Mount Cameron

We were warned prior to climbing that weather conditions could make reaching the summit impossible. The group decision, however, was to disregard that, and we climbed up into the clouds above, leaving our camp, hut 2, and the porters behind. My friend and I had accepted the possibility of the situation we were facing days before, and our guide was well aware that the mountain was prone to volatile mood swings this late in the season...
The day we arrived in Buea, the day before our scheduled climb, we saw what we were hoping to somehow avoid. Rain. As soon as we checked into our hotel, at about 7 am, the rain started. The power went out for a few hours, indicating that this wasn't a mere drizzle. By the afternoon it had somewhat ceased and we went to the office to finalize the details of our excursion. We were informed that rain was highly probable for our climb, and that there was a group that had left that morning, but had to stop in the middle of their hike and wait for the storm to subside before they could continue. We were shown the outline of the main plan for our hike, as well as the contingency plan. Both plans included reaching the summit, which was the main goal for my friend and for myself. We left the office, planning to get up early the next morning to begin the ascent. As we spent the remainder of the afternoon in town we were both hoping that the heavy rain from earlier that day would leave us with the two dry days we needed to complete the full three day hike. But even though the town around us was now almost dry, we looked up at the misty mountain and did not want to guess the weather conditions that lay beyond the clouds.
We awoke the next morning nervously, but were excited to see a clear day, with nearly all of the mountain in view. We were both eager to begin climbing as soon as we could, wanting to take advantage of the favorable weather. We met our guide and porters, and then we were off. We trekked through the humid jungle at the base of the mountain and made it to hut 1, the first of three huts designated for camping, with relative ease. The weather was still on our side so after a brief rest we continued on. This next leg of the journey made it clear that favorable weather was essential for continuing. The steepness of the slopes covered with small, loose, lava rocks was difficult enough to climb during a dry day. I can't imagine what it would have been like with streams of water coming down from all sides, but then again, I can't imagine what climbing up a waterfall would be like either. Not long after midday, we had arrived at hut 2. We were told we had finished the most difficult part of the climb and the journey to hut 3 would not be nearly as steep. For now, we needed to prepare our camp, eat, and rest for the next day's journey. We had a delicious meal prepared by one of our porters and then took some time to explore the area around our campsite. Large clouds blanketed everything below us in a powdery sea of white. But as the sun began to set the clouds slowly parted, exposing Buea, Limbe, and other towns to our view. Next, the ocean came into view, and we took it all in slowly, admiring the scene. It felt like being in an airplane while looking down at the world below, except that we were still firmly connected to the world and standing still. As night fell, the towns below lit up in an orange yellow glow. And looking up before entering our tent we saw the luminous streak of the milk way suspended light years above us.
The next morning we woke up early, it was well before dawn, it couldn't have been much past three am. It was the sound of rain that had interrupted our sleep. I tried to go back to sleep, hoping I could force the rain drops into a dream that I could then awaken from. This cycle repeated itself again and again for the next few hours. By six we were up, eating breakfast, and taking note of the situation. The rain had stopped and we were hopeful that the weather would improve as the sun continued to rise. But the porters talked about previous climbs with similar weather, mentioning nights that they nearly froze on the mountain. After a brief discussion the group decided that the full trip would not be possible because the next campsite was too far and we might not be able make it if the weather suddenly changed. There was hut 3, which wasn't too far, but we learned that it's often too cold there to even start a fire, so camping there was not an option. But our guide still wanted us to be able to make the most of our experience and said we would at least attempt to reach the summit and then return to hut 2. We double layered our socks, put on pants, sweaters, and our rain jackets. When our guide looked at our jackets he laughed and threw us two long trench coat style jackets. Now ready, we left the safety of our campsite and disappeared into the misty layer of clouds that hung directly above us. It was an eery feeling, and it gave the impression that we were leaving our known reality for the unknown. Within five minutes it started raining. Within ten minutes it was pouring. And within 15 minutes heavy rain drops were being blown at us sideways. The small path we were walking on quickly became a river. The rain coats kept what they were covering dry. But from our thighs to our toes, we were drenched. The temperature continued to drop as we climbed higher and higher. Everything that was drenched in rain suddenly felt like it was beginning to slowly freeze. The running shoes I was wearing offered about the same amount of insulation as an extra pair of socks. We finally made it to hut 3 after two hours of walking, where we were briefly sheltered from the wind and sleet. My feet felt like they would after a long winter surf session without booties. Bending my toes at this point was impossible, and my ankles were quickly stiffening. Breathing was difficult at this altitude, and talking was achieved through short gasps. At this point we were told that the summit was only 30 to 45 minutes away, but that the temperature would be well below freezing. We had to get up and down as quickly as possible due to the cold. I contemplated staying and waiting, worried that I might not be able to make it back down without help. Walking along the rugged slopes in my condition held the high possibility of twisting an ankle and immobilizing myself. But I got a second wind and decided to give it a try. As we hiked on I realized my pace had slowed considerably. I felt at the mercy of the mountain, and noted that, if the mountain wanted to, it could kill me. The only other time I've had that feeling in nature is in the ocean. Mountains and oceans, forces that are so far beyond that of humans. As I reflected on this, and noticed my pace continue to slow, I decided I should turn back. I had come so far, and wanted to reach the summit more than anything, but I felt I had reached my limit. The last thing I wanted to do was to put our group at unnecessary risk because of me. I called ahead and motioned with my hands indicating that I would go back to wait at hut 3. While in the hut I paced back and force in hopes of regaining feeling in my feet. Eventually my friend and the guide returned from the summit, where they had stayed for less than a minute because of the freezing cold and high winds, and we all started running down from hut 3. After and 15 minutes the temperature became incredibly warmer. The clouds parted, and the views we had from that height were unbelievable. We made it back to hut 2, had lunch, and then all journeyed back to Buea that same afternoon. When we got to town I looked back up at the mountain. The top was still hidden in dark, ominous clouds. It seemed like I was in a different world now, relative to what I had experienced a few short hours earlier at hut 3. The air was hot and humid and the streets were bustling with traffic. Walking down the road, I thought how there have only been a few times I've attempted something, been so close to the finish line, but had to stop because my body couldn't go another step further. However, knowing that I had given everything I could was almost a better feeling than reaching a goal that didn't truly test my limits. That day, the mountain showed me my limit and it helped me recognize, that even though at times my volunteer experience here has felt like climbing a mountain, I know that I'm far from reaching my limit, and I'll keep going until, until I cannot take another step.