Trip Report: Unnamed Waterfall near Yikpa-Dafo, Togo, West Africa
I recently returned from a three week trip to Togo, West Africa (right in
the corner next to Ghana and Benin) where my sister is a volunteer in the
Peace Corps. It was a wild trip and by and large enjoyable. Asside from
the friendly people and interesting food, the high point was definitely a
trip we took to a waterfall at Yikpa-Dafo on the Ghanaian border.
Having hung around in Dzogbegan, Emily's village, for a few days enjoying
the cool clamminess of the rainy season, we elected to escape and have us
an adventure. Yikpa, a town some distance away off the western edge of
the Danyi plateau was rumored to have a lovely, picturesque waterfall. So
we set out in a series of harrowing taxi rides early in the morning.
For those unfamiliar with bush taxis, a brief description is in order.
For short distances, they are usually small cars (Toyotas, Renaults, etc)
in which you put at LEAST eight people. Four go in the back and then two
in each of the front two seats. These cars often don't have brakes, and
occasionally are missing windows. I rode in one that I could have sworn
was missing a wheel. The drivers, showing admirable dexterity with the
horn, go tearing along at breakneck speed swerving to avoid the larger
pot-holes in the marginally paved road gripping the wheel with the
intensity of fighter pilots. For longer trips you ride in Toyota vans
(Toyota has really cornered the market in West Africa) with a few extra
seats added. Ostensibly these vans hold 15 people plus baggage and
livestock tied to the roof, but it is rare to be in one with less than
about 18-20 souls. The Togolese concept of personal space ends at skin
level.
In any case, our taxi down to Yikpa was a classic with narrow, pitted
one-lane roads switchbacking all over the place down the 1500' descent
from the plateau with 2 meter elephant grass obscuring all view of the
road around each bend and at final count 22 people in the taxi. I gamely
clung to what passed for a seat, jaw clenched practicing an undercling on
the edge of the door frame. Yikpa the town was much like other small
villages: a collection of buildings along the road with farm fields and
other buildings extending into the coffee and teak forests to all sides.
And hoards of small children yelling "Yovo yovo bon-soir!" on spotting our
white skin. Some things are universal.
Upon arrival, we were informed that yes, there was a waterfall but it was
in Ghana in the town of Wli, just across the border. So we trooped across
the mile or so of road between the border check-points (staffed by
sleeping looking Gendarmes armed with bayonettes and rubber stamps). But
in Ghana an officious fellow told us that under no circumstances would we
be allowed to enter without proper visas and paperwork, none of which we
had. Feeling dejected by the candor and unwillingness of the Ghanaian red
tape to ask for a bribe (which works everywhere else), we slunk back into
Togo.
However, it turns out there are TWO waterfalls, one in each country. We
hired ourselves a guide for 3000 cfa (about $6, a small fortune) and set
out up one of a score of identical looking trails. Our guide led the way
wearing shorts and flipflops up through the coffee plantations and corn
fields along the edge of a sharp ridge. Despite the general low elevation
of this part of Africa (I'd previously scaled the national high point at
986 meters), I can't say enough about the scenery. What we could see all
around and were climbing on were these soft, grassy hills cut with
irregular, deep vallies full of banana and kapok trees. As we rose
higher, the view expanded and it became sunny and hot. We labored up the
same elevations that the taxi had descended some hours earlier. Locals
passed us on the way from field to field bearing huge loads of firewood,
corn, or tarot on their heads.
At the top of the plateau, we descended briefly into the first real,
no-holds-barred jungle I've ever encountered. It was dank and dark and
very very muddy. Despite the admirable qualities of my Tevas, they really
aren't designed for jungle trekking. Our guide, however, had no trouble
having taken off his ubiquitous flipflops and proceded barefoot. We
continued like this for probably a quarter mile before crossing a small
stream on a rotted log and emerging into a sea of tall, wet grass. Our
guide hacked away cutting us a trail and driving away any serpents.
We'd been trekking for several hours now and I was beginning to think that
this was a lot of work just to see a little cascade in a picturesque
setting. The waterfall in Ghana was 20meters tall and had a well-blazed
trail to it. Furthermore, it was widely reported to be better than the
one in Togo.
But soon all my expectations and assumptions were proved wrong. We
emerged from the grassy sea onto a ridgetop overlooking one of these steep
gorges. On the far side, fantastic, unclimbed cliffs of red rock could be
seen rising from the depths of the gorge. And a little farther on, an
almost subsonic, muted rumbling anounced the presence of the waterfall.
It fell from the heights of the plateau in two dizzying pitches down the
headwall of the jungle valley disappearing into the huge trees below.
While it was difficult to estimate scale in such an unfamiliar
environment, the height could not have been less than four or five hundred
feet and the surplus of rain recently ensured a brisk quantity of water
was flowing. Our jaws dropped and dragged through the grass.
Having come this far, we hacked our way down a precipitous descent from
the plateau into the gorge. Everything was extremely muddy and there were
foot long, irridescent earthworms. The spiders (which are three inches
long) weave these beautiful flourescent yellow webs and there were
probably nests of vipers and pits of quicksand had we cared to search for
them. Feeling wholly under-equipped for this sort of thing (though,
honestly, I don't know what the appropriate gear would be), we slabbed
along the slope and at length arrived at the base of the falls.
A more physically dramatic place I cannot imagine. The water thundered
down deafeningly shattering on some large rocks and whipping the 100' pool
into frothing whitecaps. The wind pushed by this water lashed at the
banana trees and blasted all vegetation back for quite a distance from the
water--quite a feat in a biome so invasively fertile as a rain forest.
The cliffs surrounding us on all sided were reddish brown and slick from
condensation. Small trees clung in cracks and the sky was limitted to a
narrow patch overhead. The water fell not as a sheet, but as a
disorganized series of large, hundred-gallon pulses, each one partly
vaporizing on the way down. It was really COLD! We stood on the gravel
shelf leaning into the wind and were quickly soaked through and through. I
dutifully took photos (getting a very wet camera in the process) but
staying much more than five minutes was unappealing despite the physical
intensity of the place. If the Ghanaian falls are better than these, they
must be quite a sight to see!
We turned around and climbed back up the route we had taken before.
Wind-driven spray was soon replaced by dripping sweat as we once again
ascended the plateau. Back along the ridge, through the grass, across the
river, and down the plateau for the second time through the coffee trees
and back to Yikpa.
And for all this amazing beauty and physical intensity, this waterfall
doesn't even have a NAME!
Recieved November 11, 2002
Hi Charles,
I liked your web page about the Yikpa waterfall - just one small point.
It isn't "un-named." Although the name doesn't appear on the map, the
folks in Yikpa have a name for it. I lived in Yikpa from 1991-93 and
visited the waterfall many times. Unfortunately, I can't remember the
Ewe name for La Cascade de Yikpa, but I am still in contact with folks
there and could easily find out. There are two other year-round
waterfalls in Yipka. Though small, they each have their charms. One
falls gently down a flower and moss covered cliff. The other fills a
series of four pools, one of which is the source of quite a few
mysteries. Yikpa is truly a beautiful and welcoming community and I am
delighted that you enjoyed your visit. The name means "once you go
there it is hard to leave," which refers both to the long climb up to
the Danyi Plateau and to the warm hospitality.
Laura Wendell
Received 11-12-02:
The folks in Yikpa say that the waterfall is on their side of the
border, but the Ghanaians don't agree. It does not appear on any of my
maps of Togo. The Oncho pilots I met in Kara think that both of the
waterfalls are in technically in Togo, agreeing with the Yikpato, but
the Ghanaians control the easiest access to the lower fall regardless.
BTW, I have never seen the Ghanaian falls either (except by looking over
the top - ugh). I could never convince the gaurds to let me through for
love or money. I respect their honesty, but it was a drag to see all of
my Togolese friends travel the border freely and not be able to go even
to the market at Ebli. Their point was always that we charge Ghanaians
to come to America so it is only fair. Right, of course, but most other
Togo/Ghana borders crossings are a little more porous.
In looking around on the web, I found somebody's travelogue for the Wli
Falls in Ghana here.
This sure does sound like the Yikpa Falls - 2 stages, near a border
crossing, lots of bats. The Togolese call the Ghanaian town bordering
Yikpa "Ebli," but that could easily be Wli in another dialect. I always
heard that there was a path from the upper falls to the lower falls, but
no one ever wanted to take me on it. Next time I write to Yikpa, I'll
ask. You got me curious. Thanks again for the nice travel pages.
Laura
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