Hiking to Wli Falls

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.

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).