Mt. Nimba

HOW TO I BEGIN? How do I start this tale of tears? I'm actually really debating this. In fact, I've been debating all day long how I would write this post. Should I lie to you and tell you about how beautiful and character-building my trip up the trail to Nimba was? Or should I be brutally honest about this horrific day? And if I'm honest, how should I limit my cursing? These are the kinds of questions that have been swirling in the back of my mind today.

The louder, more prominent questions in my mind were ones such as- Why am I here? Why did I agree to this? Why isn't this fun yet? Why are my knees bruised? How will I survive? Am I'm going to faint? Can anyone hear me well enough to know I need help? And lastly, what am I gaining from this?

This last question is the only one that has an answer. The answer is: A story. I have gained a life story today. So listen up.

We woke up just 30 minutes earlier than usual. Big deal. The car came to pick us up at 6:00am. Still dark, duh. Everything here happens when it's "still dark."

We get into that dang car holy cowwww that car. The engine and everything was fine, somehow. But the rest of the thing... Imagine placing just 25 nails and bolts into a small metal toolbox. Now, intensely shake that tool box. The sound of the hypothetical naily toolbox is the sound of the literal car I rode in today. It was about to break into all its individual tiny pieces.

This ratchet car takes us towards the Liberian border (which is only 4km away, I'll have you know). Before we get to that line, we turn left. Eventually we made it to a little town called something prolly like "Seringbarah." That's how you pronounce it.

We hop out the car. Not dark anymore. The sun has risen. 

This is where the excrement starts hitting the fan: As soon as I allow my feet to carry me out of that vehicle. 

So, here we are walking on a nicely beaten path through glorious fields of tall crops. I actually complemented the path out loud to my fellow hikers, Cat and (prolly) Bunifas. "Wow! This is a well-worn path! I like it!" It was smooth and hard and easy to navigate. 

Then we hit a river. Across the river is a tree bridge. Big deal, everyone has walked across a tree bridge. "That was kinda fun," I said after crossing safely. What is the opposite of 'foreshadow'??

PLAN: To first reach the Nimba chimp researchers' campsite in order to meet up with a guide who is much more experienced in these mountains than our guide named Bonifas. The man we were to meet at the Nimba camp would be able to take us alllll the way up to the very top of the Mt. Nimba! So, we head out to find this dude.

As we walk, I become winded. Is that the correct way of describing this? I needed wind sucked into my lungs. We walk for two hours. Every once in a while we would have to cross another river. Or it coulda been the same river for all I know. To cross, we would jump across rocks or strewn branches. I lost count after about 7 rivers... There were so many more. And the streams got harder and harder to cross the further we got to the center on the forest. It was exponential. We'll come back to this.

    In all honesty, as I've promised, I started to die within this 2-hour period. This is where the dying begins. I just can't breathe well. I'm not a good breather. I also have blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and little ears. These are just things about me that I know are true. I suck at supplying my muscles with sufficient air during aerobic activities, "exercise-induced asthma." I had an asthma attack only once in my whole life. Fall of 2012, rowing tryouts. They had us running around in circles, seemingly to prove our lung capacities. My lungs quit out of nowhere and I panicked and it was a wholly horrible experience. Luckily I had a good friend there to help calm me. Later that week I went to the doctor to get the required physical to row... But ended up walking out with an inhaler. Surprise, you have asthma. 

Sorry, that detail was necessary. But let's move onnnnnn.

We walk and walk and I'm going along rather slowly as to save my breath and keep my cool. Cat and our guide are way ahead of me. Constantly. And honestly (again), I'm just gonna call them out for this right here because idgaf. This is an important detail as well. They were constantly CONSTANTLY out of eyesight. This was the initial psychological component that would contribute to my imminent doom. There were others later. 

But, it wasn't like I thought they weren't listening or forgot about me or didn't care. It's just, I couldn't see humans. I was walking alone in the most remote place I had ever been. So remote. So far away from everything. And something about the way my mind has turned out makes me need human moral support. And I did not have ANY OF THAT THIS MORNING.

So yeah! I was winded! But, duh, hiking is tough. Actually, they have a saying in Nimba that goes, "Bossou steep is Nimba flat." So I knew what I was getting into. It was gonna be a difficult trip. In fact, yesterday one of our guides started laughing when he heard we were going to climb Mt. Nimba. He said, "hahaha lol it's so hard!!" 

When we made it to the camp, FINALLY, no one was there. Which is normal because everyone shoulda been out working. I, panting, ate a small snack while Bonifas tried to contact the guide we were supposed to meet using a walki-talkie. Ants got on my backpack which was irritating af. Bonifas couldn't get anyone to answer the radio. Ugghh, what to do? Oh I know, let's walk 20 minutes back where we just came from because I don't know why! Everything is happening in French! 

We go pretty far back on the trail and take a turn at a fork. We walk up that one for 15 minutes until finally I find myself standing on a rock in the middle of a river waiting for Bonifas to do something in French that involves going ahead and then returning. Here, I take a selfie.

Guess what, turn around and hike ALL THE WAY BACK to the camp we were just at!! God, I am TIRED! Can't we rest!? 

No way, because now we have lost time. We need to find this guide who is untraceable and unable to answer his walkie-talkie. 

Here's where it gets good. Don't stop reading yet. Here it comes.

At this point, I'm tired. I'm going very slowly, and they are way ahead. I should mention that they stop up ahead of me to wait from time to time. I would get one quick glimpse of their backpacks before they would vanish again. 

My strategy was to stay calm. I can't stress about where they are. I need to just focus on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth like everyone always talks about. Slowly, I walking up the mountain. I could hear Bonifas calling on the radio for the other guide every five minutes. No luck.

I start getting more and more exasperated. But not just my lungs now. The lack of oxygen I'm bringing in is affecting my muscles, as it does. Ouchhh. And I start worrying. What I'm worried about now, my second pathological component, is not being able to make it to the top. I won't be able to make it 4 more hours up, plus the decent. I worry about how this will affect Cat, the serious mountaineer hiker woman that she is. She's been so excited for this trip to Nimba... I don't wanna ruin it. These thoughts are heavy on my mind... And my body is feeling heavier and heavier with every step. I start to KNOW that I won't be able to reach the summit.

Everything I'm thinking and feeling gets worse at a steady rate. Let's start summing this idea up with the word 'anxiety', just for simplification. I was anxious. Sooooo anxious. And soon I'm battling to keep my emotions in check. 

Inclined plane after inclined plane, we hike. But this wasn't just walking upwards, please remember. This required actively and persistently maintaining one's balance among stones, roots, small trees, broken branches, holes, crevasses, and loose dirt. This balancing act takes up more energy than you'd prolly expect. I just feel like I need to justify my exhaustion. Do I? Or will you just trust that this was very tough terrain? Prolly black-diamond. 

Ok, I was almost in tears by the time we got to our 15th river crossing. River crossings are KEY POINTS in this journey because my hiking boots were bought for the super dry season in Brazil and therefore are not in the least bit waterproof. The rocks were slippery and often too far apart. I actually pole vaulted gaps. Legit. And like I said before, each stream was harder to cross than the last. Ending up with a foot in the water would be a very a seriously drastic situation... So I started getting more and more nervous each time we began descending into a river valley. 

Finally, as I was choking back stress-tears, I slipped. Both feet deep into the river. I remember so well how the flush of water felt from my toes up to my shins. Cold. When I heaved my way out onto the bank, all I could do was curl up into a ball and cry it out. The others were way ahead of me, which was perfect... Because I don't cry in front of people. I didn't know if they even knew I was soaked. Whew, I lost it there for a solid 7 minutes. Cat tried to come talk to me, but I didn't want that to be happening. I wrung out my sock, wiped my teary/snotty face, and continued up the mountain. With a confidence level of about zero. 

Everyone always wants to say "profusely" when they talk about sweating. Because of this, it sounds average. The amount I was sweating today was no doubt worse than average. I was sweating cats and dogs. The flood gates of my sweat glands were bombarded with a never-quieting surge of lukewarm salty rapids. It was quite a feeling. 

Plus, now my boots are twice as heavy from the water, you know. And my feet are slipping and sliding within them. So that sucks. After my little breakdown, Cat cuts me off a walking stick. I can't really tell how much that helped. We also cannot get in contact with the guide we were supposed to meet. Bonifas is calling and calling. I am midway to my doom.

Here's the climax: I know in my mind that I can't continue on. Every single step I take hurts. My chest and heart hurt. My lungs are painfully gasping. I stop periodically to catch my breath as a way of fending off the asthma attack I knew was coming. I could tell my throat was getting closer to closing up. This starts to scare me.. Which in turn makes my heart beat faster... With in turn makes my body beg for more oxygen. Do you feel the severity of the situation? 

I come closer and closer to losing my breath completely. My muscles are screaming, weaker and weaker. The weaker my legs become, the clumsier my walking gets. And this gets me into one predicament after the other. This is another psychological component- I can't walk right, I'm going to get hurt.

  Ok, so then I have an asthma attack. I'm at the base of a very steep section of the climb. It starts slow... But builds in strength because I'm getting scared. I panic. I'm alone; Cat and Bonifas are out of earshot. I raise my arms above my head. The top of my throat seems to have been pinched closed. Are you kidding?! I GASP and GASP, while trying to calm myself down. I alternate thoughts like, "Oh my god, this can't happen right here!" And, "Leigh Anna, just calm your mind and focus on slowing down your heart beat." Back and forth, my mind battles. I start diving further into breathlessness... My gasps are now unavoidably audible. Which was embarrassing, but I'm pretty positive no one could hear me. What's a synonym for 'gasp'? Oh my god, I was panicking! Desperately trying to open my mouth wide enough to allow for more air to pass to my lungs- knowing that the real problem was deeper in my throat. 

Luckily, my positive brain waves won out- and eventually I caught my breath. I talked myself out of it. I knew that I couldn't let myself get any worse than I just had.

I opened my eyes and instantly remembered that I was at the bottom of that steep climb. Are you kidding? Is this real life? Who put me on this mountain!??! Is this place a VACCUUM!??! I felt like Spongebob that one time we needed water. 

The realization almost broke me down into another cry-fest. But I COULD NOT let myself lose control of my breathing again! So I wasn't allowed to cry! But everything in my mind was building up, and my muscles hurt. 

I climbed the hill, wrestling back tears. We walked for ever, at LEAST another hour and a half. Time was distorted for me. This was psychological Hell on Earth.You think I'm exaggerating. 

Finally, Bonifas reached his limit of trail knowledge. And still he hadn't gotten ahold of the other guide. Cat the told me we would have to turn back.

It was as if The Lord Buddha himself decided to intercept the radio waves right out of the mountain's misty air for me. The Lord clenched the radio waves in his mighty fist and crumbled them to dust. Slapped them straight out of thin air. I knew for a fact that I couldn't have continued for much longer. I would have to give up. I KNEW IT. I was very confident in this. But, a saving grace. So, we turned around. Walked for at least 3 hours back down. I was literally in so much pain. But my breathing was fine; gravity did most of this work.

I have never been involved in a more physically exhausting activity in my entire life. I've never been in such a remote location. Psychical exhaustion has never brought me to tears before. I was so terrified. 

Some of my first reactions when I returned home were:

 

If you told me you would give me $10,000 if tomorrow I do what I did today, I would refuse. $15,000! If you SHOWED ME THE MONEY. I would refuse your offer, I swear.

It's like, this experience and 5th grade staph infection might be tied for Most Physically Miserable Moments of my life. I would rather get mono tomorrow than hike that damn mountain.

I would trade the memory of today for a week's worth of mono.

We went on this hiking trip for FUN. Literally cannot think of a fun portion of that [expletive] hike. NOTHING ENJOYABLE AT ALL. Zero fun. In fact, I think my job in Hell will be to hike for fun.

I will have nightmares about hiking for fun. Unless I'm fighting for the lives of my little sisters in the Hunger Games, I will never place my feet on Mt. Nimba again. I won't even fight for my own life on Mt. Nimba again. I cannot bare one more memory.

If you told me that if I made it to the summit of Mt. Nimba, world peace would be installed successfully- I would hire a stunt double for everything I'm worth.

Actually, when we got home a new Japanese researcher was there waiting for us. He pulled out a jar of Nutella and I swear on my life I almost burst out in tears of joy in front of that man. 

Things I realistically gained from the Mt. Nimba torture chamber:

-A cute pic of two frogs.

-A cute pic of a black and yellow grasshopper.

-I met the largest tree of my life.

-I can now say that I've hiked through primary rainforest in West Africa (very rare).

These gains are minimal in my mind. But, I hope you enjoyed the story. My knees are bruised and I didn't even bump them. Bruised from the inside. My soul is also black and blue I bet.