Kilimanjaro, September 12 (Jen)

Getting There

After our Uganda Safari, we spent a couple of nights in Entebbe and Kampala getting ourselves organized for the next step of our journey.

We knew we wanted to climb Kilimanjaro, but hadn’t booked a way to Tanzania, nor the trek itself. Because the Kampala to Arusha bus ride is 20+ hours, we planned to treat ourselves to a plane ride. Unfortunately, the flights turned out to be prohibitively expensive for our backpacker budget so we ended up on the bus. Apart from the total mayhem of both the Ugandan and Kenya border posts (Muddy, crowded, totally disorganized shacks - Tanzania was nicely organized in comparison), the trip wasn’t nearly as bad as we had anticipated.

Learning from our experience on Mount Kenya, we decided to book with trusted and true IntoAfrica (www.intoafrica.co.uk). We also decided to stay at their recommended hotel, Ahadi Lodge (www.ahadi-lodge.com), which was $95 per night for the two of us, including breakfast and dinner. (We made this decision after realizing that the “budget” hotel was $65, including nothing. Oh, and I refused to camp directly before or after 7 days on the mountain.) As soon as we arrived, I knew we had made the right choice. The hotel was beautiful, the food was fabulous (like having dinner in a nice restaurant every night), and the rooms were super comfy. The best part about the hotel though was our friendly hostess Erica, an Australian grandmother who had moved to Arusha to be closer to her two granddaughters. (And obviously a successful business woman.)

We had a full day in Arusha prior to the hike, which was meant to ensure we were well rested after the long bus ride, all of our gear was in place, etc. In reality, we spent most of the day checking out the town, and searching for rain ponchos to cover our daypacks in case of rain. These were surprisingly difficult to find. We also received a crash course in Tanzania shopping. The first price we were quoted for rain ponchos was US$45 each. ($45! For a thin piece of plastic with a hood! Shocking.) In the end we did manage to find what we needed for the more reasonable price of $7. We also bought some exhorbently overpriced, second-hand knee high wool socks. I bargained very, very hard to pay $5 per pair instead of $30. ($5 for a pair of used socks! Also shocking.) Tourists definitely cause Tanzanian shopkeepers to see dollar signs.

Late in the afternoon, we finally got a visit from Julius of Masai Wanderings (IntoAfrica’s Tanzanian company). We had a very thorough briefing, where we also filled out a checklist of the gear we needed to borrow. (We’d been assured over the phone that this was possible.) Top of the list were down jackets and warm sleeping bags, but also on the list were rain proof pants, warmer gloves, and hiking poles. We were pretty frozen on Mount Kenya and didn’t want a repeat experience. After examining the checklist and making a call on his cell phone Julius, who was not actually going to be our guide for the trip, assured us that our guides and porters would provide all requested gear the next morning.

The Hike

After yet another hearty breakfast at Ahadi Lodge, we set off. It was about 1.5 hours drive to Machame Gate from Arusha. At the gate, we had to register while our “Kili Crew” organized all of the gear. Our crew consisted of 11 people. Yes, that is right, 11! We were also shocked. We had two guides, two cooks, and 7 porters. All for just Perry and I. They carried a table and chairs, all of our food, 3 tents (one a giant cooking tent), sleeping bags, backpacks, etc. We carried only a daypack. The park regulates that each porter can carry a maximum of 20kg. Although we felt pampered having so much help, we were at least happy to see that none of our guys appeared overloaded, unlike some other porters we saw struggling along the trail.

After signing in, we spent a bit of time waiting with a crowd of other hikers. Feeling a bit envious of everyone else’s hardcore gear, for example comparing their substantial waterproof boots with our ventilated day hikers, we casually asked Elibahati, one of our guides, about our borrowed gear. I.e. Should we pack it in our backpacks? Or did they already have that sorted? Etc. Elibahati gave us a completely blank stare. This is when we realized that we were in trouble. And, how stupid we were to wait until this point to confirm that these important items had in fact been provided. Seems we were relying a bit too heavily on our high opinion of IntoAfrica, and forgetting that we were still in Africa. The only gear they actually had for us were sleeping bags (Thank God!) and hiking poles. Elibahati did his best to rectify the situation by hiring “warm” jackets for us from some guys at the gate. (The rest we could make due without.) Perry ended up with a rainbow colored 80’s fleece made for a very large man, and I with a forest green, faux-fur hooded parka made for a very short, very wide woman (both secondhand of course, at $30 for the week). At least we’d be warm!

Up to the 6th day we enjoyed a fairly consistent routine. We rose early and were provided with a bucket of warm water for washing up. They actually provided this twice a day, morning and evening. I appreciated this little luxury so much. I appreciated it even more when I realized that at some of the camps our guys were walking up to an hour and a half each way to collect water, not to mention the effort of heating it up and delivering it to us. Once we were washed and ready to go, Elias, our “assistant cook”, served us breakfast while the porters packed up our tent. Everyday we had “uji” (hot, sweet, milky porridge made from millet), fruit, eggs, sausage, bread and hot tea. Our guides, Oforro and Elibahati, would then ensure that we walked “pole, pole” (slowly, slowly) to the next camp. Oforro had 15 years of experience as a Kilimanjaro guide and was strict about setting us a consistent pace. It felt very slow on day one, but by day five and six, we were pretty grateful for his advice.

We hiked about 4 or 5 hours each day, arriving at the next camp early to mid afternoon. Depending on the day, we’d either have already eaten a picnic lunch on the trail, or would be served a hot lunch upon arrival at camp. After taking photos of the views, which were spectacular, and different, at each camp, we took refuge from the cold in our tent. The first day I think the altitude was low enough that it could have been warm and enjoyable outside, but it actually was raining. On the subsequent days, even in sunshine I was cold. We’d venture out of our tent again for dinner, served up by Elias. It was incredible to watch, and to eat, the meals Goodluck, our cook, was able to prepare using only one burner. Soups, pasta with meat sauce, stews - really delicious food, and a different menu each night. Besides the tasty dishes, I relished our mealtimes because we ate in the tent where Goodluck also cooked. It was the only warm place available to us for 7 days. I actually felt a bit jealous of the porters who got to sleep in there. In truth though, our sleeping bags were very warm and we had much more comfortable nights than we had on Mount Kenya. The bottle of brandy that I had hidden in my backpack helped too.

As the altitude increased, two things happened. First, the views became more and more impressive. We were above the clouds, the sky was the most amazing blue and our goal, Uhuru Peak, the highest point on the continent, came into view. Second, the “facilities” became more and more vile. I swear, peeing on Kilimanjaro was honestly the most disgusting experience of my life. (And you pee often, since you are drinking liters and liters of water each day trying to avoid altitude sickness.) I’m not sure why squat style outhouses, which are really just tiny holes in the ground, are the answer for the hundreds of tourists who’ve no idea how to use them (i.e. how to hit the hole). I’m also not sure why these simple structures are apparently impossible to maintain to a standard where you don’t feel like the thing is going to collapse at any moment. And I’ve really no idea where the US$110 per person per day park entrance and camping fees go.

Although the entire trail was quite gorgeous, this was definitely not a hike where I felt like I was “getting away from it all” in nature. We were often following a long line of hikers and porters. The park does not restrict the number of people on the mountain, at least not on the Machame route, and as a result the route is extremely crowded. Elibahati estimated that there were 70 to 100 tourists at base camp the day we were there. Considering we had 11 crew for the two of us, you can deduce just how many people are moving from camp to camp on the same path each day. In addition to the crowd and resultant chatter, the porters and guides have no qualms with attaching radios to their backpacks and of course, using their cell phones. (Yes, there was actually reception in most spots.)

Summit

We reached base camp around mid-day five, and our summit hike was to start at midnight. That day, the camp was cold, cloudly, and crowded. Considering the number of tourists attempting the summit, Oforro recommended that we leave a bit early, at 11:30pm, to avoid the long line of hikers. Perry and I wholeheartedly agreed with this strategy.

We tried to nap in the afternoon, and directly after dinner we also attempted to sleep. By this time, tired and cold after 5 days on the mountain, I was at the end of my rope. I was fed up with the number of noisy people around, feeling constantly chilled, and most of all the absolutely disgusting outhouses. (Did I mention that these got worse at the higher altitude camps?) I had a bit of a breakdown in our tent, and told Perry that I would never, ever, ever do this again. He, not so much concerned with the facilities, had his mind focused on the summit hike. He mentioned that he was nervous; it’s a big deal, a high altitude, and you are hiking in the dark in the middle of the night! I scoffed at this and instantly rebuked him. “Do you see all of the out-of-shape people on this trail?”, I asked. “Anyone can do this apparently!” “Besides, when was the last time you were unable to complete a six hour hike?!”, I shouted at him with sarcasm. After this tantrum, I promptly fell asleep, while Perry sat up unable to catch a wink.

We woke up at 11pm for tea and biscuits. I was sleepy, but in a much better mood after my little nap. This was it! We suited ourselves up. I had on 3 pairs of wool socks (2 of which were the second hand knee highs), lulu capri pants, hiking pants, about 5 shirts, a fleece, a rain jacket, a tuque, and of course the “Golden Girls” parka we had hired on day one. I looked really fab. (I say “fab” because I think this is the type of word people who dress this way would use . . .) Perry looked equally ridiculous, but we both felt warm.

“Pole, pole” we started out. It was dark, steep, rocky, windy, and cold. Once we reached around 5000 meters, we both started to feel fatigued and dizzy. (Perhaps me more so than Perry.) I needed the hiking poles just to keep myself upright. I had that feeling you get after 3 (or more . . .) glasses of wine on Friday night after a long work week. Your eyes just want to shut and you could fall asleep in any spot, but you fight hard to keep awake so as to not miss out on the party. In this case, I felt like I could have curled up on any rock along the way and fallen into a peaceful sleep. I likely would have frozen to death had I done this however. This was no ordinary 6 hour hike, and I quickly realized how absurd my previous night’s comments had been. I was extremely thankful for the candies I had in my pocket (I could actually feel a burst of energy from the sugar), and for Oforro’s regular huddle breaks. I always thought that huddling from the cold was just an excuse for teenagers to get close to each other in the winter, but it really worked!

Elibahati climbed with us as well, but only made it halfway up. He had been battling a bad cold and sore throat the entire trip. I think he pushed himself as far as he did only to ensure that we were both alright with the climb before heading back down himself. Knowing we would have two guides with us, Perry and I had discussed previously that if one of us couldn’t make it, the other should push on to the summit alone. Now we had to make it, or not make it, together. I took Elibahati turning back as his vote of confidence that we would make it.

And we did make it! The last bit from Stella Point to Uhuru Peak was the toughest, of course. Reaching Uhuru peak was a huge accomplishment for us both. Perry was emotional and we were both very proud of ourselves and of each other. And, extremely thankful for Oforro. Not only were we the second group to arrive at the summit, we arrived exactly at the moment of sunrise; perfectly timed, perfectly paced. I guess that is what 15 years of experience does. You can see in the photos that the first couple are in the dark, and by the last at the summit, it is light. The views were absolutely stunning. The photos give you an idea, but truly don’t do the experience justice. It was overwhelmingly beautiful. While I still think I wouldn’t do this particular trek over again, I do believe it was worth the effort for those moments at Uhuru Peak.

We spent only a short time at the summit, because it was still very cold. Then came the long walk/slide back down to base camp, which took about 3 hours. The weather was in our favor. The sun was shining and it was absolutely gorgeous and warm that entire sixth day. On our way down, we passed loads of people still on their way up. Most were determinedly trudging along, a few were collapsed beside the path, and one or two had vomited on the path. We were mostly just happy not to be them. Lucky for us, dizziness was really the only altitude effect we had experienced. Arriving back at camp, we were greeted with a mug of juice, and big hugs and congratulations from our crew. I was touched by how excited they were for us. In reality, these guys have likely seen dozens and dozens, if not hundreds, of mzungu tourists summit over the years. (Plus they did all the hard work of carrying all our gear!) They still mustered up the fanfare for our sake, which was very sweet and much appreciated.

Although we had already hiked around 9 hours, our day was not yet done. After a short rest and a meal we embarked on the approx. 4 hour descent to Mweka camp, where we spent our last night on the mountain. By the time we arrived, I was completely exhausted. However, noticing that this camp sold Kilimanjaro beer (very tasty by the way), we found the energy to share a cold one, and the remainder of my secret bottle of brandy, with our crew prior to crashing for the night.

Recovering

Day seven, after breakfast, our crew was eager to get down the mountain and home to their families. We were absolutely on the same page. (For the past six days, the shower at Ahadi Lodge had been on my mind.) Directly after breakfast we tipped all of our guys. I was really thankful for our crew and wanted to make sure they knew it. They were truly a fantastic group of guys; hardworking, friendly, and honest. They then surprised us with a “thank you” of their own. Who knew that all of these big strong guys were also amazing singers! They sang a few “mountain songs” for us , had a bit of a dance party, and then ran off down the mountain. (I have video . . . it’s fabulous but too slow to upload. You’ll just have to wait.) Those crew who shared our ride from the gate back to Arusha sang all the way there as well. I think they were as happy and relieved as I was that the week was successful, and finished.

I could not have asked for a better place to return to than Ahadi Lodge. Good company, a hot shower, movies on TV, big comfy bed, and delicious food were waiting for us. (I couldn’t help but compare with our overnight bus experience after finishing Mount Kenya! We had definitely learned our lesson . . .) We stayed a restful two nights at Ahadi, while Erica helped us to sort out a flight and hotel in Zanzibar. This time there was no question on transportation. We flew to Zanzibar where we would rest for a week before heading to visit Lantie, Anneri, and Petrone’ in Pretoria, South Africa. (Lantie had cricket match tickets on Sep 24th . . . For once, we actually had a deadline. I’ll miss this kind of “deadline” I think, upon my return to reality . . . )

For photos of our climb, see http://gallery.me.com/adamschen

Our Route (From Masai Wanderings/IntoAfrica)

Day 1 From Arusha drive to the Machame Park gate, then a gentle climb up through the original montane forest, carpeted with unique "busy lizzie" flowers, begonias and ferns. First camp amongst the giant heather at 3,000m. Ascent of 1,200m and 5-6 hours walking.

Day 2 Emerge from the giant heather zone and hike through fine open moorland to camp by the Shira Cave at 3,840m. Herds of eland up here (& occasional lion!) and there are fascinating geological features in the old volcanic caldera which can be viewed during a half hour optional walk in the afternoon. Ascent 840m and 4-5 hours walking.

Day 3 From Shira, climb towards the main peak Kibo, with the western glaciers clearly visible across the rugged high-altitude desert of volcanic rocks and boulders. Skirting around its base and under the imposing Western Breach, descend into the sheltered Barranco Valley for mid-way camp at 3,950m. 5-7 hours walking and only 110m total ascent - but having climbed higher and dropping back down assists acclimatisation.

Day 4 Up the steep Barranco Wall with some sections of very easy scrambling and drop down again to the Karanga Valley. This is a short walking day, around 3 hours, and again you climb about 300m but drop back down again to around 4,000m. There’s an optional further acclimatisation hike in afternoon up onto the scree below the glaciers.

Day 5 Up to a new camp about 100m above Barafu Hut perched high on a rocky bluff at 4,000m. Fantastic views across to Mawenzi peak, and a bit less to climb tomorrow morning! This is another short walking day, about 4 hours with a 700m height gain, and time for a good rest in the afternoon immediately before the hard summit day.

Day 6 A bracing 1am start to climb the steep frozen scree. This is unavoidable on any route but we aim to reach Stella Point on the crater rim for sunrise - another 40 mins and you’re at the highest point on the continent, usually in warm sunshine. We return on the Mweka descent route. Walking time 7 hours and 1,300m ascent to the summit, 5-6 hours and 2,800m descent to our camp in a clearing amongst the giant heather at Mweka. This is a long and hard day - you’ll feel tired but absolutely ecstatic after you’ve done it.

Day 7 A 4-5 hours descent through the forest to Mweka Gate to collect our certificates and meet our vehicle. Return to Arusha, arriving early to mid afternoon.

Uganda Safari, August 31 (Jen)

After spending more than enough time experiencing Kampala (i.e. boozing with our new friends), Perry and I finally got ourselves organized to move on and start exploring the rest of the country.

After a bit of contemplation, we decided to spring the USD500 each for mountain gorilla tracking permits, one of Uganda’s most famous attractions. There are only approximately 750 mountain gorillas in the entire world, all living in protected areas of Rwanda, Uganda, and DRCongo, and certain groups have been habituated for tourism. We didn’t want to let this once in a lifetime opportunity pass us by.

Because we are such last minute (non) planners, we determined that our best option to secure one of the coveted permits, and to get to Bwindi Impenetrable National Park in a reasonable amount of time, would be to use a company called “Gorilla Tours” recommended in our LP. (We met a couple who had actually booked their permits through the Uganda Wildlife Authority in November of 2007!) Admittedly, we potentially could have made it to Bwindi on our own using public transport, but reading the directions in our LP made my head spin. It seemed like about 10 different connecting buses, “matatus”, and potential hitch-hiking that I just wasn’t into. (Are we getting soft? Maybe. Or maybe we always were . . . )

Since the company is actually Dutch, and most of the customers book online prior to arrival in Uganda, I think they were quite surprised when we showed up on their suburban doorstep looking to enquire about a trip. (It was interesting though to see how the “other half” lived in comparison to the Kampala neighborhood our hotel was in . . .) After our varied experiences in Africa, we both didn’t feel comfortable booking anything without a face to face meeting. Lucky for us we had done our internet research prior to the visit and managed to get the company to stick to their group rate for a scheduled one week trip they were advertising online, even though they had no one else booked at the moment. This meant that Perry and I ended up with our very own car and driver, for the price of an 8 person tour. Fabulous!

We were a little surprised when Nathan, our driver/guide, picked us up in a 11 seat van, but it had 4WD and a pop-up roof for game drives so it suited us just fine. Well, at least on first glance it did, as I’ll get to later. In any event, it didn’t take us long to realize that while having a “driver” seemed excessive to our Canadian minds, there was no way that either of us was qualified to tackle Ugandan roads. I’m so glad we didn’t attempt to rent a car and self-drive . . .

Kibale Forest National Park

Our first stop was Kibale Forest National Park, which is meant to have the highest density of primates in Africa. For us, Kibale’s draw was the opportunity for chimpanzee tracking.

The drive from Kampala took us about 9 hours, including a couple of stops. First stop was lunch, one of the tasty, plentiful, and cheap lunch buffets that are everywhere in Uganda. The spread usually includes “matoke” (mashed plantains), sweet potatoes, irish potatoes, ugali, kale, avacado, salad, and usually some chicken, beef, and/or goat in soups or curry sauces. A fairly healthy selection, and usually tasty, minus the ugali of course (that’s just me . . .). Second stop was for some “minor” car repairs. Turns out the brake lights on our van weren’t working. Now, this is definitely a problem wherever you are, but here in Africa where everyone is driving, let’s call it “extremely aggressively”, it is a bit of a death wish. We were thankful Nathan noticed the issue, and more than happy to wait while it was fixed.

We arrived at our tented camp around 4pm or so and were welcomed by three guys in uniform who carried our bags and brought us juice. Luxury! I have to say that I have become happily accustomed to the “welcome drink”, which is consistently provided upon arrival at most accommodation here in East Africa. The drives are normally dusty, hot, and long, so a glass of fresh passion, orange, mango or other fruit juice is so fabulous.

The camp itself, Kibale Nature Lodges, was really quaint and prettier than those we had stayed at in Kenya. The bathroom was less advanced, but in a way cuter. We had a “bush toilet” where instead of flushing, you just shoveled in a few scoops of dirt each time. Ingenious. There was no running water, so in order to take a shower, the staff would heat water for us and fill up a sort of tank, letting us know when it was ready for us to turn the shower on. The water lasted maybe 4 minutes. Those who know me and my too-long showers at home will wonder how I managed this. However, I tended to feel a little guilty for all of the work that went into my wash. So, I learned to make it quick, because once your water runs out, it is out. There are no second chances for rinsing off that soap. Unless of course you want to be the high maintenance jerk asking the poor guys to heat and carry more and more water. (I didn’t! I swear!)

The other thing which was lovely about camp, and seems to be unique to Uganda, was the wake up call we received each morning, at this and all of the camps during the week actually. One of the guys would come by and call out “good morning” to us, leaving us hot tea and biscuits outside our tent. How spoiled are we! I’m trying to convince Perry this would be a nice tradition for him to take up, but he hasn’t come around just yet.

We spent two nights at this camp, but really only one day of activities. The morning was spent chimp tracking, and the afternoon on a “swamp walk”. The chimpanzee tracking was amazing! We were lucky in that there was only four of us; Perry and I, and a nice older couple from Washington D.C. The guys at the hotel warned us to wear neutral colors, long sleeves and long pants, and to tuck in our pants to our socks to avoid “safari ants”. We were geared up for an arduous hike. In reality, we had walked not even 15 minutes when we heard the first chimpanzee sounds. They are loud! They use vocalization and also bang on trees to communicate with each other over distances. (Our guide also used these sounds to track them.) We saw one male actually cross the road (a photo opportunity which I unfortunately missed because I had the camera on the wrong setting . . . oops!) and basically followed him to a larger group. We saw a mom and baby playing and the baby breast feeding. At one point, there was a chimpanzee sleeping on the ground a meter or two away from us and we didn’t even notice him until he got up! Overall, we saw about 15 individuals, and we were allowed to spend an hour with them. It was really incredible to just hang out and watch them. You feel like they are really making eye contact, interacting with you. The pictures didn’t turn out so well because of the lighting (you can’t use flash of course), but you can still make out some of their antics and funny facial expressions.

After lunch back at camp, we went for a walk in the Bigodi Wetland Sanctuary, a community project nearby. The swamp, called the “Magombe Swamp” provides the opportunity to see loads of bird species, butterflies, and more primates, mostly various types of monkeys (black and white colobus, red colobus, red tailed monkey, grey cheeked mangabey, etc.). We saw all of the above, plus papyrus, which I had never imagined what it looked like, and of course baboons. People don’t get so excited about baboons because they are everywhere and considered a bit like pests, but I think they are so cute and hilarious to watch. The walk was just that, a leisurely stroll, boardwalked over the actual swampy bits, and of course we were guided by a local man (you can’t do anything without a guide in Africa it seems). Our guide was called Julius, and the best story he told us was about the hornbills. According to Julius, hornbills are life partners, always together. Even if one bird dies, the other will never find a new mate. How romantic! Julius found it funny that Perry and I were just as impressed with the baboons and monkeys as we were with rare birds such as the great blue turaco, which apparently some people make this trip solely for. It was a nice way to spend the hot afternoon, and we were happy that the entrance fees, guide fees, and profits from our inevitable souvenir purchases were going towards useful projects in the local village.

Queen Elizabeth National Park

We left the Kibale area early the next morning. Our destination was Queen Elizabeth National Park, which was actually just a bonus for us due to booking the week long safari, as we hadn’t originally had it on our Uganda destination list. On the way we stopped to see various crater lakes around Kibale NP. I don’t think this was on the original agenda, but as soon as I enquired about them, Nathan made a point of giving us a chance for a stroll and a look. Accordingly, a couple of days into the trip, we were feeling lucky with Nathan, who was really friendly, not intrusive at all, and very professional.

The best thing about QENP was our accommodation. It was the most lovely place. I wanted to stay longer. We had a little “bandas” (i.e. cabin sort of structure) overlooking the Kazinga Channel. Directly in front of our balcony, albeit a safe distance away, was a favorite spot for hippos. There was not one time during our stay when there were not hippos bathing in that spot. We could just sit and watch them, and we could hear them at all times. It was really amazing! Although we didn’t actually experience any of them getting uncomfortably close, we had an escort to and from dinner each night just to be sure. I especially enjoyed the morning tea wake up calls at this spot. Sitting there in the early morning, drinking my tea, listening to the hippos and watching them entering back into the water after a night of feeding, I couldn’t help but feel so so lucky with my life and my surroundings. Add to this the absolutely magnificent menu and chef, the nightly campfires, the cute outdoor shower, and the fact that everything was shiny and new (the place had only opened a couple of months prior), and I was in heaven.

As far as activities at QENP, we did a couple of game drives, and a boat trip on the Kazinga Channel, which connects Lake Edward and Lake George. I have to admit that Perry and I were both a bit “ho-hum” about the game drives, as we had so recently been spoiled with wildlife in Masai Mara. However, you don’t really tire of seeing huge wild elephants and their young crossing the road in front of you. We actually saw a baby elephant breast feeling from its’ mother. I am consistently surprised at how the animals go about their lives without barely a nod in the direction of our safari vehicles. On one of our game drives we had an interesting park guide who was adept at making up information regarding animal habits, etc. Some of the things he told us made no sense at all, or were in direct contradiction to what we’d learned previously. We just smiled, nodded, and said “Oh really? How interesting!”. Afterwards Nathan commented that some guides just “talk too much”.

Matthew, the inaccurate park guide, was interesting nonetheless, not due to his knowledge of the wildlife and their habits, but because of his experiences as a park ranger throughout Uganda’s history (he had about 20 years experience). He told us about how during certain periods the rangers just gave up and could do nothing because there were so many poachers who were just better armed than they were. A sad truth, which is evidenced by the lower concentrations of wildlife in the park. Matthew wasn’t all shining armor, wildlife protector though, as he tried to convince Nathan to go off the marked path so that Perry and I could take closer pictures of some lions; an action that would surely invite hefty fines if caught. (We assured Nathan that we already had more than enough lion photos and were happy to observed from a distance . . .)

The Kanzinga Channel boat trip was interesting because it allowed us to see more and more hippos and buffalos in the water, as well as the chance to spot crocodiles. In actuality we only saw one tiny croc, which we of course zoomed right in on to get a photo. The interesting thing about the channel is that it’s current changes direction depending on the lake levels.

The boat also went past some of the local villages situated near the water. Certain local people, who inhabited the area long before establishment of the national park, are allowed to reside within park boundaries. However, they can only fish. They cannot grow anything or have any domestic animals. All of their needs must be met by selling fish at market, which seems a tough existence to me. We saw certain very brave locals fishing and actually getting out of their boats into the water right beside groups of hippos! Nathan’s comment was, “Those boys really don’t value their lives”. I tend to agree with him, as I felt the one big hippo who swam up from under our larger boat carrying probably around 20 tourists The locals were in a tiny wooden canoe. Nathan told us that approximately 15 people die each month in the area due to run-ins with hippos and crocs in the water. (We didn’t really have an opportunity for verify that number . . .)

The absolute most exciting part of the boat trip though, was when the wind came up and the weather completely changed in about 30 seconds. One minute I was completely sweating and wondering how we’d managed to end up on the sunny side of the boat with absolutely no shade, and the next minute I couldn’t get my rain jacket out of my backpack fast enough. It was incredible how the change happened so fast.

Bwindi Impenetable National Park

Next morning we set out for Bwindi Impenetrable, home of the mountain gorillas and our ultimate destination. It was not reached without incident.

First stop was a small village where Nathan wanted to buy some meat for his father-in-law, who lives in Kisoro, the town nearest to Bwindi where we would also be staying. No problem of course, we said, we would wait in the van. The day was hot as usual, so I had my window open. With our experiences in Uganda to date being so friendly and favorable, I saw no reason to close the window when we stopped. That is, until a scraggly looking man came up to it and thrust a banana at me, stating, “Take this banana or I will beat you!”. Strange. Not in the habit of accepting anything from crazy strangers, I did nothing and attempted to close my window. The man continued to carry on, yelling and throwing bananas at us and our vehicle. The other locals around seemed amused, and mildly embarrassed, by the incident. A few of them tried to chase the crazy guy away, but to no avail. The tipping point for poor Nathan was when the guy finally picked up a rock as if to throw it at us as well. Nathan had to abandon his thoughtful gesture, hop back in the drivers’ seat, and take off in fear that this crazy man would damage his vehicle, and perhaps also his clients. In truth, there are quite a few “crazies” to be spotted be the roads and in the small villages along the way. Nathan blames the local brew for their behavior, and apparent mental issues.

Safe and sound on the road, we had a bit of a laugh and continued on our way. Perry and I were settled back into our books, when and hour or so later we all felt and heard some sort of crack/snap/pop coming from our vehicle. I thought we had popped a tire. Nathan pulled over to take a look and although all of the tires looked fine, it didn’t take him long to figure out the problem. We had actually broken the rear axle. Not that I know anything about mechanics, but this didn’t seem to be a minor problem! I can’t say whether the break down was due to poor vehicle maintenance (perhaps the brake lights were just foreshadowing?), Nathan’s aggressive and very fast driving (skilled, but aggressive), or the general atrocious state majority of the roads are in, but at this point it didn’t matter. We were hours from Kisoro and stranded in the middle of nowhere.

In about 3 minutes we were surrounded by onlooking children, but not one motorist stopped to see if we were alright, and not one person walking by offered assistance. One girl asked if I would give her my clothes, and one lady assured me “not to fear”, which I hadn’t until she said that. (Fear what!?! Is there something to fear? Oh dear . . .) Luckily for us though, we had Nathan. I now believe that he is the handiest man on earth. After about an hour, the use of various large stones, an archaic jack, and what I could see was extreme and sweaty effort, he somehow managed to fix the car using only a stick and piece of rope. Yes, that is correct. He basically tied the axle back together with a stick and a piece of rope. It was unbelievable. We had to stop once to replace the stick, but apart from that his “repair job” got us the remainder of the distance, maybe 2 hours or so driving over horrendous roads full of pot holes, to Kabale, the next town. (Not to be confused with Kibale National Park, our first stop) Perry and I were pretty much useless to poor Nathan, apart from obediently searching for rocks and sticks when asked. It was slightly embarrassing.

The second most amazing thing about Nathan, apart from him fixing the vehicle with a rope and a stick, was how completely calm he remained the entire time. He did not show any frustration, although it took him numerous attempts to accomplish the job. He even dropped us off for lunch in Kabale first, taking time to introduce us to the waitress, rather than heading straight to the mechanic. It was commendable. I don’t believe I know anyone else who could be so cool in such a situation.

After leaving Kabale, we realized just how lucky we were that the breakdown happened when it did. The road from Kabale to Kisoro was actually the worst we’d been on in Uganda yet. It was a mountain road full of hairpin turns with no guard rails. And of course it was extremely bumpy. Perry told me to relax and “just trust” while Nathan sped along, trying to reach our destination before dark. Instead I hung on in terror for most of the ride. We eventually reached Kisoro safely around 7pm and checked into the Travelers’ Rest Hotel, which Dian Fossey (Gorillas in the Mist) had called her “second home”. If it was anything like it is now back then, I can see why. We enjoyed a fabulous 4 course meal by candlelight, in the company of a couple of other Canadians which was a nice treat, prior to heading straight for sleep in our comfy bed. We needed to rest up in anticipation of the next day’s gorilla tracking.

We started the day at 5am, breakfast at 5:30. We had a nearly two hour drive from Kisoro to the park entrance where our gorilla briefing was to take place at 7:45am. Now, you’d think that after the previous day’s heroics, I would never doubt Nathan, but I have to say I was a bit nervous that we were going to miss it. Our LP stresses how strict the process is, and that if you are late for the briefing they will just carry on without you, and will not refund your USD500 permit fee. I kept telling myself that Nathan had probably been there so many times that he knew the way and how to arrive on time. However when he started stopping for directions after about an hour and a half driving I was really concerned. Turns out I just needed to remember that, “There is no hurry in Africa”. We arrived no problem and were lucky to find that there were only 4 tourists tracking that day, including Perry and I. (Normally there are 8. How anyone could afford to not show up for something like that, I don’t know.)

Again, we were prepared for a strenuous hike through the rain forest. We were covered in deet, with our pants tucked into our socks and our shirts tucked into our beltless pants . . . looking really cool. We were excited and a bit nervous. “Could be up to 9 hours of steep climbing!” “Could be very tough going and you are likely to encounter rain!” I think all of this warning is really just conditioning so that you will feel justified to hire one of the local porters to carry your daypack. (Of course we did, and I once again ended up with a stinky bag . . . this time unnecessarily.)

In reality we walked only about hour and a half along an enjoyably moderate trail before finding the group we were in search of, which was comprised of around 35 gorillas. It was an eventful hike though, if not a strenuous one. We were happily walking along, chatting quietly to the English couple tracking with us (so as not to disturb any wildlife) when suddenly we heard a very loud crack, like a tree falling down. It was actually a tree being broken by the giant elephant which was about 10 feet away and moving towards us. Perry actually saw the elephant’s face come out from the foliage, but I didn’t. I just heard our guide yelling “Run! Run!” and saw the fellow with the big gun, who had been leading the way to protect us, fall flat on his bum in fear. Anyone who’s been hiking with me before knows that I have an irrational fear of hopping rocks over streams, even when the water is maybe a foot deep. Well, this time I had no trouble sprinting back, up hills and over water. Our “protector” eventually managed to fire a few shots in the air and scare the elephant away. We stopped for a few moments, and then continued on our way.

Our time with the gorillas was surreal. First you can see the trees and bushes moving, and you can hear them. The trackers vocalize as well to alert the gorillas to our presence. Then suddenly, a big silverback was right there in front of us, all relaxed and having his breakfast, i.e. devouring entire trees. We sat and watched that one silverback for maybe 15 minutes. I swear he looked directly into my eyes. We were less than 2 meters away from him, but he barely seemed to care that we were there. He would look over now and then, and just continue on with his feeding.

We were able to see females, males, and babies eating, drinking, playing, and crossing a stream. Perry saw one male actually “charge” one of our trackers, basically just making a show of strength to keep us in our place. He said he was glad the tracker was in between him and the gorilla. No kidding! The entire time was really an incredible, once in a lifetime experience. I thought the most interesting part about them was their facial expressions. They are so human! We were able to spend only about an hour with the gorillas, so as not to cause them stress. It went by really quickly, but the experience was fully worth the $500 spent.

On the hike back we ran into another elephant, thankfully this time at a safe distance. And, our guides pointed out a puff adder, one of the more deadly snakes, on the side of the path. Yikes!

On the drive back to Kisoro we also ran into another “crazy”. This time the man tried to play chicken with our vehicle, just planting himself in the middle of the road. I think I have mentioned how fast Nathan drives, so you can realize that this was really a bold thing to do. Nathan stopped just short of running him over, and when the man refused to move, he just went around him, clipping his face with the side mirror. A ranger, whom we were giving a ride back to Kisoro, reached out the window on the way by and punched the guy in the face as well! We are definitely not in “non-confrontational” Asia anymore . . .

We spent the remainder of the day at the Travelers Rest, doing just that, and reading books about gorillas. I intended to buy Gorillas in the Mist at that point, which I’m at the moment reading, but I think the book they had in the bar there was more interesting. It was a collection of Dian Fossey’s personal letters, and scandalous stories about her life’s affairs and temper tantrums. I didn’t realize that she was such a strange character. I suppose you have to be a little bit “unique” though, to spend years and years in the forest all on your own.

Home to Entebbe

Next day we made the long, dusty drive all the way back to Entebbe, which is a town on Lake Victoria just about 30 minutes from Kampala. Nathan thanked us over lunch for being relaxed clients and not giving him any “headaches”! He said that many of his clients are “complicated”, stopping short of implying that many tourists are unreasonable and demanding. We were glad he didn’t find us to be so. We tipped him generously, which he fully deserved not only due to his handy work keeping us on the road.

One sad observation from the week was the extent to which begging appeared to be the norm in the Ugandan countryside. Neither of us remember experiencing that, even in the poorest areas of Cambodia or Laos. It seemed that nearly all of the children we met would ask for money. Each time the car slowed down a bit we were greeted with chants of “Give me money!” and outstretched hands.

We saw a lot of gorgeous, green landscapes in Uganda, which surprised us. For some reason, green lush landscape is not what either of us envisioned prior to coming to Africa. We also enjoyed numerous stunning sunrises and sunsets, which is true of our entire trip really. I’ve never noticed before how gorgeous the sky is; the clouds, the colors, and the vastness of it. I don’t know if Asian and African skies are truly more spectacular than those at home, or if I just never took enough time to look up. I really feel like these past months have given me a chance to stop thinking, and truly enjoy my surroundings. One memory from this particular week in Uganda is brushing my teeth in our outdoor bathroom near QENP. I could hear sounds of birds and hippos, and a bright red bird flew down, landing on the fence in front of me. The bird just sat there looking at me while I brushed, and I thought how relaxed and happy I felt, just to be there brushing my teeth. After 7 months, I’m finally learning to slow down.

Uploading photos is a bit of a challenge in Africa, but I'm working on it. They will soon be at http://gallery.me.com/adamschen

Kampala and Jinja, August 24 (Perry)

Leaving Kenya was a sad affair, but it was time to continue on. We debated a flight to Kampala from Nairobi since we’d taken so many (uncomfortable) buses over the past couple of weeks. In the end though, it just made economic sense to go overland. As opposed to Asia where bus travel, and especially overnight buses, were quite comfortable, bus travel in Africa is the exact opposite. Whether it’s the buses themselves, which could best be described as hand-me-downs, or whether it’s the roads themselves, which are generally atrocious, we were not looking forward to the next 15+ hours.

Despite its’ length, the bus journey turned out fine. It’s worth noting that although most people, at least in the cities, speak good English, there is still a general unwillingness by bus drivers to offer up any communication or information whatsoever . Case in point is our arrival at the Kenya-Uganda border crossing at around 5am. As you would suspect, both Jen and I were fast asleep. I’m fairly certain if I hadn’t gotten up to go to the washroom, and inquired where we were, we would have easily slept our way over the border. After seeing the chaos at both country’s immigration offices, not only could we have slept our way across, we likely could have simply walked on through as well.

Kampala

We arrived in Kampala a mere two hours behind schedule but considering all the pointless delays we had, it could have been much worse. I don’t mind the fact that we have to stop and drop off cargo along the way. That makes sense. However, it is very frustrating when the people who are attempting to load and unload large and heavy packages are doing so one-handed, unwilling to put down their bottle of coke. (Can such behavior really be considered “a cultural difference” which must be tolerated? I’m still deciding.) Driving through the streets of Kampala, my first impression was that it was not at all what I expected. For whatever reason, Lonely Planet’s description gave me thoughts of Vientiane, Laos; a sleepy capital with a European influence. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Sure, the city was built on 5 hills, similar to Rome, but that’s where similarities end. This was an African city full of people, dust, traffic, and chaos.

Kampala was, to us at least, one of the more insane cities we’d experienced. We decided to stay at Aponye Hotel mostly because of the LP description; clean rooms, midrange prices, and free wi-fi. Yeah, they mentioned that it was in a busy part of town, but really, how busy could it be? Upon arrival, it was evident that we were staying smack in the import/export center of Kampala. If you could imagine it, they were buying and/or selling it. Our “street” was essentially one giant market/warehouse with loads of foot, car, and transport truck traffic. The most amazing thing, other than the fact that real business took place amid all the chaos, was how the goods were being loaded. Having been in Africa for awhile now, we’ve gotten used to seeing people transport goods on their heads. Usually it’s a jerry can of water or a basket of fruit. When we saw a guy carrying 3 huge color TV’s stacked, and balanced, on his head, we were blown away.

Our initial idea for Uganda was that, excluding safaris, Jen and I would try to do as much on our own as possible. After Kenya, where it seemed that much of what we did was through an organized trip, we were ready to try to go about things on our own. In my mind that meant first exploring Kampala’s sights, just the two of us. In reality we spent a total of 5 days in Kampala, and saw very few of the city’s actual “tourist sights”. That’s not to say that we didn’t have a great time in the city, experiencing a side of East Africa we had not seen before.

After the long journey, both Jen and I are were looking to recharge our batteries, and to get caught up on our blogs and photos. (I know, it is ironic that I’m writing this Kampala blog over a month late . . .) For the first couple of days, our plan was to find a good internet cafe and to check out a bit of the city. In other words, I surfed the net while Jen uploaded photos the first day, and the next day was spent checking out local shops and art galleries (as well as a casino and the “mall”). We did manage to book our gorilla safari for the next week, but other than that, we weren’t the most productive. After having spent 48 hours not doing anything enlightening, we decided that a little bit of culture was in order. Referring to our LP, we learned that every Tuesday night, the Kampala National Theatre hosted an evening of local, live music by a group called “Percussion Discussion Africa”.

As our taxi drove up to the entrance of the National Theatre, I was surprised to see that the place was pretty much empty. We asked a few people, but no one had any idea as to what, if anything, was taking place that evening. We were starting to think that once again we had been let down by an out of date guide book. (Sad that the June 2009 version is in fact, consistently, outdated.) This time though, it was not LP’s fault. As we began to walk around and explore the venue we realized that we were just extremely early, once again. (Still can’t get used to African time.) As the two of us stood and waited for the show to start, we happened upon a conversation with a local, named Rony, and his friend Hazel, who was from the UK but working in Kampala. Hazel also happened to play saxophone in the band, so actually had a good reason to be so early (unlike us).

I have to admit, after a month of traveling in East Africa, I’d become quite skeptical of random locals trying to chat us up. I mean, I guess we’re interesting enough, but I’ve learned that most people don’t really care that much about getting to know us. In most cases, general conversation has always lead to the “Can you sponsor me to move to Canada?” question. (When I think about it though, I’d also be skeptical of any Joe who just walked up to me on the street at home, intent on striking up a conversation and “getting to know me” for no apparent reason.) As it turns out though, Rony was just a genuinely friendly guy. For the next couple of hours, we enjoyed a few beers and some great music, courtesy of Hazel and the band, Percussion Discussion.

For those of you who know me, it takes a lot to get me on the dance floor, and when I say a lot, I mean a lot of alcohol. In this case, all it took was some great, upbeat music and some persuasion on Rony’s part to get me grooving. I was so into it that I didn’t even notice when Rony went and sat back down, leaving me to dance by myself. In normal circumstances, I would welcome the appearance of a female dancer stepping in to save me from my loneliness and lack of dance moves. However, in this case, the female was one of the band’s dancers and there was absolutely no way I was going to try to dance with her. I’ve never seen such jiggle of the “junk” in my life and while I’m no “white boy”, I’m sure seeing me up there with her only strengthened the stereotype that “white boys can’t dance”.

During our entire stay in Kenya, I don’t think Jen and I were ever out at night past 9pm, partly due to safety concerns and partly to general tiredness from full days. So after the show, when Rony and Hazel asked us to join them for drinks, I was a bit weary at first. But, after little convincing, we were off to “Stake Out”. Not having planned for a night out, Jen and I stood out (more than usual). While the rest of the patrons were geared up for the a night out at the bar, Jen and I looked as if we were ready for safari, backpacks and all. When I first heard the name of the place, I thought “Steak Out” and figured the place would be more of a restaurant than a bar. I couldn’t have been more wrong. It was an open-air concept with a couple of bars and lounge areas, as well as a dance floor. For the most part it was standing room only because the place was absolutely packed. Turns out Jen and I had hooked up with somewhat of a “playa” in Rony because the guy knew pretty much everyone. As such, we met all types of people, from some of Uganda’s bigger hip-hop stars to some really nice locals and expats. In particular, both Jen and I got along very well with Angela, a Kampala local who we’d end up spending more time with during our stay.

Considering it was a Tuesday night, I figured the party would break up as we hit the 2am mark. In Kampala, apparently that is not how things work. Note also that we weren’t hanging out with university kids or part-timers; these people held regular nine-to-five jobs. The sad thing is that these guys were more eager to continue the night than we unemployed travelers were. By this time though, after enough “Nile Special” (beer) to forget all about our embarrassing attire, Jen and I were definitely keen as well. I guess the Tuesday routine in Kampala is Stake Out to start the night out, then off to “Silk” for some real clubbing. YIKES! The club was pretty much what I expected . . . dark, crowded, and a lot of really good dancers. And dance we did! For the life of me, I can’t remember the last time I danced so much and had so much fun doing it. It was probably the fact that if you weren’t dancing, you were either in the washroom or on your way out. You couldn’t avoid it if you tried.

With all that dancing and drinking it was easy to see where the night went and Jen and I stumbled into our room around 5am that morning. I think Jen was feeling a bit homesick because she got the idea that it was a great time to call her sister Karrie, back in Calgary. In terms of time zones, it was a great time to call as it was around 9:00 pm for Karrie. However, for Jen, perhaps not. Let’s just say that it’s a good thing skype long distance is so cheap. I’m sure she passed out within 5 minutes of conversation.

As you would suspect, the next day was spent doing not much. While we weren’t extremely hungover or anything, we were definitely tired. While we did have the option to join our new friends for another night out (where they get energy, I’ve not idea . . .), neither of us was in the mood for a repeat performance. The next day, fully rehydrated and feeling a bit guilty for having not yet explored the city, we set off to see some of the main sites. We decided to concentrate our efforts within the city center and visited a few of the notable mosques (National Mosque and Kibuli Mosque), and Parliament House.

While the mosques were interesting enough, our transport was the real experience. The simplest way to describe traffic in Kampala is utter chaos; the streets are literally filled with taxi buses and taxi motorbikes, called boda bodas. Apparently by this point we were feeling quite comfortable in Kampala. When we’d first arrived, we both said that there was no way we’d ever get on the back of a boda boda. Well, four days later we found ourselves holding on for dear life, and quickly realized we should have listened to our instincts. These guys do not know the meaning of stop because to them everything is simply an obstacle to weave by or squeeze through. My guy even hit the back of a bus, but thankfully at a slow enough speed that there was no damage to the vehicles, or to me. Problem is that in certain situations there really is no other affordable transportation options. Boda bodas are quick, cheap, and convenient in a city with huge traffic issues. We eventually learned that the boda drivers assume you want to arrive at your destination as quickly as possible, which to them requires fast, scary, and risky driving. Simply asking them to take their time and go slowly provides a bit of a safer ride. A bit.

After our day of sightseeing, we decided to head to Jinja the next morning. Jinja, just a couple hours drive from Kampala, is famous for the Source of the Nile River and consequently, white water rafting. While we still hadn’t decided if we were going to raft or not, there were plenty of other activities to make the trip to Jinja worthwhile.

Well, so much for the best laid plans. As we sat in the 1000 Cups Coffee House, having a cool drink and relaxing from the day, who did we see but Angela from a couple nights ago. As we sat and chatted, she mentioned that she was meeting Lisa, an ex-pat we had also met on Tuesday, for dinner and some drinks. Here we go again. After dinner, we returned to Stake Out and as it was before, the place was packed. It was a great time, and just the beginning of another long night. Afterwards, we headed off to a small, local club not too far from our hotel. While this place was nothing like the Silk Club, it was much smaller, it proved to be just as fun. Again, Jen and I found ourselves dancing to the wee hours of the morning, in our “safari” outfits. This time around, the night out definitely took its toll. Let’s me just say that Jen was feeling pretty rough. When drinking water causes the room to spin, you can pretty much rule out any travel that day. Instead, we went for breakfast and postponed Jinja one more day.

Jinja

We arrived in Jinja with no real plans but the idea of white water rafting was nagging in the back of my mind. I’d never been rafting before, and honestly never had a desire to. But, other travelers we’d met had raved about this experience. In the end, I decided that I had to do it; conquer my fear. (Jen was very persuasive as well) I mean, c’mon, it’s the freaking Nile!

We ended up booking the rafting out two days, deciding that we would do some mountain biking first to check out the town and its surrounding areas (and sweat out what remained of way too many Nile Specials). We chose a trail that would take us through some of the local villages to Bujagali Falls, which is not actually a waterfall but a series of large rapids. Seeing these rapids up close and knowing that we’d be rafting over them tomorrow made me seriously nervous. As ridiculous and insane as these rapids looked, they were only considered class 4 rapids. Tomorrow’s course included a bunch of these as well as some class 3 and some class 5. Double YIKES!

At the time of booking, the guy at Adrift, the rafting company, told us that the day of our trip we would have the choice of going on either the “mild” or “wild” raft tour. This gave me some solace as I tried to sleep the night before. When we arrived at the launch camp the next day, we soon realized that the determination of whether the ride is “mild” or “wild” depends on whether or not the majority of the people on the boat want to flip or not. This was not exactly the options I’d anticipated. Not being one to cause a fuss, I knew I was in for “wild” day. To our surprise, we actually recognized another fellow rafter that day. Hazel (the saxophone player) was there along with her visiting brother and his girlfriend.

As we sat and chatted, the anticipation was killing me. While driving to the launch site, I had successfully psyched myself up to the point where I was more excited than nervous. Now, with all the waiting and sitting around (African time again . . .), the nerves were starting to set back in. Eventually though, we suited up and there was no turning back. Our boat consisted of Jen and I, along with Hazel and her group, and our guide Joffrey. Right away, Joffrey worked on getting us ready for the rapids. This included general instructions, but most importantly for me, he got us in the water. Being that the chances of our raft flipping over were high, Joffrey told us what to do in that situation and proceeded to flip us over so we could see what it’d be like. Turns out flipping wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was actually fun. After that, I was pretty excited for the rest of the day.

I don’t remember all the rapids that we hit that day but there were some definite standouts. The Bujagali falls were the first big rapids and they turned out to be less scary than they appeared. As we approached the first class 5, Joffrey warned there was a 50-50 chance that we would flip over (he said this at each rapid actually) so we were all prepared for the worse as we approached. It all happened so fast. Just as quickly as we entered the rapids, we were going over. All I remember is holding on to the rope and looking down at Jen as I flipped over her, then all of a sudden there was water. But just as quickly as it happened, it was over and we were all floating safely in the water, making our way back to our capsized raft. The second to last rapid of the day involved us going over a 10-15 foot drop (i.e. a waterfall) backwards. This one was fun and I remember both Jen and I looking at each other smiling as we made our way over the fall. It was a total rush. I really can’t do it justice so check out the photo gallery http://gallery.me.com/adamschen to see the pics. We also have a video which is pretty cool, but you’ll have to wait until we get home for that.

The day was capped off perfectly with some well deserved cold beers and tasty barbeque skewers. Then, Jen and I boarded the bus to take us back to Kampala. Yes we were returning to Kampala, but this time there would be no impromptu nights of drinking as we were heading out on our gorilla tracking safari the next day. After having such an amazing time in Kenya, I was wondering whether or not the rest of East Africa could compare. So far so good.