The
trip to Wli Falls started at 5:30 on a Saturday morning. I headed out with my
friends, Stacey, Yaw and Yao. Yaw, who was driving had wanted us to leave at the
unholy hour of 4, to avoid traffic. I was glad to have the programme changed
and get some extra time in bed before heading out to the highest waterfalls (about
80 metres long) in Ghana and West Africa. Wli Falls is in the Volta Region,
near the town of Hohoe and the border with Togo. It was Yaw’s fourth visit, Stacey’s
second and a first for Yao and me.
Heading
onto the Accra-Tema Motorway I remarked that there was more traffic than one
would expect for that time of day, especially on a weekend. “People are probably
going out of town for funerals” was the response I got from Yaw. One of the
stereotypes I knew of Ghana before heading there a year earlier was that
funerals were big, bigger than weddings sometimes. So far, no one had tried to
convince me otherwise. A colleague had even invited me to the out of town funeral
of someone I didn’t know, just so I could witness what he expected to be a grand,
traditional Ghanaian send-off.
We
stopped for breakfast 130 kilometres away in the town of Atimpoku in the Eastern
Region, with the Adomi Bridge as our backdrop. Our breakfast spot was buzzing,
with street vendors trying to sell you everything from milo and bread to fried
shrimp and kebabs. Before heading out again we took photos of the Adomi Bridge
and the Volta River, which it traverses. The steel arch bridge was completed in
1957, the year Ghana gained independence.
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| Adomi Bridge |
The
road was rougher from then on but it was lovely to escape the hustle and bustle
of Accra. The rolling green hills and tranquility of the countryside were a
welcome change from the concrete jungle.
Before
we arrived we passed by 3 funeral processions. Maybe Yaw was right. If you
didn’t know any better though, you would think they were parties and not
funerals. People danced and sang but the colours people wore – red, white and
black – helped give away the fact that these were indeed, funeral processions.
Five
hours after we’d left Accra, and with a little guidance from some locals we
arrived in Afegame, the small town that is home to Wli Falls. At the Wli Falls
tourist office area we met our guide, Samuel, and gathered the supplies we were
taking with us. I swapped my Converse trainers for a spare pair of shoes Stacey
had brought me, because they had more grip. The plan was to hike to the falls
and I didn’t know exactly what kind of terrain we would be tackling so I decided
to err on the side of caution. Furthermore, expecting to get drenched by the
falls, I was better of having dry pair waiting for me.
There
are a few different trails or loops to follow when making your way to the
falls. The falls has two levels and going straight to the lower falls is the
easiest thing you can do. We planned to hike to the upper falls. I didn’t
expect it to be easy but I had no idea just how much of an uphill climb it
would be, literally. There are two main routes to the upper falls. The shorter
one is steep all the way through and is the most difficult. The longer one,
about 5 hours, is steep but has some flat sections so is not as intense. That’s
what they told us anyway, but trust me; even the longer version is a big
challenge.
Before
we started off, our guide gave us makeshift trekking poles, basically tree
branches. I thought we wouldn’t need them but we did. They helped us keep our
balance and push ourselves upwards as we ascended a number of hills. Each one
of us tripped and fell at some point though. It was inevitable. Sometimes where
it was particularly steep you may have to crawl up or use steady and stable
trees to hoist yourself up.
We
passed a stream where local women were washing clothes. Then came the first
climb and it wasn’t long before I realised this hike would be more demanding
than I thought. I hadn’t climbed a hill since high school and that day, unfit
as I was, I had to climb several. As we got higher and higher my exhaustion was
mixed with awe at how beautiful the landscape was.
We
were near the border with Togo and at the top of one hill our guide pointed out
a small Togolese village in the distance. At this point we stopped to rest and
take photos. Yao got some great photos for his online dating profile and social
media pages. Stacey and I did some Wonder Woman-inspired poses, though I was
not at all feeling as strong as an Amazonian warrior goddess.
Soon
enough, we could see the upper and lower sections of the falls; they were so
close, yet so far away. It was glorious sight – both the lower and upper falls
in view - framed by the Akwapim Hills. As we continued on we met an American
couple taking a breather. We stopped to chat with them for a few minutes. I was
so tired I wished it were longer. Samuel pointed to the next hill and said it
was the last one we’d have to climb before we got to the upper falls. He lied.
I assume it was a tactic to motivate me but it only frustrated me more. When
you get to the “last hill” and there are still a couple more, it can be
draining. I asked Samuel if he ever gets tired doing this climb. He said he did
but he didn’t look like he was. I marveled at the fact that he was doing this
hike in flip-flops. I’d heard of people inexplicably attempting the hike in
sandals. They regretted the choice but Samuel was doing fine in his flip-flops.
Somewhere
on the last stretch before getting to the upper falls we were on a rather
narrow path. You had to stay on it or the only way was down. We heard the falls
before we saw it. The sound of the water crashing down kept me going. Finally
we were there and seeing the waters of the Agumatsa River cascade down the hill,
it all felt like it had been worth it. Relief washed over me, as did the water
from the falls. The mist from the falls and strong winds that had come from
nowhere cooled me down. I resisted at first but eventually got into the chilly
waters of the pool formed by the upper falls. We took more photos though the
mist made it just about impossible to get a clear shot.
The
thing about climbing a range of hills to get to a waterfall is, you have to
head back down. The relief I had felt made way for some nerves over the next
part of the hike. Completely drenched, we made our way to the lower falls and
just as we started off we met a large group of Israeli tourists. Somewhere
along the way Samuel stopped to cut off a bunch of bananas. While I struggled
with the trek he was grocery shopping from the forest.
In
some particularly steep sections the best thing to do was sit down and drag
yourself forward for a few seconds. I was not leaving that day without some mud
on my clothes. After much struggle, Samuel announced we were about 30 minutes
away from the lower falls. After the “last hill” pep talk earlier I wasn’t so
quick to believe him. While we rested Yaw asked me some questions about myself.
I was sure he was trying to get me talking to distract me from my discomfort.
Even though I knew his ploy, it worked and I carried on, less focused on the
pain I felt. We met the American couple; they were not happy and appeared to be
struggling more than I was. They were rather frustrated because the hike was
not as easy as they had been told.
Eventually
the sounds of the falls filtered through. Relieved to be back on flat land, we
walked a few minutes along with other visitors who had opted to only see the lower
falls. Samuel said something to me about how I’d done well and the hike wasn’t
so bad after all. I forced a smile and dragged my tired feet to the falls. As
much as my whole body ached, I was glad to have done the hike to the both
sections of the falls. Only seeing the lower falls would’ve meant a leisurely 40-minute
walk but the tougher hike was worth it. The lower falls was impressive as the
upper falls but I asked myself why anyone would only see the lower falls if
they were able to hike to the upper falls. The hike was a physical and mental
challenge, especially for someone who hadn’t exercised in a while, but I’m glad
I took it on. I’d probably do it again and the great thing is, I’d know what to
expect, unlike the first time.
After
taking in the sights we made our way back to the reception area where we were
parked. This was to take about another 30 minutes but luckily it was all on
flat land. We would cross a number of streams and Samuel told we would be done
after the ninth bridge. I counted diligently, badly wanting to finally have a
long rest. I still appreciated the scenery though. The thick forest and clear
streams were beautiful. We passed by many excited locals on the way; it turns
out there was some kind of performance they were getting ready for. Further
down we met some kids that wanted us to photograph them. “Photo me,” they kept
saying.
Finally
we were back where we started, six hours later. We said goodbye to our guide
(probably see you later in Yaw’s case as he planned on returning soon) and
drove across the road to a hotel where we had a late lunch. As we waited for
our food I changed into a spare set of dry clothes and put on my dry shoes. As
I changed I noticed my toenails were red and purple. A result of the battering
they took during our descent towards the lower falls.
Lunch
was one of my favourite local dishes, banku and okro (okra) soup with goat meat
(and some of Yao’s tilapia). On the drive back we found that one of the
funerals we’d passed by in the morning was still going on. We played car games
(thanks Stacey) and talked about everything from religion to politics and our
mediocre high school French. We had hoped to make it to the nearby Tafi Atome Monkey
Sanctuary and Mount Afadja (also called Afadjato) but we had a five-hour drive
back to Accra and it was getting late. Hopefully, the monkey sanctuary and Mount
Afadja will be a story I get to share another time.
*This article originally appeared in the Nov/Dec 2017 edition of Mahogany magazine (Zambia).
