Day tripper

A day out in Cameroon is not exactly like a Women's Institute day trip in Wales. There are no organised trips from Bamenda, and it involves a lot of co-ordination. Heather, one of the long-term volunteers, had been planning a trip to Bambalang Lake for a while, and our arrival meant enough numbers to make it worth while.

Why Bambalang? Hippos! Who could resist? So, meet at 7 on Saturday and load up 2 minibuses, hired by Heather's friendly moto driver Nelson. Then set off north for an hour's drive on tarmac road, with great views of rugged hills. Rather Scottish, in the misty light. Delayed a bit by a runaway cow in the outskirts, we got to Ndop by 9ish, to pick up more volunteers and stock up with bread and cake.

Then off the road, bumping along very rough dirt roads for another hour or two, dust blowing in the open windows, snapping photos of farming villages as we hurtled past. We had to stop at the Fon's palace, and troop inside to sign a register and pay a fee for permission to visit the lake. Crowds of people were there, come to hear the Fon make an announcement. This was not for us to witness, and as we drove out, some caught a glimpse of the juju dancers coming out of the palace.

Relieved to get down when we reached the lake, wide and peaceful in full sunlight, we packed ourselves into an open boat and pulled out. Don't bother asking about lifebelts, overcrowding, leaks, engine, comfort, shelter - OK? You can guess the answers if you've read my blog so far. Boatman, 2 minibus drivers, 2 guides, 13 volunteers. No, there wasn't a chilly bin full of cold drinks either. And I can guess my insurance didn't cover this trip!

So, a beautiful wide lake, seeing the occasional fisherman in a flat boat, lots of large birds of prey, herons, egrets. We skirted the edge of the lake at the far side, looking for upright bamboo stalks moving in the water, with no wind - a sign of a hippopotamus swimming underneath. No joy. Not a glimmer of a sight.

Signs of a gathering storm drove us across to land on an island, where a group of villagers go to catch and smoke fish. They build simple shelters but I noticed the TV aerial! First chance of a toilet stop (free range), stretch our cramped legs and admire babies, relax while our guides discussed hippos and weather with the locals.

Yes, hippos are over there, they said, and we set off again, right into the storm, till common sense prevailed and we turned round to head for safety. The rain poured down, drops like pebbles, soaking us to the skin. Heather thought I had fake tan, as the red dust streamed down my face into my white blouse!




Reaching muddy land at last, we piled into the buses and set off back along the track - ruts and potholes now full of water, bus skidding, leaning over dangerously - another Alton Towers experience! The drivers were in a hurry because there are sometimes armed robbers on the Ndop road - you can see the bends where they ambush passing vehicles at dusk, and of course a group of white people would be a prime target.

But here I am, all safe and sound, just a white blouse now tan and it serves me right for wearing one. We live and learn!