MY RWENZORIS ADVENTURE
Uganda Sept 2011
Day 1 - Kampala to Kasese
Leave Sheraton Hotel around 12 for Bus station – a taxi driver tells me Boda won’t take 3 large pieces of luggage. (Local Chinese made 50cc motorbike held together with string and wire – they are the cheapest way around). So fork out UKX 20000 (approx. US$8) for the trip by taxi (I know Buda will take anything for a fare) and we soon get grid locked in Kampala’s notorious traffic. I recognize the area, - as I have walked it often – pay the fare, get out, pile pack and bags on my head African style and follow other pedestrians also with everything balanced on head. First bus station - wrong station - but the right one is just across the street, hold my ground in the queue pushing in front of the kiosk, pay UGX20000 for ticket 200 kms – same as I just paid for 3 km taxi trip. Get varying options on travel time from 6 to 9 hrs.
Board a massive funny shaped made in India bus, five seats across fifteen deep that’s 45 passengers. After checking with several people that we are all heading in the right direction I grab a window seat and wait for bus to full. And I wait and wait. The bus seemed to be full for ages, people getting on, people getting off. Hawkers come on selling (Barbequed meat skewers– I decline, she eventually gives up after 10 minutes. We sit for 1 ½ hrs in what looks like a full bus – then everybody gets up in much commotion and heads off. Ask young guy what’s going on, he says “no start’’, referring to the bus, I presume.
We get another bus, again double checking I haven’t lost direction in the confusion. Passengers starting to get irate by now so when the conductor wants to check tickets for a second time he gets a sharp rebuke from all – and he retorts by shouting down the bus aisle ( in English ) threatening to throw out anyone at the next garage stop. All this and we haven’t even left the station!!
We move off, reversing 100mtrs into a sea of humanity and traffic. We are moving slowly - but at least moving.
Through the streets and Kampala’s notorious traffic is at a crawl, it gives me a chance to check out the sights, God Cares Cosmetics Shop, Kilimanjaro Tearooms, Galilee Hardware, Best Roast Pork Joint, Hope and Faith Medical Centre. 20 mins later we get out of first gear – progress. Its 4pm and I wonder which one it is - a 6 or 9 hr journey.
O boy do I wish I had a camera; the sights are amazing on these streets teeming with people.
Pass a locomotive graveyard, not just rusty old machines but massive pieces of engineering most are literally broken into two.- sad,
Conductor checks my ticket says nothing so guess I’m not getting kicked off. We get pulled over by traffic police, but move on after a quick exchange of words
Finally out of town and amongst lush vegetation, road is in good nick as this huge bus hurtles down the road, horns blaring at anything that even looks like getting in the way. There are six cell phone networks in the country and the yellow and blue of MTN is prominent everywhere.
Diesel 3400 liter. Petrol 3900. That’s less than a greenback and a half.
We overtake everything matatas (taxis), budas, pedestrians in the middle of the road. Bums getting numb – and my knees jammed up against the seat in front - we’ve only been on he road two hours.
We stop in Maglide in the highlands for petrol and toilet. We are besieged by 40 plus hawkers selling everything, cassava, matoki, grilled green banana, and skewers of goat, beef and roasted chicken legs, fake sunglasses and football scarf’s and everything else that China has produced in the last decade. Money and food rapidly pass through bus windows.
I follow the crowd to the sanitation centre and pay the sanitation attendant UGX200 (10 US cents) sanitation fee to pee up against the tiled back wall of someone’s house, out in the open.
We continue - pass through village after village of mud huts, single room affairs with cooking lean toe’s out back, small kids and chickens scratch around in the dust, bored shitless, (the kids and chickens that is).
It starts to rain, low cloud and fog abound as we are obviously gaining altitude, ominous signs as I’m still only wearing a t-shirt and starting to feel the cool.
A mobile next to me starts ringing, and the guy pulls out 3 phones before he finds the offending one. Calls are dirt cheap here probably due to the competition between the 6 mobile networks – and everybody seems to have more than one phone.
Night falls around 7 pm. Thick vegetation around – flickering tin lanterns the only sign of habitation, dark figures in the night blend in with the ink black of a moonless night.
It’s cold when we arrive in Fort Portal around 8 – this only looks like halfway on the map; surely we are not going to arrive after midnight. A cold wind is whistling through the bus, I put on my (very) lightweight jacket. The stops are becoming more frequent with more people getting off than on, the bus starts to empty. Suddenly what looks like skyscrapers appear on the horizon – surely its not civilization – no it’s a massive cement production factory.
From my seat I phone ahead to Trekkers for accommodation recommendations in Kasesse - as the extra 12 kms to the backpacker’s isn’t going to happen tonight.
Finally at around 1130 a blue road sign tells me we are in Kasesse, and we pull into the Shell petrol station which marks end of bus ride. Say thanks to driver and conductor, who both tell me I am most welcome, and after a few wrong turns find out exactly which side opposite the petrol station the recommended White House Hotel is.
With no booking I am lucky to get the last room in the hotel, outside of the deluxe priced
Deluxe suite. I don’t fancy the chances of looking for anything else at this time of night.
Day 2 - Kassese to Kilembe Trekkers Hostel.
Get woken up at 5 am by people in a hurry, and find out why this was the last room to sell, its sandwiched in on four sides by the reception, front door entrance, backdoor of the kitchen and dining room.
Breakfast of omlette, toast, coffee, and banana is included in the UGX 16000 ( $US6 rate).
Pack up and step outside, and no sooner does a boda pull up and smiling face says ‘’you going to Trekkers.’ Is it that obvious? I say 3000; he says 5 we agreed on 4. He balances my big bag in front of him on the handlebars, and I wear m large pack on m back, and the smaller one in front of me.
He seems to know everybody on the road to Kilembe and calls out to all of them – and every kid waves and wants to know who the mzungu (white man) is.
The suspension on this machine is pretty shot – so I climb off with another numb bum after 14 kms of pot holed road. The surrounding countryside is amazing. We are surrounded by big hills on all sides and in the distance bigger mountains disappear into clouds. 2kms back in the town of Kilembe see the abandoned ruins of a Chinese copper mine and am told that they built this road for the “community”. Who are the trying to kid, for the community or their own commercial needs? I wonder who bought that story.
Low cloud around and definitely wet and cool country, some say the rainy season is from Sept to Oct, others say it has already started, still others say it never stopped raining since the previous wet season in January. It’s no wonder it is one of the most fertile countries on the continent, 3mtrs of rainfall a year, warm climate with boodles of life giving water and rain.
Check in with Victoria, a super efficient young lady from Kampala, and her side kick Stella who runs the dining room and bar. Meet John the Aussie. So how did you end up here John? “Öh, it’s where the bus ran out of road 20 years ago, mate,” comes the reply.
Still don’t actually know which of the many trekking options I’m going to do here so start checking out the options. The two lovebirds in the hostel when I check in aren’t much help re the climbing situation; they’ve only been to the top of the nearby hill and back, and seem far more concerned with each other to care anyway. An older English couple arrives fresh from the top of Mt Wiseman (4600mtr) - a 6 day trek later that afternoon, and we get talking. If they can do 4600 then why can’t I do the 5100mtr to Margarita - and they even come from the wealthy Englishman’s retirement village of the Bahamas.
Margarita is the highest point on Mt Stanley, making it the highest point of the Rwenzours and the third highest peak on the continent, but as I’ve read everywhere, because of the weather and permanent snow and ice, it is the most technically difficult. Kilimanjaro and Mt Kenya are mere day walks compared, even if they are higher. What also makes the Rwenzoris unique is that they are not direct up and down climbs, like Mt Kenya or Kili, but these mountains are a mass off ancient volcanic peaks making a climb a mix of altitudes, ups and downs. I ask John about Margarita and he looks ydisapprovingly at my meager kit and suggests I hire what I need. He then proceeds to tell me to just stop procrastinating and just do it. It turns out to be not just kit that is the issue but more so the high altitude evacuation insurance he insists everybody climbing over 4000mtr should have had before they depart. I plan not telling him about my lack of insurance and consider winging it. It also turns out that most of his kit is already hired out and up the mountain.
Stella approaches real shy and has probably the easiest decision of the day. What do I want for dinner? Knowing it could be limited, I ask what’s going, she says chicken and matoke I ask what else, she says chicken and matoke, I tell her I’ll have the chicken and matoke then .( Matoke is a mash of starchy banana also known in other parts of the continent as plantan(. An hour later a big plate of chicken stew with mashed green banana wrapped in banana leaf arrives. I devour it, its delicious, clearly the best and easiest decision of the day.
Days 3, 4, 5, - Trekkers Hostel Kilembe
The Ruwenzori Mountains lie just north of the equator and extend for 110km by 50km.Its is a designated World Heritage site. The Uganda DRC Congo border runs along the top ridges of the range and cuts across the centre of Margherita Peak which stands at 5,109 metres. In the past several peaks had large glaciers but most of the glaciers have receded or completely disappeared in the last 10 years.
It’s chill out days now. Rains most days at some stage, some days at all stages.
John departs but not before yelling at his staff with a few choice expletives, about the number of goats inside the fence. Rarely get a look at the mountains beyond the closest hills due to low cloud and mist. Take a trip in to Kasesse for some provisions and try to find some suitable mountain kit, absolutely nothing in the market or shops, except lightweight summer gear, amazing as it is not exactly summer around here in the cold rain. Not even a woolly hat! And the few munchies I buy are pretty stale – oh well at least I’m helping the local community. Boda back to Kilembe and get dropped of at God is Love Pork Joint and opt to walk
the last 2 kms to hostel, through the old mining village hostels, now home to anyone. I hear they are planning to open up the mine again this time and go inside the park - God help these mountains and this river that runs all the way down the Munyamubuli valley to Kassese and beyond, if they do.
A thousand inquisitive kids with a thousand smiles come out to greet me, mzungu, mzungu the cry and touch my hairy arms! Very few ask for money, and there are very few out stretched hands, perhaps Johns note in the Hostel about not encouraging them, by not giving them, works. It’s Beef stew, (or is it Goat) for dinner. Full moon spotted one night, very briefly, between the clouds, beautiful.
A few clear glimpses of peaks above us during one day and a clear sun filled view down the valley on another – this place must look amazing if you catch the weather right. Victoria tells me a booking of two others are going to Mt Wiseman in two days’ time, while a group of six Americans are booked to leave for Margarita (a 10 day climb) on the same day. Am beginning to think that the 6 day option to Wiseman may well be the more sensible option.
Hang on - since when did sensible ever play a part in my travels?
The next day the weather has cleared somewhat. I ask what to do for a few hours walk. I’m told there’s a waterfall up and behind that ridge up there..
Victoria quickly summons a guide, and although I tell her I don’t need guide, she insists it’s how they help the local village out. Seeing that there is little else but this little tourist spot of a hostel for the villagers to earn some money, I agree to take Selwyn the guide along.
It’s a steep climb, as we pass through isolated huts perched on hillside, Selwyn points out the local plants and crops, cassava, green banana, coffee trees. Coffee beans dry in the sun, outside each hut, a meager earning for each family when taken to the landowner for a few shillings.
After passing a Park Rangers hut we get to the waterfall on the Park boundary – it’s a bit of a piss poor effort of a waterfall, after all that, although I do wish I had something to swim in as I’ve worked up a sweat climbing that hill.
The two lads going to Wiseman have arrived, no Americans yet. I stop procrastinating - it’s going to be a 6 day trip to Mt Wiseman – I start to pack.
Day 1 –Trekkers to Salalira Camp Distance - 2kms from hostel to road head and 10.6 kms to hut. Alt. 31seven zero metres- 7hrs
Up early. Minibus of Americans arrives. All well kitted out, with matching mountaineering kit and hand luggage. (A sponsored First Assent outfit it looks like). All that First Assent kit scares me – I think I’ve taken the right option. Much confusion as we eat breakfast, get kit sorted, are assigned guides and get our briefings. Porters lounge around on the grass waiting for some action.
Low cloud, gumboots change hands rapidly before finding the right sized feet.
Finally head up the road to Park entrance, past drying coffee beans and heavily laden paw paw trees. Kids run out to great us and shake hands – John seems to have done a good job in keeping the outstretched ‘give me’ hands at bay. Two km’s inside the park boundary we come to the rangers hut and pay for our five nights in the park ($35 per night)
We are a group of 10 in all, 3 paying clients (Matt and Rodge from Singapore and myself, 2 guides, and 5 porters, of whom several will be sent back down as we lighten the provision load. Shawn the guide will lead, Rogers, No2, will bring up the rear, and five porters caring three clients’ packs and provisions for the next 6 days. Immaculate the only female porter in the group takes both my packs, don’t worry Sean says when I ask. ‘She’s a strong girl.’ The first section starts off through rain forest and then bamboo forest, with the trees all draped in white Gandalf type beards.
We climb and climb. It’s very steep, with the only relief being a few short sections where we follow the contours, but at least its dry underfoot, later I will long for these early conditions, no gumboots as this stage. At this stage we have no idea of what’s ahead of us as the hills ahead are surrounded in low cloud, and the going is very steep, with the only relief being the few contour hugging kilos and the frequent stops but the conversation is still lively, and we press on.
We arrive at camp. Chicken and Rice for dinner. So far so good.
Day 2 - Camp 1 to Camp 2 Kihoo. Alt. 3588mtrs. 7. 4kms – 6hrs.
Porridge, bacon, eggs, potatoes, onions, tomatos and toast – a breakfast of champions – and all done over a wood fire. Gumboots on now and we hit the mud immediately. And it is relentless with immediate effect. We gain only 4 hundred .mtrs in altitude today but its steep up, steep down. And mud, mud, mud, mud. A climb of a few metres is exasperated by a trail of half metre deep mud. The sun shines through the cloud and it looks like absolute divine intervention - beautiful. We can see back down the sun filled valley of the Namwamba River and Kilembe far in the distance, where we have come from. Occasionally, very briefly we get a glimpse of the peaks ahead of us.
We come to a T Junction and Rogers who is leading takes a left turn to a big tussock covered and water filled clearing, filled with 1oos of Giant Lobelia. A beautiful surreal place, flanked with tall bearded trees filled with dark clumps of deep red moss. We spot two eagles high above. We stay briefly soaking up the eerie atmosphere, but once we meet the main path, Rogers gets a mild blast from Sean for deviating from the route. We cross many tributaries. Mud, mud, mud. Bit up, bit down. Sean tells us we are climbing to 3fiveoo and then dropping to 32oo, and crossing the head of the Namwamba River before climbing again to 3fiveoo; don’t know if I’m too keen to give up the few 1oomtres altitude we’ve attainted through shear sweat!
A porter comes running up from behind and tells us that Rodge, one of the Singaporean guys is not well – possible altitude sickness Sean says, and goes back to check. We continue on our own, past rock caves and big rock overhangs. The Namwamba River, when we cross is much smaller than further down the mountain, but the volume of water passing through it is nothing short of immense. We look up the valley to see a numerous number of streams and spectacular waterfalls - some falling fifty metres into the air.
The sun makes fleeting glimpses all day which really does lighten the load. We skip lunch break in order to get to camp earlier – besides we are still working off our breakfast of champions.
The climb levels out to a saddle, and trees give way to tussock, with a mud road carved down the middle. We jump between tussock stumps to avoid - unsuccessful at most times - landing in the wet bog. We reach camp under a huge overhanging rock – dry – no mud, no water, big bonus. Water falls from above over the edge of the rock creating a fairy like curtain of water with which the porters’ quickly utilize with ever available pot to gather beautiful clear mountain water for our dinner.
Americans arrive 1 and half hours later to tell us that the Roger is struggling with his knee, and is well back. We wait.
Day 3 – Kihoo to Camp 3 Kopelio Hut 4o3o mtrs
As we leave camp the clouds depart to reveal a huge lake. Lake Kopello.
Lobelia Forest
Day 4 - Camp 3 to Summit 462o and back down to camp 6 Milandra - 3688mtrs – 1o hrs
Mt Baker from Wiesmans Peak
Up at .five am. Breakfast of beans and toast. Finish packing in the dark, no porters to the summit, so pack our own kit for the next 6 hours till we come back through here again on our way down. Step outside the tent into a freezing cold morning, with a bright half moon and stars still high in the sky.
We set off in the dark, dead silence surrounds us, not a breath of wind. Its eerie, the moonlight sets off Lakes Kopello and Begatta dark deep waters, below us. It’s tough going in the mud with only torches and moonlight, as we make our way around the lakes and up the side of the ridge. Behind us to the east the faintest glow of early sunrise is making itself visible.
The sun makes its appearance quickly, and very soon the lakes and valley below us are washed in early morning sun, with clear skies below – but ahead heavy cloud still hang. The scene is absolutely utterly awesome and eerie at the same time.
We reach a grass ridge and look down into the DRC and across to Mount Baker. It’s a hulk of a mountain, a solid mass of rock with jagged edges coming off its near vertical sides. Sean tells me it’s rarely climbed. Suddenly it gets a flash of blue sky and sunshine and it looks even more menacing. The grass tussock gives way to rock, big solid ones that we clamber over and around.
We get a few glimpses of Wiseman through the swirling cloud, it seems days away. We hug narrow rock strewn ridges with fifty- 100 metre shear drops on either side. When Sean tells us it’s been slow going, I wonder what time we will summit. The high attitude valleys are filled with deep freezing water. Its no wonder early explorers called it the Mountains of the Moon. We take several wrong turns over the rocks looking for the correct route up. We are now amongst light snow on the ground, and the rocks are slippery and wet,. It’s wet under foot but - thankfully no mud. We reach a small rise and suddenly in front of us is the summit no more than a few meters away.
We summit around 9.30., 3 half hours after setting out. On the DRC side blue sky briefly but otherwise we are covered in cloud, it’s very cold, but thankfully no wind. The weather has been amazing.
We spend what is actually only a few freezing moments on top, long enough for cup of tea and biscuits. We hold up the damaged summit sign for photos– enough for the proof that we did it. We head back down to Camp 3. It’s as treacherous going down as it was exhausting going up, the rocks are slippery from ice and snow, and the clouds are all around us. Our porters back at camp 3 great us with more tea, omelet and bread. We wait for Rogers the guide and Rodge to arrive - 1 half hours later, didn’t see them on the way down? Rodge is not in good shape all bones in place but sheer exhaustion has taken 10hrs the next day so decide to keep to plan and push on down to Camp 6 at 3688mtre.
We head off, around 2.3o pm, and it’s straight back into mud, time to change back to the boots. And it is just relentless. Sucking at our boots, sliding off the tuffs of grass and roots, into half metre sludge we curse and swear. What looks like the smallest tip of solid rock, turn out to be deceiving pockets of soft sand. Tree roots turn into water logged branches that disintegrate under foot. Try to judge the solid tops of rocks, the tough roots of tussock or the logs predecessors have put in place, usually to completely miss judge and find myself half metre in mud. You end up walking on the edges off the track in the hope of getting a bit dry ground under foot, but only really end up making the muddy track wider and as muddy.
But the scenery is amazing, jagged mountain ridges, deep valley and waterfalls. It rains slightly – but we are wet by the time we put on wet weather gear –and as soon as we have kit on, it stops – we take gear off. The sun makes several brief appearances through the clouds and makes for stunning views, almost vertically down.
I somehow get separated from Sean and Rogers and am on m own for an hour or so heading for a green patch of heather tree on the next ridge – pointed out earlier on, in answer to our question on direction. Can’t say I am not relieved when I reach the trees and even more so when I hear Sean and voices some time later. Make a mental note to stick with the guide, for the rest of the day. Smoke comes out of the trees much lower down over on the next ridge, Camp 6.We head down through almost vertical slopes of mud, the worst yet. We cross a stream at the bottom of the valley wash mud off our boots and climb exhausted and soaked into the best camp yet. Tents under a huge rock overhang, bone dry, sheltered from the wind and cold, and no mud for at least a few square metres. Standing on the edge of the overhang we get stunning brief glimpses down the mountain. Apart from a brief period up yesterday and down today we really have been luck with the weather. Not exactly blue sunny skies, but in a country that gets 3mt rs rainfall per ear – just not to get it is a miracle.
We eat late as we are waiting for Rodger and guide Rodgers, concerns are kept muffled. If it wasn’t for the fact that he is in the hands of a very experienced guide, we would be very worried, as we get into bed. He arrives after midnight, with an injured knee. He took 8hrs to complete the last bit we did in 2 – how he negotiated the mud track in the dark is astonishing.
DAY FIVE – Camp 6 Mutinda to Camp seven Kalalama. Alt 3134 mtrs.
We sleep well and late – no pressure today only a 2half hour walk. Too tired from yesterday we give the option of a climb to Mutinda lookout a miss. Leave camp only at 11am, in still wet clothing. If yesterday’s mud was 10 on the Richter scale today is a walk in the park 4. A full stream tumbles downs over a ledge and falls for fifty metres, awesome sight. A steady climb down, enjoyable, and no mud. Discuss Ugandan politics with Shawn and my memories of Singapore with Matt and Rodger. Shawn did a degree in business management, but cant get a job so is bidding time and planning on opening his own safari company - that explains his good English..
He comes from the Buganda kingdom, which sort independence from Uganda at the same time as they were seeking independence from the British. Sean says they had
their own government in place headed bi the king long before any colonial power suggested it, and he is still a supporter of Buganda independence. Muzorewa has bought stability and peace amongst the kingdoms of Uganda, reinstated the monarchies, but he won’t last, Shawn says, as Muzorewa has done little to benefit the people. Roads, education, hospitals, infrastructure all did well under both Obotte and Amin, even though they will both go down in history as brutal murderers and oppressors.
He has been in power too long, Sean continues, and as the recent rioting after the elections this year shows, it is just the start.
He wants to set up a painters and artists network where local artists can sell their work.
We pass a guide on his way up to camp five, (the last camp before summit of Margarette to the Americans, Sean says he was a poacher in the park until he was recruited bi RTS. Rogers seems to be copping well today
That evening the sun sets leaving a huge red sky behind us over the mountains and
as night falls we see the lights of Kilembe, spread out along the valley of the River Manamubuli. Suddenly looks like a city, it’s an amazing sight.. We stay up late in the cloudless night with the sound of the flowing river far below us - savoring our last night in the mountains.
Day 6 Kalalama to Park Gate and Trekkers Hostel
Woken by large very noisy black crows. A crystal clear day, sunny hot and a completely blue sky with only the top peaks covered in cloud..
The Americans will probably summit in broad daylight, would be lying if I said I wasn’t envious.
Rodger and Matt take a few photos and we pack up for the last time. First section a knee jarring steep drop – and can see why this is not usually done as the last section – going up would be hand over hand climbing.
We are out of the heather and into bamboo, and soon amongst the tall rain forest trees.
Reach Trekkers to smiling faces and a hot bath
Day 7 Kassesse to Fort Portal
Share a taxi with Rodge and Matt into Kasesse – change greenbacks, pay back loans, catch up on internet, and bid farewell to Matthew and Rogers. Internet in Uganda has got to be the fastest and most easily avail anywhere in the continent, every second shop has a computer available for use at round fifty US cents an hour. Still unsure of what I’m doing or where I’m going, I head to the bus station looking for inspiration, and standing amongst a jam of Chinese made fifteen seater Matata’s. I call out, Mzungu Matata to Fort Portal. Inspiration found immediately, as I’m shunted into a dilapidated vehicle with a coloured “Jesus Saves” windscreen. It’s leaving straight away. Decision made - a bus to Kampala at this late stage (early afternoon would get in after midnight, not a pleasant thought.
I’m jammed in between two ample women with babies, on a seat with no seat – but a cloth over bare springs, one of which springs has already said howsit to my backside. I can’t move. To make the journey even more interesting the taxi has either no suspension, or no air in the tires – or both as we negotiate AROUND traffic calming humps in the road, rather than go over them.
We keep stopping to pick up passengers, and the conductor keeps telling us to squeeze up, we are clearly full, but the need to pick up everyone on route seems paramount. We are overtaken on a blind bend, bu a huge Kalite bus hooping it down the road – not to be out done we get him back on the next downhill stage, at equal speed. We seem to be vying for passengers as we overtake and stop, overtake and stop, in a game of leapfrog with horns a blazing.
I count 26 passengers in this ‘licensed to carry 14 passengers’ vehicle.
We stop outside the ‘In God We Trust Chicken Slaughter House,’ to pick up MORE passengers, but these two elegant young ladies decide the are not going to hang from the roof and wave us on.
It’s feeding time next to me, as one ample lady flops out an ample breast for her baby. The movement allows me an excuse to try and dislodge a spring from my numb bum.
Pass through villages, banana and mango grooves, people tilling fields with simple tools, dodge goats and kids, all with horns a blazing. We start climbing; consider jumping out when we pass through a town I recognize on the map as being the south of the Crater Lakes area, but decide to stick to original plan to Fort Portal. We hurtle along at breakneck speed. Piles of green and yellow bananas line the roadside. We are shedding more passengers than we pick up now, always a good sign that the end destination is near, we are now down to a tight but manageable 18 in this 14 seater. Beeswax candles (makes me think of Sue (honey and bees seem to be the industry of Rumbana – and basket making. A young kid beats the hell out of a plastic bag full of cassava root so it can be turned into ground floor.
A man ties two single bed frames on top of his bicycles handlebars and carrier, then proceeds to sit in the middle of them and peddles off.
Arrive Fort Portal in light rain and its cool. Get told the bus to Rwaihamba and the Lake Nkuruba Nature Reserve is further down the road, start walking – but a Buddha immediately pulls up and says he will take me all the way for little more than the bus fare – I’m suspicious but climb on. The soft seat is worth it, and bonus is the road is dirt, but smooth and no potholes for all its 18 kms. We climb hills, pass many beautiful looking guesthouses and lodges, and blat along waving out to all oncoming bikes and to all kids calling Mzungu Mzungu. A few spots of rain come down – my driver flips down his oversized Mr. T sunglasses for protection from the raindrops.
Get dropped off at a hill top backpackers and wow what a beautiful place. Set on top of a hill in beautiful lush gardens and manicured lawns. The hill drops down one side to a deep lake lined on its step sides with tall trees. .Many paths and walks through the forests, an outdoor communal area for eating and socializing – this is brill. Chalets, rooms and camping for all price brackets - I take the budget chalet and am really surprised at its value.
Get talking to a guy at dinner who did the RMS circuit to 4600 metres. The place seems full and a couple of seasoned 4x4 travelers from SA in their well-worn Landis’ pull in and start putting up tents on the lawn. These two couples are from Port Elizabeth, so I ask them the SA / All Black score of the previous week end. They inform me the AB’s lost but then confess NZ probably fielded its 3rd team.
Day 8 Lake Nkuruba Nature Reserve
Get served a serious dik breakfast of giant chapattis and omelet.
Decide to do a walk around as many lakes as possible and to start with the Mahoria falls.
Am told that I will have to pay to see the falls with a guide as it is the private property of the adjoining lodge. This is confirmed when – trying to do it alone without the guide – I get stopped at said lodge entrance. So the guide works out well, as he is well versed in the local flora and fauna, and points out the local village life as we pass right though the middle of mud huts and hand tilled fields. This is a brilliant look at the local community living. But he’s set a cracking pace and I find myself in the unfamiliar situation of having to step up the pace myself just to keep near him. That breakfast is being worked off for sure.
We pass through fields of banana, cassava, maize, peanuts, and coffee trees. Each hut has a few sacks covered in beans out in the sun drying, soon to be taken to the local co-op for selling.
Kids start calling out Hello – how are you – give me pen, give me pen, and wave. But as we walk further away from the lodge, the calls are for simpler life saving things, “give me bottle give me bottle”. The bottles (plastic water bottles are sold to be used as paraffin containers. Later the chant becomes ‘give me book give me book’ I wish I had books or pens to give – such simple wants.
This single lane through banana leaves and between huts is busy, the guide tells me someone died recently and people are out to pay respects.
It’s an amazing insight into the local living. Each little household or family has a patch of land, demarcated bi small bushes, and upon which they grow their crops. Women tend the fields mainly.
We help ourselves to green guavas and ripe bananas as we pass through the fields.
I think we have taken the scenic route to the falls - as at this pace we should be half way back to Fort Portal already.
Do eventually arrive at the falls and immediately wish I had a swimming kit. The falls are beautiful and the pool deep and cold. After many thank yous, part was with the guide and I head out on what is marked as a 4x4 road through to Rwabaiba and Lakes Nimabwa and Ltonde. Two lakes straddle either side of the road as if they were once one, an awesome sight; the sides are steep but lined with trees and plunge almost vertically into deep black water. They are beautiful.
Kids are calling “Umzungu coming” and ask for money – obviously a few more white faces pass this way. The scenery is stunning as I make my way back to Lake Resort. Hear music as I near the resort.
Fascinated to see small 1oomm x 1oomm solar pads le out in the sun outside of huts, connected to charging mobile phones or batteries of low voltage lights, such simplicity, yet such effective methods of keeping remote communities connected.
The day is drawing to an end, as I head back to the lodge. I hear scratchy portable radios from the dark depths inside of huts I pass the words “Gadhafi,” and ”Libya” and I wonder what is happening in the outside world. Later I find out the news. From a Kampala drenched with Al Jazeera, CNN, and Sky News to a world of no news at all for two weeks, it’s quite an adjustment.
Climb up through the entrance of Lake Resort to see group of 2o or so school kids in the front garden in traditional uniform singing along to the beat of an enthusiastic drum section, and kept in check by the masterly school master waving a conductors baton. (Later to be used very effectively on a few cheeky young lads – much to the delight of the rest of the choir. They seem to be rehearsing only two songs – but the natural African talent for song, rhythms, and harmonies is a pure pleasure to see and hear.
Back in my chalet electricity is scarce, so I wash with a bucket of cold water using the army perfected wash down – soap up – rinse off method. Dinner time - and I sit under the only light in the outside dining room in order to write. Gone off meat for a while and order a large plate of matoke (mashed green banana (and vegetables. A group of Spaniards are in high spirits, laugh and make jokes about all.
After dinner get talking to a girl who works for an NGO in Kampala, dealing with squatter camp families. But mi suspicions of NGOs are confirmed when she starts telling me about the good restaurants in Kampala, and I find out she has a compan mini bus and driver to show her - and only her around.
I tally up - 1o lakes and about 3o km of walking in all – a good days outing. I order breakfast, half of this morning’s quatit, and hit the sack.
Day 9 Crater lakes to Fort Portal to Kampala
Up early and leave after breakfast. Get a lift to Fort Portal in an old Toyota Cressida with 8 others inside. Get pointed in the Link bus direction, seventeen thousand shillings (six US$, gets me a ticket to Kampala and I grab a window seat. A woman sits down next to me with a plastic bag that twitches every now and again and when I see the feet sticking out, I realize I have two live chickens as company.
A road sign says 249 kms to Kampala, and a newspaper vendor confirms in bold front page type, the radio scratchings of the previous day. “”Sun sets on Ghaddafi””. As we pull off I read in the government supporting paper, The New Vision of the close relationship between Libya and Uganda. A relationship initiated and sealed in Amins’ era that has seen much money and expertise flow into the country. Who knows he may have even built the” Success after Struggle” school we pass.
We pass immaculate trimmed emerald green tea plantations stretching over rolling hills. A toilet stop outside “Happy Wallet Club” sees use inundated with calls of nyama chomma, chicken and chapatti from roadside sellers. After a visit to the concrete wall at the back of the building, I buy two chapattis hot off the grill and a coke and get back on the bus. We continue on our way the driver clearly not intending to take any prisoners.
Its shoe market day in one small town we pass through, dozens of people with second hand shoes laid out on mats, along the side of the road.
We hurtle down a particularly big hill with a single lane bridge at the bottom of it, the driver is sitting on the horn and presumably saying to the driver of rapidly approaching vehicle, “”God help you if you if you don’t get in m way””. I think - God help us all if there is a like minded driver coming down the other side. Thankfully we get to the narrow crossing first, before the opposition with bare inches to spare.
We eventually hit the notorious Kampala traffic around rush hour and come to a grinding halt in “”the jam”” as the locals call it.
It’s a long hot bath and a cold beer in the Paradise bar, and reflections of a truly unique and memorable trip.
Should I have taken the plunge and gone all the way to Margarita??
More news next time.
