The Volta Region (Part 3)

Sunday morning, Tania, Jackie, Rachel, and I awoke a little before dawn to a cool, dim, dewy forest. Morningtime in the mountains, especially forested ones, is probably one of the most spectacular atmospheres one could ever hope to be in. It's the sign of a new day. Everything is just awakening - the birds, the animals, the humans, the sun. The trees haven't changed a bit, but they seem all the more majestic for it, their unwavering, timeless beauty. You take a deep breath of air and it seems as though air has never been so fresh, so crisp, so full of life. Everything around you is full of new energy and endless potential. You yourself are revitalized, and you can't help but take a moment to really savor the moment and understand what life is really about - cycles, awakening, regeneration - a new day.

Nonetheless, I was twice the zombie and half the explorer I was upon wakening the day before. The night before, we had planned to leave as soon as we got up and head straight for a cruise that was supposed to leave from Akomsombo, a fair distance from where we were. But as we all climbed out of our stuffy tents, bodies aching from a night of sleeping half on a sleeping pad, half on the hard ground (well, actually, I awoke to nothing but the ground, so somewhere in middle of the night, Tania must have taken over the pad all for herself), we all agreed that breakfast was more important than plans, especially considering how good the breakfast at the lodge was the day before. So we placed our order, same as the day before - coffee, omelettes, oatmeal, bread, and then later more coffee - and had a nice easy morning at the lodge. I did some stretches, as I always do in the morning, and then I began reading Bill Bryson's African Diary. For anyone out there who hasn't read a Bill Bryson book, go right now and get one, any one, and reserve a nice block of time for you and the book. If you're enjoying reading my blog, then you'll fall in love with Bryson's witty commentary on his travels. He paints such splendid pictures of the places he visits, along with lots of humor, and potentially a fictional travel buddy as well (his name is Katz). He even wrote a book about hiking the Appalachain Trail, which ironically I read the day after I got off the trail, and I must say he really hits the nail on the head.

Anyway, I didn't get very far into the book, but I was intrigued, so I'll have to find it some other day. We ate breakfast, paid for our stay (if you can believe it, I only had to bay about $14 for camping, three meals, several bottles of water, and the guide for the trail (CK), not to mention the warm hospitality (I didn't have to pay CK, but he was really nice, and he helped us out a lot, especially Rachel with her fear of heights)), and made our way down the mountain. We had a very relaxing hour-long walk down to Biakpa, just chatting and enjoying the morning. When we got to the town, we caught a tro-tro going towards Akosombo. We weren't sure if we'd be able to make it to the cruise on time, so Rachel called to find out if we needed to arrive early to make the boat. It turns out that the travel guide we have is a little outdated, so instead of the cruise costing $6 per person, it was $20 per person. Scratch that idea. So we weren't going to go to Akosombo, but it just seemed to early to go ahead and go back home. So, as we were driving along, we crossed over the Volta River in a town called Atimpoku. We figured there must be something cool to do in a river town, so we decided to get off there.

Atimpoku is a very small town, but nevertheless, we saw a sign for a hotel that offered boating down the river. So we followed the sign to the this hotel (which I can't remember the name of). On the way there, we saw a man selling a dead beaver to a couple driving down the road. (There really is a first time for everything). We got to the hotel, inquired about the boats, and we were directed towards the river where a few men sat around waiting for four eager obrunis such as us to come by and ask for a peddle boat. That's right, a peddle boat. Two actually, Jackie and I in one, Tania and Rachel in the other. We changed into our swimwear, hopped into the peddle boats, and took off down the river.

Alright, here's the thing about paddle boats. You can't really go fast in them. You can't really go anywhere at all unless you've got a lot of time on your hands (and everywhere else, for that matter). But going somewhere isn't the point of peddle boats. It's the peddling motion that feels so effortless for the first minutes, but still so fun. The novelty of it almost. We started going downstream. It didn't take long for someone on the shore to yell, "Hey, Obruni, tsss, tsss..." We'd wave and smile at many people by the river, people who seemed so amused at us just peddlin' along on the ole Volta. (I have to admit, it would be a sight to see). We soon passed under the same bridge that we drove over when coming to Atimpoku. It was actually a very beautiful white bridge that arched way up into the air. We were heading for this little island in the river that was nearby. After about 20 minutes of peddling, we got close enough to the island to read a sign that said "Private Property." Bummer. That's ok, though, it was all marsh anyway.

After peddling for about another ten minutes, we decided to turnaround and go back. (We needed to make it back so we didn't get charged more). There's one thing I did not anticipate about going back. Going back was going upstream, and I did not at all anticipate the fact that after 30 minutes, peddling kind of sucks. The novelty wears off fast, and you just kind of want to get somewhere. It was still fun, and by the end, I was actually kind of exhausted (perhaps a little dehydrated as well... I chugged a pineapple juice and a liter of water afterwards though, so no worries). After getting out of the boats, we hung around the hotel and chatted, met some people from China, saw some monkeys... you know, the usual. After waiting around long enough to rehydrate (my chugging action... although I actually never chug, so it's really more like sipping quickly), we all decided to go for a dip in the river. Once again, we were assured it was safe to swim it. Many of the dangers of swimming in (and drinking, for that matter) still water are not so in flowing water, and this river didn't look dirty. For some reason, Jackie and Rachel decided not to swim, but Tania and I did and let me tell you, it was marvelous. I'm not sure It's not often that I get to swim in such a large body of water. (The ocean doesn't count here because I don't really swim in the ocean, I stand in it and let waves hit me). The water was cold, very cold, but then again swimming in cold water can be so amazing on a hot day. Everyday in Ghana is a hot day, whether you're in the mountains or not. So we swam and swam and I felt so free, so amazing, just doing the backstroke as long as I wanted without ever coming close to a single thing, land or person. Of course, Tania decided to take her own personage to the other side of the river. I only went about halfway and just hung out there. I wasn't sure I would want to swim all the way back if I crossed the river. Of course, Tania's an excellent swimmer, so it's no sweat off her back.

After about an hour, I got out of the river feeling refreshed, alive, avant-garde (what?), and hungry enough to kill a chicken and eat it, gizzard and all. But I chose the more civilized way by eating some chicken that someone else had already killed. It was good too, fried, southern style. I also had a huge mound of fried rice (as good as any fried rice I've ever had), and then I topped it all off with a banana (because I'm that cool). After we had all eaten, we decided to hit the road. Before we could even cross the street, a tro-tro came by and a guy stuck about half of his body out of the window (as they all do) and said, "Accra! Accra!"

"Yes, Accra, Accra!" we all said with bellies full of Ghanain delight.

We crossed the street and hopped on the tro-tro, me in the back again, but infinitely more comfortable than I was leaving Accra. I sat next to a guy named... oh, that's right, I'm really bad with names... anyway, this guy, he showed us some pictures of his carpentry work with windows. The guy on my other side just had his head resting on his arm resting on the back of the seat in front of him. I soon found myself in the same position as that man. We got back to Accra around 4:30, taxied our way home, and I was pooped. So I showered (which I hadn't done all weekend) and took a little nap until dinner.

The End.