Uganda
Friday 8th June 2007
Time’s been flying by at Lake Baringo – it’s been great to relax after the Rhino Charge, but we must make our way to Uganda now. The drive takes longer than expected, and we arrive at Bujugali falls just outside of Jinja after dark.
The border crossing was fairly painless – just the usual aggressive touts and insurance salesmen. The visas are $30 each and insurance for 4 months is just $14.
Bujugali falls are extensive – spanning 1km and our campsite is right next to the falls. The sound is deafening, but we sleep surprisingly well.
Our neighbours and pretty much the only other campers are Floris and Marika, overland from Holland in a 40 year old Unimog with their two charming dogs.
We get along instantly and talk about fishing together – maybe in the next few days we’ll head out onto the Nile (Jinja, just 9km from us is the source of the Nile) and see what we can catch.
Each day, white water rafters come through here – on their way to some much larger waters downstream. There’s five monster grade 5 red rapids here – making this river and this location one of the adrenalin capitals of Africa.
The boats come thick and fast through the middle of the day, many overland trucks and gap year students come here for an adrenalin hit.
After watching for a while we decide that soon we must do this – it’s a great way to see the river as the trip is 23km long… it’s also not bad value at $75 for a whole day (although I’m having to think about the budget constantly)
We take a walk to check out the competition – and end up walking 10km to the next rafting company. Here at Adrift they have a bungee jump – and Dolors has no hesitation in signing up for this ludicrous sport. Within 45 minutes she’s been weighed and is off to the platform to dunk her head in the Nile (after a 40m drop)
After climbing the scaffolding and going out to the platform – Dolors is ready to jump, she’s the first in a group of 6 and is apparently not too scared.
This all changes once she looks over the edge. The three of us (and the dogs) are waiting patiently in the bar which has a great view of the platform, but there’s very little movement. The only movement we can see is Dolors grabbing hold of the safety bar just after each time the instructor manages to convince her to let go.
It takes some time – but to her credit she jumps.
Well kind of. From where we were – it looked more like a slip… For anyone that knows bungee jumping, it’s best to dive off – and go head first; otherwise you get a terrible backlash as the rope pulls your feet above your head.
The backlash did indeed come – but it didn’t look too bad (we all had our eyes closed by this point). As Dolors returns to the bar a few minutes later we begin (well I begin) to take the mickey.
Big mistake. Within 60 seconds of piss-taking Dolors has signed me up for the bungee and I’m being weighed.
I never really wanted to do bungee jumping, but I’m too competitive for my own good, and can’t take the piss happily without first doing it. Dolors talks of the fear when you look down, and how her legs were shaking – she wants me to feel the same fear now.
I was the last to jump. I’m 2m tall – and reminded the instructor of this as he adjusted the rope to my weight.
“do you want to touch the water?”
Came his question
“Yeah – OK, but just a little”
Was my response.
After I’d been strapped in and the safety checks were done I was standing on the edge of the 40m drop – feeling dizzy when I looked down – the instructor started saying
“3….. 2….. 1…..”
That’s all I heard – I missed the last word “bungee” as he said it when I was already 15m below him, I couldn’t wimp out or hesitate after taking the mickey so much – so tried my best and ended up with a fairly reasonable swan dive from the platform.
It’s a scary experience, but one that rationally you know is safe… it’s just rational thought doesn’t take precedence when you’re about to jump off a 40m high platform.
It was different to the cliff jumping I’d done in South Africa with my friend Sean a few years before – in that I remembered the fall – in South Africa all I remembered was jumping, then coming up through the water. This time, I was conscious for all of it – the adrenalin hadn’t blacked out my mind as it had done previously, and to many of the others jumping today.
The water came up quickly, and before I knew it, I had half my body in the water, to the waist. So much for “just a little”!
Dolors I think was a little disappointed that I’d done it without hesitation – and on the walk back she’s regretting forcing me up there – as now I can take the mickey some more, with no easy response “well you didn’t even do it”!
It was fun, and we’re all laughing about it – but it’s now pitch dark and there’s absolutely no light as we try to find our way back along the 9km stretch to the campsite. On the way we stop to buy food – an interesting experience in the dark!
Within a few days we’ll be doing some white water rafting – then we’ll need a rest from all this adrenalin – it’s a nice distraction, but not why I came here…
Sunday 10th June 2007
Fishing today – that is when the rain stops… Marika, Floris, Dolors and I plan to hire a boat and fish around the falls – its torrential rain now though and we play poker for a few hours until it stops. It should have rained all day mind – we’re unable to catch a single thing, even though the river is full of fish. All around us Ugandans pull huge fish from the river – and they only have a line – no rod and no fancy equipment. Maybe that’s the trick!
We eventually give up fishing and agree to buy a large yellow fish, caught by a young man just in front of us at the end of the day – it’s a really big one, and should provide enough meat for the four of us.
The meal would be so much nicer had one of us caught it.
Cooking over the campfire is one of the highlights of travelling – there’s no better way to prepare your food. When possible I keep a fire burning the whole day, it makes each camp feel like home. The fish is perfect – more than enough for all of us, we’re really enjoying Floris and Marika’s company – I’ve not spent too much time with other travellers on this trip, mostly by choice – but they’re a great couple and good fun to be with.
Monday 11th June 2007
Floris’s sister flies into Kampala in a few days for a three week holiday – they’re really looking forward to seeing her – the first familiar face in 7 months of travelling. They leave for Kampala and the Red Chilli Hideaway today – awaiting her arrival in 6 days time,
We’re staying on here – with white water rafting booked through our campsite (the Equator rafting company) tomorrow morning.
Tuesday 12th June 2007
We’re up early and looking forward to our day on the water – breakfast, lunch and dinner is included in the $75 price – upon asking what’s included in the rafting breakfast I get a blank look from the waiter – he’s obviously confused and after a few moments he says “but there is no rafting today”. It seems someone’s screwed up - most likely the incompetent manager who took our booking 4 days ago.
Off to Kampala it is – we’ve spent a fair amount of time here – and the last 2 days were just waiting for the rafting… It’s a shame, it would have been a fun way to see the source of the Nile.
The drive to Kampala is thankfully on better roads than those from the Kenyan border to Jinja, it takes just a few hours, but we’ve arrived at the Red Chilli Hideaway in good time, finding Floris and Marika relaxing in the sun with Bo and Duka (their two beautiful dogs).
We waste no time and head off to the city straight away – I’m keen to see Kampala, it’s been highly praised by many and is far safer than Nairobi. Walking here at night is totally safe – there’s very little street crime, possibly due to the tradition of ripping off thieves clothes until their in their “Adam Suit” and stoning or beating them (often to death). We don’t see any terrified naked thieves, so assume there have been no robberies today.
Kampala is built on 7 hills – it gives you a chance to see how the city sprawls and changes in each of the directions around you – this really is a city of contrast. Many western looking buildings lie often in a semi-derelict state, with the exception of the expensive middle-class malls which have appeared fairly recently. The price in these malls is often 500% – 1000% higher than exactly the same product sourced in a tiny, shabby market stall just around the corner. Convenience really has a price here.
The air is humid, the sky often littered with angry looking clouds – threatening rain at any moment. This is why I took my umbrella – but it seems Ugandans know their city well – I’m the only one with an umbrella and the rain never arrives.
The ‘old taxi station’ is in the heart of the trading area – there’s distinct areas for things here – car part dealers and auto shops lie to the south, clothes to the west, electronics to the east and pharmacies, internet cafes and restaurants to the north. In the middle of all this is quite possibly the craziest bus station I’ve ever seen.
There seems to be no logic to it. The Matatus (minivan buses) create mayhem in the whole area surrounding the station – they’re fighting to get in, often leaving a generous 3 / 4 cm gap between them which pedestrians must try and squeeze through to escape the choking exhaust fumes. If you’re caught downwind from this chaos, it’s really quite unpleasant – I don’t know how the small market stall holders cope each and every day.
The depot contains not only the Matatus but also a host of traders selling all kinds of goods – fruit, electronics, clothes and furniture – I like the atmosphere, full of music pumped out by the apparel retailers, and with everyone trying to find their way home I’m surprised there’s so little tension here.
The evening newspaper headline catches my eye – 1 killed and 37 injured in Nairobi suicide bomb – Uganda on high alert.
I feel safe in Kampala, despite the terrorist warnings. There are so many problems in Kenya I wonder whether Al Qaeda is to blame for yesterday’s suicide bombing in Nairobi (as the government claims) – just a few weeks ago 23 were killed by the police in a clampdown on an illegal sect.
Much of Africa is safe – even in ‘bandit’ areas, the thieves aren’t interested in violence for the sake of violence. Paul Theroux in his book “dark star safari” encounters many people who say:
“they don’t want your life, they want your shoes”
Your life is worthless to them – but your shoes; they have a value.
Thursday 14th June 2007
Tonight we party – it’s the main thing to do in Kampala, tourist attractions are few and far between but the nightlife is apparently excellent.
Our afternoon begins with losing Dolors – she really should buy a GPS! In just a 100m walk between the internet cafés we’re frequenting she gets lost – after waiting for an hour and looking around the area we agree that she must be heading back to the campsite by now.
If this was Nairobi I’d be more worried.
After finding Dolors fast asleep back at the campsite on our return (I had the car key on me – so there was little else for her to do!) we eat from one of our frequent barbeques and get ready to hit the town.
The lonely planet recommends a bar outside of town – there’s live music on Thursdays and a decent kitchen. Our Matatu takes a few shortcuts en-route (on the pavement, much to the surprise of pedestrians) and we make it there in good time. The only problem is – it’s closed. 6 Months of refurbishment. Disappointed, we head to Al’s Bar, just next door.
The bar’s empty, it’s 9pm and this place never closes – 24 hours a day you can drink and play pool. There are two decent tables, and after a few comical games between us we’re starting to find our rhythm.
By the time the bar fills up, I’m being challenged at the pool tables by the locals – and the disgusting ex-pats who fill the bar and give a roaring trade to the countless prostitutes who are now doing what can only be described as lap dances all over the place.
Floris, Marika and Dolors are keen to leave – but I seem to be playing uncharacteristically well tonight – winning 6 games in a row, against some decent players. My roll continues on the 7th game, coming back from 5 balls down to win. Same story on the 8th game, and the guys are getting fed up with being here – it’s seedier by the minute, and in the end Dolors lends 1000shillings (the cost of a game) to Andrew – a young Ugandan who’s been watching my unbelievable lucky streak.
He beats me convincingly – and we leave, with Dolors telling me that she paid for it to be finished… I was quite disappointed – it’s only once in a blue moon I play well – and I was really enjoying myself… Still the bar was basically a brothel, and the clientele the kind you’d expect in such places – not the best place to hang out all night.
Out of ideas (and unable now to read the guide books) we ask the taxi driver to take us to a club. Ange Noir is the destination, the favourite club at the moment apparently, but after just an hour of bad Hip-Hop and amusement at the clubbers dancing with themselves in the full length mirrors which surround the dance floor we’ve had enough. Back to the campsite to drink ¾ of a bottle of whiskey (which makes Marika and Dolors sick)
Friday 15th June 2007
A lazy day, no-one’s really feeling that hot; a barbeque is called for – and very little else. The meat here is fantastic and very cheap (under £1 per kilo), we cook up a feast and laugh about the previous nights escapades… It was fun in Kampala, with the exception of the dodgy fat white sex tourists (or diplomats?) of course.
The rest of our time in Kampala is earmarked for relaxing and shopping. On Sunday we’ll head into the city to see some traditional dancing, if it’s half as good as the dancing Karin and I saw in Ethiopia it should be quite an evening.
The price of the dancing has increased 300% in a year – there are a lot of tourists here, very few Ugandans and many, many dancers. I counted 36 people involved in the production – so it’s no wonder the price has now risen to the equivalent of £3.50
The dancing was good, not as spectacular as the dancing in Ethiopia, the music, all traditional was great – but the whole evening was around 4 hours long. The compare was filling in time whilst the dancers presumably rested, meant much of the show involved what can best be described as amateur gymnastics and magic – making the evening far less magical than the dancing we saw in Dashun in Addis Ababa.
Monday 18th June 2007
Floris’s sister – Catherine arrived last night, with her she brought many presents for Floris and Marika, including a digital camera, a new power inverter, inner coil spring and other Unimog related gifts.
We plan to head off tomorrow to Lake Bunyoni, in the south west of Uganda, before Dolors and I head off to see the gorillas in the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest.
Slight hiccup on the gorilla front – it seems the permits we’ve just changed a lot of money to buy have been sold to someone else. There are no more permits in June and on the 1st July the price rises from $375 to $500. We’re now planning to head in to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), where gorilla tracking requires no pre-booking (apparently) and is cheaper at $250.
Today, we’re enjoying watching the monkeys around our campsite fighting and taunting the dogs (they’re getting cockier by the day)
Tuesday 19th June 2007
Leaving a little later than planned due to Floris being violently ill we head off at around 11am, we won’t make it in one day, the Mog can only do 70kmph (it’s fairly unstable on bad roads over that speed) so we stop for the night in the university bar in Mbarara.
Weds 20th June 2007
The morning brings a dense fog on our road to Kabale, we’re climbing higher – up to 2000m above sea level.
By 11am the mist is starting to lift, giving us a better view of the land here in t south west of Uganda
I’m surprised at the level of agriculture here. I was expecting a dense forest, but there are so many people here, most of the land has been deforested and is now a patchwork of small farms.
Papyrus and bananas are the most common crops, for miles in each valley the plants stretch out before us.
We reach Kabale by midday, Dolors now screaming for coffee (we left before dawn and with no time for boiling water). After a brief stop we’re headed over the hills and towards Lake Bunyoni.
It’s a beautiful drive through the valleys – we’re much faster than the Unimog today, as they have their engine mounts sheared, and have to take the rough dirt road very carefully indeed.
Once we complete the climb through the valleys, we’re in awe as we see the lake for the first time. It looks like paradise.
It’s the deepest lake in Uganda, and certainly the deepest I’ve ever come across. It’s over 6000feet to the bottom – around 2km: straight down. That should make swimming interesting!
The ‘Overlanders Campsite’ is apparently one of the best campsites in Africa; it’s certainly the most beautiful I’ve found so far. We can camp right on the lakeshore – after some silly petty quarrels about where we should park with our very old and whiney Austrian neighbours.
We hired a canoe from a young boy named Izac, he paddled into my fishing line at sunset – just wanting a chat… After a few minutes of discussion, I agreed to hire his canoe for 7000USH (around £2) for the whole day. This to me seemed like a bargain – as it did to everyone else, he’ll even deliver it to us at 7am tomorrow morning.
Thursday 21st June 2007
After Izac delivers our canoe and a crazy visit to the local school we hired yet another canoe from the school teachers. Much to the children’s amusement Floris, Marika and Cat ended up in the water after just 30 seconds in the boat. They’d chosen a small thin dugout, designed for 2 people, and tried to squeeze in. With their height, the weight distribution was too high, a couple of wobbles just 1m from the shore and they were all soaking wet.
Dolors and I remained upright, but had many steering problems. We didn’t do the ‘muzungu corkscrew’ as the locals call it, but it was difficult to stay in a straight line.
Marika overheard two American girls, from one of the many overland trucks – dressed as if they were going out clubbing they took their dugout back to the young workers at the campsite complaining that they want another boat – “This one’s broken, it just keeps going round in circles”.
After visiting a couple of the islands on the lake, we were too tired to make it to Punishment Island – where unmarried pregnant women were sent to die (many died trying to swim to the mainland).
We climbed to one of the many island lodges, after a stop for hot chocolate (which turned out to be just hot milk), we’re heading back to camp.
We met some of the overlanders on the return journey – I asked out of curiosity how much their canoes cost, 3000USH was the answer – less than half the price I negotiated with Izac the previous evening… This brings a smile to my face – he’s such an innocent looking kid we’re all very amused about being done over by a 7 year old!
I returned the canoe to Izac at sunset, following the directions he gave me – just across the way from our camp. I find him and four other children waving and cheering me on as I navigate the reeds successfully. On the ride back – Izac invites us to come around tomorrow for tea and dancing – everyone here loves to dance, especially the kids. It turns out Izac is an orphan, there are 9 children living in his house – with just one ‘mother’ between them. He’s a smart kid – and will go far, I’m still smiling about his negotiations the previous night…
Izac leaves me his address – I give him a fishing hook and promise to send on some fishing line when I find some…
We’re all enjoying the lake – it’s quite cold when swimming, and the thought of 2km straight down does add a certain thrill to the swims, it seems the dogs must know this too – they never venture far into the dark water.
Friday 22nd June 2007
It’s market day today – lake dwellers make the long canoe journey twice a week to sell charcoal, vegetables, clothes and fruit. There’s no fish on sale – which is surprising, apparently there’s very few fish in here – only crayfish are caught with the aid of baskets. It seems that nets are no good in such deep waters.
I desperately need a haircut – Dolors offers to do the honours, but something tells me that could be a disaster – maybe something to do with that evil grin when she visualises what she could do.
Floris kindly offers – and within a few minutes, he’s cutting away… I’m not sure what the result will be, but surely better than the mop I have right now.
The result is achieved in just 3 minutes – and quite a good cut…
We’re heading into town with the teachers from the local school – there’s a big concert tonight with ‘modern African music’, it seems everyone’s going, and it could be quite an experience – so we endure the 40 minute ride over the bumpy, potholed dirt road in the back of a pickup into the town centre.
The concert’s a disappointment – it’s enjoyed by most here – but to us, the synthesisers and repetitive melodies remind us of holding music we have to endure back in Europe.
We leave early and head to the local club for a few games of pool and a couple more beers…
We’re heading off tomorrow morning via the beautiful lakeside road towards Kisoro, the south-western most town of Uganda which borders Rwanda and the DRC. After a few too many, we head home – slightly disappointed with the music, but we’ve still had fun.
Saturday 23rd June 2007
We leave a few minutes after Floris and Cat, Marika’s travelling with us in the landy – there’s not a great view from the back of the Mog. We find them a few miles ahead standing on top of the Unimog, taking in one of the most spectacular views of Lake Bunyoni.
The drive’s spectacular and its tough going in parts, the thing that worries me the most is the deforestation of the hillside. Above us the farmland climbs at an incredible rate – how anyone can farm this is beyond me… Every few kilometres there are signs of landslides – whole hillsides have plummeted into the lake below, in parts there are houses and villages between the precarious looking bare hillside and the lake. If heavy rains come this is a very dangerous place to live.
Still the villagers continue to cut the trees – in almost every village we pass they’re cutting up the trees for fuel. I feel safer in the few remaining forested parts.
We make frequent stops to admire the views, and to let the Mog catch up – this is apparently one of the most spectacular drives in Africa – so far it’s not disappointed us.
After what seems like forever (we’re all a little hungover), the drive takes us into dense forest – the kind of forest I was expecting all over this part of Africa.
We see monkeys, the first ones since Kenya. But the forest is short-lived, within a few more kilometres the farming begins again, hillsides are stripped of trees, and patchwork farms return. It’s a real shame that so much has been destroyed to support human habitation – this really should be the domain of the animals. It’s no wonder there’s so few gorillas left in the wild – it’s obvious that there’s just nowhere left for them to live.
I can’t help but think of Salam and his sadness on the hillside overlooking Damascus, seeing it overpopulated, congested, dirty and smelly – I wonder whether anyone here longs for the Uganda of a few hundred years ago.
The pygmies probably do – they’re now unable to live as they did just 50 years ago. Farming has destroyed their hunting grounds; they’re now forced to live off charity from farmers – or are forced to steal potatoes from the fields.
Kisoro is busy – the closest populated place to Rwanda and the DRC, it’s a bustling border town, with few of the problems I’ve found normally accompany such places. There are fewer tourists here than in previous years – mainly due to the national park’s gorillas migrating to Rwanda last year – it may be some time before they return.
We stock up on essentials (beer, milk and eggs), before heading up to the community campsite at the foot of the volcanoes. The weather at the moment is changing – the rains have finished and the dry season is about to start. The dry season’s announced by the arrival of strong winds. The locals say the stronger the winds, the dryer the weather – it’s bloody windy.
The clouds move quickly here, we can only catch glimpses of the peaks, we’re trying to decide whether to climb the ‘old man’s tooth’ - the second highest volcano in the park. It’s named for its three jagged summits, the highest of which lies within Uganda, Rwanda and the DRC.
Floris, Marika and Cat have a tight schedule to keep – they need to be in Kenya within the next two and a half weeks – they can’t wait around for the weather to clear, so opt for a cave visit inside the park. We decide on a cave visit outside the park (at a fraction of the park cost), we’ll wait here at the campsite and try to climb the day after tomorrow if the weather improves.
Sunday 24th June 2007
None of us are climbing today, which affords us a well deserved lie-in. We set off for our respective caves at 11am; we take Duko and Bo with us as they’re not allowed inside the national park. Walking in Uganda with two large dogs is a totally different experience. There’s an element of curiosity and a lot of fear from many villagers as we pass the fields and huts.
Our cave, which was inhabited by Pygmies until as late as 1980 is huge – the dogs have only a little hesitation in descending into the darkness.
Our guides show us around, we see where the Pygmy Kings slept (it looked much the same as anywhere else in the cave – just a little more privacy)
The dogs refused to go any further after the sunlight from the entrance disappeared, Bo, the leader flatly refused to move, whilst Duko and I continued into the darkness after a little pep talk.
There’s a fair amount of bats here all buzzing around our heads, we’re obviously interrupting their sleep.
The dogs were happy enough in the cave, but they’re looking forward to getting into the fresh air.
We head back to camp, compare cave stories and relax for the afternoon. Dolors, Marika and Cat go shopping for dinner whilst Floris and I sort out photo’s from the drive yesterday.
On their return from shopping there are four of them. Dolors, Marika, Cat and a chicken: A live one.
I’ve always said that I’d be prepared to kill an animal for food, and I’m a big believer that if you can’t kill the animals that you eat then you shouldn’t be eating them.
We’re far too removed from the process of food preparation in the west – meat comes pre-prepared, vacuum packed or on polystyrene plates with a cellophane cover
I don’t know how to pluck and gut a bird. I have no idea how to kill and skin a goat, on this trip I intend to learn. I’ve had this discussion many times with Dolors, she’s now putting me to the test…
The ladies have become a little too attached to the bird on the walk from the village – they want to give it a name (always a bad idea), but I oblige and call the chicken ‘Dinner’.
The dogs are now fully alert and Dinner’s getting a little scared – best to get on with it quickly. I take my axe; hold the chickens head on the ground whilst Dolors holds the birds’ body. The strike is clean – The axe sinks into the ground, but the head is still connected – Dolors and Marika are really uncomfortable – the chicken’s kicking (as they do when dead) and we’re all thinking – maybe it’s not yet dead??!
I strike again – after two more blows the head’s off. But so is the tip of my thumb. On one of the last strikes I’ve cut myself badly. The initial panic from everyone due to the apparent liveliness of the chicken has now turned into panic that I’ve done myself a serious injury.
Keeping calm (and in not too much pain) I clean out the bird feathers from the wound, which has cut through half of the very tip of my thumb (including part of the nail), dress it and drive to Kisoro, 9km down the mountains to get stitches.
Kisoro district hospital is huge – compared to the size of the town, it’s massive. The hospital catchment area is huge. Doctor Dennis sterilises his silverware, opens a fresh hypodermic needle and beings to give instruct the nurse on how to give injections to numb the thumb before the stitching.
The injections are worse than the axe blow – each one of the three ‘small pricks’ is agony – the needle being forced deep into my thumb, I can feel each push as the steel presses deeper and deeper, through skin, flesh and god knows what else – once the needles deep, for reasons unbeknown to me it’s being wiggled around, which is absolute agony. I’ve gone quite pale by this point, and am feeling quite feint.
My thumb is numb within a few moments, and the pain is gone – I’d been punching the wall with my free hand whilst the needle was digging around. I’m just happy this’ll soon be over.
I’m given some antibiotics and painkillers (paracetamol) and within an hour of arriving at the hospital we’re off – buying charcoal to cook Dinner on our return.
By the time we arrive back at camp, there’s already some food prepared, and it’s too late to cook Dinner – Dolors tells me that the chicken’s neck was severed in two places, which confirms that Dinner was dead after the first blow (that one didn’t involve my thumb)! Saying goodnight to Floris, Marika and Cat we have a laugh about the evening’s events and go to bed.
Sunday 24th June 2007
I can’t sleep a wink. The injections I had earlier have worn off, and the paracetamol just doesn’t cut it. By the time the others are up at 6am to leave for the north I’ve not slept at all. We say drowsy farewells to Floris, Marika and Cat – we’ll see each other again in Kenya, when we visit them in their new jobs in Arusha.
I try and sleep, catching the occasional ½ hour before I knock my thumb on something or the throbbing pain wakes me. Today will be a very long day. To compound things I’m now getting a cold…
Dolors, bless her is forced to do all of the cooking and cleaning – I’m unable to do much with one hand… I spend the day in the tent, trying to sleep, and when I venture out for a walk to the village I’m so weak from my cold when I return that I’m incapable of doing anything (including lighting the fire to cook Dinner). Dinner turns out to be a disaster (a cursed chicken perhaps)! We end up eating a rather interesting and surprisingly tasty (if tough) chicken and pasta soup.
Monday 25th June 2007
I’m planning to rest for a few days; our food will run out tomorrow, so we’ll have to move into Kisoro town to camp – looks like we won’t get to climb the volcano after all… We can arrange the Gorilla trekking in the DRC from the town, but that too will have to wait until my cold has gone – the rangers simply don’t allow anyone who even looks remotely unwell near the gorillas. They share an incredible amount of DNA with us and are very susceptible to human illnesses.
Tuesday 26th June 2007
We find a nice secluded campsite on the edge of town; reasonably priced it’s a good place to chill for a few days. Everything we need is just around the corner (including stronger painkillers).
Hopefully by my next update, we’ll have spent some time in the Congo with the worlds few remaining mountain gorillas. I also hope that we’ll have heard more about how we did in the Rhino Charge.
I received a few e-mails from Phil Kev and Dave regarding the charge – in the preliminary results, we’re placed 26th in the rankings (from 62 cars), although they only have us completing 11 checkpoints – we actually completed 12 of the 13 checkpoints. When this is rectified, we should move further up the leader board.
Car 52 is an unmodified entry – nothing special (apart from safety features) has been added – unlike many of the other entrants’ cars. In the unmodified class, we’re currently 6th. A fantastic [preliminary] result – well done everyone!
Well, it seems we’ll have to wait even longer for the gorillas as Dolors has hurt her foot. We decided to explore the Kisoro nightlife, finding a fantastic little (and I mean little) bar called ‘St Johns’ run by a great landlord by the name of Richard. The beer flowed, I was on form and kept winning at the pool table, beating off all competition and as the evening wore on, we had a few too many. The regulars didn’t want us to leave – and when we’d had more than a few too many, they kept on buying us drinks and playing us at pool…
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On the walk back to the campsite, Dolors somehow twisted her ankle. Badly. The next morning and I’m back in the hospital for the second time this week. I have to carry Dolors for much of the way, which is of great amusement to the hundreds of patiently waiting locals. The doctor is quick in his examination, contrary to Dolors’s prediction of a broken foot, it’s a sprain – painkillers and a few days rest are in order.
Hobbling back to the campsite, we have to change our plans of gorilla trekking. We’ll wait here for a few days to see how things pan out.
The next few days are full of films, market shopping, cooking, relaxing, reading and sleeping, I can think of worse places to be stuck – but still just hanging around gets a little tiring.
Wednesday 4th July 2007
Today we’re leaving, without seeing the gorillas, we’ve been here for too long. The hill in front of us is beautiful, the volcano’s standing opposite - behind our camp are equally stunning but enough is enough. The gorillas, like the rafting are for another safari.
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My stitches are due out. Rather than subject myself to more torture from the local hospital, I decide to take them out myself. It’s not as painful as one might think… The process is done in less than 5 minutes; they use what can best be described as fishing line, done with a few chosen snips in the right places and the use of pliers from my ever useful LeatherMan tool – a very well used present from my aunt Marnie for my 21’st birthday (which is now some time ago).
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Our plan is to head north, to Murchinson falls, where my father, his brother and sister as children once marvelled at the crocodiles waiting patiently for the stunned fish at the bottom of the falls. Murchinson has been one of my personal ‘must see’s’ in Africa.
Dolors’ foot is no better – the journey to Murchinson gives it a chance to rest… The drive north to Fort Portal took us first of all past the Bwindi Impenetrable forest, then further north through the Queen Elizabeth National Park. Apparently in November Lizzy will be making a visit to the park for the first time in decades, they’re building the roads in anticipation!
We didn’t manage to spot much in the park; the only notable exception was the hundreds of baboons resting on the roads in the heat of the day.
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Fort Portal itself offers no camping facilities, so we headed towards the Kibale Forest national reserve, which boasts the highest concentration of primates in the whole of Africa… It’s $20 per day per person, but if you arrive after 5pm (as we did) then the gates are open and there’s no-one to charge you. The extortionate 15000 shilling camping fee is still payable though.
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The forest is a treat – it’s how much of Uganda would have been before us humans came along and ruined everything. The logging throughout Uganda continues to this day, we’ve seen on our travels expensive hardwoods being felled and quicker growing furs and pine being planted in its place.
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Our walk into the forest was with the aim of finding the chimpanzees, there’s some trails marked on my GPS, with chimp viewing spots marked – so we avoid taking a guide (another $20 each), and venture into the forest.
The trails split regularly, I’d anticipated there being two or three main trails from what was indicated on my GPS, but the forest is littered with paths – made by the large population of forest elephants this is home to. We meander as best we can, heading towards the chimp viewing platform, but come up against all sorts of forest insects.
The first and most annoying is the spider webs. I’m obviously taller than many visitors to the park (with the exception of the elephants probably), and I’m constantly brushing the webs from my face – trying not to think too much about the little blighters who spun them in the first place. I’m imagining quite a few tarantulas being dragged behind me as I walk.
The second, more immediate and painful insects we encountered, were the millions of biting forest ants. I realised my mistake too late, I stood now not on stable ground, but a sea of moving ants and ant food. For 10 metres in any direction are thousands upon thousands of the little buggers – and a few dozen of them are climbing up my legs, having little bites of me on the way up. By the time I manage to realise what’s happening Dolors is right behind me and we make a quick exit to safe ground (well I was a bit quicker – being able bodied)
The ants embed themselves in your clothes, they’re impossible to flick or shake off, the only way to remove them is to pinch them and pull. I manage to get rid of most of them – the pain is not too bad, but when there is 30/40/50 on you all biting you end up doing what’s known as the ‘Forest Dance’, often naked.
I didn’t have to remove too many clothes – only shoes and socks. Dolors, with her reduced speed has far more on her legs than I and she’s now dancing half naked in front of me.
Being a good, dutiful reporter of this journey, I first of all reached for my camera before helping.
Our walk continues towards the chimp viewing area, this time a little apprehensively and with a little too much attention now paid to the ground in front of us.
We find elephant tracks – and at times hear them crashing through the trees just a few hundred metres away from us. They’re elusive animals, shy of humans, so although we can hear them, we never actually lay eyes on them.
The chimp viewing area ended up being just the same as any other part of the forest, we’ve only glimpsed the monkeys at brief intervals, probably as we’re always looking 2m in front of us now. We’ve had enough of the forest – we’re not dressed properly for it, shorts would have been far better – so head out, with 4km ahead of us back to the entrance.
The same night we left the forest, and headed past the tea plantations which now lie where forest once stood towards one of the crater lakes around Fort Portal.
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The Lake Nkuruba community campsite is a little slice of paradise. The lake itself is free of Bilharzia, and has no hippos or crocks. In other words, you can swim safely.
We meet up with the volunteers we met at the school by Lake Bunyoni, after looking up the attractions nearby we agree to go on a bicycle ride to the waterfalls nearby.
The ride was tough going, the bikes are ancient, heavy and not in good working order. Brakes are a luxury on some of them.
Dolors has difficulties with her foot, and doesn’t make it to the falls, which in the end weren’t that spectacular.
Tired, we arrive back at camp to find the beautiful group of Columbus monkeys in the tree above our tent.
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A few days of relaxing and enjoying the campsite is enough, and we’re off to Murchinson Falls.
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This waterfall doesn’t disappoint, it’s absolutely spectacular – the sheer volume of water being forced through a gap in the rock no wider than a double decker bus is simply incredible.
Without doing the long hike at the side of the falls, we leave and head towards the red chilli campsite an hour away just south of the ferry crossing to the north of the park. We’ll return in a few days to do the hike.
Before setting up camp, we hop on the ferry to the animal rich northern part of the park. Hippo’s are resting just metres from us, and Dolors finally sees her first herd of elephants – a family of 5 grazing on the bank opposite.
(there’s another hippo for you Jacob!)
Within a few minutes drive in the north we meet a huge herd of Giraffe
The park is full of them – herds of 20 or more we see throughout the afternoon, the only elephants we see up close manage to run away before we get a good look at them.
With only one full day left in the park, we head back to the falls and take the long walk down the slopes to the bottom of the falls. There are huge fish at the bottom of the falls – which I initially mistook to be one huge snake (their backs rise out of the water, often 4/5 at a time, giving the distinct impression there’s a 20m long snake infront of me), only after a few minutes observation was it clear they were actually fish.
We watched the crocodiles basking in the sun, and caught a glimpse of two hippos running at full pelt back to the water as we stumbled onto their beach.
I don’t imagine too much has changed here in the last 50 years – it’s nice to know that I’m following in my fathers footsteps, seeing the same sights and being equally in awe of this place.
We camp right at the top of the falls, and sleep surprisingly well given the noise!
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In the morning, I have a lucky escape – whilst taking the tent down I caught my foot in the roofrack – the top of my foot was wedged under one of the struts, just at this moment, I lost my balance and fell – I was sure the cracking sound was my ankle snapping as all of my weight was suddenly put onto it at such a wrong angle. I lay on the floor, now with all four limbs touching the ground, with a stunned Dolors looking on in horror. Turns out I was incredibly lucky – the boots that my cousins bought for me as a Christmas present last year for this trip took the brunt of the fall – ripping them open at the toe – a real shame, as I’ve loved these boots – and they’re the only pair I’ve got. Still I’m just happy to be able to walk – it could have quite easily ended up with a broken ankle.
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By late morning we’re on the road south – headed back to Kampala, before stocking up on supplies and driving into Tanzania via the south-western Lake Victoria route.
The backpackers was our choice this time – and I’m glad we went there, it was a fun few days with the various characters in the place – I was glued to the pool table for at least 24 hours, after a healthy rivalry between a charming yet cocky Scottish PHD student (Richard) and myself…
One of the volunteers from Lake Bunjoni – Kaplan, an Israeli will be joining us for the journey to Dar Es Salaam and the Indian Ocean. He arrives at the backpackers the night before our departure – and helps out on some essential car maintenance.
The drive to the border was possibly the easiest stretch of road I’ve travelled anywhere so far on my journey. The road is outstanding, and there’s absolutely no traffic. Once we reach Tanzania the roads will get far worse – the plan is to head along an offroad track for 200 miles to reach the northern tip of Lake Eyassi, just south of the Serengeti. Before reaching the tourist parts of Tanzania, we’ll have not only bad roads to deal with but we’ve just heard there are bandits in some areas.
The border crossing was painless – friendly officials on both sides helped us on our way – the only minor annoyance was their insistence on chatting so much – we need to get to Bukoba before nightfall…
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