It took me about 5 hours to ride the 14km from the Queen Elizabeth park gates to the main road that transects the east and the western parts of the park. My snail-like pace had nothing to do with road conditions and everything to do with the fact that I did not want to leave! Surrounded by wildlife while pedaling or straddling my bike was a dream come true and the wildlife just kept on coming. The main road, although tarmac, further facilitated my slow pace as more antelope, warthog and prospects of more elephants distracted me. I came to a town called Katunguru situated on the Kazinga channel at around 5pm, so it was time to look for a place to sleep. The town was no more than 100m in length so I pedaled the whole of it to scope out my options. There were a couple of guest houses and "hotels" (which could mean just restaurants or restaurants with actual accommodation), but I prefer camping, so I asked the local police officers who were hanging around. They pointed to an empty field next to a mosque and said I could camp there for free and no one will bother me. I decided to check it out myself and it was perfect! Right next to a spiritual place and across from the police station and I could get far enough away from the road that no one could see me AND it was right on the river! I couldn't have asked for a better spot. So I started to claim my territory by setting down my bike next to the flattest spot for a tent. As expected, a couple of locals decided to wonder over. I thought they just wanted to watch me set-up my tent like everyone else, but these guys were apparently "tour guides" and could not let me camp there. "But why?" I exclaimed as I could not imagine a better spot. These uniform-less, business card-less "guides" explained that this was not a campsite, so I couldn't camp there, but there was an actual campsite a couple of kilometers into the bush from the town. Well that's interesting since the police said there weren't any actual campsites around and I got permission to camp here from them. These guys were obviously just looking to make a buck from their buddy who owns the campsite and I am never keen on paying $5 to put up my own tent and take-up not more than a tiny patch of someone's grass. Give me a break you thieves you! Suddenly, a white dude on a bicycle with a couple of panniers pulls-up....What?! Another one? And now when I need another white person to help me negotiate with these crooks -great! So we introduce ourselves, checked out each other's bikes, admired the fantastic spot I found for camping, and ignored the two "guides" as much as possible. Turns out he's from Spain and is cycling from Cairo to Cape Town. I explained the current situation to him as the two locals were not giving up. Apparently part of the reason why they can't let us camp there has now turned into a Good Samaritan story and they want to save us from the evil fate of the hippo. I laugh out loud since, as you might recall from my previous post, I slept among dozens of hippo and passed by several within a few meters of me and my escort, whom barely acknowledged their presence. I had a hard time believing the two local criminals in front of me were sincere in their sudden concern for our safety. I don't remember how, but the "guides" ended up convincing us to go to the real campsite. We probably caved because they wouldn't leave us alone...typical at the end of day when you're tired and hungry and just want a beer.
View from the "official campsite".
We were camping on the Kazinga channel -down river from where I had experienced the boat tour in QE NP.
Flat QE National Park to...
Nicely paved road lead the way, weaving in, out and around the hills.
The way forward.
I surprised myself: I made it to Kabale. Not only did I surprise myself, I surprised Gerard. He didn't think I was going to make it :) It was a tiring day and I ate an insane amount of food that night and all the next day, but it was worth it. Even in a larger town like Kabale, I somehow picked the hostel Gerard had also picked. I guess the giant "BACKPACKERS" sign draws certain people's attention. Nothing eventful occurred in Kabale other than insanely loud music, hostel managers trying to charge the same for camping as they do for dorms and lots and lots of rain. I planned on staying in Kabale the next day because I *had* to do laundry. I had left it as long as I possibly could. What a waste of a day. The days of the sun drying your laundry by mid-day were over and I happened to choose the day of the endless rain drops. Needless to say, my laundry did not dry. In fact, it didn't dry for another few days after that. I'm not entirely sure how local people ever have dry clothes to wear in the rainy season as most people do not have anywhere to hang their clothes under. Doesn't sound like fun to me.
I got the heck out of Kabale the next day, albeit not until about 10:30am when the rain had only somewhat subsided. My journey was shorter that day, especially compared to the previous day of cycling, only 70 or so kms. One tiny problem: I did not have a rain jacket. I know, I know. I planned for how many months for this trip, but consciously decided not to bring a rain jacket?? In fairness, I knew I would be faced with rain near the end of my trip and I decided it wasn't worth it to carry around a bulky rain jacket for 6 and a half weeks, only to use it maybe a couple of times in the last week of riding. Plus, I had spent entire days in the rain in Costa Rica sin rain jacket many times knowing that you're bound to get wet regardless of whether you have a jacket or not in the tropics -either by rain or by sweat. I did not, however, factor in the elevation. Funny thing about science is: it gets colder the higher you go. I happened to be among the highest elevation towns in Uganda. According to Wikipedia, Kabale stands at 2,000m above sea level (you can find other fascinating information about just how cold it gets here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kabale). What do I say in these kinds of situations? FUCK IT. Off I went, already cold to the bone because, don't forget, I was wearing my soaking wet laundry that may as well have been freshly dunked in cold water. The first few meters sucked, I'm not going to lie. I thought I would turn back and have to stay another day in Kabale, but then I got warm! "Yes!" I thought, it's like tree planting, you just have to keep moving! And so I did. Up and up and down and down the crazy hills I went, getting crazier and crazier myself. I started yelling while enjoying the downhills and singing "Coocoocachew" as little Squirt's father does in "Finding Nemo". The rain fueled my stamina and energy -as it normally does. Why didn't I remember this earlier? I LOVE the rain. I love running in the rain, I love playing in the rain, I love planting in the rain. Well, guess what? I love cycle touring in the rain. Yes, it was freezing at times, but I said FUCK IT many times that day (and sometimes out loud). Luckily the road was amazing and I didn't have to worry about mud. Although it rained right up until maybe 10km before I reached Kisoro, this was by far my best day of cycling bar none. I winded through vista after vista, climbing and climbing and climbing to see lakes, including Lake Bunyonyi, rivers, various shades of green on hills upon hills in the distance. I traveled through a pristine jungle to my pleasant surprise! I got to see what these raped hills used to look like. The jungle was part of the Echuya Forest Reserve, apparently gazetted in 1939 -that's amazingly early for Uganda. For example, Kibale NP was gazetted in the 90's. Not a whole lot of info is out there about Echuya Forest Reserve (not even in Wikipedia!), but here's is a link with some good info about the ecosystem and how the area is managed: Echuya Project. Things don't look good for Echuya as it happens to stand smack-dab in the middle of the most densely population region in Uganda. This place is gorgeous with picture-perfect vines, moses, bird sounds galore, I saw baboons crossing the road, it's a true tropical jungle with a high canopy. The area surrounding it is devastated, like someone took a giant chisel and chiseled away parts of the jungle bit by bit to make way for agricultural plots and ignoring the screams of the chimpanzees, gorillas, birds and other wildlife that used to reside comfortably in their tree homes. Now all you here is "Mzungu! Mzungu! Give me money!" You can tell the ecosystem has been altered by looking at the clouds after the rain has subsided. On the cultivated side of the mountain the clouds remain high and relatively uniform. On the forested side of the mountain the clouds are whisping upwards out of forest crevasses back into the atmosphere like individual skinny ghosts. The funny thing is, this forest is supposed to be less of a hardwood forest and more of a bamboo forest apparently. We've just screwed up things royally (see the following journal article: The ecological changes of Echuya afromontane bamboo forest, Uganda Banana 2002 African Journal of Ecology Wiley Online Library). The contrast between the majority of my ride that day and when I saw this forest on the other side of the slope was astonishing and brought tears to my eyes. I was both upset as well as moved as I had been hoping and wondering if anyone had been able to save what these slopes once were. Thankfully, someone had, in 1939. Thank you, whoever you are.
Bamboo among the hardwood.
Andes-esque hills.
Hills within valleys.
Just when I thought the vistas couldn't be more moving, I was slapped in the face by the massive peak of Mount Muhabura, which on the map just looks like any old hill, but this hill is a modest 4,127m high. So you can imagine just how stunned I was to see the peak of this thing poking out of the clouds. You can, and should, read more about this mountain as it borders Rwanda and is the tallest of three close peaks: Wiki Mount Muhabura.
Mount Muhabura
A chain of seriously tall mountains beyond the cultivated ridge and homes in the valley.
Mount Muhabura from the hostel in Kisoro.
I reached Kisoro and stayed in a hostel, treated myself to a dorm room bed (the dorm room actually only consisted of two beds and no one was occupying the second bed, so me and my Surly took over) and ate, rested and took in Uganda as I knew I would be leaving the next day to cross the border into Rwanda. It felt weird knowing I was about to leave a place I just explored, lived in and been touched by over the past 7 weeks, but I had a plane to catch.
The campsite was not easy to find as it was down a half-ass road and there was no sign, so we had passed it by about a kilometer at first, but eventually made it. Of course the price of everything -camping, beer- somehow inflated in the time we met the "guides" to the time we arrived at the campsite. We negotiated our way with an employee who had to call his boss to confirm the new price for the mzungus. Wow it's a lot easier to do this with another person, especially a dude, because you can make two-person deals and Ugandan men tend to take foreign men more seriously than foreign women. So we set-up our tents, had a real shower and discussed everything about cycle touring there is to discuss over dinner (made with our respective MSR International stoves) and beer. It was so nice to talk to someone who had much more experience than I (Gerard had been on several other cycle tours before) and learn from his experiences, but also confirm some of my experiences as a cycle tourist in Africa. It was refreshing to debrief on good experiences and bad with local people and the pros about cycle touring and squander the myths about cycle touring in Africa. It was nice to make fun of similar situations we've found ourselves in and express how incredibly grateful we are to local hospitality. Gerard told me about the hospitality of the Sudanese and the extreme challenges one faces in Ethiopia. We talked gear, about food, the pros and cons of carrying more or less on your bike. Just everything. It was so great for me, a lone cyclist on her first tour, and in Africa nonetheless. You can read blogs and until your eyes are burning before you embark on a tour, but talking to someone who is going through what you're going through currently and after you have a few kilometers under your belt is priceless and I was so grateful. Gerard and I cycled "together" the next day (I have "together" in quotations because Gerard is much more fit than I and was miles ahead of me most of the day....he also only has two panniers instead of four like I do), which was a neat experience as I had never cycled with anyone before, well not while cycle touring that is. I discovered I prefer cycling alone since I was constantly stressed about keeping up with Gerard. Nonetheless, the scenery was breathtaking. Landscapes changed drastically throughout the day as we went from the flat, grassy plains of Queen Elizabeth to the Andes-like hills covered in agricultural patches and filled with crater lakes situated at the bottom of long, steep hillsides. This meant a couple of very long climbs, but they weren't all that steep, at least not compared to those I experience a couple of weeks prior when going from Gulu to Fort Portal (Gulu to FP). Plus these climbs were paved!
Bikes and tents.
...hills and more cultivated hills.
A break from cultivation and a view of a forested valley.
The road after Ishaka turned into a bumpy dirt road full of construction and we found ourselves struggling to find anything -food, water and a place to sleep. The villages along this road were those of the "non-village" variety I comment on here: Sipi to Amudat except they were made up of a few concrete houses rather than mud/thatched roof huts. The point is: there were a handful of buildings that almost looked abandoned, the place was desolate, dusty with a couple of onions and some paraffin (kerosene). That's it. Not even warm bottled water. Thankfully, we reached a town further down the road called Kitagata where we found another cycle tourist! What?! Yes two in two days...crazy. This guy was from South Africa and was a well versed veteran in cycling around Africa. Seemed like he went on relatively short trips of a month or two in length from his home. This time he was traveling through Burundi, Rwanda and Uganda. Given that we were going in opposite directions, we exchanged useful information about our respective paths, things like where is a good place to stay, what the roads are like ahead, where you can find what resources and then we parted ways. He seemed like he just wanted to enjoy his beer and be alone. Fair enough, we all know what that's like. Gerard and I found water, both bottled as well as the local village source from a tap, of which the locals drink from straight and someone unlocked it for us. Some villages lock their water source at certain times of day and usually throughout the night to avoid misuse of water. I imagine this is necessary only in the dry season and less so in the wet season when water is more plentiful, but I'm not sure. It is very nice of them to make an exception for us mzungus and unlock the water source without hesitation. The same cannot be said, however, for beer sources. Gerard looked long and hard for beer that did not cost twice the price it should, but our skin colour seemed to jack up the price quite a bit. We ended up finding some for a normal price just 100m down the road and out of this town. Why do they have to go and do that? Bugs me.
The SA cycle tourist had told us we should check out the hot spring just 100m down the road and there might be a patch of grass we could camp on nearby. I don't know about Gerard, but I don't even hesitate when given advice by another cycle tourist, I just do what they say. So we went...and what did we find? Probably 3 dozen NAKED Ugandan men crammed together and BATHING in the hot spring. HAHAHAHAHAAH! Either the SA dude was pulling our leg or this crowd appeared after he had already left (if was Friday evening). Either way, what a sight. We just stood there, jaws open for a few seconds before turning around to leave, but not before someone (with clothes on) started approaching us and asking "What's wrong?" and saying "Come join us." Seriously, I felt like I was in some sort of twilight zone. I couldn't help but literally burst out in laughter in this guy's face. This was a comic scene meant for movies (or blog posts!).
Getting desperate for a place to stay now as we only have an hour of sunlight left (and beers meant to be drunk!), we try to ask the owner of a piece of farmland...no speak English. We go across the road to a construction company building. Success! We are given permission to camp behind this building. Turns out there's a REAL toilet with running water and a SEAT as well as a real shower! We weren't given permission to use the shower, but it was right next to the room with the toilet, so it was too easy. We had a good meal, good beer and good sleep with the cool, crisp air as we were getting higher in elevation. We woke up the next morning to find ourselves in a cloud. Gerard was ready to go before I even got out of my tent, he was eager to get going as we had about 120km to cycle that day if we were going to make it to Kabale. His plan was to go head and I was grateful so that I didn't have to stress about keeping up with him! Before Gerard was even finished packing his panniers, the owner of the construction building came up to him and starting yelling, "You must pay me. What are you doing here? This is my property. I have to cut the grass here." I was in my tent, but scrambled to get out to see what was going on. Apparently we did not speak to a real authority figure the night before when we asked permission to stay there. We spoke to the Acari, or security guard -apparently they don't have authority to give out such permission. The man continued to yell at us as we tried to explain that we were given permission and we weren't going to pay anything and in our respective countries, this would never happen, etc. He eventually backed-off, but nothing ever resolved. I packed up my stuff quicker than ever that morning and hit the road. What a rude awakening! Good thing the owner didn't find out we had used the shower without permission. Glad nothing came of it.
A beetle among many ants attacking fallen sexual ants attracted to the fluorescent lights.
That day was a tough, but absolutely splendid day. The road was great for the most part with beautiful scenery all around. Lots of ups and downs and a couple of HUGE ups and downs that lasted over an hour each, but the vistas were worth it as they always are. Thank goodness bananas are plentiful in Uganda or else I don't think I would have made it to the top!
A flock of egrets swooped low overhead here.
A typical view on this spectacular ride.
The SA cycle tourist had told us we should check out the hot spring just 100m down the road and there might be a patch of grass we could camp on nearby. I don't know about Gerard, but I don't even hesitate when given advice by another cycle tourist, I just do what they say. So we went...and what did we find? Probably 3 dozen NAKED Ugandan men crammed together and BATHING in the hot spring. HAHAHAHAHAAH! Either the SA dude was pulling our leg or this crowd appeared after he had already left (if was Friday evening). Either way, what a sight. We just stood there, jaws open for a few seconds before turning around to leave, but not before someone (with clothes on) started approaching us and asking "What's wrong?" and saying "Come join us." Seriously, I felt like I was in some sort of twilight zone. I couldn't help but literally burst out in laughter in this guy's face. This was a comic scene meant for movies (or blog posts!).
Getting desperate for a place to stay now as we only have an hour of sunlight left (and beers meant to be drunk!), we try to ask the owner of a piece of farmland...no speak English. We go across the road to a construction company building. Success! We are given permission to camp behind this building. Turns out there's a REAL toilet with running water and a SEAT as well as a real shower! We weren't given permission to use the shower, but it was right next to the room with the toilet, so it was too easy. We had a good meal, good beer and good sleep with the cool, crisp air as we were getting higher in elevation. We woke up the next morning to find ourselves in a cloud. Gerard was ready to go before I even got out of my tent, he was eager to get going as we had about 120km to cycle that day if we were going to make it to Kabale. His plan was to go head and I was grateful so that I didn't have to stress about keeping up with him! Before Gerard was even finished packing his panniers, the owner of the construction building came up to him and starting yelling, "You must pay me. What are you doing here? This is my property. I have to cut the grass here." I was in my tent, but scrambled to get out to see what was going on. Apparently we did not speak to a real authority figure the night before when we asked permission to stay there. We spoke to the Acari, or security guard -apparently they don't have authority to give out such permission. The man continued to yell at us as we tried to explain that we were given permission and we weren't going to pay anything and in our respective countries, this would never happen, etc. He eventually backed-off, but nothing ever resolved. I packed up my stuff quicker than ever that morning and hit the road. What a rude awakening! Good thing the owner didn't find out we had used the shower without permission. Glad nothing came of it.
A crazy insect. Looks like a giant mosquito, but wasn't a fly -couldn't see any halteres.
That day was a tough, but absolutely splendid day. The road was great for the most part with beautiful scenery all around. Lots of ups and downs and a couple of HUGE ups and downs that lasted over an hour each, but the vistas were worth it as they always are. Thank goodness bananas are plentiful in Uganda or else I don't think I would have made it to the top!
Gorgeous and unique mountain landscapes.
A typical view on this spectacular ride.
I surprised myself: I made it to Kabale. Not only did I surprise myself, I surprised Gerard. He didn't think I was going to make it :) It was a tiring day and I ate an insane amount of food that night and all the next day, but it was worth it. Even in a larger town like Kabale, I somehow picked the hostel Gerard had also picked. I guess the giant "BACKPACKERS" sign draws certain people's attention. Nothing eventful occurred in Kabale other than insanely loud music, hostel managers trying to charge the same for camping as they do for dorms and lots and lots of rain. I planned on staying in Kabale the next day because I *had* to do laundry. I had left it as long as I possibly could. What a waste of a day. The days of the sun drying your laundry by mid-day were over and I happened to choose the day of the endless rain drops. Needless to say, my laundry did not dry. In fact, it didn't dry for another few days after that. I'm not entirely sure how local people ever have dry clothes to wear in the rainy season as most people do not have anywhere to hang their clothes under. Doesn't sound like fun to me.
I got the heck out of Kabale the next day, albeit not until about 10:30am when the rain had only somewhat subsided. My journey was shorter that day, especially compared to the previous day of cycling, only 70 or so kms. One tiny problem: I did not have a rain jacket. I know, I know. I planned for how many months for this trip, but consciously decided not to bring a rain jacket?? In fairness, I knew I would be faced with rain near the end of my trip and I decided it wasn't worth it to carry around a bulky rain jacket for 6 and a half weeks, only to use it maybe a couple of times in the last week of riding. Plus, I had spent entire days in the rain in Costa Rica sin rain jacket many times knowing that you're bound to get wet regardless of whether you have a jacket or not in the tropics -either by rain or by sweat. I did not, however, factor in the elevation. Funny thing about science is: it gets colder the higher you go. I happened to be among the highest elevation towns in Uganda. According to Wikipedia, Kabale stands at 2,000m above sea level (you can find other fascinating information about just how cold it gets here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kabale). What do I say in these kinds of situations? FUCK IT. Off I went, already cold to the bone because, don't forget, I was wearing my soaking wet laundry that may as well have been freshly dunked in cold water. The first few meters sucked, I'm not going to lie. I thought I would turn back and have to stay another day in Kabale, but then I got warm! "Yes!" I thought, it's like tree planting, you just have to keep moving! And so I did. Up and up and down and down the crazy hills I went, getting crazier and crazier myself. I started yelling while enjoying the downhills and singing "Coocoocachew" as little Squirt's father does in "Finding Nemo". The rain fueled my stamina and energy -as it normally does. Why didn't I remember this earlier? I LOVE the rain. I love running in the rain, I love playing in the rain, I love planting in the rain. Well, guess what? I love cycle touring in the rain. Yes, it was freezing at times, but I said FUCK IT many times that day (and sometimes out loud). Luckily the road was amazing and I didn't have to worry about mud. Although it rained right up until maybe 10km before I reached Kisoro, this was by far my best day of cycling bar none. I winded through vista after vista, climbing and climbing and climbing to see lakes, including Lake Bunyonyi, rivers, various shades of green on hills upon hills in the distance. I traveled through a pristine jungle to my pleasant surprise! I got to see what these raped hills used to look like. The jungle was part of the Echuya Forest Reserve, apparently gazetted in 1939 -that's amazingly early for Uganda. For example, Kibale NP was gazetted in the 90's. Not a whole lot of info is out there about Echuya Forest Reserve (not even in Wikipedia!), but here's is a link with some good info about the ecosystem and how the area is managed: Echuya Project. Things don't look good for Echuya as it happens to stand smack-dab in the middle of the most densely population region in Uganda. This place is gorgeous with picture-perfect vines, moses, bird sounds galore, I saw baboons crossing the road, it's a true tropical jungle with a high canopy. The area surrounding it is devastated, like someone took a giant chisel and chiseled away parts of the jungle bit by bit to make way for agricultural plots and ignoring the screams of the chimpanzees, gorillas, birds and other wildlife that used to reside comfortably in their tree homes. Now all you here is "Mzungu! Mzungu! Give me money!" You can tell the ecosystem has been altered by looking at the clouds after the rain has subsided. On the cultivated side of the mountain the clouds remain high and relatively uniform. On the forested side of the mountain the clouds are whisping upwards out of forest crevasses back into the atmosphere like individual skinny ghosts. The funny thing is, this forest is supposed to be less of a hardwood forest and more of a bamboo forest apparently. We've just screwed up things royally (see the following journal article: The ecological changes of Echuya afromontane bamboo forest, Uganda Banana 2002 African Journal of Ecology Wiley Online Library). The contrast between the majority of my ride that day and when I saw this forest on the other side of the slope was astonishing and brought tears to my eyes. I was both upset as well as moved as I had been hoping and wondering if anyone had been able to save what these slopes once were. Thankfully, someone had, in 1939. Thank you, whoever you are.
Echuya Forest Reserve.
Envision many tweeting birds among the trees.
Just when I thought the vistas couldn't be more moving, I was slapped in the face by the massive peak of Mount Muhabura, which on the map just looks like any old hill, but this hill is a modest 4,127m high. So you can imagine just how stunned I was to see the peak of this thing poking out of the clouds. You can, and should, read more about this mountain as it borders Rwanda and is the tallest of three close peaks: Wiki Mount Muhabura.
Some bad-ass looking kids.
Hills as far as the eye can see.
The road. Down, down, down.
An attempt to demonstrate just how steep these hills are. I did not envy any of those digging in the fields on these slopes.
I reached Kisoro and stayed in a hostel, treated myself to a dorm room bed (the dorm room actually only consisted of two beds and no one was occupying the second bed, so me and my Surly took over) and ate, rested and took in Uganda as I knew I would be leaving the next day to cross the border into Rwanda. It felt weird knowing I was about to leave a place I just explored, lived in and been touched by over the past 7 weeks, but I had a plane to catch.
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