Monday September 7, 2010 – running errands and meeting friends
We’re all up early this morning – keeping our camping hours in the city. The Apartments do a pretty good breakfast on a terrace by the pool so we start what turns out to be a substantial eating day with a substantial breakfast with all the trimmings. Then its time for a bit more unpacking and organizing, and then a trip down the road to the Garden City mall, a major shopping centre, to change money and buy the last odds and ends we need or want in the grocery - including some Warangi – the local spirits to toast Uganda with when we get home. Alcohol is incredibly inexpensive here, except for imported wine which is a bout the same price as at home. Banana Boat curios next for a few final things, a quick trip to the book store, and then down town. IT starts to rain, torrentially, which sends everyone scuttling to protection under the eaves of buildings waiting for a break. We put the car in a small parking lot – parking is ridiculously impossible in Kampala. A quick pop into an antique shop, with some neat things from various countries, and then up the road to meet Roger Kirkby for lunch. Elizabeth is suffering big time with a headcold as well as her guts still sorting themselves out, but she soldiers on and we have a nice lunch –Sarah working her way through an enormous Greek salad complete with feta and olives!.
Back to the apartments to unload, and then Sarah and I make a trip over to the Predict office, 5 minutes away, to pick up my extra suitcase, sell the tent (yea!), return the stove, and say hi to my various colleagues there who are in the office. We don’t quite catch everyone, but make an arrangement to stop by a 6 and have drinks before we meet Herbert for dinner this evening. Our timing on swimming pools is definitely off – it’s a damp rainy day and no one wants to swim so we park inside doing some washing and sorting things to go home, things to throw out, things to donate to the maid or to Betty, who is now out of a job since the vet school hostel closed. With TV and internet it’s not hard to pass the few hours before we load up into the increasingly empty car and run up to PREDICT to meet up with friends and then head down the road to the Kisemente shops where we drink gin and tonics (or fanta) and catch up with each other. Lawrence, who organized our Ngambe trip is in town – he was supposed to have flown to Germany this morning to finish his PhD but they wouldn’t let him on as apparently he needed a transit visa to switch planes in Heathrow. Go figure. So he’s here for another day or so til he can get a flight. Felicia who used to work for MGVP, James who was in Congo managing a gorilla sanctuary, and my friend Dominic from the US here working for RESPOND. An interesting bunch.
A little after 7 we head out to meet Herbert at up the road, then follow him home to his flat for dinner. He lives up beyond the northern bypass, not too far away, up probably the worst road I’ve seen yet in Kampala. It looks like some of the really bad stretches we’ve been on out in the country. The sedan cars, taxis, and even a full size bus lurch back and forth trying to avoid the massive ruts and huge potholes. Old hat to us. Herbert lives in a small bachelor flat in a complex with a walled central courtyard for parking. His apartment is decorated with photos of his son, and a Kitchener Rangers calendar from Canada. We eat dinner in the lounge, which appears mysteriously from the kitchen where there is obviously someone else orchestrating the food. Turns out a friend of Herbert’s, Rachel, is the cook and she eventually joins us while we finish up. We had quite an array of local foods, and much better tasting than we’ve generally been served. Posho, rice, potatoes, matoke, peas, beans, vegetables, and meat in sauce accompanied by local passion fruit and orange juice. Followed up by fresh pineapple. We’re stuffed and Herbert will have leftovers to last him for a while. A suitable dinner for our last night in Uganda. Sarah is falling asleep on the couch curled up on Rachel’s lap and Elizabeth is struggling to keep upright so we make it a relatively early night, passing up on the tea, coffee, or Ugandan red wine offered after the meal. Goodbyes said we wobble our way back down the road into Kampala and home to bed.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Sunday September 5, 2010 – Back to Kampala and the Golf Course Inn
Sunday September 5, 2010 – Back to Kampala and the Golf Course Inn
After a leisurely breakfast and Sarah painting Brenda’s toenails bright red (hope she can find some nailpolish remover at some point) we pack up the campsite and start working our way back to Kampala for the last 2 nights of our trip. We start with a bit of curio shopping for our trip – a few gifts for Elizabeth’s friends and for Yoram and Ayala’s baby girl, which we just found out about. Jinja is an interesting town – it was a much busier place in eras passed and the downtown streets are laid out in grids and lined by shop facades with the names of probably long-gone Indian families and dates ranging from the early 1900’s through to the 1950’s. Many are curio shops now, just opening up late morning as the operators come out from church. We pick up the things we want quite quickly – most of the stuff carried in one shop is the same as in the next, but there are always small differences and one finds something a bit novel, or at a better price. But we can only handle so many shops – we are definitely curio’d out. Next stop the “Source of the Nile” monument on the west bank – a pretty park on a grassy slope leading down to the river. A monument to Speke, who claimed Lake Victoria as the source of the Nile and got into a big argument with fellow explorer Burton over it. Right now there is a view of the curio marts and bar on the opposite bank but one can also look further off to the lake and the fishing boats, which are mostly taking tourists for rides. But it is pretty.
Back in the car and back to the stables for the sandals we left there yesterday, and then continuing on the back way to Kampala. Longer but almost no traffic, anc certainly no big trucks and petroleum lorries. The road is actually really good back right into the outskirts of Kampala, and it is all country with small habitations along the way, including a large papyrus swamp. I stop at one point for street food – Sarah isn’t going to make it all the way back to town – and buy a charcoal roasted goat kabob and four roasted bananas. For some reason neither girl will have anything to do with them so I get the whole meal, Sarah is onto her favourite Mr. Noodles, and Elizabeth just opts to give her stomach a break.
Kampala is a shock to the system. Our road deteriorates rapidly as we hit the outskirts of town as there are roadworks going on and that just makes a mess of it in the mean time. So we’re back into traffic and city potholes and weaving in amongst the other vehicles and the traffic. I’m actually quite getting to like the rather laissez-faire driving style – moving out of your lane isn’t a major faux pas, and all the bad driving things one does when not sure of the route, such as slowing unexpectedly or turning abruptly or not turning after signaling are all taken completely in stride. In fact I’ve almost completely stopped using turn signals as I’m petrified I will be giving some poor soul a message that it is safe to pass when in fact I’m just thinking of changing lanes. Between my memory of the map and the gps we manage to make our way into town through the diversions, passing through a market area where they are carving enormous ditches – enough to drive a car through about 10 feet down, as part of some sort of renewal. I wonder how many people of cars end up in there. But we hit my familiar territory and withing a few minutes we are at the Golf Course Apartments, our base for the next two days. Mike was supposed to be staying here as well, but his passport is stuck in Kinshasa where it was getting a multiple entry visa for Congo, so he is tied to quarters in Rwanda until it comes through. The Vet Guest house has been turned into offices in our absence, so we have had to go up market. So we have a nice two bedroom furnished apartment in a rather sprawling complex with a pool, a restaurant which serves all sorts of cooked breakfasts, a tennis court, and a bunch of pretty gardens. TV and internet and hot water and real screens so for the first time in a month (two months for me) we don’t sleep under mosquito nets.
We drag a load of stuff upstairs to our place, spread it all over, and then head to the pool for a quick swim before starting the sorting process and cleaning ourselves up to go out for a dance performance. The Ndere Centre is the home of the Ndere Dance troupe, a professional group that performs regional traditional dances and puts on regular Sunday night shows. I’d booked us for tonight in advance, and even gone to the place so we’d be able to find it at night. The centre is quite beautiful with an outdoor amphitheatre and a lot of stone walls and structures, that aren’t quite so apparent in the evening. Tables are set round the stage in tiers, and there are two buffets – traditional African and Mongolian (of all things – various meats and veggies they stir fry on a hot wok). We get food and drinks and by 6:30 the show starts, and goes pretty solidly until about 9:30. The MC is character named Stephen, who does the introductions, the comic relief, and the fill in bits while dancers change costumes and reorganize between sets. Some of his stuff is really runny (a good series about Idi Amin), some pretty corny, but he certainly holds the centre stage. There are dances from Rwanda and from various parts of Uganda all with different musical instruments and different music, and different costumes. In the finale women balance up to 8 pots on their heads and still manage to dance and wiggle and sway without any of the pots falling down. Quite amazing. There is a bit of an intermission, or rather a break for the dancers, and the MC gets all the kids in the audience down to dance around and have fun, and then he starts to thank the audience for coming, especially those who pre-booked. And he calls them by name to come down to the stage. Guess who is about the third person called. So down I go, say where I’m from (he makes fun of the way I say Toronto), and then Sarah comes screeching down the steps to join me. Elizabeth holds the fort and all our valuables. In the end about ¾ of the audience is down on the stage, introduced by country, and then all the Ugandans are asked to shake hands with all the visitors and welcome them, and then there is music and everyone dances around a bit – Sarah loves that part – it is well past her bedtime and she’s getting manic, and then we are all thanked and sent back up to our seats for the rest of the show. Certainly a novel way to break up the evening and to prevent “plastic chair disease” as he calls it. sSo as the last dance ends and the final thank-yous are underway we duck out and head back to the apartment – loading ourselves into bed at the almost unbearably late hour of 11:00.
After a leisurely breakfast and Sarah painting Brenda’s toenails bright red (hope she can find some nailpolish remover at some point) we pack up the campsite and start working our way back to Kampala for the last 2 nights of our trip. We start with a bit of curio shopping for our trip – a few gifts for Elizabeth’s friends and for Yoram and Ayala’s baby girl, which we just found out about. Jinja is an interesting town – it was a much busier place in eras passed and the downtown streets are laid out in grids and lined by shop facades with the names of probably long-gone Indian families and dates ranging from the early 1900’s through to the 1950’s. Many are curio shops now, just opening up late morning as the operators come out from church. We pick up the things we want quite quickly – most of the stuff carried in one shop is the same as in the next, but there are always small differences and one finds something a bit novel, or at a better price. But we can only handle so many shops – we are definitely curio’d out. Next stop the “Source of the Nile” monument on the west bank – a pretty park on a grassy slope leading down to the river. A monument to Speke, who claimed Lake Victoria as the source of the Nile and got into a big argument with fellow explorer Burton over it. Right now there is a view of the curio marts and bar on the opposite bank but one can also look further off to the lake and the fishing boats, which are mostly taking tourists for rides. But it is pretty.
Back in the car and back to the stables for the sandals we left there yesterday, and then continuing on the back way to Kampala. Longer but almost no traffic, anc certainly no big trucks and petroleum lorries. The road is actually really good back right into the outskirts of Kampala, and it is all country with small habitations along the way, including a large papyrus swamp. I stop at one point for street food – Sarah isn’t going to make it all the way back to town – and buy a charcoal roasted goat kabob and four roasted bananas. For some reason neither girl will have anything to do with them so I get the whole meal, Sarah is onto her favourite Mr. Noodles, and Elizabeth just opts to give her stomach a break.
Kampala is a shock to the system. Our road deteriorates rapidly as we hit the outskirts of town as there are roadworks going on and that just makes a mess of it in the mean time. So we’re back into traffic and city potholes and weaving in amongst the other vehicles and the traffic. I’m actually quite getting to like the rather laissez-faire driving style – moving out of your lane isn’t a major faux pas, and all the bad driving things one does when not sure of the route, such as slowing unexpectedly or turning abruptly or not turning after signaling are all taken completely in stride. In fact I’ve almost completely stopped using turn signals as I’m petrified I will be giving some poor soul a message that it is safe to pass when in fact I’m just thinking of changing lanes. Between my memory of the map and the gps we manage to make our way into town through the diversions, passing through a market area where they are carving enormous ditches – enough to drive a car through about 10 feet down, as part of some sort of renewal. I wonder how many people of cars end up in there. But we hit my familiar territory and withing a few minutes we are at the Golf Course Apartments, our base for the next two days. Mike was supposed to be staying here as well, but his passport is stuck in Kinshasa where it was getting a multiple entry visa for Congo, so he is tied to quarters in Rwanda until it comes through. The Vet Guest house has been turned into offices in our absence, so we have had to go up market. So we have a nice two bedroom furnished apartment in a rather sprawling complex with a pool, a restaurant which serves all sorts of cooked breakfasts, a tennis court, and a bunch of pretty gardens. TV and internet and hot water and real screens so for the first time in a month (two months for me) we don’t sleep under mosquito nets.
We drag a load of stuff upstairs to our place, spread it all over, and then head to the pool for a quick swim before starting the sorting process and cleaning ourselves up to go out for a dance performance. The Ndere Centre is the home of the Ndere Dance troupe, a professional group that performs regional traditional dances and puts on regular Sunday night shows. I’d booked us for tonight in advance, and even gone to the place so we’d be able to find it at night. The centre is quite beautiful with an outdoor amphitheatre and a lot of stone walls and structures, that aren’t quite so apparent in the evening. Tables are set round the stage in tiers, and there are two buffets – traditional African and Mongolian (of all things – various meats and veggies they stir fry on a hot wok). We get food and drinks and by 6:30 the show starts, and goes pretty solidly until about 9:30. The MC is character named Stephen, who does the introductions, the comic relief, and the fill in bits while dancers change costumes and reorganize between sets. Some of his stuff is really runny (a good series about Idi Amin), some pretty corny, but he certainly holds the centre stage. There are dances from Rwanda and from various parts of Uganda all with different musical instruments and different music, and different costumes. In the finale women balance up to 8 pots on their heads and still manage to dance and wiggle and sway without any of the pots falling down. Quite amazing. There is a bit of an intermission, or rather a break for the dancers, and the MC gets all the kids in the audience down to dance around and have fun, and then he starts to thank the audience for coming, especially those who pre-booked. And he calls them by name to come down to the stage. Guess who is about the third person called. So down I go, say where I’m from (he makes fun of the way I say Toronto), and then Sarah comes screeching down the steps to join me. Elizabeth holds the fort and all our valuables. In the end about ¾ of the audience is down on the stage, introduced by country, and then all the Ugandans are asked to shake hands with all the visitors and welcome them, and then there is music and everyone dances around a bit – Sarah loves that part – it is well past her bedtime and she’s getting manic, and then we are all thanked and sent back up to our seats for the rest of the show. Certainly a novel way to break up the evening and to prevent “plastic chair disease” as he calls it. sSo as the last dance ends and the final thank-yous are underway we duck out and head back to the apartment – loading ourselves into bed at the almost unbearably late hour of 11:00.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Saturday September 4, 2010 – Rafting and horseback riding
Saturday September 4, 2010 – Rafting and horseback riding
It rained last night. We lay in the tent too early this morning listening to it pitter patter on the fly. I guess it doesn’t matter much for rafting as everyone is soaking wet anyway. The Dragoman crew were taking down their tents at 6:30, so we were up as well – unfortunately no breakfast til 8. The bonus was we were the only ones in the restaurant-bar –except the red-tailed monkeys who were hopping about in the rafters and in and out of the adjacent trees. Soo cute, and making the funniest little squeaky noises. But the day cleared, we got breakfast, and Elizabeth is marginally better, enough to give the rafting a go. But it’s classic hurry up and wait – after a number of false starts and me fussing about (I admit it) by about 10:00 the buses from Kampala had finally arrived and there were a pile of people milling about, drinking coffee, and anointing themselves with sun lotion in preparation for a day on the river. Those combining with a bungee jump did their jumps, and we all cheered from the deck (one of those things I never have a desire to do – can’t believe Elizabeth jumped in New Zealand). But eventually all became order, lifejackets, helmets and paddles were handed out, bananas were issued for last minute calories, and off they went. Sarah and I watched from the deck as the rafts went down the first mini rapids below us, trying to figure out which raft was Elizabeth’s, the rafts surrounded by a flock of kayakers to pick up those that end up in the river and generally perform rescue tasks.
Sarah and I settled in for an exciting morning of moving the tent, laundry, and playing with the cats until I caught up on a few things and it was time for riding. Riding was back over the bridge to the other side of the river and down the opposite side almost opposite where were staying. They have a lot of horses, which generally looked very well cared for. New Zealand woman who is the keen horse person and competes in three-day events in Kenya, and her Australian husband run the place, catering primarily to tourists who do rides along the Nile. So Sarah and I were helmeted and mounted up on a couple of very placid steeds for a sedate walk along the bank of the Nile, which was very high up and also very photogenic, and then back through the villages. Sarah went first, led the whole way by an African groom, I followed, and then I was followed by a second groom on foot to make sure none of the kids in the villages got too close. Sarah thought it was hilarious that I was behind her and kept telling me I was the slowpoke and I needed to hurry up. Not quite sure what she expected I was going to do, but she thought the whole thing was pretty funny. The ride back through the village was actually quite interesting as the guides told me the names of the plants growing in peoples gardens –s me like beans and bananas were pretty obvious, but things like their sweet potato and yams weren’t. There were lots of coffee trees in flower, and a scent almost like orange in the air which might have been coming from them. So we had a nice ride, Sarah was totally thrilled, and then we watched the horses being rubbed down and everyone being put into their stalls for an afternoon feed. Definitely a big hit of an activity.
And then back to camp, with a stop in jinja to change money (oops, banks close at 1:00 on Sat) and to pick up a chicken pie, chocolate brownie, and ginger squares at a local bakery. Treats for after dinner. Sarah has developed a regular round of visiting in the time we’ve been here. Brenda, who turns out to have had a developmentally delayed sister, has all the time in the world for her and Sarah offers to pain her nails for her. Sarah is also a big favourite with the cooks for the overland trucks – she wanders over while I am doing stuff in the car and the next thing I know she is busy chopping vegetables and stirring things and getting fed cookies and crackers, and according to her beers although I don’t quite believe that part. The guys are really really patient with her and keep insisting she is no problem –a far cry from home where people are always so busy she in mostly in the way.
IT’s past 6 when Elizabeth and the rafting group get back – tired and soggy and variably sunburnt. They had a good day – Elizabeth was with a pretty good crew. Their raft overturned once and dumped them all out, she got turfed out on another set of rapids, and they all had a good time swimming in the smooth spots in between when it got to hot. Although their guide apparently made them paddle a lot more than some of the others so they will all be stiff as well as bruised tomorrow. The Jinja rapids are serious white water rafting and really exhilarating, but a new dam being constructed down the river will wipe out most of them next year – hard to argue with Uganda’s need for electricity, especially since the current dam and powerplant is apparently approaching its “best before” date. I guess both of us now have bragging rights for “I rafted the rapids before they were flooded”. Have to get t-shirts made.
Dinner in the bar, some more upside down kayak tricks – Brenda gives it a go and then so do I, getting bright red sambuca all over myself – which Sarah takes rather exception to as it stains fingers pretty well and she keeps thinking it is blood and telling us to wash our hands. Elizabeth fades early, a major accomplishment to make it this far considering how she has been feeling. Sarah and I watch the rugby with a bunch of locals, mostly from South Africa, Australia, or New Zealand, and then head off pretty early ourselves. Must have been that exhausting hour of trail riding!
It rained last night. We lay in the tent too early this morning listening to it pitter patter on the fly. I guess it doesn’t matter much for rafting as everyone is soaking wet anyway. The Dragoman crew were taking down their tents at 6:30, so we were up as well – unfortunately no breakfast til 8. The bonus was we were the only ones in the restaurant-bar –except the red-tailed monkeys who were hopping about in the rafters and in and out of the adjacent trees. Soo cute, and making the funniest little squeaky noises. But the day cleared, we got breakfast, and Elizabeth is marginally better, enough to give the rafting a go. But it’s classic hurry up and wait – after a number of false starts and me fussing about (I admit it) by about 10:00 the buses from Kampala had finally arrived and there were a pile of people milling about, drinking coffee, and anointing themselves with sun lotion in preparation for a day on the river. Those combining with a bungee jump did their jumps, and we all cheered from the deck (one of those things I never have a desire to do – can’t believe Elizabeth jumped in New Zealand). But eventually all became order, lifejackets, helmets and paddles were handed out, bananas were issued for last minute calories, and off they went. Sarah and I watched from the deck as the rafts went down the first mini rapids below us, trying to figure out which raft was Elizabeth’s, the rafts surrounded by a flock of kayakers to pick up those that end up in the river and generally perform rescue tasks.
Sarah and I settled in for an exciting morning of moving the tent, laundry, and playing with the cats until I caught up on a few things and it was time for riding. Riding was back over the bridge to the other side of the river and down the opposite side almost opposite where were staying. They have a lot of horses, which generally looked very well cared for. New Zealand woman who is the keen horse person and competes in three-day events in Kenya, and her Australian husband run the place, catering primarily to tourists who do rides along the Nile. So Sarah and I were helmeted and mounted up on a couple of very placid steeds for a sedate walk along the bank of the Nile, which was very high up and also very photogenic, and then back through the villages. Sarah went first, led the whole way by an African groom, I followed, and then I was followed by a second groom on foot to make sure none of the kids in the villages got too close. Sarah thought it was hilarious that I was behind her and kept telling me I was the slowpoke and I needed to hurry up. Not quite sure what she expected I was going to do, but she thought the whole thing was pretty funny. The ride back through the village was actually quite interesting as the guides told me the names of the plants growing in peoples gardens –s me like beans and bananas were pretty obvious, but things like their sweet potato and yams weren’t. There were lots of coffee trees in flower, and a scent almost like orange in the air which might have been coming from them. So we had a nice ride, Sarah was totally thrilled, and then we watched the horses being rubbed down and everyone being put into their stalls for an afternoon feed. Definitely a big hit of an activity.
And then back to camp, with a stop in jinja to change money (oops, banks close at 1:00 on Sat) and to pick up a chicken pie, chocolate brownie, and ginger squares at a local bakery. Treats for after dinner. Sarah has developed a regular round of visiting in the time we’ve been here. Brenda, who turns out to have had a developmentally delayed sister, has all the time in the world for her and Sarah offers to pain her nails for her. Sarah is also a big favourite with the cooks for the overland trucks – she wanders over while I am doing stuff in the car and the next thing I know she is busy chopping vegetables and stirring things and getting fed cookies and crackers, and according to her beers although I don’t quite believe that part. The guys are really really patient with her and keep insisting she is no problem –a far cry from home where people are always so busy she in mostly in the way.
IT’s past 6 when Elizabeth and the rafting group get back – tired and soggy and variably sunburnt. They had a good day – Elizabeth was with a pretty good crew. Their raft overturned once and dumped them all out, she got turfed out on another set of rapids, and they all had a good time swimming in the smooth spots in between when it got to hot. Although their guide apparently made them paddle a lot more than some of the others so they will all be stiff as well as bruised tomorrow. The Jinja rapids are serious white water rafting and really exhilarating, but a new dam being constructed down the river will wipe out most of them next year – hard to argue with Uganda’s need for electricity, especially since the current dam and powerplant is apparently approaching its “best before” date. I guess both of us now have bragging rights for “I rafted the rapids before they were flooded”. Have to get t-shirts made.
Dinner in the bar, some more upside down kayak tricks – Brenda gives it a go and then so do I, getting bright red sambuca all over myself – which Sarah takes rather exception to as it stains fingers pretty well and she keeps thinking it is blood and telling us to wash our hands. Elizabeth fades early, a major accomplishment to make it this far considering how she has been feeling. Sarah and I watch the rugby with a bunch of locals, mostly from South Africa, Australia, or New Zealand, and then head off pretty early ourselves. Must have been that exhausting hour of trail riding!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Friday September 3, 2010 – The long long road to Jinja, and a busy night at Adrift
Friday September 3, 2010 – The long long road to Jinja, and a busy night at Adrift
Up early. Too early. I made the mistake of trying to sneak out of the tent on wake-up to watch the sunrise. “Hi mommy – you awake”. Then there was an impala buck standing beside our tent looking lost and snorting repeatedly – Sarah thought that was absolutely hilarious. Between that and the ensuing singing it did not make for a slow, or quiet morning. Poor Elizabeth is not feeling well again, sore throat as well this time, and an early morning dose of sister was not what she needed. But we breakfasted on chocolate porridge (Nutella and oatmeal) and tea, watched a family of wart hogs with 4 tiny piggies rummage through the garbage and check out the campground, and loaded ourselves and our gear into the truck and headed off on a big day drive. Not helped by the fact that I insisted that the game drive out of the park was in fact a game drive, but we saw some lovely impala in the sunshine, and a big big herd of buffalo, which couldn’t decide whether to cross the road after I stopped and stood there and looked at us for the longest time before deciding they should turn tail and retreat. As we got to the edge of the park the numbers of game decreased, and cattle increased, and then we were through the gate and into cattle land for about 10 slow dusty km before hitting the tar road and heading east for Masaka, Kampala, and eventually Jinja. A 6 hour drive predicted. 300 km approx.
Roadworks. Did I mention roadworks. Well we had a good time for a while, beautiful new tar, but alas all good things come to an end, and the stages in creating beautiful new tar are not nearly so fun. Construction, dust, graders, gravel, more dust, ruts and bumps. They have the most incredible speed bumps. The standard when entering a town is a series of small hump that just rattles the car if you are going to fast – like hitting a cattle grid too fast. But the momma speed bumps lurk in wait- not marked or painted like they do in Rwanda. Killer mountain speedbumps that one drives up and over, cresting for a moment at the top. The low slung cars take them at an angle so as not to lose their undercarriage. The type we need on Dufferin St in Guelph. Fortunately we didn’t lose anything significant on them, but there was the odd one that almost caught us.
It gets greener and greener as we head east, with large plots of banana, and gets much more tropical in appearance. The road after Masaka, almost all the way to Kampala, goes through a lowland area, and in and out of large papyrus swamps where people apparently grow a lot of potatoes based on the number of piles of them in small markets by the side of the road. And every drainage ditch is now a speed bump. At some points I had my headlights on and the dust was so thick I couldn’t tell if there was a car ahead of me. Which there sometimes was, on the wrong side of the road even. The whole stay in your own lane until it is safe ot pass thing doesn’t really apply here the same way it does at home. But the horn is used just as a notification or warning, and no one seems to get mad. Although the guy whose truck got sideswiped by a bigger truck when they both tried to squeeze through a 1.5 lane wide area didn’t look too happy. As the drive goes on I have to catch myself and make sure I use the safer North American passing techniques, rather than just assuming that somehow it will all work out.
The roads are intermittently lined with markets – some are for food – a line of wooden stands with tidy piles of tomatoes, avocado, melons, bananas, onions, etc. In several towns there are thriving businesses to provide snacks to travelers – vendors in numbered labcoats wave fruit, meat on sticks, roasted bananas and flock to the open windows of the long distance buses to provide for their passengers. When we are presumably near to a lake there are people selling fish by the road as well – what look like large tilapia and the occasional big catfish. We’ve seen people driving with the fish attached to their front bumper – pretty dusty but a t least the car doesn’t smell like fish! For lunch we stop at the Equator – where they have another set of white concrete hoops (I don’t make the girls pose in them), a bunch of craft shops, and the AidChild Café and art market – upscale crafts and upscale lunches – on a lovely verandah with cushy chairs with unfortunately overlooks road construction at the moment. Famous for their flush toilets – a necessity for the travelling muzungu. Closer to Kampala the roads are lined by stalls selling basketwork, or wicker stools, or wicker bookcases in all colours. There is a town where the royal drum-makers lived, and where traditional cowhide drums are made, mostly for tourists and hotels though I assume these days.
Closer to Kampala the traffic intensifies, and we are back into a mix of semi-industrial shops and houses lining the roads. And the hordes of minibus taxis. We cleverly bypass Kampala itself with a ring road that works brilliantly, as long as one misses the cows grazing in the centres of the traffic circles, but get caught back into it for a while exiting on the east side towards Jinja. But eventually it clears and we are driving through countryside with sugar plantations and tea estates lining the road. We pass through a large forest reserve, and then eventually reach Jinja – passing over the Nile at the Owen’s dam bridge, and over an overflow run, with a myriad of water birds, turn off the tar and about 4 km later we’re at the Adrift Camp. And glad to be here as well. 4:30, after a 9:00 start.
The Adrift Camp is the centre for their white-water rafting, kayaking, bungee jumping, and jet boat activities. An open bar/restaurant, a series of tented camps and lodges, and several lawns for self campers. And lots of hot water for us all. We check out the dorm for Elizabeth – totally scary – 4 story bunkbeds withough enough space to sit up. She opts for the tent with Sarah and I. So we set up camp, and settle into the restaurant for the evening. The main guy who runs the rafting is named Josh and comes from Pembroke. Go figure. A young woman who grew up in Rhodesia seems to be the camp manager. Calling it Rhodesia tells a bit of her family background – they now run lodges up in the north in Kidepo park near Sudan. This is a main tourist spot – the overland truck from Mburu is here – and we all recognize each other, another truck pulls in just as we are settling for dinner, and then another pulls in at 9:00. It’s a hopping place. And our tent is way too close to the hoppin! Elizabeth skips dinner and bails early, I start her on antibiotics as she is really feeling punk and the big rafting day is tomorrow. She and Sarah head off to bed and I stay up to watch some of the festivities – the tradition appears to be that those who have rafted have to climb into a kayak hanging upside down from the rafters and then drink a shot while hanging upside down themselves. The choice of the shot appears to be colour based – as in I will have a pink shot, I will have a blue shot. It seems like the local liqueurs are all the same except for in colour. Eventually I cave as well and go back to the tent to listen to the music and hilarity – I think there is some additional game going on but I can’t be bothered to check it out. Sarah wakes up and sits there in the tent for a while grooving to the music before falling back to sleep. At 12:00 the bar closes and within a short time all is dark and silent other than the occasional sound of a tent zipper closing or opening.
Up early. Too early. I made the mistake of trying to sneak out of the tent on wake-up to watch the sunrise. “Hi mommy – you awake”. Then there was an impala buck standing beside our tent looking lost and snorting repeatedly – Sarah thought that was absolutely hilarious. Between that and the ensuing singing it did not make for a slow, or quiet morning. Poor Elizabeth is not feeling well again, sore throat as well this time, and an early morning dose of sister was not what she needed. But we breakfasted on chocolate porridge (Nutella and oatmeal) and tea, watched a family of wart hogs with 4 tiny piggies rummage through the garbage and check out the campground, and loaded ourselves and our gear into the truck and headed off on a big day drive. Not helped by the fact that I insisted that the game drive out of the park was in fact a game drive, but we saw some lovely impala in the sunshine, and a big big herd of buffalo, which couldn’t decide whether to cross the road after I stopped and stood there and looked at us for the longest time before deciding they should turn tail and retreat. As we got to the edge of the park the numbers of game decreased, and cattle increased, and then we were through the gate and into cattle land for about 10 slow dusty km before hitting the tar road and heading east for Masaka, Kampala, and eventually Jinja. A 6 hour drive predicted. 300 km approx.
Roadworks. Did I mention roadworks. Well we had a good time for a while, beautiful new tar, but alas all good things come to an end, and the stages in creating beautiful new tar are not nearly so fun. Construction, dust, graders, gravel, more dust, ruts and bumps. They have the most incredible speed bumps. The standard when entering a town is a series of small hump that just rattles the car if you are going to fast – like hitting a cattle grid too fast. But the momma speed bumps lurk in wait- not marked or painted like they do in Rwanda. Killer mountain speedbumps that one drives up and over, cresting for a moment at the top. The low slung cars take them at an angle so as not to lose their undercarriage. The type we need on Dufferin St in Guelph. Fortunately we didn’t lose anything significant on them, but there was the odd one that almost caught us.
It gets greener and greener as we head east, with large plots of banana, and gets much more tropical in appearance. The road after Masaka, almost all the way to Kampala, goes through a lowland area, and in and out of large papyrus swamps where people apparently grow a lot of potatoes based on the number of piles of them in small markets by the side of the road. And every drainage ditch is now a speed bump. At some points I had my headlights on and the dust was so thick I couldn’t tell if there was a car ahead of me. Which there sometimes was, on the wrong side of the road even. The whole stay in your own lane until it is safe ot pass thing doesn’t really apply here the same way it does at home. But the horn is used just as a notification or warning, and no one seems to get mad. Although the guy whose truck got sideswiped by a bigger truck when they both tried to squeeze through a 1.5 lane wide area didn’t look too happy. As the drive goes on I have to catch myself and make sure I use the safer North American passing techniques, rather than just assuming that somehow it will all work out.
The roads are intermittently lined with markets – some are for food – a line of wooden stands with tidy piles of tomatoes, avocado, melons, bananas, onions, etc. In several towns there are thriving businesses to provide snacks to travelers – vendors in numbered labcoats wave fruit, meat on sticks, roasted bananas and flock to the open windows of the long distance buses to provide for their passengers. When we are presumably near to a lake there are people selling fish by the road as well – what look like large tilapia and the occasional big catfish. We’ve seen people driving with the fish attached to their front bumper – pretty dusty but a t least the car doesn’t smell like fish! For lunch we stop at the Equator – where they have another set of white concrete hoops (I don’t make the girls pose in them), a bunch of craft shops, and the AidChild Café and art market – upscale crafts and upscale lunches – on a lovely verandah with cushy chairs with unfortunately overlooks road construction at the moment. Famous for their flush toilets – a necessity for the travelling muzungu. Closer to Kampala the roads are lined by stalls selling basketwork, or wicker stools, or wicker bookcases in all colours. There is a town where the royal drum-makers lived, and where traditional cowhide drums are made, mostly for tourists and hotels though I assume these days.
Closer to Kampala the traffic intensifies, and we are back into a mix of semi-industrial shops and houses lining the roads. And the hordes of minibus taxis. We cleverly bypass Kampala itself with a ring road that works brilliantly, as long as one misses the cows grazing in the centres of the traffic circles, but get caught back into it for a while exiting on the east side towards Jinja. But eventually it clears and we are driving through countryside with sugar plantations and tea estates lining the road. We pass through a large forest reserve, and then eventually reach Jinja – passing over the Nile at the Owen’s dam bridge, and over an overflow run, with a myriad of water birds, turn off the tar and about 4 km later we’re at the Adrift Camp. And glad to be here as well. 4:30, after a 9:00 start.
The Adrift Camp is the centre for their white-water rafting, kayaking, bungee jumping, and jet boat activities. An open bar/restaurant, a series of tented camps and lodges, and several lawns for self campers. And lots of hot water for us all. We check out the dorm for Elizabeth – totally scary – 4 story bunkbeds withough enough space to sit up. She opts for the tent with Sarah and I. So we set up camp, and settle into the restaurant for the evening. The main guy who runs the rafting is named Josh and comes from Pembroke. Go figure. A young woman who grew up in Rhodesia seems to be the camp manager. Calling it Rhodesia tells a bit of her family background – they now run lodges up in the north in Kidepo park near Sudan. This is a main tourist spot – the overland truck from Mburu is here – and we all recognize each other, another truck pulls in just as we are settling for dinner, and then another pulls in at 9:00. It’s a hopping place. And our tent is way too close to the hoppin! Elizabeth skips dinner and bails early, I start her on antibiotics as she is really feeling punk and the big rafting day is tomorrow. She and Sarah head off to bed and I stay up to watch some of the festivities – the tradition appears to be that those who have rafted have to climb into a kayak hanging upside down from the rafters and then drink a shot while hanging upside down themselves. The choice of the shot appears to be colour based – as in I will have a pink shot, I will have a blue shot. It seems like the local liqueurs are all the same except for in colour. Eventually I cave as well and go back to the tent to listen to the music and hilarity – I think there is some additional game going on but I can’t be bothered to check it out. Sarah wakes up and sits there in the tent for a while grooving to the music before falling back to sleep. At 12:00 the bar closes and within a short time all is dark and silent other than the occasional sound of a tent zipper closing or opening.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Thursday September 2, 2010 – Eland on the eland loop, lunch at Mihingo
Thursday September 2, 2010 – Eland on the eland loop, lunch at Mihingo
We had the solitary male baboon for company at breakfast again – he seems to be a regular at the campground. We did some experimenting at breakfast today – oatmeal with peanut butter and oatmeal with nutella. The Nutella one was a success – chocolate porridge. Not quite the chocolate doughnuts that Sarah keeps on about, but definitely a keeper of a recipe. This morning’s drive was up along the Eland loop, on the north edge of the park. We saw a good range of game going up away from the main camp area, especially in the areas that look like they have had some rain and the black burnt ground has sprouted new grass and is an amazing almost fluorescent green. The north area has a long swampy section and on a hot dry day like today it’s obviously an attractive area for game – we saw good sized herds of what seem to be the common hoofstock – grazing in the taller green grass in the wet area, or moving towards or away from it. And we saw a number of eland, as appropriate for the name of the drive. Although I don’t know that one necessarily has much to do with the other. But also lots of cattle – we are close to the park boundary and for the cattle and their herdsmen it isn’t what you would call a barrier to grazing. It’s hard to know whether permission is given for grazing and for water rights, especially in the dry season, or whether there is a prohibition on cattle grazing that is simply ignored and not enforced. I do know this park is a difficult one as it is relatively small and issues relating to wildlife domestic human interactions are difficult and very political. So we saw lots of Ankole cattle with their enormous long horns. The natural colour seems to be reddish brown, but there is obviously more than a smattering of Hostein in there and there are black and white Ankole and spotted Ankole and quite a mix of colours and patterns. Some herds seem to be wandering about on their own, whereas others have herders with them. Like a mixed exhibit at a zoo – one can see a field of zebra and topi and kob and cattle all wandering about near each other.
We game drove ourselves up to Mihingo Lodge, actually outside the park but on a piece of privately run wildlife land along its eastern border. The description of it’s glorious sitting wasn’t far wrong – up high on a rocky hillside overlooking a water pan and a salt lick – reminiscent more of the lodges I’ve seen in other parts of Africa. Open dining area and bar, pool overlooking the valley, little rocky paths leading up and down and around to the private and expensive bandas. We and a British couple seemed to be the only guests for lunch –apparently tourism is really down after the Kampala bombs and a lot of the lodges are having a hard time of it. But we had a very nice three course lunch watching a group of eland bulls at the water, as well as some other game coming and going. After lunch I got into a long discussion with Chris, the manager, about the politics of the park and the issues relating to park use, especially the cattle. Really interesting. They haven’t had elephants here in a long time (decades at least I think) so the acacia is growing up and the grasslands are filling in so they actually have a program to remove trees and wood to keep parts of the park open. Not much likelihood or reintroducing elephants I guess in a small area with neighbours all around.
Back to the park for late afternoon at the river – the guides are very disappointed that we don’t want to go on the boat ride to see hippos and crocs, but the team has been there – done that and is not to be convinced otherwise. But we’re pretty content to watch the warthogs and the monkeys in camp, listen to the fish eagles, and watch the occasional hippo popping out of the water in front of the deck and campsite. There are a few other people here, but this is a really underused park as far as we can see, and there is certainly much more game than we at least saw in Queen Elizabeth, although a lack of elephant and lion apparently reduces the draw substantially.
Back to the tents to cook dinner at the campsite, spotting two groups of dwarf mongoose which actually stayed near the road for quite a while giving us a really good look at them. Small, furry, and very quick. We ate as the sun went down, finishing by the light of our kerosene lanterns listening to the rustle of the impala moving about the bandas and watching the bats swoop overhead. Quick showers in piping hot water (the attendant lit the fire in the boiler for us before dinner) by lamplight, and then off to bed tucked into our tents.
We had the solitary male baboon for company at breakfast again – he seems to be a regular at the campground. We did some experimenting at breakfast today – oatmeal with peanut butter and oatmeal with nutella. The Nutella one was a success – chocolate porridge. Not quite the chocolate doughnuts that Sarah keeps on about, but definitely a keeper of a recipe. This morning’s drive was up along the Eland loop, on the north edge of the park. We saw a good range of game going up away from the main camp area, especially in the areas that look like they have had some rain and the black burnt ground has sprouted new grass and is an amazing almost fluorescent green. The north area has a long swampy section and on a hot dry day like today it’s obviously an attractive area for game – we saw good sized herds of what seem to be the common hoofstock – grazing in the taller green grass in the wet area, or moving towards or away from it. And we saw a number of eland, as appropriate for the name of the drive. Although I don’t know that one necessarily has much to do with the other. But also lots of cattle – we are close to the park boundary and for the cattle and their herdsmen it isn’t what you would call a barrier to grazing. It’s hard to know whether permission is given for grazing and for water rights, especially in the dry season, or whether there is a prohibition on cattle grazing that is simply ignored and not enforced. I do know this park is a difficult one as it is relatively small and issues relating to wildlife domestic human interactions are difficult and very political. So we saw lots of Ankole cattle with their enormous long horns. The natural colour seems to be reddish brown, but there is obviously more than a smattering of Hostein in there and there are black and white Ankole and spotted Ankole and quite a mix of colours and patterns. Some herds seem to be wandering about on their own, whereas others have herders with them. Like a mixed exhibit at a zoo – one can see a field of zebra and topi and kob and cattle all wandering about near each other.
We game drove ourselves up to Mihingo Lodge, actually outside the park but on a piece of privately run wildlife land along its eastern border. The description of it’s glorious sitting wasn’t far wrong – up high on a rocky hillside overlooking a water pan and a salt lick – reminiscent more of the lodges I’ve seen in other parts of Africa. Open dining area and bar, pool overlooking the valley, little rocky paths leading up and down and around to the private and expensive bandas. We and a British couple seemed to be the only guests for lunch –apparently tourism is really down after the Kampala bombs and a lot of the lodges are having a hard time of it. But we had a very nice three course lunch watching a group of eland bulls at the water, as well as some other game coming and going. After lunch I got into a long discussion with Chris, the manager, about the politics of the park and the issues relating to park use, especially the cattle. Really interesting. They haven’t had elephants here in a long time (decades at least I think) so the acacia is growing up and the grasslands are filling in so they actually have a program to remove trees and wood to keep parts of the park open. Not much likelihood or reintroducing elephants I guess in a small area with neighbours all around.
Back to the park for late afternoon at the river – the guides are very disappointed that we don’t want to go on the boat ride to see hippos and crocs, but the team has been there – done that and is not to be convinced otherwise. But we’re pretty content to watch the warthogs and the monkeys in camp, listen to the fish eagles, and watch the occasional hippo popping out of the water in front of the deck and campsite. There are a few other people here, but this is a really underused park as far as we can see, and there is certainly much more game than we at least saw in Queen Elizabeth, although a lack of elephant and lion apparently reduces the draw substantially.
Back to the tents to cook dinner at the campsite, spotting two groups of dwarf mongoose which actually stayed near the road for quite a while giving us a really good look at them. Small, furry, and very quick. We ate as the sun went down, finishing by the light of our kerosene lanterns listening to the rustle of the impala moving about the bandas and watching the bats swoop overhead. Quick showers in piping hot water (the attendant lit the fire in the boiler for us before dinner) by lamplight, and then off to bed tucked into our tents.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Wednesday Sept 1, 2010 – monkeys in the morning, adding up the species on our game drive.
Wednesday Sept 1, 2010 – monkeys in the morning, adding up the species on our game drive.
First stop at the park office to pick up an illustrated guide to the park’s mammals so Sarah can tick them off, second stop to check out another restaurant as a possible alternate to last night’s horrid meal, and then on to the Ruroko track to the Kazuma lookout. The first part of the track was pretty heaviy wooded, with acacia and bushes up close to the road, and then we moved into the more open grassland and up to the lookout, which is on top of a hill with views almost 360 degrees of several lakes in the park, as well as the extensive wetlands surrounding them. A magnificent view. We actually drove up past the parking lot to a picnic area – the benefits of 4-wheel drive and stopped for an early lunch. In Kabale we had bought “butter bread” which I was hopefully thinking meant it had an increased amount of fat in the recipe and might stay fresh a bit longer. But, it turns out butter bread means two loaves of bread with one side buttered and pressed together, like a huge butter sandwich. Whoops. But it turned into nutella and peanut butter sandwiches just fine. From the lookout we continued in a large loop back to ** camp. And we saw lots of game – impala, topi, a group of three bull eland, a bush duiker spending an awful lot of time eating and rubbing its nose on a particular spot of ground, lots and lots of wart hogs, including some tiny babies and a group we startled out of a mud bath where they were having a wallow. For a minute it looked like they were going to come back and wallow right next to the car, but caution won out and they trotted off in the opposite direction, tails held straight up in the air like warning flags. Elizabeth spotted a dwarf mongoose, she seems to have Brian’s ability to spot game, and even Sarah was picking up animals in the distance, although she seems to be mostly focused on the vervets and the baboons, which she is convinced are going to come and bite her. There are quite a few young antelope, quite tiny topi and impala, although there is little evidence of new grass growth as yet. The zebra seem to like to stand on the road and we come across several groups of them, which move off in no particular haste. We see several lone male buffalo grazing by the road, one of them quite bald and scruffy. And birds, including several eagles, bee-eaters, rollers, kingfishers, and a host of smaller passerines.
Resting is the name of the game next – we plant in the restaurant by the lake drinking fanta and African tea, and listening to the constant calling of the fish eagles, the intermittent snorts of the hippos, and the munching of the warthogs and they mow the lawn of the campground. The sky has been threatening rain all morning and has settled into a solid grey. The ground can certainly do with some rain, although I’m not sure it would improve our lives too much. Sarah has been reading the tourist magazine and has decided that she wants to go horseback riding after seeing all the ads for horseback safaris. There is a place close to here, in one of the fancy $300 a night lodges, and another in Jinja which might be a good distraction while Elizabeth is rafting.
An overland truck has moved in and set up camp so Sarah and I go to chat with the cook – the rest of them are out on a walking safari. The vervets are in full attendance – watching to see if their kitchen and its contents are left alone for a minute. One of the monkey has only half a tail – apparently amputated by a panga while raiding food from a campsite. There are about 20 people doing a loop from Nairobi through Uganda to Rwanda, and then back again. Not sure how many weeks but the group coming from South Africa up here takes 9 weeks. A long time to spend in a truck with 20 other people if you don’t all get along.
We watch the sun go down and then try the restaurant at Arcadia Cottages next door – there are a cluster of serious twitchers (aka birders) sitting with their guide and their bird lists and their beers – sounds like bird bingo – “does everyone have number 21?”. The scary thing is I would be right in there if I was on a birding trip. Supper is served by candlelight, with kerosene lanterns to get us to the bathrooms, and is far superior to last night’s disaster. The hostess walks us out to our car with a lantern and we drive the few km back to the tents – tonight spotting a herd of buffalo on the road along the way. Our lanterns are burning on our porches and we have a nightcap before tucking into our beds to listen to the clip clopping of the impala around us and the hippos off grazing further in the distance.
First stop at the park office to pick up an illustrated guide to the park’s mammals so Sarah can tick them off, second stop to check out another restaurant as a possible alternate to last night’s horrid meal, and then on to the Ruroko track to the Kazuma lookout. The first part of the track was pretty heaviy wooded, with acacia and bushes up close to the road, and then we moved into the more open grassland and up to the lookout, which is on top of a hill with views almost 360 degrees of several lakes in the park, as well as the extensive wetlands surrounding them. A magnificent view. We actually drove up past the parking lot to a picnic area – the benefits of 4-wheel drive and stopped for an early lunch. In Kabale we had bought “butter bread” which I was hopefully thinking meant it had an increased amount of fat in the recipe and might stay fresh a bit longer. But, it turns out butter bread means two loaves of bread with one side buttered and pressed together, like a huge butter sandwich. Whoops. But it turned into nutella and peanut butter sandwiches just fine. From the lookout we continued in a large loop back to ** camp. And we saw lots of game – impala, topi, a group of three bull eland, a bush duiker spending an awful lot of time eating and rubbing its nose on a particular spot of ground, lots and lots of wart hogs, including some tiny babies and a group we startled out of a mud bath where they were having a wallow. For a minute it looked like they were going to come back and wallow right next to the car, but caution won out and they trotted off in the opposite direction, tails held straight up in the air like warning flags. Elizabeth spotted a dwarf mongoose, she seems to have Brian’s ability to spot game, and even Sarah was picking up animals in the distance, although she seems to be mostly focused on the vervets and the baboons, which she is convinced are going to come and bite her. There are quite a few young antelope, quite tiny topi and impala, although there is little evidence of new grass growth as yet. The zebra seem to like to stand on the road and we come across several groups of them, which move off in no particular haste. We see several lone male buffalo grazing by the road, one of them quite bald and scruffy. And birds, including several eagles, bee-eaters, rollers, kingfishers, and a host of smaller passerines.
Resting is the name of the game next – we plant in the restaurant by the lake drinking fanta and African tea, and listening to the constant calling of the fish eagles, the intermittent snorts of the hippos, and the munching of the warthogs and they mow the lawn of the campground. The sky has been threatening rain all morning and has settled into a solid grey. The ground can certainly do with some rain, although I’m not sure it would improve our lives too much. Sarah has been reading the tourist magazine and has decided that she wants to go horseback riding after seeing all the ads for horseback safaris. There is a place close to here, in one of the fancy $300 a night lodges, and another in Jinja which might be a good distraction while Elizabeth is rafting.
An overland truck has moved in and set up camp so Sarah and I go to chat with the cook – the rest of them are out on a walking safari. The vervets are in full attendance – watching to see if their kitchen and its contents are left alone for a minute. One of the monkey has only half a tail – apparently amputated by a panga while raiding food from a campsite. There are about 20 people doing a loop from Nairobi through Uganda to Rwanda, and then back again. Not sure how many weeks but the group coming from South Africa up here takes 9 weeks. A long time to spend in a truck with 20 other people if you don’t all get along.
We watch the sun go down and then try the restaurant at Arcadia Cottages next door – there are a cluster of serious twitchers (aka birders) sitting with their guide and their bird lists and their beers – sounds like bird bingo – “does everyone have number 21?”. The scary thing is I would be right in there if I was on a birding trip. Supper is served by candlelight, with kerosene lanterns to get us to the bathrooms, and is far superior to last night’s disaster. The hostess walks us out to our car with a lantern and we drive the few km back to the tents – tonight spotting a herd of buffalo on the road along the way. Our lanterns are burning on our porches and we have a nightcap before tucking into our beds to listen to the clip clopping of the impala around us and the hippos off grazing further in the distance.
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