The Ritco bus up to Musanze was pretty painless, apart from being busy and encountering a few police road blocks and baggage checks. We ended up sat at opposite ends of the back row, me next to two annoying women who spent a lot of the time playing some Rwandan comedian on loudspeaker which I couldn't understand, and probably wouldn't have found amusing anyway. Dad fared better, making mates with a student called Pascale who even helped us with our bags when we got off. The baggage check was a bit odd: bus pulled over, everyone off, some peering into handbags etc, and a cursory glance into the luggage bins. Tina was bum out, with the skull thrust right into prime view, but the copper didn't bat an eyelid. As we moved north from Gisenyi, although only 60 odd km, you could notice the change. We were now heading up into the volcanic foothills, and there was the usual hyper intensive agriculture, but also cairns and rows of volcanic rock everywhere in the fields. These black coral esque formations gave the landscape a lunar feel, despite being a lush green. I then started to notice piles and piles of carrots on the side of the road, piled high and lashed down in the same way that the charcoal is. This region also seemed the poorest and busiest part of Rwanda as the towns were swarming with people, and it was pretty rundown. Bizarrely they were trying to sell me wheels of cheese at one bus stop, and I actually wish I'd got one. Rwandan cheese - how novel! We jumped off the bus before the official stop in the town Ruhengeri, as we were heading down to a campsite called Red Rocks in Nyakinama. I'd found them on the warmshowers.org app, and the guy Greg who runs it said we can camp for free. That was a real bonus as it would both make use of the camping stuff we'd been ferrying around, and save us some cash. It was a straight 7km downhill and we got there at about 5pm. Peterson, Gilbert and Peter were lovely, and immediately made us feel very welcome. We'd had the tour, being shown the gift shop, restaurant, banana beer pit, and 'club'. The latter caused some concern as Brian the yank said they're known for their parties, and the speakers were about as big as me. The place was also somewhat creepily decorated by Zulu the artist, with weird decaying figures meant to depict the evils of alcoholism, mixed with places that looked like they'd had a good going over with a paintball gun. Certainly not my cup of tea, but there we go. We put in our dinner order and met the only other guests - 3 Spanish girls from Galicia and Catalunya. It was nice to speak Spanish for a while as they were the first Spaniards I'd come across on the trip. They were leaving the next day so wanted a 'fiesta'. It soon turned out this meant going to the club about 10 metres from the campsite. Dad and I stayed up for a bit after dinner, plotting what to do with the bonus day and night following his diary-based senior moment. We decided we would do some more cycle touring and head out to Foyer de Charité on the South of Lake Ruhondo for an overnight stay, and come back on the Sunday morning before he flew late evening. It was a religious retreat so we had to check us pagans were allowed in, but that was easily taken care of by an email in very dodgy French, and a word perfect English version below. We were accepted in French so headed to the tents at about 9:30. The music was literally shaking the tents, but one could hardly ask for noise reduction before 10pm we reasoned. Dad asked for earplugs, which I gave him. I decided they were pretty pointless as, even if you couldn't hear the music, you could feel it. I think I actually fell asleep as when I came to at 11:30 he music had stopped. However, relief was shortlived as then some massive rock breaking pneumatic drill took over. It was destroying the local geology literally all night so suffice to say it wasn't a good night's rest. The next morning we weren't in a big rush as the Foyer was only about 20km away, so we had breakfast, and decided to hear to the local Fromagerie, to try and atone for my lack of window based cheese shopping the day before. It was a pleasant 10 minutes up the road along a dirt track, and whilst it became apparent it was a working cheesery, there were no English speakers (or French or Swahili to be honest) and certainly no tour of the facilities. We helped ourselves by peering through windows, opening doors and wondering round the farm yard. They had some very cute new piglets as well as the cows, but we were driven from there as soon as they fed mumma pig and all the surrounding animals started squeaking like hell. The saying 'Greedy as a pig' certainly came to mind. I still had to sort out Hilary bike logistics and had been texting Gerald the Ugandan guide we met on the trail about what to do. He suggested he could meet me and ride with me from the border, and to speak to a guy called Peterson at Red Rocks about getting it that far. He thought it would cost about a fiver to get it ridden up there. Seeing as we were staying at Red Rocks, and Peterson was now our best mate, that was extremely convenient. So, within about 10 minutes of returning from the fromagerie, also cheese less, I'd had everything squared away. We'd do our overnight trip and leave all our excess baggage here, coming back on Sunday when I would again stay the night after getting Dad on the bus to Kigali. It was nice to have everything sorted before our last lake-based bike foray, so I could now relax. We decided that rather than head 7km up into town on the tar road, and then cutting back down on another, we'd do what looked like a straightforward cut through. We set off about 10:30, and after a few minutes on the tar, we took the right hand dirt road. This promptly turned into a massive pile of earth and an unfinished bridge, but we persevered and were rewarded with a nicely graded, empty and wide dirt road. It was viciously uphill in places, and we basically climbed for the first 4km, but it was nice to be cycling something that I doubted any other muzungus had. The expected turn off never appeared, but I was fairly confident that such a 'major' road would spit us back onto the tar at some point. There were a lot of 'give me money' chants still, but I enjoyed a nice moment when I passed a group of kids all flying home made kites in the road. Seeing as they generally chase you anyway, I grabbed one of the kites off them and trailed it behind me up the hill for a while. Everyone, including myself, seemed to enjoy that, as well as find it amusing. My navigational confidence waned as the phone showed us both on a road that didn't exist, and heading in the opposite direction we wanted. We'd passed the grader in the last village and the road was now crap, and I went through a phase of annoyance, paranoia and asking a lot of locals the way. I didn't trust them especially, but one guy with decent French eventually explained the whole route to us, and he was bang on. We emerged onto buttery smooth, quick rolling tar about 20 minutes later, albeit a lot lower down than I was expecting. As we sat at the T-junction debating whether to go left or right, a huge procession of pikipikis streamed by, hooting and whooping, and weaving all over the place. It went on for a good 5 minutes, and continued as we pedalled along the road (to the left). It was obviously something political as they were all covered in and waving flags as they went. I just sh, they seemed to enjoy their politics a lot more than the English do! We got to the Foyer at about 2:30 and were shown round by one of the sisters. It was all in French but I got the gist of things: dinner at 6:30, be quiet in the praying zones, too far down to the lake to go now, hot showers, don't drink the tap water etc. The only awkward moment was when she gave Tina's balls a fondle as she walked past - naughty girl! That would cost her a few Hail Mary's, I'm sure, but made us laugh. It was very peaceful up there, and I enjoyed some good hammock time reading the kindle and listening to their singing. Unfortunately that was disturbed initially by those infernal Pied crows cawing in the trees. I spent about 5 minutes chucking stuff at them but they just did a loop and landed again. Bloody birds! Then a massive group of children appeared and I had to endure a barrage of 'Mzungu mzungu', lots of hissing at me, and general rabble rousing. I stoically ploughed on, ignoring them as best I could, but they wouldn't move on, so after 10 minutes I did the moving on: packing up the hammock and scurrying into the relative peace of the Foyer's lovely garden. It was 5pm anyway by then, so time to search, tactfully of course, for some beers. It took a while, and I think they went up to the village for them, but they did arrive eventually (as it beat me walking up to the village myself). Tepid as opposed to cold, but my heat tolerance for drinks has increased over the course of the trip, mostly through necessity. We enjoyed them sat on the wall overlooking Lake Ruhondo. Dinner was a veritable banquet, starting off with vegetable soup, and then professing to prodigious amounts of crispy roast potatoes, beef stew, cabbage and salad from the garden, rice and beans. And by this time the beers were cold as someone had put them in the freezer! For a while we dined to the sound of religious hymns, which was actually quite relaxing, but then the sound was sent to the dining hall rather - us two heathens dined separately, and with no music after a while. The Father of the place came in to say hello, and he was a nice friendly guy. After the massive main course we were served some disappointing pawpaw (but then all pawpaw is disappointing in my opinion). We stayed up a while chatting, mostly because we were too full to manage the walk back to the room, and then bed at 9ish I think. We'd ordered breakfast for 7:30 just to be on the safe side for getting back to town and making sure Dad got on the Ritco back to Kigali and caught his flight. He assured me he was flying today, and not tomorrow. Breakfast was decent, but not as impressive as dinner by a long shot, where the only let down was cheesy butter. The cycle back to Musanze was a pretty straightforward affair: back down the 12km of dirt roads, and then 3km uphill once you hit the tar. It was a shorted route, and we were only on 22km by the time we were back at Red Rocks. I say we, as we lost each other again. I'll put my hand up and say this time it was probably my fault, as rather than going with Dad to the cash point, I went looking for samoosas, and then got distracted by pharmacies as I tried to get more malaria tabs. We got everything organised for Dad's departure, had lunch, and then both pikipikied up to the bus station. It was a bit of a hurried goodbye as the bus was a bit to leave and there weren't many seats, but it was great having him out for the 10 days, and hopefully it hasn't put Dad off cycling for life! Dad's last Rwandan PikipikiMy plan for the next day, before heading into Uganda, was to do a circuit of Lake Burera and bushcamp, then meet Peterson with the bike at the border on Tuesday morning. However, aside from feeling a little lazy, when Peterson came and brought me some African Tea (chai) out of the blue, I decided that he was such a good bloke that I just had to cycle with him. I also quite wanted a taste of cycling with a local to mix things up a bit. Therefore, on Monday I just headed up to Kinigi to meet the Team Rwanda/Africa Rising guys at their compound and added a few more kms on for fun. Meeting Team Rwanda was quite interesting, although all the main guys were in America ready for the Tour of Oregon. I can't say they were particularly interested in me, but I guess cyclists become a bit boring if you deal with them everyday. I'd have liked to have done a training ride with some of them as I think it would have been interesting to see what kind of level they're at. Anyway, the only guy about was 5-time Tour De Rwanda winner Abraham, and he didn't fancy a race. What was most interesting was the blend of professional and African: you had 18 brand spanking Pinarellos with electronic Campagnolo group set, courtesy of President Kagame, and then these guys pitching up trying to break into the team with 10/15 carbon bikes bandaged up with carbon repair tape. The blend of African and modern was quite amusing - one guy had gone with the ride it until it breaks attitude and when the mechanic took a look at the bottom bracket, there were no bearings left at all, just dust! They have a big compound where the top guys live, and they must follow a strict regime and diet, so hopefully they'll start to see some results on the pro circuit. They get kudos from me for having their own veggie patch where they try and grow as much produce as they can. After Team Rwanda I decided to carry on up the hill, sans Abraham, to have a bit of a general explore. It was about another 10km up to the entrance to Volcanoes National Park, but at $1500 a permit, that would be as close to the gorillas as I was going to get! Still, it was a nice ride, and I soon came across a big lorry blocking the road, accompanied by lots of shouting. Something exciting was going on, clearly, so I approached accompanied by heavy use of my fancy two-tone bell. It turns out it was about 20/30 blokes loading huge Eucalyptus trunks onto said lorry, accompanied by a crowd of onlookers. I watched for a while, but then, seeing as I had nowhere to be, or a schedule at all, decided to park Tina and get involved. It had been a while since stevedoring on the Liemba and it would be good to get in some upper body exercise - keep the body guessing, you know. The system was basically a bit of shouting (1, 2, 3 in Nyerwanda I think as is ended in tatu, which is 3 in Swahili) and then we all shove together. These trees were about 10m and biblically heavy; I honestly don't know how they got the first end up into the truck. We were at the shove it further onto the truck stage, to join the other 14 they'd already loaded. There was a guy up top with some soapy water and a rag to help ease progress, but it was still bloody hard. They bloody loved me joining in, and it was photos all round once loading of that tree had completed. They even made me have a draught from the communal chibuku cup - gross! I pedaled off up the hill amidst much adulation, leaving them to their alcohol fueled heavy-lifting. After that I just minced about, cycling up to the entrance to Volcanoes National Park. It being Rwanda, entrance would have cost me $40 and seeing the gorillas another $1000 odd, so that was as close as I was going to get to our ape friends. On the way back through town I consoled myself with a visit to the Diane Fossey museum, which is all about her and gorillas. Quite interesting, and free! That pretty much concluded my last day in Rwanda, as the next day Tina, Hilary and I were off to the border and crossing into Uganda. Final thoughts on Rwanda: I've really enjoyed my time in the country, just as I thought I would. As I've mentioned already, I'm really impressed with what they've achieved and where they are now, considering the country was in absolute bits less than 25 years ago. Like any country, it has its problems, and in terms of the people I must say I wasn't a fan of the constant asking for money, and the hissing for attention tactic. Aside from that, I've found them to be very friendly and welcoming people. They also seem to have a bit more drive and purpose than a lot of the other places I've been, which I like. I think most people tend to think of Rwanda as quite a developed country, and it's both true that it has a good functioning infrastructure, and seems to have an efficiency about it that gives the impression that all is well. Yet whilst it's true that the roads are good, there's a cheap and efficient government run bus service, and a lot more tin roofs about than I'm used to, I was really shocked at how that contrasts with the water infrastructure. I'm not sure if it's just a case of what aid money and charities focus on in Rwanda, but I saw very few bush pumps and some people filling up the ubiquitous yellow 25l Jerry cans in some horrible, horrible looking streams. You can't go up a hill without seeing at least 20 locals battling up the slope, either carrying water on their heads, or pushing a heavily laden bike up there. That said, I did see a lot more buildings with gutters and rain water harvesting set up, and indeed the Rwandans seem a lot more in tune with waste management and environmental stewardship than the rest of Africa (not that that is particularly hard of course): when we looked around the tea and coffee places, they were making natural fertiliser and treating by product water. I've come to miss the bush pumps and the chatting to the locals when rehydrating, and buying bottled water now feels a bit like cheating. I've heard some people say that Rwanda lacks character, that's it's not proper Africa, and whilst I did find that they were too geeed up for posh tourism and too by the book for my mad bike touring tastes, I think they've shown tremendous character to rebuild after the tragedy of 1994. I absolutely loved the scenery in Rwanda, and actually took a perverse pleasure in the hilly terrain, but I do think I found the tourism scene a bit high end and out to get your dollars. That's probably just a symptom of the type of trip I'm on, and the contrast with the other places I've been. I met a few Mzungus on the Congo Nile Trail, and I described it to them as Africa for beginners really (which I think they set all happy with), but it lacked the edge and value of the other countries I've cycled through. Naturally, as a Mzungu, I soon started giving orders on what to do. And obviously, they didn't listen. TIA! And so into Uganda! Unfortunately Peterson was busy at Red Rocks so they found me a 'proper cyclist' replacement. His name was Yannick and he was a very slight 21 year old who they said trains with Team Rwanda. Uh oh. I was quite glad I'd slapped my camping gear on his Hilary, along with the other camping kit, and that the rear tyre was a bit soft. He was a nice enough guy, but certainly no Peterson. On the first climb (which is about 7km long, but not very steep) there was a bit of ability investigation going on I think. It wasn't a struggle really, but when he got his tyre pumped up I thought I might be in trouble. Those worries turned out to be misplaced as he spent the remaining 25km to the border trying (and mostly failing) to keep up. Sucker! I dropped him a few times and gave up waiting for him after a while, racing the waifs and strays that challenged me along the way. One guy on a decent Trek mountain bike gave a good account of himself, especially on the sections of the road they'd dug up, but he disappeared quite suddenly once back on the tar; it turns out he'd snapped a pedal trying to keep up. What a mug, and a solid victory for Tina and I, although I did feel a bit guilty about being the cause of the mechanical mishap. I was quite pleased to see Yannick pitch up at the border both after me, and rimed with sweat. I can't see him making Team Rwanda if he can't hack my touring pace, but perhaps he will. If he does, I'll be sure to try out too! I disguised my skulls for the border and we sailed through. That left just 9km to Kisoro where Louis was due to get the bus to. We were later away from Red Rocks than anticipated due to the change of rider, but Louis' bus was making slow progress so no need to rush. We went into town so that I could draw some shillings - just the 500,000, no big deal - and sort a local sim so that I could get hold of Louis and Nkusi. Whilst sorting this it started to rain, which caused me much anxiety as I am firmly in the fair weather category of cyclist, despite undertaking such a long trip. Luckily it only lasted about 5 minutes and I could emerge relatively unscathed. After getting to a garage (good cover in case it rained again) I gave Yannick a tenner for cycling the bike over the border to me, and sent him on his way. I then told Nkusi I was waiting for him at the garage, and to come up and meet me. I got tucked into my first Ugandan beer in the meantime - a Club. Nkusi is a Ugandan guy I met on the Congo Nile Trail with Dad when he was guiding a Swiss chick in the other direction. We stopped and chatted for a while as they were the first guys we'd seen doing the trail. I took his number as I hoped he could help me with Hilary cross-border transportation. In the end I got it to Kisoro easily enough, but Nkusi wanted to meet us and show us around a bit. I escalated this into staying with him, and I'm glad I did given the poor options in Kisoro. He lives slightly out of town, conveniently towards Lake Bunyoni where we would head the day after. So we pedaled the 5km or so to his place, arriving at about 3pm probably. He's quite a figure in the community and is building a little heritage centre and tourist attraction which he showed me around and explained. Of even more interest was his permaculture garden which we spent quite a while discussing. He'd been trained by the US Peace Corps guys, and was now in charge of training locals in the practice. This was obviously a bit of a battle, but they had had a few bad years of rain, which I think makes them more receptive to trying new things. Hopefully it will catch on and become more popular. After that we cycled off to see a local landmark - the Kigesi Monument. This was very important historically as it was the hilltop site where the colonial powers met to determine the borders of Uganda, Congo and Urundi-Uanda. It was pretty cool to go and have a look at that as it's not something your average tourist has any idea about. In another interesting relic of Uganda's past, the original African despot, Idi Amin, also decided that he must have a base at this important site, and started to build a house there. He was deposed before he ever used it (although he was in power for a long time) and all that remains are two stones. After my history and culture lesson we went in search of cold beer. I came to the conclusion this wasn't really Ugandan culture as it proved basically impossible. It was now getting to about time to expect Louis, so I issued him with instructions of where to get off (before Kisoro) and what to look for. Whilst in search of cold beer, I came across a little metal shop. I knew from Dad that Hilary's handlebars were too low for comfortable long distance riding, and with Louis being rather tall, I decided to try and get some modifications done. They didn't have bar ends, or anything suitable for that really, but we fashioned a kind of extra set of handlebars out of scraps of metal. Louis arrived mid modification, and if he was horrified at seeing his bike being attacked with a welder before he'd even ridden it, he didn't show it. He picked up the £2 tab for the works and took her for a test ride whilst I ordered a Rolex (roll eggs - omelette inside a chapati) and continued the quest for cold beer. This ultimately proved futile so we headed home. We introduced Louis to Nkusi's mother, Hope, and I was put in charge of showing Louis around the heritage centre and garden. I don't think I butchered it too much, but I certainly couldn't remember the local pronunciation of their butter churning gourd, sleeping mat or spear. After that we focused on dinner - rabbit, which I'd met in its live state earlier in the afternoon - and helped by peeling potatoes and chopping up veg to go in the stew. All I can say that this would have been achieved much quicker if we'd had chopping boards, but there we go. We also struggled with fire heat control and basically didn't eat until almost 10pm. Given that I'd normally be asleep by then, it was a bit of a nasty shock. We were also planning to make an early start and try and get up to Churchill's View for sunrise, so we went to bed pretty much straight after dinner. We'd elected to share a bed inside rather than camp out in the garden, and whilst he certainly wasn't the type of Hazell bed companion I'm used to, all went well despite the tiny mosquito net dangling at face level. The morning was also cold with a very heavy dew, so we felt doubly vindicated for getting close and personal rather than cold and wet. Nkusi had very kindly sorted us breakfast so we got up to bananas and bread, which we supplemented with butter and Jan from my panniers, and drinking millet porridge. The latter I can only politely describe as an acquired taste, but good energy so I just about managed to slurp a cup down. Sunrise was always a tall ask, but we got away at about 7:45. We quickly discovered that Uganda is also hilly, and for the first 13km we were climbing some pretty solid hills. It looked like Louis, much like Dad, was in for a baptism of fire, but at least it was nice tar roads. That was until we got near to Churchill's View where we veered off onto some fantastically steep dirt road. I tackled as much of it as I could, but even Tina and I were reduced to pushing once. The shame, the shame! So Churchill view was where old Winston famously (in these parts at least) stood upon the top of a hill, and admiring the view, declared Uganda 'The Pearl of Africa'. The phrase has stuck and actually features in their National Anthem. The hill itself is 2500m high, and I'm sure on a fine day yields breathtaking views. On our visit it was just bloody cold and windy, so after a few photos and talking up the view, it was back down to the tar. It was here, after 15km, that we parted ways with Nkusi. He's an excellent guy and it was really great to stay with locals again and be shown around some of the stuff that just would have passed us by otherwise. A very auspicious start to Uganda, I must say. Louis and I were heading to Lake Bunyoni as it's supposed to be very beautiful and a popular spot for tourists. That would be about 70km and next up was passing through a forest reserve. It was Nyungwe NP esque in its altitude and vegetation, but not as large or impressive to be honest. There also seemed to be a lot of cattle grazing and tree cutting going on to be considered a proper reserve. Still, Uganda was serving up some spectacular views and nice (albeit hilly) riding. Nkusi had advised us to take the dirt road along the lake shore at Hiseselo, so after about 30km we duly turned off. It was certainly scenic, wiggling along the edge of the lake, but it was also rough and covered in a layer of deep dust, which made for tiring riding. The undulations were manageable until it came to a point where the road climbed up and away from the lake. This turned into a pretty brutal ascent which I didn't enjoy a whole bunch. Perhaps it's the wrong tactic but when riding with people on tour I tend to just ride at my own pace and then wait for them rather than shadow and chaperone: I wouldn't want some skinny bearded guy cajoling me up the hills because realistically it doesn't help. So, I just left Louis to it, and I think he was in a pretty unhappy place for most of that hill. I coined the phrase 'Gap yah nightmah' and had a bit of a chuckle about that. He'd stopped for fruit to get some more energy and texted me to ask what the plan was. 'Waiting for you at the top' was my deadpan reply. We were in it now, and had to just carry on. Admittedly it was a tough hill, and the bulldozer that had destroyed the top portion of the ascent certainly didn't help but there was nothing to be done really. We had a good rest at the top and luckily there was food at the next village so we had a good feed of matoke (big non sweet bananas) and beans, along with a soft drink. I'm not sure how restored Louis was feeling, but he bore it admirably I must say. It was then a pretty short, and thankfully mostly downhill, stint to our destination. There was a nice terrace up at the top of the hill, and I suggested a beer there. Louis initially refused - much like Dad's ordering of a Red Bull, a departure from character - but once I got tucked into mine he relented. We'd make a proper cycle tourist of him yet! After the beer we zoomed down to the lake and selected Edirisa as our campsite of choice. Had we known it was down an increasingly poor road, and up a few horrible little hills, it probably would have been a different matter. However, it was a community campsite so I felt that we were doing our little bit by staying there. The ones in town proper were either quite posh, or had big overlander trucks in - a crowd that's often full of wiffers, so best avoided. We had the place to ourselves, and with cold beers for £1 and direct access to the lake, it wasn't a bad place to be. We were there by 3 ish and after taking care of washing and bathing, it was time to relax. Louis was reading a very high brow 'Why does E=MC2' book whilst I engaged in some danger hammocking, spurning their safe ones and rigging mine up across the corner of the observation deck. Getting in was slightly dodgy, and not at all graceful, but worth it for the improved lake views and birdwatching opportunities. My precipitous hanging caused great consternation amongst the locals, with one of the camp staff reprimanding me for being reckless, and school children, about to embark to their kayak home, spent about 5 minutes gawking and squealing. I gave them the royal wave from my lofty position and wishes them bon voyage (their craft didn't look terribly lake-worthy). Aside from some good sunbird action, we also saw a couple of otters swimming about. If only I'd had my camera, but alas it had broken for good at the Foyer, and now resided, along with its charging cable, in a bit in Rwanda (Tina insists upon a strict no dead weight policy). We rewarded ourselves after a tough day's cycling by treating ourselves to crayfish for supper. Delicious, but a little light on the portion size. When asked how dinner was I informed them 'I enjoyed what little there was of it'. Given that this didn't prompt an offer of seconds, I can only assume the request for feedback was insincere. We were early to bed, with the whole campsite to ourselves, and then up and away by 8 in order to get to a chapati stall for our morning Rolex. We ordered 4 and took 2 for the road. After breakfast it was up and away from the lake, and then a long bumpy downhill dirt road into Kabale. Rolling back onto the blacktop at the t-junction was blissful, especially for Louis I think as his posterior is much younger and more tender than mine. I would point out here that I very kindly donated him a chamois for the trip, freshly laundered of course. In town we stopped for cash for Louis whilst I checked out the Supermarket. This panned out very well as they had ice cream, and although only 10am, a treat rare enough in Africa not be passed off. Louis was very optimistic that it would be flat after Kabale, and I, not wanting to crush his young and fragile spirit, played along. We had no specific place to get to, so I said we'd just ride and see how far we get. It was quite lumpy initially, with quite a big climb straight out of Kabale, but then it eased off. I don't know where we stopped for lunch, but it was quite convenient, with people swarming over to sell you everything. I do enjoy this kind of shopping, but it's best from the bus window as you are in more of a position of power and can simply shut the window when you've had enough. However, we were on the street and in the thick of it so a much more immersive experience: I took a Rolex straight off, as a good staple any time of the day, and then supplemented that with a 25p goat skewer. Following that I sent a guy off in search of bananas, and ordered some plain chapatis to wrap the bananas in (a good snack I've found). That concluded our market dining experience and we decided to have our banana chapati dessert up the road as we were a bit bored of having goat skewers waved in our faces by now. Thus far the Ugandan landscape had been quite Rwanda-esque, but as it flattened out a bit we came into cattle country. It was greenish, but had strong undertones of overuse and overgrazing that I saw in N Tanzania on my way to Rusumo. They were different cows though, and there were actually a lot of proper dairy cows (Friesan/Holstein) along with Milk SACCOS (cooperatives) dotted along the road. These were invariably spelt as 'Diary Shops' which made me chuckle - there must be a dyslexic sign painter in town. All that day we'd been following signs for NMO, and when we got there we'd done about 97km, so we decided that would do for the day. I still have no idea what the town is actually called, but after stopping at the petrol station for a cold drink, we decided we'd find somewhere nearby. A compressor and air gun bay caught my eye as Tina was rather dusty from the dirt roads and the derailleur etc was in need of a good clean. So I sauntered over there and for 25p (they asked for £1,25) I gave her a good blast with that. I must say it worked like a charm, and I was very pleased with myself (as was Tina I'm sure). Following that we turned our attention to a place to rest our weary bones for the night. Technically we wanted the turning before town tomorrow so we decided to check out the first hotel along our route. It looked very much on the posh side, but we had enough time for some failed attempts so decided to give it a go. We asked at reception if we might camp somewhere and we didn't get the immediate 'No' I was expecting: we had to talk to the manager Nelson. Funnily enough we also had a Nelson at Edirisa, but he was a bit of a moron, so we were hoping for better. He was a nice guy, but a bit of a ball-buster; saying not a problem, showing us round, and then coming to 'the price'. He hammed everything up too much and asked for 50,000 shillings. I cried foul and said that was a ridiculous fee and that we didn't really care if it was a fancy hotel or not. There was a lot of toing and froing but eventually I had him on the ropes: free to stay but we'd have dinner and beers at the restaurant to show our appreciation. However, victory was shortlived as I'd forgotten to get showers explicitly included. Here Nelson pretended that 'changed everything' and asked for 40,000 again. I pointed out that that was rather disingenuous as surely common sense dictated that two guys who'd been cycling all day would want a shower, especially if we were to dine in his fancy restaurant. In the end we agreed 20,000 and went down to use the staff showers. Following that, there was a lot of changing of minds about where we wanted to camp, and then where we were allowed to camp. In the end we settled down the bottom and were freshly scrubbed and ready for beers by 6. We had a chef come out and see us, and after trying to get us to take the USh200,000 platter, promised to go and out together a menu to suit our budget. He also said we could have rice pudding for dessert - something I got very excited about as oddly enough I'd been fantasising about a good rice pud recently. Anyway, he never came back, and it later transpired that he'd gone home, leaving us menu and rice pudding-less. We had pork fillet, mash and gravy which was quite pleasant, although the lack of suitable pudding left a bitter aftertaste. We were to bed early that night (as per usual) but I didn't sleep well due to screaming jackal and barking dogs issues. Regardless we were up pretty early and trying to scrounge some free breakfast by 8. We managed a couple of bananas (accompanied by a third surreptitiously slipped into my pocket) and a glass of pineapple choice. Tea we would have to be charged for, apparently. It was a decent place to stay, and I must say I enjoyed the haggle, but charging a couple of thirsty cyclists for a brew seemed a bit pathetic to me. We were on our way by about 8:45 when Louis committed a fatal error: trying to match my power on the hills. It was a rather nasty gradient up the hotel drive, and as he slipped away into the distance, I can only imagine he tried to try and close the gap. That's when I heard a frantic, panted shout of 'Mechanical, mechanical!'. He'd only gone and snapped poor Hilary's chain before getting to the end of the drive. Snapping chains is quite satisfying in a way, but not good for progress. Still, we can't really blame the young lad for wanting to keep up, can we?! Haha. I tried sticking one of my quick links in to remedy the issue, but the 8 and 9 speed widths didn't get on, so we decided the only solution was for him to push into town and visit the local mechanic. Not a disaster as it was only 1km away, and we were heading there for breakfast anyway. A couple of guys on bikes showed us the way, but he turned out not to be much of a mechanic: after trying to sell me a new single speed chain, he then found about 5 old links and started bartering the pin in with a ratchet. I took a look at the chain and one link was already broken, and after this faux pas he was firmly relegated to sub mechanic. I got out my chain breaker, picked the best link, popped that out and then joined it all back together (after correcting the way he threaded it through the derailleur. By this point we had a rather large crowd who were very impressed with the chain breaker, gasping and 'eeeee'-ing as I deftly deployed it. The mechanic didn't really further his cause much so when it came to negotiation he got USh1000 for the link and that was it. Mechanical issues no longer precipitate the dread that they used to early in the trip, and although this was a rather African bodge job, it only took 20 minutes and cost us 25p - not bad! We then set off for breakfast and were shown to a nice chapati place by the two that showed us to the mechanic. Here we ordered chapati and beans, along with some extra chapats for bananas later. We sat in his little dining room in the shade and washed it down with some African tea (although not the chai I was hoping for). We had a bit of a tiff about his chapati prices as 1000 is twice the normal 500. I conceded they were larger than average, but not twice the size. Anyway, my remonstrations fell on deaf ears (I suspect there was some tout commission built in along the line). We hit the road at 10, on what, naturally, turned out to be an extremely hot day. The road was decent enough, and quite quiet, but the real bonus was when we turned off for Ishaka after about 20km. This one was also brand new, pretty deserted, and largely downhill. There was one brute of a hill where we stopped for a banana chapat and cold drink, but otherwise we pretty much cruised the 35km into town. Ishaka wasn't up to much, and I selected the first eatery that I saw, in amongst all the other bride a brac and random stalls along the high street. It was called Lion's Den, like the meat joint of famous repute in Zim that I'd stopped in at, and although no biltong here, it did so a pretty decent goat and rice with juice. After concluding a satisfactory lunch we took a left, leaving the Kampala road. This resulted in a swift deterioration of the road, and we were now dodging plenty of potholes as well as speed bumps, matolas and boda bodas. However, we were soon in tea country which provided some nice looking scenery. In fact it took on a bit of a Rwandan sense of deja vu as the estate was owner by Macleod Russell, the same guys as the Pfunda Estate I toured with Dad, and following that we passed into a forest nature reserve. We stopped at a campsite in the forest to check it out, and although they didn't do food, it was cheap and you could track chimpanzees in the morning for $40. I was sorely tempted, but Louis rather less so, so we decided to push on another 20km to the recommended Crater Lakes. We didn't see any wildlife but it was a lovely climb and the descent through the reserve. The tar was wet ahead of us and we ran into the back of a rainstorm, which although a horrible shock for someone who's only been rained on 3 times in 3 months, it wasn't too bad. What was bad was Crater Lakes campsite. We pitched up there at 5ish with high hopes, which were soon cruelly dashed: it was empty, half building site and full of both cowshit and horrible fly type things. They wanted $10pp to camp - a princely sum for Uganda and one which we refused to pay. In the end we said we'd stay in a room for $20 - the same price as camping - and matey called his boss to check. 'Yes, that's fine, you can have a room for $40' came the reply. We told him we meant $20 for the room, not per person. To be fair he was a good lad and called Elisa down the road at Rift Valley Lodge who said she'd have us. Price was undisclosed at this stage, but the place was amazing, right on the edge of the plain overlooking Queen Elizabeth National Park below. It was a hell of a view and after some charming she agreed to letting us camp for free and we would have some beers and dinner at theirs. Again, we had the place to ourselves, and after a nice warm shower and pitching camp, we enjoyed some cold beers looking out over the plain towards Congo and the sunset. We could even dimly distinguish elephants below! Dinner was very nice and there was much back slapping on both our good luck and charming personalities. In the morning we only had 50km to do to get to Kasese where I'd been put in touch with a farming group called Joseph Initiative. The idea was to take a look around and stay there so we had a very chilled day basically cycling through a game park and trying to see some cool stuff without becoming animal fodder. The day started extremely well with a very nice breakfast but things soon began to deteriorate as Elisa handed us a bill of 40,000 for breakfast and 30,000 for camping. That was a nasty shock and we pointed out that she'd agreed to letting us camp for free. Apparently she hadn't, but we got away with it on the basis of us making our position extremely clear, and her failing to. Breakfast was a bit trickier as although we'd eaten it, we hadn't ordered it so thought it was a free treat. Here I meant to pay half price breakfast but my maths failed me and I said we'd pay 60,000 instead of the 50k. A bit annoying, but not bad value for the spot and good food. So after another round of the haggle dance, we were on our way at around 9. I'd lined up a farm tour in Kasese at with some guys called the Joseph Initiative so the plan was a chilled 50km to there, most of it through the National Park. We weren't quite sure what to expect from Queen Elizabeth, and whether we'd be allowed through: in theory it's Big 5, so cyclists would be fair game, so to speak, and you're also supposed to pay $40/person park fees to enter, but on the other hand it is a public road and the locals cycle it (usually a good sign). So, we set off, and after about 7km on an increasingly poor road, we were in the Park. No barrier or rangers or anything; just a flattened monitor to mark the collision of man and beast. We were in! It was a shame the rod was so awful as you basically had to concentrate on pothole dodging rather than admiring the scenery and looking for game. We came nice and close to some pretty big tuskers which was nice, and that took me back to my Botswana days (it was also very flat). After a bit longer we crossed the bridge (which interestingly formed part of an emergency bridge over the Thames during WWII) that separates Lakes George and Edward - this part of the world certainly isn't for the anarchists out there - and bizarrely we were in a little town just in the middle of the game park. It was pretty bizarre, and verging on the dump rather than picture-esque. I imagine if we needed water or some grub we'd have been grateful, but we were well prepared so wilderness would have been preferable. However, just after the town the battle of man and nature bore some monumental fruit in the form of four dead buffalo. This was big, big news for my roadkill page, and although very much one in the eye for the conservationists, very exciting indeed from my point of view. There was quite a crowd, and there were police everywhere with guns 'conducting investigations' so I was slightly worried about them letting me take photos. I started off erring on the surreptitious until me excitement got the better of me. I become increasingly animated and brazen, but they didn't seem to mind, which was fortunate, as to be denied the opportunity to document such a momentous find would have been a bitter disappointment. From asking around a bit, it seems a night bus smashed four buffalo, killing them, and then drove off. Then, to spice things up even more, some locals obviously chanced upon the carcasses and had two of them away for a bit of bush meat. Quite why they decapitated them but took the rest I'm not sure: I decided it was better either to take it all, and leave no evidence, or make things easier and just gut it etc there so less to carry. After that bit of excitement we came across a Spanish couple heading the other way on Mountain Bikes. We had a bit of a chin wag in a mixture of English and Spanish (Louis being a mathematician rather than a linguist) and they were quite nice, spending a month in Uganda focusing more on the off road stuff. On the back half of the park we saw plenty of live buffalo (a first for me), waterbuck, warthog, impala (obviously!) and a mongoose type thing. And then after that we crossed the equator! I'd passed 4000km a few days before, so it had been a long time coming, and I must say it was quite cool crossing over into the Northern Hemisphere. We took a few photos and then carried on to Kasese, about 10km away. Kasese was basically a massive dump full of petrol stations and not a lot else. I think the tone was probably set by another 'Fuck you' from a local kid on the approaches. A novel departure from the usual 'most welcome' indeed! It turns out that Joseph Initiative do have a farm, but it's miles away in Masindi. What they have in Kasese is a maize processing plant - drier and mill. We had a quick poke around there, and it was quite interesting, I must say. They buy locally in lots of no less than 2 tonnes (but you can bring as little as 50kg if you get it to the gate), and accept only within certain visual and moisture parameters, and then process it for export, either as kernels or flour. There's a very decent mark up on the flour side of things, and it made me chuckle that it's a German owned, for-profit company, but the mill had big USAID stickers all over it. There was clearly no farm or anywhere to camp so we said our goodbyes and just got going. That was around 3pm, and it looked like another 30km or so up to the crater lakes surrounding Fort Portal. We stopped to eat a delicious bowl of chapati, beans and avo at around 4:30, and it was a good job we did as it started to get pretty lumpy and hot. We were also expecting to be relaxing now, so it was a fairly grim afternoon all in all. We made a couple of abortive investigations about places to stay, but local consensus seemed to be Lodge Bella Vista. It was off the main road, and whoever we asked tended to point to the top of an ominously high hill. That afternoon was pretty draining, and I think the sweatiest I've ever been on tour. We ended up with 97km and 1100m of climbing in the bag, and despite breaking a rear spoke (number 4 now) on the last stretch of off-road we were soon very glad we'd stuck at it. The lodge had a campsite, so no need to go through the whole rigmarole of permission etc. We had the place to ourselves and it was $5 each to camp, overlooking a nice crater lake. After a nice warm shower and setting up camp we headed up for beers and ordered battered tilapia and chips for dinner. It was a handsome portion and good cooking so we were very pleased with the venue. We were also now well ahead of schedule and only 40km from Fort Portal. Consequently we decided to stay up late and have a pool challenge. Close run thing but I just edged the series. We then played one of the workers Mohamed a few times as he had the key so free games. Bonus! Our plan for the next day, rather than rushing up to Fort Portal, was to head to Lake Nkuruba, reputed to be the most scenic lake in these parts. That meant a short 25km on dirt, or up to FP and back down on the tar. We chose the scenic route and headed down into town at around 9. The plan was to have some breakfast, get my spoke fixed, and be on the road by 10. The mechanic, whilst much better than Hilary's one in NMO, was still very much of the village type. He didn't have any new spokes but that wasn't an issue as I carry a few on my chainstay. Quick Release skewers also seemed to mystify him so I took the wheel off and appraised him of the situation. Unfortunately it was a drive side spoke so that meant removing the cassette. I have the adaptor nut for this, but no chain whip to hold the cassette. He didn't help matters by repeatedly (literally 4 times) tightening it despite me saying UNDO. However, once the task at hand was clarified I was able to turn my attention to my beans and chapati, and he did a stirring job of putting it all back together and truing the wheel. We were all set by 10, and promptly turned off onto the dirt after just 300m of tar. They were actually really great dirt roads, and it was a very pleasant, although hilly, 20 odd km to Lake Nkuruba. Once there, we followed the signs for the community campsite and there met Sam. I knew there was supposed to be another option but he said it was 'very far' and had no power or anything. That he didn't have power either didn't seem to occur to him. Anyway, he was a bit of a salesman (classic) and it is supposed to support an orphanage so we agreed to stay. He then somehow got 50,000 off of us so he could fix us dinner (also had to be ordered then). Camping was cheap but we had to pay the same again in conservation fees he said. We wanted to go to the lake so seemed fair enough. This was when things started to get a bit weird. Sam followed us down, and even at one point started taking a piss mid conversation. He then came swimming, despite not being able to swim, and took pictures of us in the lake. I was pretty fed up of the weirdo by now, so when he asked if we could go back as he'd left reception unattended I just said that's your problem mate, we're staying here. To cap it all off, he shouted across the lake 'It's alright if I take your bike into town, yeh?'. This really riled me up, especially seeing as I had to shout NO at him about a billion times to which he'd just reply 'OK, thanks'. Once rid of Sam we didn't hang around long as Louis got attacked by a leech, it wasn't great weather, and there was nowhere to put the hammock. On the way back we came across the other campsite, literally 50m away, so we went in for a look. It was way nicer, and it turns out half the price as you don't pay conservation fees. That really annoyed me, so we headed back to our place, called Sam over, and gave him a right earful. He was a slippery chap, and even at one point mid-chastising he shoved his hand down his pants! He was a complete loony, but we succeeded in getting our 'conservation fees' refunded. It was only one night, so not the end of the world, but certainly annoying. It then started to rain, and seeing as our campsite was both crap and deserted, we headed over to the other one. We ordered African tea with avos and chapati to lessen our misery and then whilst waiting for it to turn up who should show up but Sam. He started off sitting on the next table along, but after a few minutes suddenly got up and basically sat on my lap. Bloody pest of a man! I put up with him for a little bit, but after him intently scrutinizing the menu I not so politely told him that we were still far from on friendly terms and that he should go away. I wasn't a fan of him anyway, and I certainly wasn't going to share my tea and chapati with him, and luckily he took the heavy hint and scuttled off into the rain. Good riddance! I was pretty sure I'd pay for my indiscretion if he was in charge of dinner, but there we go. When we came back to dine at 7, we found he'd snared another family so we didn't feel quite so stupid. Dinner was predictably rather poor, but I couldn't detect anything particularly nasty in there so perhaps I didn't upset him after all. We were finished eating by 7:45 - too early for bed even by our standards - so we headed back to the fancy campsite for a beer. There we threw in with Sam & Emily the Belgians we'd met earlier, and started playing some strange Belgian card game. I'm not much of a card player, but being lumped with Emily, who was considerably worse than me, meant we got a bit of a drubbing. That aside, a very pleasant evening and then back to a damp and dark campsite. From extensive guide book consultation the day before, we'd decided to head south to Bigodi Wetlands for a spot of bird watching (mostly my idea, obviously) but once we'd hit the tar and were heading south, when we passed a decent looking campsite we both decided that we were feeling pretty lazy so no harm in taking a look. I'd also very strangely woken up with a dead left leg. Nothing to do with the knee, purely muscular, so I wasn't too worried, but I was hobbling around a lot. That provided another excuse not to go for a bird walk, and when we got half price camping, two courses for the price of one, and a pineapple juice welcome drink, we decided that this spot would do just fine. Weirdly it was also a bloke that we'd seen yesterday at the other campsite. I think Ronald was his name, and he has a picture of me reclining in my hammock whilst his mate does the peace sign. So again, a bit of an odd bloke, but luckily a nice one who bent to my haggling will. After polishing off the juice, I persuaded Louis that we should dump the bags and cycle down through Kibale National Park and back up. It was another one of those you must pay to do anything, but there's a public road running through it. It was a long shot but there was a possibility of spotting some chimpanzees for free. Unfortunately all that we encountered were swarms of butterflies, way too many speed bumps, some mardy baboons and a troop of red tailed colobus. After getting back to camp following a largely disappointing game ride, I had just set up my hammock over the lake - no mean feat with my gammy leg - and gracefully ascended into its silky embrace, when it started blowing a gale. And then raining. It rained solidly from about 4pm until the next morning pretty much. Luckily Ronald/Howard took pity on us as we hadn't even set up our tents before the weather turned to crap, so he let us sleep in their safari tents rather. They also had a big fire going so it was nice to sit in front of that (the rain having mostly abated by now) and catch up with the family. Next morning we were up in the damp misty morning and away by 9ish. Only 20km stood between us and Fort Portal but we covered it at race pace so were still quite tired after getting into town. We'd been recommended to stay at the YES Hostel by a few people. Upon arrival it wasn't exactly clear why, but it did support an orphanage and whatnot so we checked in for camping. We then handed in basically all of our clothes for the laundry service and went back into town for some grub. Seeing as in Uganda the street food is so good, and cheap, we stick to that mostly, so we headed to Mpanga Market which we'd cycled past on the way in. After a restorative Rolex we delved into the market proper, picking some some giant avos for 25p each, and then some mangoes and pineapples for not much more. Weighed down with our healthy wares we then headed to Duchess, a recommended lunch spot in town. It was an expat joint, so a bit pricey, but the celebratory Tuskers upon reaching FP went down very nicely indeed. We got rained on on the way back to camp, and lost an avo to a speed bump, but the soaking wasn't too severe. After waiting out the rainstorm with a bit of table tennis (which I lost, and gave a generally pretty poor account of myself) we headed to the top of the road for some African Tea. Not the best chai I've had (Peterson's at Red Rocks still holds top spot) but not bad for the price. We dined at YES that night, and I opted for what I thought was the safe choice (compared to Louis' goat) of fish stew. It turned up over salted and undercooked, which irked me somewhat. When they took our plates away the waitress asked us how the food was, so I told her exactly what was wrong with it. She seemed rather taken aback at my frank appraisal, but she did ask. Somehow I doubt my constructive criticism ever made it back to the kitchen, but there we go. After dinner we had to endure about half an hour of quizzing by some Israeli girls, who although pleasant enough, asked stupid questions and didn't listen to the answers. We did our best to avoid then after that, although Louis was lucky enough to have them pitch their tents very close to him. Haha.
Chloe landed the next day, so our plan was to do one day of sightseeing around Fort Portal, and then get the morning bus down to Kampala on the 27th to meet Chloe and Lara (the next charitable owner of Hilary). As it turned out, we didn't really need a day exploring the Fort Portal area, and were left scraping the barrel somewhat. We decided to jump on the bikes and head out to Amabeere (breast in the local language) Caves. Mammary themed caves must be quite appealing to the male tourist, we reasoned. It was an easy, but sultry 10km out to the caves where, upon arrival, we were shocked by the price. After a long and only mildly successful haggle we departed for the caves with our fantastically named guide, Apollo. I'd noticed that the Ugandans are partial to a Greek mythological name or two, so Apollo wasn't particularly surprising. They also seem to have a penchant for sunglasses not seen in the other 8 countries I've come through. So, after waiting about 10 minutes for some pesky school children to get out of the way, we were shown to the main caves in all their underwhelming glory. I pity the woman whose breasts resemble these caves! The guiding and explanations were also somewhat lacking, but the dog nipple section of the next caves was a bit more apt. We were also showed some more alcoves/caves which then basically concluded the tour. Luckily there was no visitors book, or they would have been on the receiving end of another frank appraisal. Apollo redeemed himself somewhat by showing us a dirt road route back to Fort Portal via some more crater lakes (because we simply hadn't seen enough of those). This was where the most exciting incident of the day occurred: running down a dog! We were coming down a dirt track and there was a scruffy looking juvenile hound stood in the path. We were cycling 2 abreast and reluctant to check out momentum so I gave it a good trilling on my trusty Malawian two-tone bell, but the dog was either deaf or lazy and didn't take any notice whatsoever. Louis passed marginally in front, and obviously roused it from its standing stupour. To say it leapt sideways would exaggerate the speed of its movement, but anyhow it came my way and I ploughed straight into the dozy mutt. Cue a hell of a lot of yelping, whining and impromptu urination (on the part of the dog I hasten to add). He'd got his back leg trapped in the spokes of my front wheel, and it looked far from pleasant, but after a few seconds of freeing his leg he shot off through the hedge howling like a banshee. I must confess to being fairly amused as Tina claimed her largest victim yet, but now wasn't the time to hang around in case the locals got eggy with our reckless biking. We swiftly decided it was best just to leg it, so we zoomed off round the corner to avoid any Ugandan mob justice. I felt a bit bad about running down a dog, but it was extremely stupid in the first place so my empathy was limited by its own doziness. Such an encounter may go some way to explain why we'd seen so many dead mutts on the road. The rest of the cycle back, aside from a few glances in the wing mirror for the vigilante pursuit party, was uneventful. Back to the market for lunch, and then out to dinner out the fancy (ish) Moon Rocks Hotel to toast our successful trip up to Fort Portal. The next day we packed up early and headed to the bus stop to try and get the first bus down to Kampala. The bus stop proved a bit hard to find, but we got the timing spot on. Bikes in the underneath cabins, and just enough time to stock up on veggie samoosas and Rolexes before we rumbled out of the station at 9am. The first 60km were road works and a very poor surface, making us glad we'd not decided to cycle any of the 300km down to Kampala. The 5 hour bus journey was fairly uneventful, apart from some chap getting on dressed in a Father Christmas hat. Naturally this was paired with a morning jacket, shorts, long socks and boots. He took he prize for best, and most amusingly, dressed by an absolute mile. Probably the only other thing worth mentioning was the traveling pharmacy on the bus: some bloke started parading up and down the aisle selling everything from mysterious teeth something or other (which sold extremely well), to deep heat and aloe vera. The guy sat in between Louis and I seemed to take great delight in trying everything as it was free. Personally I didn't have the language skills to purchase any of the wares with confidence. We got off the bus at about 2 ish, and had about 15km to get to Lara's spot in Namagongo in the Eastern suburbs. We'd seen disgorged in the seething heart of the city (or it felt like it at least) and it was super super busy. The only other guy I'd spoken to about cycling in Kampala had been knocked off, twice. Whilst it was super busy, and there was little concept of giving cyclists room, I'm not sure how he came a cropper twice! It was easily the most hectic riding of the trip, but was actually good fun zooming inbetween the traffic and shouting at the boda boda guys. Traffic lights were particularly fun as most people ignored them, but we arrived unscathed and mildly exhilarated. After that taste of city riding we dumped the bikes and headed to the bar for some beers (classic) whilst we waited for the lovely Chloe to arrive and moan about the state of my beard! Haha. That concluded about 450km of riding from Kisoro to Fort Portal, and as I swap one Hazell for another I look forward to some time relaxing off the bike with the wife to be. Hopefully sharing a bed isn't quite such an awkward orooosition as with the future brother-in-law! He rode very well for a young lad, and I hope he enjoyed the Ugandan leg as much as I did.
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AuthorSam Brook - A mildly Africanised Pom about to cycle from Joburg to Nairobi. Archives
August 2017
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