Mamfe (Cameroon) : sliding through the jungle
N 05°45.445' E 009°18.755'
20 kilometres from Ikom we reached the very quiet Nigerian border station. Here’s the procedure...
Step 1: passport check by the army
Step 2: present motorcycle documents to customs inside the fenced-off area 500 metres down the road (bike remains outside)
Step3: Carnet de Passage formalities done by customs official no. 2 in his barren ‘office’ 50 meters up the hillside
Step 4: passport check and a few questions by a woman from the narcotics department (I think)
Step 5: fill out exit form given to me by immigration official no. 1
Step 6: immigration official no. 2 enters our particulars on a list
Step 7: immigration official no. 3 stamps the passports
Step 8: move the bike 30 metres to the actual border barrier at the bridge in the fenced-off area
Step 9: passport check by border official X
Step 10: border official Y enters out particulars on a list
Step 11: final good-byes (an hour later), up goes the barrier and you’re on the bridge to Cameroon.
It’s all very friendly as you chit-chat your way through and there are no queues – just don’t be in a rush!
On the other side there is no tar and the road narrows down to two compacted earth tracks which become extremely slippery when wet. Then came the shin-deep mud turning the tracks into a down-right mess, had Annbella walking for a kilometre and me battling metre for metre. The bike had a mind of its own it seemed, despite the new tyres. Without the latter, however, it would have been hopeless. At least there was no dust...; and didn’t rain. On another occasion, bypassing aflooded section of road (?) on a footpath we were lucky to get the help of a few locals to push and heave at the critical moments.
Relieved to arrive in Mamfe we were well received at the Abuwno Lodge (tip from the army check-point at the edge of town, although don’t let your imagination stray by the word ‘lodge’) and the bike had priveleged parking in tiled coutyard just outside our room. There were a few small surprises like wall to wall carpeting, blankets, electricity and running water (potable) 24 hours a day and, one of the guests was a young man from Bangladesh – not a traveller, he was there on business.
20 kilometres from Ikom we reached the very quiet Nigerian border station. Here’s the procedure...
Step 1: passport check by the army
Step 2: present motorcycle documents to customs inside the fenced-off area 500 metres down the road (bike remains outside)
Step3: Carnet de Passage formalities done by customs official no. 2 in his barren ‘office’ 50 meters up the hillside
Step 4: passport check and a few questions by a woman from the narcotics department (I think)
Step 5: fill out exit form given to me by immigration official no. 1
Step 6: immigration official no. 2 enters our particulars on a list
Step 7: immigration official no. 3 stamps the passports
Step 8: move the bike 30 metres to the actual border barrier at the bridge in the fenced-off area
Step 9: passport check by border official X
Step 10: border official Y enters out particulars on a list
Step 11: final good-byes (an hour later), up goes the barrier and you’re on the bridge to Cameroon.
It’s all very friendly as you chit-chat your way through and there are no queues – just don’t be in a rush!
On the other side there is no tar and the road narrows down to two compacted earth tracks which become extremely slippery when wet. Then came the shin-deep mud turning the tracks into a down-right mess, had Annbella walking for a kilometre and me battling metre for metre. The bike had a mind of its own it seemed, despite the new tyres. Without the latter, however, it would have been hopeless. At least there was no dust...; and didn’t rain. On another occasion, bypassing aflooded section of road (?) on a footpath we were lucky to get the help of a few locals to push and heave at the critical moments.
Relieved to arrive in Mamfe we were well received at the Abuwno Lodge (tip from the army check-point at the edge of town, although don’t let your imagination stray by the word ‘lodge’) and the bike had priveleged parking in tiled coutyard just outside our room. There were a few small surprises like wall to wall carpeting, blankets, electricity and running water (potable) 24 hours a day and, one of the guests was a young man from Bangladesh – not a traveller, he was there on business.
posted by Retobados at 3:48 AM
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