Location Ekok, Cameroon

Summary

Boxing Day 2025 started calmly—I slept well, which already felt like a win. The policeman who had helped me the night before said he’d come back in the morning to help me exchange my remaining naira, since once I moved on, Nigerian currency would be useless. I knew I wouldn’t be able to access any “real” money in Cameroon right away, so getting that exchange done was important.

We hadn’t agreed on a time, so I waited around until about 10:00 a.m., when he showed up on his motorbike. The exchange spot wasn’t far, and I changed a fairly large stack of naira into Cameroonian currency—thankfully ending up with far fewer bills than I started with. Later I realized I’d missed about 60,000 naira, which I’d sort out the next day.

On the way back, we made one more stop—an informal gathering where people were already drinking beer at around 11:00 in the morning. It turned out to be a group of off-duty policemen enjoying their day. In a warm country, beer hits a little differently, and I went along with it, sharing drinks and conversation as best I could, mostly in French. It was one of those moments you don’t plan for and don’t forget.

After that, I returned to the hotel, rested, wandered around town a bit, and eventually had food back at the hotel. Nothing dramatic—just a solid day of recovery and observation, with everyone quietly preparing for Saturday and whatever that convoy would bring. Thanks for coming along.

Location Calabar, Nigeria → Ekok, Cameroon (border region)

Summary

Christmas Day 2025 turned into a long but memorable travel day. I started out well prepared, carrying plenty of cash exchanged into naira, which meant dealing with a literal stack of small bills. Fuel was the next concern, but despite the holiday, most stations were open, and I filled both tanks with diesel before setting off. From there, the road dictated the day—unfinished sections, potholes, and constant truck traffic, even on Christmas.

Navigation took me the long way around, but it ended up being the correct route to reach Ekok, which I knew was necessary to join the convoy into Cameroon. Along the way, there were multiple police checkpoints, passport registrations, and even an unexpected exit stamp before I truly felt like I was at the border. Thanks to working Wi-Fi, I managed the required online exit process from Nigeria without too much delay.

The Cameroon border was almost deserted for Christmas. It was so quiet that officials had to send someone on a scooter to track down the right person to sign my Carnet de Passage. Although my passport wasn’t stamped that day, helpful locals and police guided me step by step—on mopeds, through town, and finally to the local police station in Ekok, where I learned I’d need to return Saturday morning for the convoy. I was welcomed warmly, invited to share food, offered a beer, and even helped with a currency exchange so I could pay for a hotel.

It was a long day filled with uncertainty, rough roads, and bureaucracy, but also generosity and calm problem-solving. Not a bad way to spend Christmas on the road. Merry Christmas.

Location Calabar, Nigeria

Summary

December 24th—Christmas Eve. With plans to leave Calabar on Christmas Day and head toward Ekok in Cameroon for the convoy on Saturday, I decided this was a good day to slow down and walk the city. I headed toward Marina Beach, which isn’t really a beach at all but sits along the water. The walk itself was pleasant, with well-maintained roads and stretches that felt almost like moving through a park.

Once there, I paid a small entrance fee and ended up visiting the slavery museum. It felt like the right thing to do. Inside, I crossed paths with four American kids of Nigerian parents who were visiting family, and we went through the exhibit together with a guide. Some of what I learned was heavy—especially how slavery continued locally even after abolition—but important. It’s mind-blowing to really sit with that history, and I’m grateful it’s no longer an open part of the world.

Later, I wandered into a large city park dressed up for a nighttime event, glowing with lights, music, and a color-changing tower. I didn’t dig too deeply into what was happening, but I took it in long enough to grab a few photos before heading back on foot in the dark. Back near the hotel, a sudden downpour pushed me into the restaurant, which turned out to be more of a loud bar than I expected. I ordered a funga—something I’d never had before—and let the rain and noise pass. It turned out to be a simple vegetable dish with some meat, exactly enough to call it a night.

Nothing dramatic, nothing rushed—just a day of walking, history, light, rain, and food. Life happens if you let it. Thanks for being along for it.