This is the next update of Nev and Kristy our team during execution of the expedition Oasis Trans Africa and some group members to their stories and tales of their adventure
NIGERIA -. by Kristy
We arrived in Nigeria with some trepidation given the recent violence in the country. We spent a little over four hours at the small frontier outpost, with just a guy in uniform working at half-step in the intense heat. The process was so slow that in the end I dragged a pen from my bag and began filling the official details myself. And when it was finally done, Nev and I were taken to the house honchos from head to meet her, his chest supercharged shirtless and lying on a sofa upholstered in velvet. Not exactly the image of bureaucracy. Yet the inappropriateness continued as he asked us to confer with him a gift of his suggestion, namely the large yellow truck parked outside, and me as a concubine! His tone and limited authoritive humor meant that once again Nev husband was roped a resident, although I seriously considered Garrret slide forward, our robust Canadian for the visually forebodings honor!
When we were finally allowed to take off the dusty outpost, though less a liter and a half each in sweat, and with several more bites mosquitoes with which we entered, we just rolled over 10 minutes on Nigerias dirt roads potholed before we arrived at several uniformed and again had to endure the tedious task of passport and the yellow verification fever by a team also half the pace of government employees . This farce continued every 25 meters on and off for the next two days, the curly road by fallen trees, rocks, tires, and even pieces of dead axle trucks recovered! And the ridiculous part is that most of these officials brandishing machine guns could actually see us as at previous roadblock!
At the end we had 5 days of driving and 4 nights of sleep in the forests and disused quarries down bumpy dirt bush tracks to get to Abuja. Nigerian roads were a mess. Young men shoveled dirt and stones in the gaping holes in the palm then spread them wide tarmac to be rewarded for their efforts as the trucks rolled past. Entire sections had melted by the hardness of the sun where the trucks had rolled ruts that were ankle. There were large sections of potholes to dodge, and even larger sections where the potholes were all raised together to form a bed of undulating tarmac disintegrated, interspersed with a few odd kilometers of freshly rolled asphalt seal. Some roads were so bad that the pilots had chosen to create their own track next to it. Sometimes we tipped the speedometer at 80 km / h, but there were certainly a lot of time when the needle was sitting well below 15 km / h, and even a few times when women and children traveling foot, and carrying bundles of wood over their heads cracked a rate higher than ours! And then there was the carnage - car after truck after truck, crushed, mutilated, burned and left to rot and to remind the wayside. Not only the roads a mess, but they were also overwhelmed by the manic drivers that Buck and give equal and exceed blindly on the hills and turns, and that speed and overload their vehicles, which often were death traps held together by a rope, tape and a prayer of Allah! Metal frames do not really have to have provided such a surprise.
However, arriving in Abuja was a breath of fresh air. As a new city and a capital even newer, everything seemed in good order and well maintained. Maybe even a little sterile. In urgent need of human feeling again, we have taken one of the flashiest establishments in town - the Sheraton. Well at least on the football field at the rear Sheraton Hotel where we were allowed to camp. however we were told by the manager to take a shower and wash our clothes before joining in close to other customers! What we dirty overlanders a show must have been.
While in Abuja, we picked up the Congo visas. We tried to Angola, unfortunately without success. But we had a wonderful time nonetheless, and wear our clothes poshest made the most cold beer at happy hour at the Sheraton.
To the south of Abuja countryside was lush and green, with sugar cane, bamboo and banana plantations as far as the eye could see. He was also populated with a village often merging into the next. Rural housing was unlike most we had seen elsewhere in West Africa - the primitive round mud huts nowhere to be seen, replaced by square log buildings or cement rendered brick and trimmed corrugated sheet metal in various stages of rust, no doubt a remnant of the British colonial era. The traffic was often slow. Dead bodies littered the main city streets, next to the garbage pits, and sometimes mosquitoes infested open sewers. Amid this chaos were small huts roadside selling these goods varied as mobile phones, firewood, bread and coffins! The young men were walking among traffic hawking small plastic cards wrapped mobile phone credit, while girls in slow motion, balancing buckets of boiled eggs or fat balls of dough on top of their head and attached small babies in their lower back. And as we crossed rivers on the outskirts of the cities, it was hard to ignore the joy that children frolicked naked in the cold water, while their mothers watched with one eye banks, their attention the arduous task of scrubbing the clothes of the family or dishes or body infants in buckets and in the shallows.
Time and again we were stopped by the police, the military and the traffic police who demanded to see our "documents". We produced these, so they wanted to see our extinguishers, reflective triangles, cylinders, and when we have also produced those they were disappointed. Meanwhile, there were several empty cars muffler, with catches of empty lighthouse, even the intruder lacks a windshield, which hooned before us that we were arrested. They persisted in vain to find fault with our vehicle, which in fairness was probably the safest vehicle on the road. And when they could not find fault they decide that it should be illegal to have a steering wheel on the right side. And would therefore begin an attempt to extort money from us. Agghhh! But you see my Nigerian friends; we know your rules.
The next stop was Calabar city hall Paradise. Apparently, according faded sign at the front, your first step toward heaven. We do not do a lot to explore here. The mission to obtain visas for Cameroon the group took a lot of my time, but the girls and I found time to have tailored skirts whipped for us in local markets, and we have our hair braided in preparation bush camping for the next section and the potential mud digging our way to Cameroon.
With some Nigeria out of bounds by the FCO, our last stop was the drilling Ranch Afi, a conservation program for endangered monkey drill, where we enjoyed those shows like chimpanzees throw their shit on us, and male exercises boldly enjoying the foreign girls in shorts Shorty! We left Afi red spotted from head to foot, and crazy with the itching of a thousand bites sweat bees
CAMEROON - By Katie ... ..
in 00 and something meters, in an infested rat shack with a corrugated metal roof, with hay on a large flat wooden board for a bed and the wind whistling through every tiny opening, I wonder if my decision to climb Mt. Cameroon was good. This is the night of the 3 days, 2 nights trek up the highest mountain in West Africa, and 4095m is the highest I know. I snuggle into my sleeping bag with my 4 bedmates and try to get some rest before the climb to the top of the morning.
After an uncomfortable night and a breakfast a can of beans cooked in the can over an open fire, we left. The path is steep and immediately field unforgiving volcanic rock. Our group of 11 spreads rapidly along the path that we have not our own. Breathing becomes labored as altitude and months of inactivity take their toll. It is with relief that we are at the final hut that marks the start of the final climb and the end of the really steep section. It is very cold until the sun comes out for a fleeting moment and we lie on the pilgrim grass in his heat.
One hour later, we are on top in a swirling fog and wind vibrations which makes it difficult to bear. When the cloud disappears for a few minutes, the view is spectacular, but we did not linger for long because there is nowhere safe and the wind is relentless. Going down is much faster than the way up the steep scree first part is that we can run down. This leads to a lava flow from the eruption in 101, which is hard on the ankles to walk on and look almost like coral as covered with colorful lichens. It quickly becomes tiring and the lava gives way to savannah and we wonder if the end is anywhere in sight.
Fortunately, we are near the end of the 10 hour hike as there are some creaky knees, weak legs and feet covered with blisters here. We are all drained and it's all we can do to cook instant noodles, cup-a-soups and accidents in our tents about 19 hours.
The next morning we are up at 4:30 am to begin the long slog back to civilization. It is not black and we were all tripping over tree roots that we find our way through the forest. As the first light of the approach of dawn, we cross several streams of lava and finally reach the edge of the forest.
After hiking the arduous drop through the forest, 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 to them and they invite us over. They drink palm wine and want to share with us - it's 11 o'clock! We gladly participate in a few sips before walking the last 100 meters to the end point - a bar of course! We all have some festive beers waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. On the tiny TV on the bar of the Race of Hope is on. This is an up and down race course Mount Cameroon happens every year. What we managed to struggle through in 3 days the winner completed in 4 hours!
The next few days are very painful for everyone who climbed as we deal with altitude-induced hangover, sore muscles and blisters.
is our final destination Kribi in Cameroon This is a relaxed seaside town where we celebrate the 100th day of the trip and a huge party with 2 succulent spit roasted piglet. On our last night in Cameroon on the way to the border with Gabon, a tribe of pygmies turns up. Friendly at first, they soon begin to demand payment in cash first and then in food and alcohol. We flummox them by packing everything and say we're going to bed -. At 18 pm
Look out for the next episode and many other tales and adventures ahead of Africa soon
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