Balamsani is a volcanic basalt field that has, over time, weathered into a vast scree (talus) slope—rugged, raw, and quietly magnificent in Balanga LGA Gombe state.

Our journey began from Kalorgu, Kaltungo at exactly 6:25 pm on the 1st of April, 2026 . We drove through Awak and Dogon Ruwa, pausing briefly to buy some sweet melon before continuing onward through Gelengu and into Talasse. By the time we arrived, darkness had settled in, and with no electricity in the town, finding our way became a small adventure of its own.

We asked around for directions to a hotel where we could spend the night, but somewhere along the line, we were led to a different place entirely. By the time we realized the mix-up, we were already deep into negotiations. Rather than start over in the dark, we decided to stay. The condition was simple: if we wanted electricity, we would have to pay for petrol to run the generator. We agreed, dropped our bags, and made the best of it.

Later that evening, we wandered into a local spot known as Igwe’s Place, where we spent hours unwinding, sharing stories, and soaking in the calm rhythm of the town. It was the perfect way to ease into the night before the climb ahead.

Back at the hotel, the owner grew visibly excited when he learned about our mission. He shared stories about Balamsani and its sister mountains, tales woven with history, mystery, and pride. Before long, he had connected us with two locals from Balamsani who would guide us to the mountain.

We woke at 4:00 am, moving quietly in the stillness of the early morning. By 5:20 am, we were already on the move to begin our ascent before first light fully broke in order to escape the heat and blazing April sunshine. Not long after, our guides caught up with us and joined the climb, sharing stories about the land, the mountain, and the surrounding communities as we made our way upward.

We were taken aback when we finally saw the mountain up close. It looked nothing like what had first captured our attention back in December during our journey to Balanga Dam. From a distance then, we had sighted a striking formation marked by unusual patterns one side washed in a pale golden hue, the other dark and brooding. The contrast was too distinct to ignore, and it stayed with us.

Curiosity led us to make enquiries about its name and location, and we resolved to return and explore it properly.

Standing there months later, however, the mystery unraveled. What we had seen before was not a permanent feature of the mountain, but the aftermath of fire. Grasses on one side had been burned off, exposing the earth beneath and creating that dramatic two-toned effect. By the time we arrived on April 2nd, 2026, another fire had swept through, this time consuming nearly all the vegetation. In addition, parts of the mountain had been disturbed by excavation activities linked to road construction.

The mountain we had come to see was still there but altered, stripped of the very contrast that first drew us in, and bearing new marks of both nature and human intervention.