Slaughter on Moon Head Hill

Very glad it's dry

Some fun in the mud

The route we took into Cameroon is the infamous Mamfe-Ekok road.  It is 80 kilometres of red African dirt, that winds through the forests and hills of Western Cameroon.  The area is also very wet and swampy.  During the rainy season the road gets covered in a layer of mud that can be a meter deep.  There are numerous blogs and stories of people who get stuck here and when its bad it can easily take a week to do.  During the wet the Unimogs are the only vehicles that can pass through, and they leave big meter deep furrows making the road even trickier for anybody else (The Unimog is a specially built ex army truck, made for the impossible African roads.  They can literally go anywhere over any terrain.).  In my mind I have really built this road up to be a good test of skills and endurance.

When we crossed the border everyone was very quick to tell us that we where lucky because the rains stopped about 2 weeks ago, it was dry and easy to do.  They where even quicker to point put that a couple came through with a Landrover when it was wet, and they got stuck in one of the small villages for a month.  Ouch!  Dominik was about 3 days ahead of us and he did it in one day, so we knew it was dry and in relatively good nick.

In some strange masochistic way it was a little bit of a disappointment not having to struggle through the infamous Mamfe-Ekok road.  It was a gorgeous track, winding through thick forests and rolling hills.  There was loads of evidence of just how difficult it could be, with dried mud pits of more than a meter deep,  Deep dried tracks and ruts with steep walls.  My panniers just fit into most of these tracks, and I scrapped through a few times.  The pannier that now sits higher came in very handy, and actually made things a little easier.  The worst and steepest tracks where to narrow to fit the bikes in and we had to balance the bike on the middle man while driving through.  This was quite scary, having a 30 cm ledge to balance on with half a meter or more drop to the sides. 

Bad track to the right and toll road to the left

The worst of these old mud pits was a garbled mess of old tracks, deep ruts and furrows from when the vehicles got stuck into it.  The old mud was dried hard as rock, and there was no clear path through.  We could run along the top ridges with the bikes but cars couldn’t go through.  To solve the problem one of the locals cleared an alternative route through the forest, and was charging toll fees for the vehicles to use ‘his’ track.  Brilliant.  African ingenuity at its best.

Difficulty level increasing

We arrived in Mamfe just after lunch feeling a bit disappointed.  The road was tricky, but not very hard.  We didn't have any falls and managed surprisingly well through the difficult bits.  Feeling a little over confident we decided to to take an alternative route to our next destination. The old route from Mamfe to Deschang.  The guide books describe it as very scenic, but sometimes downright scary.  I though they where referring to  narrow roads and passes, perfect for the bikes.  If we had any idea how much this road would test us we wouldn’t have taken it.  We didn’t, so we did.

Gorgeous forest tracks

Fun in the forest

The new road immediately became much more difficult.  It was a lot narrower, the ruts deeper, and the furrows very deep.  To the point that we where forced to stay on the narrow track made by the small bikes.  Very tricky with our big lumbering bikes, and the drop on both sides was quite steep.  As luck would have it this was not even the difficult bit.  The road slowly increased in difficulty, but it was so gradual that you became used to one level before things got harder.  If the road started with the harder bits we would have turned away,  but it slowly teased us deeper into the forest.  By the end of the day we did some really tricky sections.  One of the hardest was balancing the bike on a 15 cm ledge while going downhill on a steep hairpin bend, with meter deep ruts and rocks on both sides.  After I stopped, looked up and thought ‘SHIT, DID I JUST DO THAT?’

The scenery was amazing.  Thick forest as far as you could see, I’ve never seen so much green, with big mountains on the horizon, and big lazy rivers winding their way through.  That night we camped on one of the river beds.  Easily the most beautiful place we have camped so far.

Don't fall

We where up early the next morning, recharged and ready to tackle the rest of the road.  We still had another 70 kilometres to go, and we where hoping to reach Deschang by the end of the day.

Bush camp on a river bank

My first fall came early.  Stupid one, but still a fall.  I was balancing the bike on a small ledge my front wheel slipped on some mud and I lost my balance.  I kicked out so hard to stop my bike falling to the one side that I dropped it to the other side.  Idiot!!  Morton was a bit ahead so I had to lift the bike myself. Hard work in the slippery mud but I managed.  I could feel my energy levels where very low and I was till quite dehydrated from the previous day.  I’ve been drinking as much as I could manage, but with the extreme humidity, the heat and the amount of effort it takes to throw the bikes around I was still behind on fluids. I definitely didn’t have the reserves to do a lot of bike pick ups.  At this stage the road has become so tricky that turning around wasn’t really an option.  We didn’t want to do the same difficult parts again.

Clean, hot shower

I started looking for water and food in all the small villages we passed, but they where tiny and we couldn’t find anything. When my water ran out I was drinking water from cups that the locals offered me.  This was not enough and I could feel my energy levels dropping after every stretch we did.  The heat and humidity was sapping every little bit of energy.

 After about 15 km we reached a slightly bigger village with a small shop.  We managed to get some water, sweet fizzy drinks and some fruit from the locals.  We had a decent break and I was drinking as much as humanely possible.  By this time my energy was so low that I had trouble lifting the bike form it’s kick stand.  While having our break the locals told us the story of the road we where on.

First fall of the day

Most of the year it’s only accessible for the unimogs and small Chinese bikes, and when it’s wet only the unimogs can make the journey.  (They cause the steep deep ruts.)  These people are cocoa farmers and are very dependant on the unimogs to come and load their crops.  When its raining they can be very isolated from the outside world, even with the closest town only 5km away.  But it’s up a very steep hill.  I felt very sorry for them.  Hard manual labour on the steep hills to grow their crops and then it costs them a fortune to transport it to the markets.  Life can be very tough in Africa.  

They also warned us that the next 5km is the hardest bit.  Very steep, very poor condition and extremely tough.  But at the top of the hill is a decent sized village, and after that the road is better.

After what we just did we secretly thought ‘what do they know.’  There is no way things can become harder…
It turned out we where wrong, VERY WRONG…

Stupid fall

Loaded up with a mixture of fizzy drinks, water and rehydration salts in my camelback we where ready to do the last stretch.  Feeling low on energy, but confident we headed off.

My second fall was just a few hundred meters further.  I was going up a very steep climb with lots of big rocks and loose gravel.  I hit a rock with my front wheel and my bike started bouncing around, heading straight for a deep rut.  I braked to stop, but the slope was so steep and slippery that in stead of stopping I just slid backwards. Picking up speed.  Until I fell over.

It took an immense effort to pick up my bike on the steep rocky slope, but I did.  Draining all my new found energy.  The slope was so slippery that on my next attempt I went straight into the rut I was trying to miss.  Fell again.  It took about 10 minutes of hard work, with Morten and a local pushing to get the bike out.  I even had to unload all my luggage.  After carrying the luggage up the stretch and loading it back onto the bike I was dead.

No energy…

Morton was next a few hundred meters further.  He didn’t have enough momentum to get his front wheel over a rocky ledge.  I had to walk back down the steep track and we struggled a lot to get him up.  The rocky ledge was steep and we needed a lot of momentum to get his front wheel over it.  But the slope was so steep and slippery that we really struggled.  With the help of a local we finally managed to get his bike over.

Now we both had no energy…

We managed slightly better for the next few difficult stretches.  It was a phenomenally steep climb, but after every few hundred meters there was a small flat bit where we could rest, but we couldn’t hide form the heat and humidity.  Sweat was streaming down us.  Not good when you where already dehydrated.  We where crawling up the hill.  AND IT WAS HARD WORK.  We did our best to follow the small bike track, but it was weaving in and out of ruts, past big rocks, up steep ledges and climbing over obstacles.  This would have been hard and challenging if the road was flat, but we where climbing and it was very steep.  I was so tired that I was struggling to stand up on the bike.  Standing up makes the bike easier to handle in tricky situations, but I couldn’t.

Just no energy…

The final nail in my coffin was a few long climbing stretches, with no plateau for rest at the top.  Just a sharp hairpin and then the next climb, sharp hairpin and climb, hairpin and climb.  Halfway up my legs where jelly and I was shacking like a leave.  Stopping would have been suicide.  Speed and momentum was the only thing that kept you going uphill.  I reached the top without falling.  BUT I WAS SHATTERED.

No Energy…

My next big fall was a bad one.  My bike slipped off the small track and I went down a rut and I careered straight into the side of the mountain.  My bike was off the road, in the gutter next to the side of the road, planted into the side of the mountain with a big rock between the wheels.  Using my last bit of of energy I tried moving it, but it didn’t budge.  Not even a little bit.

Stuck

No Energy…

I was desperate… And miserable…

No Energy…

Morten was a couple hundred meters ahead of me… A hour ahead at the rate we where going… I could hear his bike starting and stopping… Revving it hard and then dying… Again and again.  He was also badly stuck…  No help from him.
I removed the luggage I could reach, but it didn’t help much.  Still completely stuck.  I could not move the bike.

Stuck

NO ENERGY…

I wanted to panic…  But didn’t have the energy…

I wanted to cry… But didn’t have the energy…

FUCK… I was in deep shit…

The only message my body was screaming was … NO ENERGY

Richard’s advice came came back to me (Trailquest course).  ‘When things are at their worst and you are desperate, stop have a cigarette and just relax for 5 minutes.  Something will happen.’
I said a little prayer, sat down and had a cigarette (Sorry dad)…

Five minutes later I saw a  old lady coming up the track.  She must have been 70 years old, wrinkled and tiny.  With a sack of potatoes strapped to hear head she was walking up the track. One step at a time.  The sack must have been close to her own weight.  Sweat streaming down her face.  I just sat watching her walk up.  Absolutely amazed and speechless.

When she reached me she stopped and in the friendliest manner asked how I was, what I think of Cameroon, and then finally if she could help me with the bike?

WHAT?  Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Naturally, I politely refused.  But I asked her to tell Morten I am ok, but stuck.
This interaction definitely lifted my mood, but I was still suck..

And still had NO ENERGY…

I followed Richard’s advice again.  Sat down, said a small prayer and lit a cigarette.
While I was sat down two guys came down on a small scooter and helped me move the bike onto the track.  It took an immense effort from all three of us, but we did it.

NO ENERGY…

I rested for about 20 minutes before I had the strength to get on the bike and go further.  All the time the two locals sat there with big smiles.  They just finished helping Morten and where loving it.  The driver of the moto-taxi said he was just going to drop of his fare at the bottom and then come back to help us.  My legs where jelly but I continued.
I only managed a few hundred meters.  Morten was stuck and a few moto-taxi riders where helping him up.  Their bikes blocked the way and I used the opportunity to rest a little.  The locals where fantastic and a little friendly banter went along way to lift my mood.

BUT STILL NO ENERGY…

They where offering to ride my bike up, but I was still headstrong.  One of them convinced me to give my panniers to him.  He quickly loaded up and shot off.  A hundred meters further he also fell.  I couldn’t help laughing, he was giving me so much lip and then he falls as well.  But he was still my hero.  Without the panniers the bike was much lighter and I did slightly better…

BUT STIL NO ENERGY…

And only slightly better…

I had few more falls, the bike was being punished.  Over and over.  But with the moto-taxi riders following me there always was someone to help pick things up and give some encouragement.  It was easier..

BUT STIL NO ENERGY…

Crawling along I made it to the second last climb, but also the most difficult.  I rested for a few minutes while the locals tried to encourage me and showed me the best path up.  Most of the track was along the steep sides of the road, about a meter above the middle which was a mess off deep ruts and big rocks.  Every now and then the track would dip through the middle where the sides where too steep.  All this while doing a steep climb.  VERY HARD INDEED.  All psyched I charged up, trying to do it by will power alone. I only managed to get half way, losing my front wheel going over a steep ledge and the bike started falling over.  I stuck my leg out and managed to keep the bike form falling over, it was hovering there just past balancing point.  Gravity trying very hard to pull it down.  The drop was about a meter, with rocks below, I really didn’t want to drop the bike.  The nearest local was about a hundred meters up the slope, and coming down to help.  I used all my strength to try and lift the bike.  Nothing. Couple of deep breaths. I tried again.  Nothing.  The local was 80 meters away.  All I could do was to try and hold the bike until he arrived, but it was so heavy.


My arms started shacking…

70 meters…

My legs where buckling…

60 meters…

Just a few more seconds…

50 meters…

AND THE BIKE DROPPED. 

Not even close….

My poor bike.

AND NO ENERGY!!

I have no idea how we picked up the bike, but we did and before I could do anything the guy who came down to help was in the driving seat.  He started my bike and shot up the hill.  I didn’t have the energy to even try and stop him.  He was a very tall lanky guy, and his legs where flailing every where as he went up.  Under better conditions it would have been a hilarious sight.  Even with the help of someone pushing he barely made it without falling (I later found out he dropped the bike at the top where I couldn’t see). 

Feeling ecstatic that my bike made it up in one piece I slowly started crawling up.  My legs where jelly, and I needed to stop after every 10 meters.  (How did I want to drive a bike up this hill when I didn’t even have the energy to walk up?)

One of the local women was walking up with me and every time I stopped she tried her hardest to encourage me.  I thought she sounded very militant, but it worked, and her words managed to drag me up to the top.  I later found out she was a teacher.  Very fitting indeed.

AND STILL NO ENERGY!!

At the top I was reunited with Morten.  He got stuck and carried his luggage up the bad section.  Two trips to get everything up.  It tired him out so much that he couldn’t drive his bike and one of the locals drove it up for him.

The last climb was easy compared to the others and I made it with only one fall.

JUST NO ENERGY…

We limped into town.  Thoroughly broken and battered.  With three moto taxis and the teacher as an escort.  We headed straight to the local shop/bar and had a well deserved drink.  They where drinking beer and we where on cold fizzys.  Morten and I where shell shocked, we have both been to hell and back, and it took a while for us to get ourselves together.  While we rested we heard our four saviours’ stories.

Our saviours

The first guy was called Devine, and he was the taxi driver who helped me get out when I was completely stuck.  He dropped his passenger at the bottom and came straight back up to help.

The second, the lanky guy ,was also called Devine.  He’s an ex pastor and now drives moto taxis in the area.  He was the one who helped me through the worst section, and also helped Morten get his bike up.

I forgot the woman's name, but she literary dragged me up the hill.  She is a local teacher, she lives at the top of the hill, but teaches at the bottom.  She does this trip, down and then up, every day. WOW!!  That is what I call dedication to your profession.

The last guy is called Evaristas.  A local shop owner and taxi driver.  He is the one who took my luggage up, locked it in his shop and then came straight back down to help.  He is also the one who looked after us when we where stranded in his village (more of that later).  A real good guy and guardian angel.

The hill is called MOON HEAD HILL.  I will never forget it.  It nearly killed us and our bikes.

These taxi drivers are amazing.  The buy small Chinese bikes, have them specially reinforced and then carry goods and people up and down the hill.  The bikes are much smaller than ours, and they can use their feet more, which they said helps immensely.  But still they do this road every day.  Up and down.  What was our torture and undoing was their way of making a living.  Only a few of them go down when it’s wet, but the best still do.  Down that hill in mud? WOW!!  The best of these guys can load up their bikes with between 200-300kg of goods.  Yes, 300kg!!  That is equivalent to loading my huge bike and all my stuff  on to a 150cc Chinese bike and then transporting it up and down the hill.  The word respect falls very short off the mark.

Once we started feeling better we headed off to Evaristas’ shop.  He treated us to all the drinks we could handle and the best grilled fish I have ever had in my life.  He only sold beer and the sweet fizzy drinks, so he walked into town to get us some cold water.  Later he asked us to spend the night at his place.  We initially tried to refuse, knowing that we needed lots of sleep and we would be bad company, we didn't want to throw his hospitality in his face by being rude.  But he was very persistent, saying the hotels where horrible and we wouldn’t get proper rest there, at least at his place he knew we would be looked after properly.  How nice can you get?

Evaristas and family

When we tried to go to his place disaster struck.  My bike was dead.  Nothing happened when I switched on the ignition.  Not even a flicker of life.  Aw man, what next?

We struggled for two hours to get my bike going, but the battery was shot.  Nobody had a charger in town, the town was to small, and the battery was to flat to run my bike.  I managed to jump start the bike from a car battery, but as soon as I removed the cable my bike died.  We tried for a very long time to charge the dead battery using the car battery, but it wasn’t enough.  We got it working to the point where my dashboard lights would go on, but nothing more.  While working on the bike I was surrounded by about 30 locals.  They where all  having a ball of a time and shouting lots of advice.  Any one giving bad advice was given a thorough lashing by the crowd.  I was loving it, and it was funny enough for a blog of it’s own.  In the end it was dark and we where desperate, we put Morten's battery in my bike.  I rode to Evaristas’ place took out the battery and he took it back to Morten so he could join us. 

We finally made it home, more than 12 hours after we started that morning, and we only managed about 20 kilometres.  What a hellish day!

At Evaristas’ we where spoilt with first class hospitality, an ice cold bucket shower (really was amazing), huge plate of food and the only double bed in the house.

Lying in bed that night I was gutted and miserable.  I felt like I’ve been to war and my side lost badly.  My bike was not running, I was broken, and my confidence was in pieces.  Morten wasn’t feeling much better either.

Later it dawned on us that actually things could have been much worse.  Moon Head Hill was a killer,  way above our level of experience.  We had more than 15 big falls between us, and could so easily have broken something.  One trapped ankle or arm and our heavy bikes would have shattered bones, ending our trip.  We where very lucky indeed.  Our bikes where in good nick for what they have just been through. The fact that they made it to the top is proof of phenomenal durability. 

Thanks to a plan B for the dead bike, Eviristas’ hospitality and Morten’s optimism I managed a good exhausted night’s sleep.  Just what I needed.