Digging Abompe, part 3

Now we begin to climb. It is rocky, uneven ground and slow going. The surrounding brush does not permit much room on either side and at times it’s like tiptoeing up a steep, bumpy balance beam. Thankfully we’re largely in shade so saved the added insult of being squeezed dry by the sun.

It very quickly becomes clear that Calum’s flip flops aren’t going to suffice. Hiking boots they are not. By this point his feet look like a couple of yams just pulled from the ground. Boadu offers the rubber, knee-high Wellington boots that pass for hiking gear with him and Sam. Calum thanks him but declines.

Boadu then exhibits a resourcefulness that is truly inspiring, configuring a crude heel from a stray piece of cord cut from one of the bags. Calum is very appreciative. And we all express admiration for Boadu’s quick thinking.

“My name, Boadu, it mean to help someone 10 times without getting tired,” he says smiling.

“But on the 11th time you’re on your own,” I joke.

Everyone laughs, Boadu mostly hardily. Shaking his head, he says, “Mr. Greg, you are my funny father.”

And then we resume our climb. Conversation largely ceases, except for Suzanne who manages to belt out a line from this song or that, showing an incredible breadth in her catalog, before going quiet again. Our breaks for water become increasingly frequent, and a source of some curiosity to Sam, who we are to learn makes this trek three times a week. We agree that we would not undertake it three times a week if there were a gondola, and a Starbucks at the top.

After another hour we finally reach the cave. It is the home away from home for Sam and local hunters when in the bush. Situated beside a gurgling mountain stream, the accommodation is less a cave than a sliver of cover made by a rocky overhang. For beds, visitors use the wooden planks that have in some spots been laid on the rock. I ask if it comes with a continental breakfast.

As it happens, it does. And Boadu carves up the most delicious papaya, or pawpaw as it’s called here, I’ve ever had (I agree with Shawn that it typically tastes like some unidentifiable meat). Ben tells us that at times as many as 100 people sleep up here. It is sincerely hard to imagine.

Then it’s back to our new favorite pastime, climbing. Boadu and Sam try to encourage us by ensuring us it is only “30 minutes more.” By the third of these promises, they prove good to their word and the land flattens out. We now look down on a valley of the profoundest green. One feels that if he were to jump off the edge the thick leafy canopy would catch you.

(Picture: Boadu, left, and Sam Ofori)