Rainforest once dominated much of West Africa's coastline, but logging, mining, farming, hunting, and settlement have all contributed to a huge drop in both the plant and animal population in the region. So Kakum, famous for its canopy walk that takes the daring across seven bridges swaying precariously 100 feet across the treetops, has become one of Ghana's most popular tourist attractions.

Our journey to Kakum began in Cape Coast, the bustling coastal town that hosts many tourists who come to visit the historically significant Cape Coast Castle, a remnant of colonial rule and the slave trade. Kakum is just a thirty-minute taxi ride from Cape Coast, so is a natural destination for visitors. As we left the town, we waved goodbye to the white-washed, crumbling colonial architecture as the road made way for roadside stands and small villages. Soon, the fauna began changing as well, as the palm and coconut trees prevalent near the ocean were replaced by more luscious greenery. Humans also became sparse, the pineapple and banana sellers appearing only sporadically as the vegetation began to thicken.

After paying a small automobile levy at the gate, we entered Kakum, anticipating the canopy walk touted in all the guidebooks with pictures of smiling tourists gripping the rope webbing as they peer down into the lush treetops. We were about to truly commune with nature, we all thought, finally.

Not unexpectedly, Kakum's visitor center was bustling with museum exhibits, a souvenir shop and that well-appointed café serving a variety of continental and Ghanaian fare. A bevy of Ghana's ubiquitous lizards and white-smocked crows scurried about, no doubt looking for scraps of tourist's snacks.

"Mmmm, grilled cheese," I whispered.

My partner shook her head in incomprehension. Even though we were all suffering from some form of travel illness, I could still think only about food. Indeed, after ten days in Ghana my craving for comfort foods of home had intensified.

There was brief confusion about the entrance fee -- one employee named one price, while the desk clerk stated another, higher price. Our Liberian friend expressed outrage at the cost discrepancy, but western travelers must put all Ghanaian prices in context. The cost of the canopy walk followed by a guided nature walk was roughly 140,000 cedis, or US$14.

As we began our uphill climb to the canopy, we heard, for the first time in about ten days, the voices of Americans other than our own. A group of about ten US military men, all suffering from varying degrees of hangover, clutched water bottles as they made their way up the path.

"What led you to Ghana, wrong turn?" joked a native Long Islander who boasted the worst hangover.

"No actually, we have friends here. What about you?" I queried.

With the best military evasion, he managed to tell me quite a bit -- the amount they had drunk, the types of western junk food embassy employees had requested, the number of African nations they had visited -- without ever telling me what branch they served in or the reason for their visit to Ghana.

We pressed on; shortly the wooden shack appeared, from where the canopy walk would begin. Only one person is allowed to walk across each bridge at a time, with only five walkers allowed on each of the tree-top platforms that connect the bridges. From our vantage point just below the shack, the walk looked like a cinch, a stroll among the trees and butterflies to forget our slightly sour stomachs and travel fatigue. Only the muffled shrieks of a school group, mostly drowned out by our jocular military friends, hinted otherwise.

As our group finally reached the podium, my partner excitedly asked to go first. She quickly made her way across the bridge, taking in the transcendent scenery around her. For days we had traveled Ghana's dusty roads and traipsed through streets crowded with shouting vendors, open sewers and unchecked goats and chickens. This short walk amongst nature, I thought to myself, would provide us with the peace and tranquility we so often lacked in our daily lives. As I looked across the canopy, her pace began to slow and her grip tightened on the ropes as the bridge began to sway. When she reached the first platform she looked back at me with eyes that I recognized from several perilous Ghanaian taxi rides. My heart began to race.

I left the tree-covered shack nervous but excited, but mid-bridge the excitement turned to terror. I didn't look down but, from the corner of my eye, I was very conscious of the height at which we were walking, secured only by ropes and wood. I shuffled quicker to reach the platform, only to learn that increasing speed meant that the swaying intensified and the ominous creaking of the bridge got louder. I finally reached the platform and immediately hugged the massive tree on which our lives depended.

To take the edge off my panic, I made small-talk with Emmanuel, our soft-spoken guide. " So, has anyone ever passed out?"

"No, they only scream 'I can't go on."

"Oh, er, can they go back once they've come this far?"

"No." Emmanuel was to the point.

I thought back to Emmanuel's introduction, when he has assured us that the canopies were safe. The walkways are supported solely by the trees -- no nails or bolts are used. Stabilization is provided by steel wrapped around the tree trunks. Built by Canadians and funded by USAID, the canopy walk has garnered countless tourism awards and has an impeccable safety record. With that knowledge, I ventured further onto bridges that became longer and higher, as the valley walls from which we began faded into a sea of tree-tops.

Around the third bridge, I began to lose sensation in my toes and felt my fingertips begin to numb. I looked to my partner and begged her to not take her eyes off me. I also, in a plea that may be one of the most desperate and pathetic of my life, demanded grilled cheese when finished.

How I must have puzzled Emmanuel, the grandson of a holistic healer and six-year veteran of the park, with my irrational fears and absurd need for melting cheese. As I numbly shuffled through the bridges like a lithium addict and hugged the anchor trees despite the pesky ants that crawled up my sleeve, he never laughed, never even gave a cross look. I suspect he'd seen it all before.

After the bridge course ended, I breathed a sigh of relief as Emmanuel led us on a short nature hike. He explained the cultural value and medicinal uses of the plants and trees found in the forest. As we parted ways, we gave him a small tip and made our way to the Rainforest Café.

"At last, grilled cheese." I took a slow sip from my beer and thought about the canopy walk. Despite the paralyzing fear I experienced, I wanted to go back and re-walk the course. I wanted to look down; to stop and take in the quiet and calm of the forest, but I knew I'd probably never make it back. My most lasting memory of one of Africa's most beautiful attractions would be a lukewarm, crustless grilled cheese sandwich.