Nigeria – on our way from Cameroon to Togo

Once in Calabar, the waiting started again. When I tried to make the Customs queue more efficient (shouting id cards this side, passports this side and questioning everyone that looked like they were pushing in), Alan hissed at me 'mind your own business', so I tried to take a deep breath and be the most patient person in Africa. It was only later that I was informed that people were paying the security guy bribes to be let in by means of phone cards J

The immigration officer was very unhappy that I had been issued another visa. After making a statement about our journey and our religion, our pictures were taken and we given an ultimatum: “One week to get out of Nigeria or you will be arrested”.

People were shouting everywhere. The police demanded money. The union demanded money. After returning from a much needed toilet break, I discovered that our luggage was carried 20 meter to our waiting taxi by two guys, who demanded an exorbitant amount and another fight broke out. I got in the taxi, stuffed toilet paper in my ears and read my book until the fight was resolved. The guys were paid a fifth of what they wanted and we were finally on our way to Uyo. 

We had a very enthusiastic preacher with us who prayed for our safe journey. I joined him and prayed for calmness and the sensibility not to knock someone’s teeth out.

My resolution of not drinking any alcohol whilst on the trip was broken after I was offered an ice, ice cold beer. After watching the Michael Jackson video 4 times, Alan went with the bar tender looking for food.

At the food stall, the bar tender asked Alan if he had any medication on the trip. It was only after answering: “Yes, stuff for headaches and stomach” that he was handed a plate of custard and beans.

27 April: We were picked up by our driver at 06h00. By 08h30, we were still waiting, but luckily Alan and myself, being seasoned African travelers by now, could calm the Cameroonian’s traveling with us.

Our enthusiastic pastor started our journey singing and then prayed, asking God to protect the driver, the engine, the four wheels and us. He took his job seriously and after 4 hrs he asked a passenger to sing hymns, competing with the local radio.

It was a big relief to me since the couple behind me had been chewing bubblegum the past hours and the toilet paper I stuffed in my ears was not effective. It was very touching to see how the Cameroonian couple treated one another and their little boy. I have never seen a happier 5 month old boy.

We finally arrived in a very chaotic Lagos at 18h30. Rachel, a Cameroonian working in Ghana, was also going to Lome and arranged transport to the motor park where the taxis leave for Togo. At the hectic motor park, Alan and Rachel went looking for a money changer whilst I was left behind with the luggage and an extremely irate driver. It felt like ages, in which my imagination ran wild, before they returned.

Lagos was getting to everyone and instead of looking for accommodation for what was left of the evening, we bargained for a share taxi. Spread out on the bonnets of the taxis, Rachel, Alan and the group of young Nigerians talked politics and soccer whilst I was saying one prayer after another, hoping that my poor dad would never find out that his daughter was at that moment, stuck in a motor park in Lagos, surrounded by Nigerians.

28 April: We finally left Lagos at 00h30. The trip was not uneventful and we were stopped several times along the road. At the Benin border, the custom official asked Alan if didn’t have anything for him. Alan gave him N200 and he grabbed the other N200 as well. I felt like punching him.

Cameroon – Mt Cameroon

20 April.  Still not used to all the attention, we sat on our Landlord’s stoep chatting to all the locals and the immigration officer who informed me that my visa had expired. He kept on hinting for a gift. It was not his lucky day. Still unable to exchange any currency, he ended up buying us a coke and bread, which I gratefully gulped down. 

By 10h00, George, our landlord brought his truck around and our baggage was thrown in the back, a gospel tape was put in the tape deck and off we sped on a very dusty road. In the following hour, two snakes sailed across the road.

Finding someone to exchange money was turning into a mission so we gave George $10 to cover his costs before being able to exchange some Euros. Armed with local currency, we took a motorbike to the motor park, got lucky and within 15 minutes, we were on our way to Bimenda. 4 People in the front and 4 in the back.

Colourful plakkies everywhere

The famous Ring Road lay ahead. Unfortunately, all we saw was dust and darkness. The windows were kept open (maybe because the boot was already open) and red dust followed us everywhere. By the time we finally made it to Bimenda at 21h15, we were covered in red dust and the driver took a towel and dusted us and the luggage. Alan, myself and our 4 backpacks shared a motorbike and the driver to the International hotel, who surprisingly offered us accommodation. I took the longest shower of my life, trying in vain to get the red dust off myself and my clothes.

The famous red dust

We were starving. Being in the car with 7 other people made sleeping impossible since falling asleep could mean knocking your fellow passenger unconscious with your head going through the potholes. Since there was no space, drinking and eating was also impossible. 12 hours in a taxi without stopping had taken its toll.

21 April. A visit to the Immigration Office confirmed my suspicion about the immigration officer in Dumbo’s hints for a gift. Al bought tickets for the bus and was chuffed to mention we had booked seats and would be leaving at 13h30. Ye right!

How to capture a tall woman

Comes15h00 and all the passengers booked on 3 busses are put on one bus. Fights were inevitable. The guy who booked seat 11 on one of the three busses looked forlornly at the lady sitting in his seat. She in turn glares at me, since we were both booked on different busses on seat 16. 30 Minutes later the driver hit a speed bump and everyone flew in the air, mobiles and loud verbal abuses included. Luckily for us, we had a mayor or two with us going to a conference and the driver slowed down.

 As we “rescued” more and more people stranded along the road and the breathing space inside the already overloaded bus got less and less, several more fights broke out. Alan and I joined the “you won’t go to heaven” chant if the bus driver refused to rescue any more people.  We finally arrived in Buea at 23h30 where we had to use a 20 liter water drum as a bath plug and the rubbish basket as a table since the only electric plug was above the basin.

We used our 20 liter water can as a bathplug

22 April: The day was spent arranging my visa to Nigeria, the trek to Mt Cameroon and exchanging money. A visit to the internet café also showed me that I was getting very patient. 

23 April: We were slogging down the street by 7h00, big 85l backpacks filled with 6l of water on our backs, small backpacks filled with 3l of water in front, expecting to start the hike by 7h30, as arranged the previous day. By 09h00, our official hike started at upper farm, where were cheered on by prisoners chanting 'put a bit more effort in the hiking'.

The official start of the hike

My bird watching reverie was crushed after Francis gave me the same answer “it’s a bird” twice after I admired the bird calls. Since there was water available at hut 1, we had some snacks and a short rest before pushing on. All along the Guinness Route we encountered empty whisky sachets. Our guide's explanation was: 'It's offerings to Efaso Moto, the owner and protector of Mt Cameroon. He will allow people ot live and visit the mountain as long as nothing is removed. When annoyed, he will shake the ground and when angry, he will spit fire into the air.' I had my doubts about the whisky.

A huge fig tree

Another steep uphill followed the small break at intermediate hut and then we stopped at the magic tree.  According to legend, the tree survived previous volcanic eruptions and special reflecting tape is wrapped around it so people can see if from afar. Pretty soon after, we reached hut 2 where a group of students were already relaxing and admiring the view.

The magic tree

Once the sun sets the temperature drops, so after a quick wash, the thermals were donned. Whilst we were laying snug in our sleeping bags listening to the student group singing, they were sitting outside drinking whisky with the porters and guides.

24 April: We only left the hut by 7h30 and after a steep uphill reached hut 3. The temperature dropped and whilst Alan and I were putting on our layers, the porters decided not to escort us to the summit. Although it was not as steep as the first bit, Alan was starting to show strain. Francis pointed out a rock to me and I was instructed to go ahead, which I did, thinking I could set up the GPS, cameras and flag before they arrive.

Catching my breath

Unfortunately, the wind was howling, my camera got all misted up and my GPS recorded a height of 4075 m and said I was 20 m from the peak mentioned on Peak baggers. It was sad to leave so soon but Francis and Alan were suffering. They raced down the scree and by the time we met up with the porters, it was hot again.

The 1999 crater

Their race continued but William, the porter was kind enough to carry the litter I picked up along the way. I was very tired but felt a bit disappointed after reaching the camp. After fetching some water, picking up the litter around the camp and having a quick wash, I headed for a hill from where I watched the sun set while the guys made a fire, cooked the food, and talked politics and soccer.

25 April: I was not the only one awake by 4h00 and Francis our porter entertained us with his gospel songs while making a fire. After burning the rubbish we picked up, we were off by 7h00. 5 Minutes of forest was followed by Savannah and then the lava field.

Mt Cameroon is a fascinating mountain and forest followed soon after. It became pretty slippery and we all took a tumble or ten. By 11h00, we have reached Bokwaanga, where we took a share taxi to Mt CEO Offices.

Last stretch through a forest

Along the way, I have picked up more litter and by now, my daypack was, amongst other things, really in need of a wash. We took a share taxi to Motor Park 17 in Limbe and then another share taxi to Limbe where Alan took an instant liking in the rustic Bay hotel.

I immediately started washing my day pack and then I had to abandon the mission to go and look for an ATM machine, a trip we repeated three times because I kept on forgetting things at the hotel. Then it was off to the Fako Fast Ferry to buy our tickets. We were pleasantly surprised to see a picture of the boat and to hear it was only CFA 30000 to Calabar and that we had to be there by 3 am.

The rest of the afternoon was spent washing and trying to dry our clothes and recharging everything. I could not stop staring at Malabo Island, tempting to take a boat and see if we might get lucky and be granted permission to visit Equatorial Guinea’s highest mountain.

26 April: Getting to the harbour that time of morning was a bit scary so we didn’t haggle too much about the overpriced motorbike ride to the harbour. The Ferry Service was very efficient. Our passports were taken, our tickets stamped, baggage searched (till they reached all the wet laundry and abandoned any further searches) and chucked in a truck before we were also chucked in busses.

A lack of sleep made everyone grumpy and several arguments broke out. One guy carrying fish was told to get rid of it before entering the bus. Another guy who complained about the delay and mentioned time and money was informed by the wise elderly that he could, since he has the money, take a flight, but that at the last flight, the passengers were stuck on the plane for 10 hours waiting without any water.

Listening to all the bantering, I was happy to be where I was, squashed in or not. Finally the bus moved to the wharf and we waited for another hour listening to some heated conversations before being allowed on the boat.

We finally left Cameroon at 6h00 and the journey was started with a prayer. A video of a gospel concert were played repeatedly for the next three hours. Then a local movie (part 1 and 2) from Nigeria was shown and had everyone in stitches.

Nigeria – Cameroon – The Dumbo Trek

Stops were few and far in between. At our first village, we met a Rastafarian who was kicked out of Cameroon. He believed he was Lucky Dube’s brother and a prophet.

Mountains in Cameroon

Mangoes that fell off the trees kept us hydrated since we sweated like crazy and because of the drought, water was very scarce. Just when I thought I could not lose another drop of sweat, it started raining. We walked in the rain for an hour before the sky was covered with flying ants. Two little boys carrying food to their village, who had joined us walking for the past 10 km, stopped to feast on them while we marched on.

One of the little boys that joined us

When we reached the Sabongido village, Thomas had clearly had enough after a 12 hour hike. Our bags were promptly tied on to a motorbike and after protesting that we didn’t have enough Naira to pay the driver, he insisted on paying for us. He has had it with the crazy tourists that insisted on doing the Dumbo trek, used only by smugglers after a perfectly good road was build between Bissaula and Cameroon.

A steep uphill

Take 1 driver, 2 passengers, 2 85L backpacks, 2 small backpacks; put them on 1 motorbike on 1 extremely bad road and you have an adventure. Alan threatened to get off and walk every time falling seemed inevitable and I giggled nervously, thinking that it’s a miracle that we hadn’t fallen yet.

The arrival of two drenched, shivering and filthy tourists in Dumbo caused quite a stir. The immigration officer bought us a cold drink and because we needed his stamp for our passport, we tried to make small talk ignoring the vision of dry clothes after a nice hot shower.  

Finally we were shown to a room and told we could pay the next day, after exchanging money. Grateful that we had a dry place to sleep, we accepted the bucket of cold water.

Nigeria – Chappel Waddi

8 April: Five minutes after stepping off the airplane in Lagos, I was drenched with sweat. It was hot. It was very hot. Luckily the arrival cards were made of cardboard, which we used as fans. After exchanging money, we took a very expensive taxi to Westtown inn. After all the horror stories we had heard about Nigeria, we didn’t want to hang around anywhere unnecessarily, especially not since it was almost midnight. 

In order to get our visas, I had to make a hotel reservation before the time and was told that two rooms would be $200. I e-mailed back to say that we would be sharing a room and that the cost, according to their website, would therefore be $100. I never received a reply back.

Dodgy room or not, the air-conditioning was pure heaven.

9 April: Breakfast was a dry omelet complimenting a piece of dry bread and we never received any change from the $200 we had to pay as a deposit. The manager was right after all, the room was $200. In hind sight we should have polished off the mini bar.

Another very expensive taxi to the motor park followed. We had changed our plans. Instead of flying to Abuja and taking a share taxi to Serti, we would take a share taxi directly to Serti. Seeing the bible lying on the taxi’s dashboard and listening to the hymns being sung, eased my mind a bit. During the 90 minutes it took the driver to get everyone’s luggage in, several arguments broke out.  Sweating profusely, I tapped my feet to the rhythm of the hymns sung. I controlled my fear by imagining thoughts like “What the hell did I get myself into” floating skywards in a tiny bubble, before exploding. A long prayer by the driver and our 16 fellow passengers followed, and then we were off on our estimated 15 hour journey.

Exactly seven hours later, we stopped for a bladder break. Men and woman alike formed a line next to the road, their backs turned to the passing cars and emptied their bladders. I am proud to say, I was amongst them.  It was only after Alan’s sarcastic remark “Nice white bum”, that I realized the Nigerian ladies were all wearing skirts. We were passed onto three more taxis before our journey ended in Makurdi by 23h00.   

10 April: A motorbike ride to the motor park was followed by our first taxi for the day. Two kilometers further, we also had our first breakdown of the day. Several more taxis followed and we finally arrived in Serti at 21h30. A bucket wash at the “Gods time is the best” hotel followed before I hit the sack, amazed at how strong I still felt.

11 April: After arranging a chartered vehicle and guide at the Serti Tourist camp, we were finally on our way. The trip was not uneventful. Some roads have gigantic potholes, so it is quite common to see vehicles coming straight towards you in the oncoming lanes. Our driver was also adamant not to pay “toll fees” at a boom gate erected by locals and a fistfight was avoided when he tried to run the local over.

In Njawa, we were welcomed by Mr. Chronicle, the Gashuki Gumti's national parks’ head. He generously offered us a bed in his house, washing facilities and food. People flocked to come and greet us and "you're welcome", “you’re very welcome”, were heard wherever we went.

12 April: Being a porter on Chappel Whaddi is clearly not a popular profession. When Anthony, our guide tried to recruit porters, everyone scattered away. Unfortunately for them, Hebrew and 14/14 were too slow. Mr. Chronicle pulled them to one side and what seemed like an earnest talk followed.

Following Mr. Chronicle’s instructions not to let Hebrew and 14/14 escape, Anthony set a heavy pace and we arrived at Jauro Hamasale village just in time to greet the chief. And then we were offered a lovely hut to stay in, maize, wild honey, sugar cane and a live chicken. The guides were extremely excited about carrying the chicken up the mountain and slaughtering it on top. My facial expression must have changed their minds. When I got back after a wash in the river, the chicken was slaughtered. I muted Alan and Anthony’s snoring by stuffing toilet paper in my ears.

With the chief, just before our hike to the highest peak

13 April. The chief’s extended family once again brought us too much food. We started our hike at 7h00 and got to our campsite at 11h30. I was eager to get to the top but Anthony was adamant to eat first and take a siesta till 15h00. When it started raining, he took one look at my panic stricken face and changed his mind. We made it to the top.

Taking GPS reading at the top

Once back, everyone was relieved to take a siesta while I explored the mountain.

The evening, sitting around the fire, we were all in stitches when Alan tried to convince the Nigerians that the dreadful Chinese Soya was proper food.

14 April. A terrible nightmare about visiting the wrong peak resulted in my dragging Anthony back to the summit where I measured the other two peaks close by as well. Our early morning visit was rewarded by fresh milk from a Fulani who stays at the top and after breakfast, we started our hike back to Jauro Hamasale, where lunch awaited. After the obligatory dash was paid to the chief and the photos with his wives taken, Anthony led the stiff hike back.

My first Sunrise on a Western African peak

Mr. Cronicle and his welcoming committee were waiting for us and insisted on carrying our day packs back the last 2 km to his home. After being offered food and a bucket of water to wash in, we started telling stories.  By the time Hebrew and 14/14 were asked if they would take another group up, we were all hysterical.

Our reluctant porters made it back safely

15 April. 3 Motorbikes were needed to take us back to Serti and since there were no volunteers (maybe our big backpacks had something to do with it), Mr. Chronicle’s help was called for. Three very reluctant drivers were ordered to take us to Nguranje.

The journey through the mountains was not uneventful. Motorcycles had to be swapped to handle some of the steep uphills and eyes were closed on most of the steep downhills. Once at Nguranje, Alan refused to travel another centimeter on a motorbike and we chartered a taxi to Serti, where we were treated like big adventurers.

A two hour journey followed through the mountains

16 April. When the Moslem prayers started, we were walking to the motor park, where it took 3 hours before the taxi was full. At Marabastad, Alan discovered that his daypack with some of his valuables was never transferred to our current taxi and arrangements were made to get the backpack back to the motor park in Takum. Another taxi transfer led to another adventure. AC our driver was singing along to a cassette of gospel songs with such immense pleasure that we all joined in. Our first running water and electricity in days awaited us in Takum. It was pure bliss.

Stopping for petrol along the way

17 April. I suspect not a lot of tourists visit Takum. On our way to the motor park, we were paid by a local to have our picture taken. Alan’s bag has not arrived yet and we were advised to return after lunch.  While walking back peacefully to our hotel, feasting on the mangoes that have fallen off the trees, we were picked up by the security police and interrogated for two hours. It was obvious, Takum doesn’t get tourists.

Back at the motor park, Al was informed that he had to go back all the way to Serti to fetch his own backpack, since it contained valuables.

An enjoyable 24 hours followed where I had a whole room to myself, a heavenly shower every 30 minutes when the heat got too much, and the best drink ever – an ice cold coke. At 19h00, I experienced a magnificent lightning storm before the rain poured down.

Al had an adventurous ride back to Serti where he was welcomed back like a lost brother. He endured the storm in a truck with no wipers.

18 April. I kept alternating between watching the lizards and taking a much needed cold shower to counteract the heat till Alan arrived back at 14h00. At 15h00, we were instructed by the immigration officer to go back to Lagos (a 2 day journey) since I was illegally in Nigeria. The custom official at the airport had stamped the wrong date in my passport.

Some pleading and tears followed, and after being kept in suspense for over two hours, we were told that we would not be allowed out of the country, but if we wanted to take the risk, we didn’t have to return to Lagos. We took the chance.

A bumpy ride on the back of the motorbike followed and pygmy kingfishers, parrots and birds of prey accompanied us all the way to Bissaula.

Our drivers were extremely helpful and arranged accommodation and a porter for us before taking us to the health inspector and then the immigration officer. 21h00 was no time to sort out problems in a small village on the border of Nigeria and Cameroon, and we were instructed to come back the next morning.

3 Minutes after entering our room and noticing the gigantic cockroaches and smelly toilet, my tent was pitched outside. Because of the heat, I was surrounded by locals sleeping on tables, chairs and even motorbikes. I felt very safe in my tent, protected from all the cockroaches, listening to everyone snoring around me.

19 April: The next morning, Alan emerged from the dingy room with horror stories about the cockroaches getting cozy in his sweaty hair. The immigration officer must have taken pity on us because our passports were stamped with no further questions. Thomas lifted both our backpacks on his head and by 06h00, our official Dumbo Trek started.

Between Highest Peaks

SUNRISE ON AFRICA’s PEAKS (SOAP): After Zambia it seemed to take forever to get going again on my mission to reach the highest point in every African country. I went for some fantastic hikes in the Drakensberg, but I was restless, and plan after plan to go to Angola fell through.

SUNRISE ON AFRICA’S PEAKS kidz (SOAPkidz): During October 2003, I attended a life purpose course in the Magaliesberg. I had visions of bleeding mountains – whilst the rest of the group had visions of building orphanages. I got on stage and informed them that they should hurry up and build their orphanages – and that I would come and take their children on nature outings to go and clean our mountains. In April 2005, I took the first group of children from the Abraham Kriel Children’s home in Langlaagte on a hike. Since then, I have registered SOAPkidz as a Non-Profit organisation and have taken out more than 11 000 children during more than 100 events.

CAMELMEN: Travelling together in Africa is a good test for a relationship. After the 5^th Roadblock in Zambia, Camelman II and myself, decided to finally end the three year relationship. Camelman III entered my life not long after the epic Zambia trip.

MY LIFE: Almost every aspect of my life was spiralling out of control.

• My working conditions has changed dramatically, with new management and other challenges
• The past two years’ hard work on trying to make SOAPkidz sustainable was not bearing any fruit. I have become obsessed with SOAPkidz, and mistakenly thought that by working harder, I could make things better. I was busy arranging event after event.
• I was killing Camelman III with my demands. I would start talking SOAPkidz at 05h00 and in the evening, having a bottle or two of wine, I would continue.
• My family barely saw me – I was, after all, trying to save the vulnerable kids in Africa.
• My planned Angolan trip was met by one obstacle after another and last but not least,
• Adventure B was going nowhere: A dear friend and I have been planning this three month adventure for years, and I was hoping to finally do it in 2010. He was, however, unable to give me a definite answer on his availability and I was stuck without him.

I made a decision, If not Angola or Adventure B, why not Morocco? It would be a piece of cake. I invited Camelman III with, and he immediately bought some travel books. He wanted to do the Camino in Spain as well. My heart was more set on fitting in another African country, but he was adamant. 

Two weeks later, Alan arrived in South Africa with some great plans for a West African trip. How many countries, I asked over a bottle or two of wine. “At least ten, maybe sixteen, if all went well”, he replied.

The next morning, I informed Camelman III that I was off to West Africa in February for two months. Morrocco will have to wait. It was an opportunity of a lifetime. I also informed my Adventure B friend that I have made a choice: I was going to West Africa for two months instead. It was one thing I was “certain” of and I only had to rely on myself.

Everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

• I spend Christmas on my own, washing and separating thousands of used bottle tops for SOAPkidz instead of hiking with Camelman III. He was not a happy man. I was not a happy woman.
• Alan experienced problems with his passport and had to return to Australia. We had to postpone the trip twice.
• Because of the world cup soccer being held in South Africa, no tickets were available in June, and the planned two month trip became a three month trip
• I worked 24/7 trying to arrange all the SOAPkidz events that would take place whilst I explore West Africa’s mountains.
• At work, it was a nightmare to get my manager to sign my leave forms – especially since I kept on changing the dates.

A day before the trip:

• My family decided to come and visit. So much for a last romantic evening with Camelman III!
• There was a power failure – resulting in further chaos. No electric gate and the last minute packing had to be done by candle light – where I discovered that my sleeping bag’s zip was broken. In between, food for everyone had to be arranged.
• My sister kept on taking pictures of me with every member of my family – saying it could be the last picture of me with the family.

D-Day:

• I finally got into bed at 03h00.
• I managed to give Camelman III a quick kiss before he left for work.
• I received a call from my new manager, and after shouting at her, I raced to work – to sort out some paperwork – before racing off to Johannesburg – to pick up a satellite phone – something my son insisted on me taking the previous evening, whilst I send my Dad to buy a new sleeping bag.
• When we finally arrived at the airport, I was close to a nervous breakdown. Alan’s grumpiness about me taking a satellite phone and other valuables with, did not help.
• After shouting at my new manager, I was unsure if I would have a job when I returned.
• I was unsure if Camelman III would be waiting for me
• I was unsure of SOAPkidz and where everything was going
• I was unsure about the three month trip – and how safe it was going to be.

I thought all my problems would be solved once I got on the plane.

South Africa – Drakensburg – More Exploration

30 December 2008: After quite an eventful night at Witsieshoek mountain retreat where we had to battle with the plumbing (after a search for the tap handles, only to find that there was no hot water, later no water at all and then the pipes complaining throughout the night), we were more than ready to explore the mountains around Phuthaditjhaba. We couldn’t have hoped for better weather. We followed several cattle trails down to the Fika Patso dam and several river crossings followed.

Several river crossings followed

Chris had been studying the topographic maps and was the only one that knew where we were heading. During one of the interesting downhills, Jenny twisted her ankle badly and the going was slowed down. There were many locals around and we were asked for food and even water every time we were approached by a group. One guy said that there was cholera in the water but maybe his English was not that good. Nevertheless, I begged some chlorine tablets from Jen, getting the ratio and waiting times mixed up thus providing the opportunity for much laugher and reducing the tension that had built up. We were very aware of the thefts taking place on top of the Sentinal and we have just stumbled upon a “coming off age” ceremony and were made to feel most unwelcome.

The amount of caves in the area was mind blowing. We finally made it to Suoi cave, where we set off cleaning the cave before settling down for the evening. It was decided that Warren and myself would follow Chris the following day and Phillip would keep Jenny, who at this stage could hardly walk, company and fix up the cave.

31 December 2008: The weather couldn’t have been better but the two bachelors, Warren and Chris took their time and we finally got away by 6am.  The general idea was to explore the unknown passes. The going was extremely tough since there were no paths and the grass was extremely lush. (Not to mention the patches of Chi Chi bush)

Bundu bashing through the chi chi bush

A long ascent followed before we finally reached the exposed grassy slopes. Trying not to hyperventilate, I reminded myself to get some help for my “must be old age and some bad experiences” fear of heights once I reach civilization. 

Steep uphill - I am getting too old for this!

Luckily, Chris and Warren came to my rescue. Chris grabbed me by my backpack and Warren shoved me from behind. We decided to have a short break. I was trying my level best whilst sitting under a dripping rock NOT TO LOOK DOWN, while the two bachelors were chatting away, admiring the lovely EXPOSED VIEW and baking in the warm sun.

Chris, Warrick and myself on top of the just named pass.

The chattering of my teeth announced that it was time to go.

Warren was talking to himself most of the way and when I asked him what the conversation was about he said, “I am crazy going with you guys!”.

The view was spectacular and after one last scramble, by 14h00, we reached the top of the escarpment. Chris christened the pass Black Wall pass and built a big cairn and then it was time for lunch. It was very noticeable that there was no litter to be found, which enforced our feeling that no one had been up this pass.  We scrambled down another unknown pass and Warren had several falls, injuring his knee. Every stumble was followed by the mug attached to his bag clanging, Warren falling and me asking, “Warren, are you all right?” Luckily it was not too bad and I could convince Warren that his cup clanging was not irritating me but rather warning me to get out of his way.  A long excruciating downhill followed (have I mentioned that my left big toenail was removed 3 weeks ago and it was still very tender?) and by 17h00, with my feet begging for a new owner, we stumbled into the cave. Jenny’s ankle was swollen badly and it was decided to take the easiest route out the next morning. Our new year’s celebration lasted exactly until 20h00.

1 January 2009: With a large bag of litter strapped to my backpack (mostly sardine cans left by locals), we headed straight for Fika Patso dam, hoping to catch a taxi on the main road. Locals having a braai next to the dam wall couldn’t believe their eyes when we walked past them and they insisted on taking some pictures of the crazy hikers that had appeared out of nowhere. Further down we bumped into more locals who were showing off their skills on a quad bike. They were reluctant to give us a lift, claiming that they were out for the day enjoying themselves and did not want to be interrupted. We had forgotten that it was a public holiday and that everyone was in a party mood. The road took us straight into Phuthaditjaba where everyone was once again extremely surprised to see us. We had to explain to everyone where we came from and where we were heading. The one lady informed us that we should have just gone over the mountain but after trying to explain the situation to her she just nodded her head in a strange way.

A cute worm

Finally we convinced a local to take Chris and Phillip to the resort to retrieve the vehicles. Jenny, myself and Warren kept on walking along the road. In a short while the locals who had given Chris and Philip the lift passed us, shouting that Chris and Phillip would be with us shortly. A long wait followed and still no sign of them or the vehicles. Finally they arrived and explained that they had been delayed because Phillip had barricaded the toll road and refused to budge until the official returned their toll money as he had promised. Happily reunited, off we went to the Shell garage for a quick wash and to repack the cars. The decision was that Chris, myself and Phillip would go exploring in Lesotho while Jenny and Warren return to Gauteng. A short and memorable trip through Golden Gate took us to Fouriesburg Country inn where we spent the night – a place I highly recommend.

2 January 2009: The start of our adventure in Lesotho. After studying the Lesotho map and consulting with some locals, it was decided to take the scenic route to Katse dam. Phillip and Chris were enjoying the 4X4 thing while I was sitting in the back, trying not to notice all the pot holes in the road. Around 12h00 a puncture stopped us. Since we had intended a 6 day hike in the mountains and not a 4X4 trip in Lesotho, I had left most of the repair kit and tools at home. While Chris and Phillip were changing the tyre, a 4X4 passed us, informing us that we were on a private road leading to a mine (opened 2 years ago) and that the road to Katse that we intended to take was pretty bad after the rains. We decided to have the tyre fixed in Matlehong and then head on to Sani Top Chalets. 

Chris and myself on top of a pass in Lesotho

The Supa Quick shop we had expected to find turned out to be 4 old tyres next to the road. Le Duc, the owner, had to be fetched from the river and charged us R80 to fix the puncture.  Relaxed and happy that once more we had a spare, the adventure continued. The feeling didn’t last very long because 20 minutes after leaving Matlehong we heard a big bang. The tyre Le Duc had just fixed, exploded. – obviously his air pump gauge was faulty and he had over inflated the tyre. We stopped to inspect the damage and did our usual wave to the locals and realized that they were not waving back but rather throwing stones at us.  We jumped into the car and sped off, absolutely shocked at the hostility shown us.

This was definately some sort of celebration

The erosion due to over grazing around Matlehong was incredibly bad.  The mountains were a desert landscape. (Who said that it was difficult to break a mountain?). We arrived at Sani Top Chalet at 16h00 where we were welcomed by the owner and given the following sleeping options since the place was packed

·   share a hut with the locals

·   share a room with the owner and his 3 big dogs

·   take over Liam’s room, a tourist from England, forcing him to share a room with the owner and his 3 big dogs.

Taking into account Phillip’s snoring it was unanimously decided to kick Liam out of his room.

3 January 2009: One look at the owner’s face the next morning convinced me that he didn’t get too much sleep the previous night. (Phillip’s snoring must have gotten to him since his dogs made it impossible to close his door).

The litter on top of Sani Pass

After breakfast, the nightmare trip down began. Since I suffer from a fear of 4X4ing, I chose to close my eyes during the first part of the road down Sani Pass.  The road turned out to be a highway with at least 15 4X4s passing us and the expressions on the drivers’ faces were all the same. Did you get down in this little 4X4?  Once again, Cutie, my little 1300 Daihatsu Terios had stood the test.

The very steep winding road down Sani Pass

Yes, she made it down!

The tyres were quickly sorted out in Underberg and we headed to Kgotso Backpackers where two hours of horse riding in the mountains followed. The backpackers was full and most of the guests were international tourists waiting to go on 4X4 trips or pony trekking into Lesotho.

4 January 2009: Time to head home. The guys had not yet had enough of dirt roads and decided to take all the “off the beaten tracks” whilst I tried to sleep or read, already thinking of dates for the next trip to the mountains.

South Africa – The Amatola Mountains

The brochure I received about the Amatola hiking trail suggested an early start. We were, however staying in one of the cottages at Starways Pottery in Hogsback and needless to say we could not help but get involved in the preparations for the opening of the Rose Theatre on the premises.

After Anton van der Merwe, the owner and master potter of Starways, showed me how to operate the chainsaw there was no stopping me and Sam, an artist from Scotland and within hours we had built the bar for the theatre. Phillip and Anton finalized the roof while the band consisting of Elliot and Pierce had us all in a cheerful mood after their practice session. Pretty soon it was time to work on my culinary skills, or should I rather say my decorative skills since 40 pizzas had to be made and what better oven to bake them in than the pottery oven!

The opening went exceptionally well and the music had everyone in a relaxed mood.

Day 1: Marden Dam to Gwili Gwili. (12 km - 7 hours)

Unfortunately, waking up at 5 am the next morning left me less chirpy than usual. Vale, Anton’s daughter, was kind enough to take me and Phil to Marden Dam where we started our first day hike. We decided on taking the short cut after we were informed of 1000 bee stings received the previous week by two hikers who were forced to abandon their hike. Hiking through the Pirie forest gave new meaning to sweating and made me feel good about my resolution (old year?) to get fit! What a great way to start!  We could hear birds singing all the time but it was only the Knysna Louries that showed themselves. Vermiculture was also given a new meaning when we learned that giant earthworms reaching up to 6m were responsible for the ever present heaps on the paths. Gwili Gwili hut was a pleasant surprise and since I was not expecting hot water, I was not too disappointed when we discovered that there was none. It started raining 15 minutes after we arrived and the rain only stopped an hour before we had to leave the next morning.

Day 2: Gwili Gwili to Dontsa (18 km - 8 hours).

The hike was predominantly through the moist indigenous forests and we once again could hear birds chirping all the way. We took the lower route at the Dontsa forest station which left us with some climbing near the end. Phillip couldn’t resist swimming in one of the lovely pools and refused to remove the pair of RayBan sunglasses he had picked up on the path. At the hut after another cold shower it started to rain and we were forced to move to another room since the roof started leaking rather badly.

Day 3: Dontsa to Cata  (17 km - 10 hours)
We decided to stick to indigenous forests and shorter routes and after reaching the Eseka Stream we opted for the  upper route. I was getting quite confident in my navigation skills and showed Phillip exactly where we were. After explaining to him that we should just follow the jeep track for another 4 km, I set off, leaving him to enjoy his snooze next to the path.  I was an inspired woman! It wasn’t long before I heard Phillip shouting at me – apparently I had taken the wrong route. My explanation for not finding any footprint markers along the way was that according to my reading of the map the route was so obvious and they weren’t needed!

A long 6 km followed and we reached the lovely hut without having to use headlamps. According to the journal left at the hut, we were not the only hikers getting lost.

Day 4: Cata to Mnyameni (13.5 km - 8 hours)

According to the brochure, one of the finest days hiking you are ever likely to experience is day 4 of the Amatola Trail. The trail was not laid out to get you simply from A to B, but rather to take you past the most spectacular and scenic spots you could wish to see. Unfortunately I did not find this amusing as the trail kept on cutting back to the extent that we seemed to almost be returning to our starting point. Picking up all the litter that the previous hikers had left around the hut left me in an even sulkier mood. Luckily we were still not expecting hot water.

Day 5: Mnyameni to Zingcuka (18.2 km - 10 hours)
The day started with a stiff climb up through another enchanting forest. I found this the best day and we could see the surrounding mountains most of the way. Phillip had several dips in and naps alongside the many rock pools. 

Day 6: Zingcuka to Tyumie River (15 km - 7 hours)

Due to heavy mist and after getting lost in the forest we were forced to take the forestry road to Hogsback. I found walking in the mist special with huge trees along the road and next to no visibility creating a wondrous atmosphere.

Two days later we were back at Zingcuka hut and completed the last leg of the hike in perfect weather. This time we were accompanied by Vale, Anton’s daughter. The whole mountain was covered in flowers and all along the route we were presented with fantastic views and we finally got to see a lot of birds.

Except for the zig-zaging from Cata to Mnyameni on day 4 and the huts not being maintained properly, I can definitely recommend this hike. The fact that the huts couldn’t lock was something to get used to.