, we would have been set. It started to rain at around 1 AM. It started to POUR at 1:30. At 1:45, a monsoon came and our tent began to cave in. Caroline and I attempted to hold it up for a while, but when we felt water seeping in, we surrendered to the deluge and decided to retreat to the hut, even if it required pushing over our sleeping Chinese hiking companions. Getting out of our wet, collapsing tent was not the most graceful experience, but we eventually made it to shelter where we thankfully found a place large enough to lie down and sleep for a few hours before beginning our hike again.
At 6:30 the next morning, as the sun was rising, several damp, freezing, and somewhat grumpy American arose out of their various “sleeping” quarters. Without too much discussion, it was decided that we would complete this hiking experience within the next 14 hours so as to escape another night of mountain-top hell. This required those who were interested in summiting to quickly climb to the top and then begin the trek all the way down the way they came (as opposed to going down the other less steep side of the mountain). Gretchen, Katie, Caroline, and I set out to do just that while the others began the descent immediately.
The four remaining hours of upward climbing to the summit were unbelievably difficult and COLD. I came close to quitting several times, but eventually made it to the top of the 14,000 ft. volcano. Sitting in a cloud on top of some molten-rock mountain was an incredible (and FREEZING) experience. Nevertheless, we stayed for only 7 minutes before beginning our descent. Coming down the mountain was nearly as difficult as climbing up—in some places more so. Though I did have a couple of tumbles, I miraculously made it down the volcano alive. The last three hours of the hike were ridiculous as my legs felt like spaghetti and lacked any control. As I told my companions, “I think I now have a better understanding of what it must be like to walk with prosthetic legs—you just toss ‘em out there and hope for the best.”It took the remaining three days of vacation to recover from our hike. I have never been so sore in my entire life.
The day before our scheduled departure from Cameroon, we decided to go on a little adventure. First, we wanted to find the quick-sand which Karen had “played in” as a child. Though the sand itself wasn’t all that thrilling, our motorcycle drivers, who more-than-willingly chauffeured around Limbe, were quite memorable. Many marriage proposals were given, and many hearts broken that day. Our second destination was a small island out in the bay that we viewed from our motel. In order to reach said island, we were taken (by our same love-struck motorcycle drivers) to a slightly remote fishing village. Upon being quickly swarmed by African men, I wisely counseled by friends to try their hardest to “blend in.” I’m not sure that we were successful. After some intense bargaining (Karen was bargaining for a boat ride while Gretchen was bargaining for more chocolate and land in return for her hand in marriage…), we entered a questionable wooden canoe with a motor and headed out into the waves. We got NEAR the island before our motor stopped working and we decided to jump in and swim the rest of the way. When we reached the island, we climbed to the top of the rocks (which was a feat considering our sore legs) and found the remains of some ancient African dwellings, which was pretty darn cool. Meanwhile our canoe driver was fixing our motor and the motorcycle driver who accompanied us on the boat was trying in vain to woo Caroline. Eventually we made it back to our hotel, all safe and sound, having made some priceless memories. The next day, our Cameroonian adventure ended with a bang as our hired taxi driver picked us up for the airport nearly two hours late and we came within a hair’s breadth of missing our flight home.
All in all, this spring break was definitely the most venturesome vacation I’ve ever had—truly a mountain-top experience.
