Mount Cameroon

Spent the weekend getting dominated by Mount Cameroon. Two SIT friends came for the weekend to check out Buea and attempt to climb the monster with me. We woke up Saturday morning at 3:45 AM, where our guide and porter came and picked us up. I could talk about how superhuman these guys are for the next 5 blogs, but I’ll keep it to this:

Enter Walters (THE GUIDE): 21 years old with 8 older brothers and sisters. He has gone the farthest in education out of his entire family (he is up to high school now), primarily paying for his own education. He began his job as a porter at 15 and became an official guide at 18. He climbed the mountain in wool socks and gellies.

Sprint in Vitalise (THE PORTER): Successful completer of the “Race of Hope” five times, currently training for his 6th. The Race of Hope is a 23 mile race up Mount Cameroon and back down for any person crazy enough to attempt it. It makes heartbreak look like a fat piece of Boston cream pie. You need superhuman endurance to reach the top, and superhuman agility and balance to make it back down. He started running in hope of attracting a sponsor… he can run a marathon in 3 hours 20 minutes.

Impressive dudes.

Started our ascent through the rainforest, and slowly moved up into the grassy savannah. Saw the rock where they used to sacrifice an albino every year, as locals believe spirits live on the Mountain (they stopped this just 30 years ago…) Stopped to rest at hut 1, where I fell asleep on a grassy patch and our guide made me get up, asking me if I really wanted to get bit by a snake…

After 10 hours of straight uphill hiking, we stopped at hut 2 for the night. As my dad was watching SNL and my mom was passed out with English papers on her lap in the warmth of the maison de Stable Lane, I was waking up to start the starlit hike to the summit circa 3 AM Cameroon time. I was legitimately cold for the first time since last March.

Definitely the clearest sky I have ever seen, with tons of shooting stars and constellations I knew the names of in 7th grade. It was pretty incredible to be hiking up this mountain, above the clouds, as the sun was rising over Buea.

Stopped at hut 3, where our guides were pretty certain we would have to turn around because of the cold. Ellen and I convinced them to let us attempt to make it (she’s a Minnesota native, and I feel like after surviving the march down Broad on raw New Years’ Days, I can handle anything). 45 painful minutes later, we made it… spent about 30 seconds on the summit snapping pictures and trying not to get blown off the edge. After about 5 pictures, our incredibly patient guides finally snapped, told us to get a move on, ushered us back down the Guinness trail. Started the descent, jogging behind Vitalise.

The downhill was just as difficult as the uphill, especially with legs of led. The stupid volcanic rock that covered the path made us both wipe out on several occasions. Walters was walking behind me, machete in hand, still rocking the gellies. As I slipped down the trail, I was praying the gellies wouldn’t fail Walters and send that machete towards me… Speaking of machetes; apparently it is not uncommon for people to die during the Race of Hope while running down the mountain and slipping on the rocks. Vitalese casually mentioned this when telling me about the difficulties of the race…

By the time we reached relatively flat land, we all literally forgot how to walk. Walters and Vitalise had fun making fun of us waddle to the end of the trail (an absolutely extreme case of the jimmy legs).