Climbing to the sky.

We loaded our bikes in the hotel lobby and cycled through some very busy morning traffic and some very broken, muddy portions of road.

We stopped on the outskirts of town at a breakfast stall. They had no coffee or tea and our meal was beans, rice and peanut sauce — a heavy morning meal but probably good fuel. The price for four all four of us was a shocking 400 CFA — about a dollar!

We sped off down the road out of town and before long arrived at the turnoff for Ndop. According to David, twenty years ago it was all dirt road but now it was paved. I normally love dirt roads but it may have been for the best: the next two hours was a non-stop climb up the mountain without any respite. It was primarily an incessant, loopy climb of switchbacks but we hit grades that were easily 10% or more. At one point we passed a checkpoint/toll and I heard a gendarme comment to the others with him, "C'est bon pour la coeur." Indeed! But why can't I feel my legs?

David says:
As much as bicycling is a religion of downhills, it is on the climbs that you find out where the hearts of the other people are: As we climbed women call out "du courage" and other encouraging comments. Kids run alongside and offer to help push your bike. Men waved and offered salutations. And, other motorist give a flash of their headlights in greeting. It is a very welcoming and encouraging roadside environment.

One of the benefits of going uphill is that you're much more inclined (pun not intended) to take a break and admire the vistas. As far as vistas go, they were breathtaking (in both meanings of the word) — incredible, lush mountains, valleys and villages: the landscape photos just can't do proper justice. (I don't take pictures while riding through villages because I feel it would be rude and disrespectful without permission. So I'll have to told so much close to my heart.)

At some point cycling became too arduous (especially since I was laden with all the panniers) so all of us — except for Il, who kept crawling in her lowest gears — got off and pushed our bicycles uphill for a stretch. I can only imagine how much more challenging it would have been if it was still dirt!

Traditional thatched roof, now largely replaced by tin.

Eventually we coasted into Ndop, a village that seems to sell itself as a vacation spot for other Cameroonians. The locals recommended the "Green Valley Resort" to stay in and it seems pretty nice, although not a resort as North Americans would tend to imagine it.

David says:
It would probably be called the Green Valley Motel any place in North America. It was in a residential area, very quiet and had a nice courtyard, but lack any amenities that you might associate with a resort, except for the presence of rooms.

After cleaning up (again, no hot water here) we walked into the village proper under a scorching sun.

I was beat. Beat, beat, beat.

Fulani herder taking his cattle out for a walk.

I would liked to have explored the village a bit but I desperately needed to lie down and rest. (I also always feel awkward walking about since I stand out like a sore, white thumb.)

Something was lost in the translation, methinks.

David says:
Fulani or Fulbe is an ethnic group that traces its roots to Senegal. They are traditionally cattle herders and warrior horsemen. Over centuries they have migrated overland across the Sahel (grassland zone to the south of the Sahara). They are a significant ethnic group in the north of Cameroon and their aggressive arrival there a couple century ago created a domino effect of other ethnic groups moving/being pushed south. The pocket of Fulani here is very isolated and their arrival was peaceful.

We stayed at the hotel restaurant for dinner where we had foufou — a dough-like corn mash — served with a fish and a bowl of jam-mu jam-mu. The server came around with a bowl of hot water for us to wash our hands, and then we dug in: using our fingers to pick pieces of all three items so the flavours are combined. I finished the meal with a Guinness "Smooth" — a bit weaker than normal, Irish Guinness (but still 5.5%) but with a finer head. Very good, even warm, since they don't have any cold drinks here.

So. Tired.

For the last two days my back has been acting up — it's at its worst when we stop for a while and either sit or get on the bike again. Hopefully it won't deteriorate or this could turn into an agonizing trip.

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