Think the Nickelodeon show "Guts" without the confetti blizzard
Buea is the provincial capital of the Southwest province. I had, until a few weeks ago, never been there but heard about many times, as though it were an oasis in the middle of…well, Africa. It's still quite African but the well-paved streets, friendly, well-dressed people (many of them men leading or holding their children—a somewhat rare sight) who could've cared less that white people were mulling around (at least didn't mention it in "whiteman!!" calls), and clean streets were a bit mind-boggling. And there was also the 13,000-ft. volcano looming in the distance that made it a bit different. Unfortunately I was only able to spend a few hours in the town. There was a mountain to climb!
Day 1, “Giddy up!”— 9AM Starting out at 1,000 meters just along the jungle on the edge of Buea town we were able to see the remaining German architecture that litters the city, including the "Governors mansion" that now belongs to the Prime Minister (I think). We were following a path of white painted rocks that guided us all the way to the top (this is where the "Guts" reference comes into play, for those of you who remember that show—many times I felt it necessary to try and hit each rock to avoid a confetti blizzard to plummeting Styrofoam boulder). The jungle was what you'd think; humid, thickly forested, and mossy, with dark brown-black dirt that's characteristic of volcanic soil, so I hear.
Once we broke out of the jungle we were in what they call "Savanna." And fortunately or unfortunately (depending on your feelings about heights) it was so foggy that we couldn't see where we were. We were, at this point, right up the front of the mountain on a steep incline, surrounded by fog and trekking up grassy hills, dotted with black rock. The incline
Buea is the provincial capital of the Southwest province. I had, until a few weeks ago, never been there but heard about many times, as though it were an oasis in the middle of…well, Africa. It's still quite African but the well-paved streets, friendly, well-dressed people (many of them men leading or holding their children—a somewhat rare sight) who could've cared less that white people were mulling around (at least didn't mention it in "whiteman!!" calls), and clean streets were a bit mind-boggling. And there was also the 13,000-ft. volcano looming in the distance that made it a bit different. Unfortunately I was only able to spend a few hours in the town. There was a mountain to climb!
Day 1, “Giddy up!”— 9AM Starting out at 1,000 meters just along the jungle on the edge of Buea town we were able to see the remaining German architecture that litters the city, including the "Governors mansion" that now belongs to the Prime Minister (I think). We were following a path of white painted rocks that guided us all the way to the top (this is where the "Guts" reference comes into play, for those of you who remember that show—many times I felt it necessary to try and hit each rock to avoid a confetti blizzard to plummeting Styrofoam boulder). The jungle was what you'd think; humid, thickly forested, and mossy, with dark brown-black dirt that's characteristic of volcanic soil, so I hear.
Once we broke out of the jungle we were in what they call "Savanna." And fortunately or unfortunately (depending on your feelings about heights) it was so foggy that we couldn't see where we were. We were, at this point, right up the front of the mountain on a steep incline, surrounded by fog and trekking up grassy hills, dotted with black rock. The incline continued to be steep, then steeper, then pretty dang steep. We were climbing right up rocks on almost unidentifiable paths…just following the white rocks, stopping every 5 minutes or so to let our legs stop twitching and take a deep breath. By 5:00 we had reached the Savanna hut, our resting place for the night. The porters and guides sat around the fire talking loudly as we watched the sun set, the clouds clear and the lights of Beua glow below us. 
Day 2, part 1 "Summit!": 7AM—From the savanna hut we continued up, this time able to see parts of the town below us. The sky was clear and soon the layers we'd put on with anticipation of the summit were shed and stuffed back into backpacks. It began to look more like "steppe" to me; short grasses, rolling hills and fewer steep inclines. The wind was relentless. We stopped often waiting for the whole group to reach a point, and then continued. After a few false summit-false alarms we turned a corner and there it was.
By this point we were taking periodic stops to keep from blowing off the mountaintop, and we'd re-layered our fleeces, hats and gloves. As we were about to summit a big gust ripped off my bandanna and, I was sure, almost ripped Lindsey off the face of the earth. We both stumbled up to the top to find a plaque and the last white rock. As we waited for the rest of the group to arrive we stared off looking at what was Nigeria to one direction and an amazing mountain range to another. Gusts of wind continued the entire time we sat on top, blasting us with fine volcano sand—which was later found in our ears and on our teeth. 
Day 2, part 2, "Oh yay, another lava flow!" I guess I should have expected lava—this is a volcano after all. And we had been joking about "liquid hot magma" for weeks but I wasn't prepared to "slide" down decade old lava flows and trip (literally) over hardened and crooked black rock for four more hours. We did. At one point I looked down a hill of crumbly rocks and saw my only chance in 2 years to ski…I took it. I wish Warren Miller could have seen me, swish, swish. Just kidding, it wasn't nearly that cool; in fact I kind of hurt my knee at one point. There was some "bounding" by another friend which resulted in him ending up headfirst in a bush…we settled down to pour rocks out of our shoes.
The main lava flow was from the 1920s and had become a rocky wasteland that seemed to go on forever. Passing through some craters from the 1999 and 2000 eruptions was absolutely amazing, aside from that fact that we had to literally take one step at a time down the edge in order to avoid falling in either direction. The ground was still hot and smelled like sulfur…pretty sure we saw some fumes and steam but I think we were probably just hallucinating. 
We finally began descending to what looked like "Braveheart" scenery to me. I almost expected to see Mel Gibson ride over a ridge, painted blue and wearing a kilt. We didn’t see that, but we did see a radio tower and the mountain that borders with Nigeria—it looks out for people sneaking in through the bush…maybe it could be like Nigeria’s very own “Braveheart.” As the sun was setting and we were on about hour 12 of hiking we trudged over the last hill to Mann's Spring, where we spent night number 2. 
After a dinner of instant mashed potatoes and pasta with random ingredients, stirred with the end of a Leatherman, and eaten off dirty plates I prayed for my "GI of steel" to hold strong, cleaned my blisters, popped some ibuprofen and we snuggled into the wigwam for some rest.
Day 3, "And down we go…": With Nalgenes refilled, blistered covered and with thoughts of black sand beaches we headed off on another beautifully clear morning. More Scotland-esque landscape surrounded us, until a thick black road (really, the lava from the 2000 eruption) cut through the hill and stretched on as far as we could see.
Thick clouds rolled in and surrounded us. It was beautiful. As we reached the jungle again the descent began to get more drastic and a bit painful on the "skiing in Africa" knee injury. The hazy forest was peaceful and our time was occupied by looking for the best swinging vine, listening for monkeys and wishing we'd see an elephant (FYI, none of those were actually achieved). After I fell into the space between two moss covered and wet rocks the throbbing in my shin took over the knee pain—someone asked, at one point, "Did your knee cap fall into your shin?" It's turned a pretty greenish shade now. We hadabout 4 hours left…it was tedious. Reaching the bottom, we celebrated with a cup of mimbo (palm wine) and piled into taxis with our sweaty and smelly porters (we weren't much better smelling, I'm sure). As we drove to Limbe a few hours later, the mountain shot up seemingly from nowhere and dominated the horizon. It didn't look too big from that angle.
That night the storm was unmerciful—thick bolts of lightening, wind and driving rain. We sat under the covered porch of our hotel watching the lightening strike the ocean and we cheersed each other, repeated how great it'd been, and went to bed at 8:00.
Lessons learned:
That night the storm was unmerciful—thick bolts of lightening, wind and driving rain. We sat under the covered porch of our hotel watching the lightening strike the ocean and we cheersed each other, repeated how great it'd been, and went to bed at 8:00.
-When rationing water, Camelbacks are a bad idea. You have no idea how much you have left and you just keep sipping!
-Layers are key.
-Sometimes you luck out and torrential rains take a break…in those cases make sure to apply sunscreen, especially to that random spot of back showing between your tank top and backpack.
-If your friends are very small, make sure you anchor them to the ground when gusts of wind come whipping by. They may or may not fly off.
-Mice can live in almost any condition, especially when there’s peanut butter and almonds to snack on.
-Walking sticks are awesome.
-Bamenda people nah bush people.
-False summits suck.
-Leathermans may be the perfect tool.
-Black lava rock is not snow; take care when attempting to ski.
-Black sand beaches, fresh coconuts, and a cocktails are the best way to rest your tired muscles after climbing almost 10,000 feet up in a day and a half.
***Thanks Lindsey/Lindsay for your pictures!!!!***
...not on mt. cameroon, or near it, but fun all the same (with Lindsay and Kelsey).
