If I could buy Stanley a beer

Countries Visited: 16
Distance Travelled: 16582km
Litres of fuel bought: 2408
Punctures repaired: 5
Food poisonings: 7

We eventually escaped Abuja, leaving Julian and Peter to enjoy their fourth week at the Sheraton. We had one night in Katsina Ala in Nigeria before making a run for the Cameroon border the following day. The going was good until Takum where we turned off towards Bissaula. The road changed to a dirt track with deep ruts and puddles, it had taken us six hours to reach Bissaula when we'd estimated three. Berwyn and co. the group that had taken this route a couple of weeks before us were still the talk of the town. "We had some of your people come through recently, do you know them?" was one of the first questions we were asked by immigration. We were told we should have had our Carnet stamped out in Takum, but there was no way we were going to do a eight hour round trip for that, the police told us it wouldn't be a problem. We left Nigeria with a warning the road was in a "terrible state". We knew that one section of the road had taken Berwyn five attempts, so with a much heavier, although more powerful vehicle we were concerned. We'd now been stamped out of Nigeria, so there was no turning back.

The reports held true, the road was terrible. Some incredibly steep climbs and descents, river crossings, badly rutted roads with serious rain damage, dangerous cambers, loose rocks, puddles and a bit of mud to polish it off. Everything a 4x4 enthusiast would dream of, but we just wanted to get to Cameroon! Stanley behaved impeccably, this unstoppable machine doing what seemed impossible, even climbing the "big hill" we'd been warned about on the first attempt, a ridiculously steep climb over loose and uneven rocks for about 1km. We breathed a sigh of relief at the top wanting to give Stanley a hug and buy him a beer. Still, no rest for us, we were aiming for Nkambe. This wasn't to be however, after nine hours of driving that day we ended up bush camping for the first time since Northern Ghana before we'd even reached Cameroon immigration.

We officially entered Cameroon the following day at Ako where we were stamped in before heading on to Nkambe, the road improved but still very hilly. We had a phenomenal climb on a dirt track, from 400m to 1600m in the space of about 12km. We had to stop twice to let Stanley cool down as he was overheating! We were jumped on by Roy and Michelle as we arrived at customs in Nkambe, a Brazilian couple who had been on the road for over two years on a world tour. They were considering crossing to Nigeria and wanted information about the route.

We carried on along the Ring Road - a circular route through the spectacular mountain scenery of north western Cameroon - to Kumbo. The road had vastly improved, so Stanley decided now would be a good time for the stabiliser bar to break again. We limped along to our destination where we stayed in a hotel with a difference, no fan or air conditioning, we even had hot water for the first time since Northern Senegal! We were now at almost 1800m and although the sun was still blisteringly hot during the day the air temperature was relatively cool. We wore jumpers that night, not because we had to, just because we could!

The following morning, after some asking around, we tracked down Victor and his welding shop. His team sprung into action putting Stanley back together, with a brief interlude while there was a power cut. Not impressed with the previous job and the fact there was only one strengthening bracket they added another. Victor guaranteed that his workmanship will last until the car returns to Europe. I can't see myself going back to Kumbo to get it fixed if it does break again. Still, I've got his email address so I'll let him know either way.

We pushed on towards Mount Cameroon with a stop in Bafang, we then decided to delay another day in Limbe for more food poisoning recovery. Three days of driving for nine hours per day had taken its toll. Despite the fact we were right next to Mt Cameroon we couldn't see it, it was totally shrouded in cloud. We ate in "The Fish Market" that night, a spot on the beach where the days catch is grilled over a fire and served up on a plate. A lovely meal sitting at a table on the beach. The electricity failed so we were eating by the strobe lighting of a storm over the mountain. The wet season has been gaining momentum, with spectacular storms most evenings since our first rains in Hohoe. Then came the tell tale strong gust, a 180 degree switch in wind direction and everyone sprung into action. I've never seen anything so efficient in Africa as our plates were grabbed and we were taken to a table with a roof. Table clothes were cleared as everyone was frantically battening down the hatches. A couple of minutes later the rains hit like a sledge hammer. We were joined at our table by a guitarist, the lightning illuminated Hannah's grinning face as we were then treated to the very surreal experience of eating seafood in the dark in the middle of a huge storm while being serenaded to the sounds of Bob Marley and The Eagles. We had a brief five seconds of electricity before there was a flash from the power cables over the street and sparks rained down onto the road knocking out the towns power once again.

Mt Cameroon is an active volcano, the most recent eruption in 2001. It shoots straight out the sea to 4095m in height, probably quite impressive if you could ever see the top. It does unfortunately also have the reputation of being the second wettest place on the planet, receiving over 10m of rain a year at the peak, even more rain than Manchester! Buea is a small town sitting about 1000m up Mt Cameroon and the starting point for most climbs. It's handy being at altitude for two reasons, firstly, the climb to the summit is shorter, and secondly, most of the hot sweaty walking through the rainforest circling the base is eliminated. We arranged a guide in Buea with two porters, feeling slightly guilty having other people carry all our stuff but we're not very fit at the moment! Especially as we had to take three days supply of water, 18 litres. The aim was to get up and down in two days, but we allowed the extra day in case we were struggling. Amadou, our guide said we wouldn't have to start too early, he'd be back at 7am the next day to give us time to eat our breakfast. I think they're early risers around here, we had the school opposite singing hymns at 6:30 the previous morning.

As promised, Amadou arrived with Joseph and Thomas, our porters, at 7am, unfortunately our alarm hadn't gone off, so we eventually left at 8:30. Really good walking weather for this part of the world, overcast with light rain. We reckon you can judge how hard a walk will be in Africa by the guides footwear, if he's wearing flip flops, it'll be hard, if he's wearing trainers, it'll be really hard. Our guide was wearing walking boots, we were worried. The only saving grace was he was carrying three days supplies and we were carrying a bottle of water and camera between us. We set off and the pace was ok, the porters shot on ahead carrying all their stuff and ours. We were quite lucky as the day remained overcast with high cloud, the rain cleared giving us amazing views from the mountain. The guide was saying it's the best views he's ever had from the mountain, and considering he'd been doing this for 30 years that's quite a statement! He and porters were all taking photos with their phones so it was clearly unusual. The walk started with a gradual ascent and seemed to get steeper and steeper. Scrambling up a very steep slope of volcanic rock and tufts of grass we eventually reached "Hut 2" at 2860m after just over six hours. This was where we'd be spending the night before making a charge for the summit the following day. We spent the night in the rat infested hut, it wasn't particularly pleasant hearing rats scurrying past your head in the dark. We also lost a packet of biscuits and a loaf of bread to them before we found hooks on the ceiling to hang our bags from.

The higher sections of the mountain look a little like scenery from the Lake District or Scotland, this was even more true when we woke up the next morning, it was wet, windy and cold, it could have easily been an English summer day. Craig and Lou had given us some Kendal Mint Cake before we left which we'd decided to eat on route to the top, so this all felt very fitting. Unfortunately it wasn't to be, the summit had inconveniently placed itself 1235m higher than my knees were willing to go. They'd been sore the previous day on the way up and were still painful in the morning, we decided the final ascent would be a bad idea and started heading down instead, enjoying the mint cake of course. When my knees are bad I find walking down stairs difficult, so a 1860m descent wasn't ideal! Still, we hobbled along slowly eventually making it back to the bottom in time for lunch. Amadou, spent most of the two days ranting about politics, moaning about the corrupt Cameroon government. We were told many times what cruel rulers the Germans were, how French systems breed corruption, which is why most of French Africa is such a mess, and how good the area was under the British but they left too early and should come back to help sort it out. He seemed very proud of the British post box in Buea.

The following day we headed for Yaounde to sort out more visas. We'd been told we could stay in a Benadictine Monestary on Mt Febe for free, so that's where we are now with great views over the city. Unsurprisingly, we've timed yet another visa application with a public holiday forcing us to pay the express fees for the Gabon visa.

Minding the Nigerian Drivers

We were staying in Hohoe before going to Wli Falls the following day. I woke up at about 4:30am, discovering that the fan had stopped as there was no electricity. There did, however, appear to be a flickering light bulb through the window, although closer investigation revealed that there was no light bulb, just a distant thunderstorm, so ferocious that the sky was almost constantly lit by lightning. We stood by the window watching the approaching storm, the winds picking up to what must have been gale force. We could see a column descending to the ground silhouetted by the lightning. "I think that's a tornado..." The interest in the storm rapidly turned to concern, as we looked around the room for the most solid piece of furniture for shelter, "ok, get under the bed". Quick check back at the window - the tornado had disconnected from the cloud and was now swaying, "Ah...our tornado is a tree!". We then heard the roar of the approaching rains, turning to a deafening drumming on the corrugated iron roofs of the town. The storm eventually passed, we were so far from the centre that we couldn't hear the thunder, even so, the effects of the storm were spectacular. Disappointed, although slightly relieved we didn't receive the full brunt. With the monsoon rains imminent, this will be the first storm of many.

A trip to Wli falls the following day, the weather wet and grey after the nights storm, but pleasantly cool and a good day for a walk. We arrived at the falls and picked up Evans, our guide, heading for the upper falls and completing the four hour trip in two with Evans and his high speed flip flops racing up the mountain. A spectacular waterfall and an interesting walk with many varieties of plants shown on route. We then went to the lower falls and bumped into Patrick and Paula, a German couple we'd first met at Green Turtle. Paula is currently working in Accra as part of her degree, Patrick is dreaming up an overland trip of his own. We agreed to travel together to Mt Afadjato the following day, Ghana's highest peak.

We set off the following morning to the mountain, preparing for our third day of intensive walking. A European mountain walk would normally involve gradually winding up the mountain to the top. In this part of the world, if you want to go to the top of a mountain, then you take the most direct route. An hour or so later after struggling up a 45 degree slope we got to the top and were disappointed on two counts. Firstly, we were swamped by flies, which we've heard called sweat bees, and have a habit of flying into ears, eyes and nose which can get really quite annoying! Secondly, we could see much higher mountains in Togo, just a few hundred metres away, so the panoramic views over the range weren't complete. We then wandered down to a waterfall at the bottom, more beautiful falls, although with more annoying flies! We returned to Wli for another night where Patrick and Paula treated us to dinner which was lovely (thanks you two!).

A few more things to note about Ghana; in several countries we've had toll roads - £20 tolls in France, 20p tolls in several African countries. Ghana also has tolls, but they're 4p! Maybe I'll suggest this price for the M6 Toll! Secondly, Ghana is the first country where people have been able to pronounce my name, and the name Hannah is no longer a cause of hilarity. I also need to mention fufu, a Ghanaian dish that is very difficult to avoid. Fufu is made from cassava and is like a super-glutinous version of mashed potato that is served with a sauce - usually either goat or fish - and eaten with the hands. It wouldn't be top of our dream cuisine list, but it's certainly an experience! Last, but not least, we've had no real hassles from children in Ghana, only one or two requests for money or presents in three weeks. Compared to the hundreds of requests we'd receive some days in previous countries this was really quite pleasant!

On to Togo, back to ex-French countries with decent bread and not-so-decent cadeau requests. We'd decided to shoot through as we want to hit a notoriously bad road on the Cameroon border before the rains are in full force. A lovely scenic drive through the mountains followed by an argument with a border official about our Visa Touristique Entente. He didn't want us to use the visa as we'd left the block of countries covered by the visa by travelling through Ghana. After much explaining that we had a separate visa for Burkina Faso, and the entry into Togo was our first use of the visa, he eventually gave up/understood and let us through. A night in a pleasant hotel in the mountains followed by a race for the border the following morning. The road wasn't bad, although very uneven. 20km or so from the border we started getting noises from the rear of the vehicle over potholes, which we managed to track down to a broken stabiliser bar on the rear axle. We carried on slowly, spotting a garage with a welder lying across the forecourt just before the border. £3, 7 men and 20 minutes later we were back up and running.

Crossing the border was slow but relatively hassle free. The Togolese policeman doing the car documents was training a junior member. Once all the work was complete he called me over and sent his trainee away. He then asked me for 2000 CFA, a request which rapidly disappeared as he realised that his trainee was on his way back. I suppose it's promising that at least they don't train their juniors in corruption!

Once in Benin (the land of magic - Voodoo is the main religion here), we headed for the coast again, to Grand Popo. One morning while we were doing our washing, Romeo and Edgar turned up. After the compulsory part where they watch us in silence they spotted some real ground coffee on the table that we'd bought in Togo and asked to taste it. So we gave them a few grounds to taste, they promptly announced they'd be back at 4pm to drink some. They turned up again at about 1pm. We weren't ready for coffee at this stage, we had yet to eat lunch, but they couldn't hang around as they had to get back to the office. This wasn't a problem, we could just give them some coffee grounds and they could make it at home they said. So after giving them a lecture on how it was ok to share the coffee, but we weren't going to just give them some they agreed to turn up again at 4pm as originally agreed. We shared a mug of real coffee (made with our makeshift coffee filter of a bottle cut in half and a jiffy cloth) and had a good chat. Romeo really wanted to improve his English so we gave him a book to help him on his way. We also promised to put a picture of them on the website, so here it is!

Next stop, Ouidah, one of the main slave market towns in west Africa and the last place in Africa many slaves would have ever seen. We had a tour down the 'The Slave Route', the sandy 3.5km track to the beach that the slaves took on their way to the waiting boats. Various monuments to see on route and a relatively interesting tour. The usual argument about payment at the end of the tour though - despite having agreed a price beforehand - a genuine misunderstanding I think, but even so there was no way we were going to pay his price!

Off we went to Cotonou to sort out some admin stuff. We decided it was so busy and manic that we just had an ice cream and left again heading towards Ganvie, a stilted village on a lake north of the capital. We decided to spend the night on the edge on the lake and have a tour early the following morning to avoid the hottest part of the day. A really nice village in a lovely location, although the turds and litter in the water didn't add much to it! The word for white people has changed again - we're now called 'Yovo'. The children would just chant this as we went though the village - "Yovo, yovo yovo", occasionally "Yovo, cadeau, yovo, cadeau", which rolls off the tongue quite nicely.

We had a couple of days in Abomey before heading off towards Ketou and the Nigerian border. We wanted to pick up some nice baguettes for lunch before crossing back into ex English territory and the terrible bread that goes with it. To our horror, the loaves changed before the border so we were stuck with horrible bread. The border crossing was totally hassle free apart from the mission to find immigration on the other side of the village. Once we'd entered we then had to go back into Benin to change money, eventually we were on our way to Ibadan.

It wasn't long before we had our first experience of the famous Nigerian roadblocks. Men with boards full of nails ready to kick out into the road if we don't stop - it works! Many of them weren't even in uniform so we had no idea if they were police or just random people. Still all very hassle free, Hannah got asked "Do you want to marry a Nigerian policeman?" at one and a job offer "marketing for the Nigerian Immigration Service" at another. I wasn't nearly as popular! We occasionally got asked "So what do you have for us?", but just saying "Nothing" did the trick.

The quiet roads soon turned into Nigerian chaos as we entered our first big town of Abeokeuta, a heaving mass of people and pollution, litter everywhere. Some people lining the street battling to sell something, fighting for survival, others just sitting on the pavement looking like they'd given up on trying. We crawled through manic traffic glad we hadn't gone anywhere near Lagos, a city with a population twice that of London wouldn't be fun!

We stayed in a random hotel on the outskirts of Ibadan, rudely awoken at 5:30am by the first call to prayer we'd heard in ages. Then rudely awoken again at 6:25 by a knock on the door, we were being offered a bucket of water. Our hotel had no running water or electricity, not because the mechanisms were not in place, but because the infrastructure in Nigeria is so bad that it rarely ever works. Still, 6:25 is a little early.

I've heard several people say that Nigerians are the worst drivers in the world, people who have travelled across India, Asia and South America, so we weren't expecting much. Setting off the next day we had our first real experiences of Nigerian driving. Driving down the busy dual carriageway to get out of the Ibadan area there were cars everywhere, driving down the outsides of the road, along the central reservation and even the wrong way down the dual carriageway trying to make ground. If you stopped touching the bumper of the car in front then someone would dive into the gap. This was all fairly amusing at low speeds through the town, but became terrifying at 100kph on the open road. Personally I would say that Nigerians are exceptionally skilful drivers, but practicing overtaking manoeuvres where you are inches from certain death on a public road just isn't very sensible as it does sometimes go wrong. The many mangled twisted wrecks on the side of the road testified to this. We must have seen hundreds of lorries, buses, cars and tankers wrapped round trees or upside down in ditches, somehow this still didn't serve as a warning to other road users. Road rules just don't exist, it's every man for himself. We'd try to leave a safe gap between us and the car in front, but there was no point as someone would just overtake us and dive into it. Overtaking, undertaking, running other cars off the road, anything goes out here. Our guidebook warns that driving without hooting your horn is considered dangerous and discourteous. We got stuck in a traffic jam on a road with one lane in each direction, yet we had four lanes of queuing traffic going in our direction, on the road, off the road and on the wrong side of the road. Assuming the same thing happened the other side, this lead to fairly rapid gridlock. So we crawled along for two hours, generally off the road, until we escaped the other side. Things become even more dangerous on potholed roads as cars slalom down both sides trying to take the smoothest path. We looked on in horror when we turned a corner, a petrol tanker had just swerved for a pothole and lost control, careering off the road in a cloud of dust and tilting dangerously as the driver fought to get it stable. Fortunately he managed to get back onto the tarmac and carry on - just another day in the life of a Nigerian driver!

A couple of days later, taking a day longer than expected due to another bout of food poisoning, we arrived at Abuja, entering the city was like entering another world. Abuja is the new Nigerian capital, created in the 1970s it was meant to be the model Nigerian city. We left the chaos entering the wide expressways into the city itself, light traffic, street lights and traffic lights (not that there's any electricity to power them). Moto taxis have been banned so there aren't bikes weaving dangerously all over the place. It was all very strange, un-African and to be honest, lifeless. No hustle and bustle, very few people about. After driving in circles for a little while we eventually spotted our target, one of Abuja's top hotels, The Sheraton. We hadn't just won the lottery however, we'd heard we can camp for free in the car park. We were sent round the very back of the hotel (and told "your type go round there") to set up camp next to the rubbish tip, and we're not allowed to use any of the hotels facilities except the shower and toilets by the pool. But hey, it's free accommodation, there are street food joints just down the road where we can get a meal for £1-2 each, which beats paying £10 for a sandwich in the hotel.

We're in Abuja for a visa stop, we've bumped into Julian and Peter here, both cycling Africa and waiting on the infamous Angolan tourist visa. They've been round the back of the Sheraton for three weeks now. Julian is heading for South Africa, then is going to head across to South America. Peter is going all the way down the west and up the east coast of Africa back to Poland. Being connoisseurs of the Abuja tourist scene they've proved very useful. They've also proved useful with contact details for a couple of other overlanders that have been through in the last few weeks giving us information on the roads ahead. We now know we have two choices into Cameroon, either a very bad road, or a very bad road - so we'll go for the second option, a route across the border onto Cameroon's 'Ring Road'. The couple that went through before us have cleared fallen trees and confirmed the route is possible. When they asked the chief of a village if many Europeans came that way he said 'Yes, we had two cyclists come through five years ago'.