By Odimegwu Onwumere,
There is a place in Nigeria where the clouds meet the earth, a place of mist-draped peaks, rare wildlife, and mountain air so pure it feels almost un-Nigerian. It is a place so beautiful that one socio-critic once warned, “If you reside in Nigeria, never go through life without seeing this place at least once… otherwise, your spirit will not forgive you when you die.”
This place is the Obudu Mountain Resort.
Once the gleaming crown jewel of Nigerian tourism, the resort was a “Camp David” for presidents, the pride of Cross River State, and a symbol of what visionary leadership could build. But in the space of a decade, it descended into ghosthood: its iconic cable cars immobilised by rust, its roofs collapsing, its luxury chalets vandalised, and its billion-naira potential left to rot under the weight of political neglect.
Today, a new state government is attempting something extraordinary — a high-stakes, N23 billion gamble to resurrect this fallen paradise. They are not just trying to fix a resort. They are battling the consequences of years of decay, mismanagement, and abandoned dreams. And in doing so, they have awakened an even older, almost forgotten vision: of Obudu not just as a world-class tourism sanctuary, but as a strategic agricultural powerhouse capable of reshaping regional food security.
To understand the ambition of the new plan, one must first confront the scale of its collapse.
“It breaks my heart each time I am asked to speak on the present state of the ranch,” says Lyord Ndoma, a Calabar resident who, like many Cross River indigenes, speaks about Obudu’s lost glory with the pain of personal betrayal. For him, the golden age of the resort — between 1999 and 2007 under former Governor Donald Duke — is something remembered almost as myth.
Duke had taken what was essentially a cattle ranch and transformed it into an international-standard destination. “Duke took the resort to the international standard,” Ndoma recalls. “Presidents of African countries were coming to do their vacation at the ranch.”
He wasn’t exaggerating. President Olusegun Obasanjo held federal executive council retreats there. His successor and his successor’s successor did too. A dedicated airstrip was built. Corporate giants flew in. Political delegations arrived in waves. The resort’s cable car — a marvel in its time — carried visitors 1,576 meters up the mountain in a six-minute ascent that felt like drifting into heaven.
“It was like our own Camp David,” Ndoma says. “It became a destination for everybody.”
But the decline began quietly and ended catastrophically. After Duke left office, maintenance slipped. Under the administration of Governor Ben Ayade (2015–2023), the decline accelerated into a freefall. “The facilities started falling apart,” Ndoma says. “I wept. The roofs were leaking… It became an embarrassment.”
The cable cars stopped moving. Buildings were stripped. Window panes disappeared. The resort — set in one of the most stunning landscapes in West Africa — became a monument to neglect.
The outgoing administration signed a 25-year concession agreement with a company called CIBA Construction Company Limited. But according to the new government, the company “neglected key development obligations” and failed to rehabilitate the resort or invest in its infrastructure. In March 2025, the newly elected administration of Governor Bassey Otu revoked the concession and took back possession of the abandoned property.
What they found was devastation. Preliminary assessments estimated the damages and vandalisation at N6.8 billion.
But mourning was not an option. Governor Otu declared the revival of Obudu a top economic priority. An N18 billion fund was approved for tourism projects across the state, with a significant portion earmarked for the ranch. The new Special Adviser on the ranch, Sunday Michael, announced that repairs had already begun: the international conference centre, the restaurant, the spa, the mini golf course — all undergoing restoration. And on the question of the cable car, Michael issued a bold promise: “Within the next three to four months, we’ll have the cable car back.”
The state’s boldness triggered a cascade of new investments. The Federal Government committed N5 billion to rehabilitate the resort’s infrastructure as part of its push to develop non-oil revenue. Federal Minister of Arts, Culture, Tourism, and Creative Economy Hannatu Musa Musawa confirmed that private investors, newly confident in the state’s resolve, were already constructing an airport within the resort axis. The United Nations Industrial Development Organisation (UNIDO) also stepped in, providing a $2.5 million 2.5-megawatt electricity solution — finally addressing Obudu’s crippling power issue.
Obudu’s resurrection had transformed from a state dream into a national mission.
But the question remains: why does this mountain matter so much? The numbers provide clarity. According to Sunday Michael, Obudu has the potential to generate over N1.5 billion per month from accommodation alone. A single revenue stream worth N18 billion annually — enough to rewrite the economic future of Cross River State.
The human impact is just as significant. Even in its dilapidated condition, the resort still supports 200 workers. Once restored, says state Commissioner for Information Dr. Erasmus Ekpang, it will create between 300 and 500 direct jobs. Entire communities stand to benefit.
Yet the new vision for Obudu extends far beyond tourism. The Federal Ministry of Livestock Development has identified Obudu as a strategic site for large-scale cattle and dairy production under Nigeria’s livestock transformation agenda. Its cool climate, vast landmass, and natural vegetation make it a rare opportunity — a southern region alternative to the northern cattle belt.
Agricultural experts believe this could be transformative. “If the ranch is put to use, we will not depend on the North for beef production again,” says Simon Ogbaji. “There will be enough production of milk and beef in Cross River.”
It is a return to Obudu’s original purpose. Long before the cable cars and luxury chalets, Obudu was a cattle ranch built in 1949 by a Scottish rancher, and later developed under Eastern Nigeria’s visionary premier, Dr. Michael Okpara. Tourism elevated it. Agriculture sustained it. Now, the government wants both.
The revitalisation team promises that Obudu will emerge “stronger, more vibrant, and ready to welcome visitors from around the world.” The rot was severe, the N6.8 billion damage a grim reminder of a decade of abandonment. But the N23 billion influx of state, federal, and private capital is a powerful antidote.
Obudu’s resurrection is no longer just a project — it is a test of political will, a symbol of renewed ambition, and a rare moment when Nigeria seems determined to reclaim a piece of what it once proudly built.
In the mist, the mountain waits.
Onwumere writes from Rivers State, Nigeria.
