Between Kigali and starting the Congo Nile Trail, the plan was to spend a night at Nyungwe National Park to break the journey up and try to see some special monkeys. The Nyungwe stopover was also the main reason for getting Dad to bring out camping stuff as, without a car, it's hard to do anything unless you stay right in the park. So, after both getting the Ritco bus to Huye, I set off on my way at 2pm after some intensive umming and aahing, abandoning Dad to his minibus with instructions on where to get off and how much to pay. Unfortunately the cycle turned into a bit of a saga, and I was still on the road at 7pm in the dark. The principal reason for this was that is was really, really hilly, and the campsite was 90km away rather than the expected 75. My plan was to cheat a bit to make things a bit easier and quicker anyway, and after I'd done about 5km, flying along carrying only my front handlebar bag, I came across a bakkie on the side of the road. Worth asking I thought. They were going my way, but stopping often as they were doing environmental surveys of sites for the impending road widening. Charles was the main guy who I chatted to along the way, discussing the quality of Chinese road building amongst other topics. It was frustrating progress and I often felt that my schedule was slipping so was a bit worried about getting there on time. I was getting a bit ansy, but glad I stuck with them as, even though it was probably no quicker than cycling, I disembarked at 35km with fresh legs. Naturally I got out at the top of a hill so I plunged straight into a descent. However, in Rwanda downhills swiftly turn into uphills so I was soon blowing quite hard. The rice paddy vallies had now given way to wheat and barley cultivation, so you had wonderful patches of gold on the terraces dotted amongst the ever present banana trees. After a while of that I moved into Eucalyptus forest with long climbs along shaded roads, with the sun streaming between the tress. Again, also very picturesque, and it made for delightful cycling. I was climbing and climbing and was now at the highest I'd been on the bike the whole trip - around 2500m. The air was thin and made things a bit harder going, but not horrendously so. After the Eucalyptus I came into tea country, with huge hillside terraces swathed in bright green. The scenery really was amazing, and after some more pedaling I was suddenly entering Nyungwe National Park. Nyungwe is a big patch of Afro-Montane Rainforest, getting about 2m of rainfall annually. It's been protected since colonial times, and although it's shrunk a lot in size, it's still a 50km stretch of pristine forest, and home to 13 species of primates - some of them endemic to the Albertine Rift Valley. I don't think Dad experienced it in quite the same way as he didn't have anything good to say about the minibus experience, but cycling through it was amazing. I soon happened upon my first monkey which was exciting. I don't really like monkeys as they're naughty little shits, but it was nice to see something other than a dreaded vervet (the principle reason I carry a catapult). This one was a blue or grey cheeked one and was quite chilled so took some pics. Not long after that I saw the black and white colobus monkeys which were also new to me, so quite exciting all in all. The road was excellent, although very hilly, and winding your way between huge trees and a riot of greenery was really amazing riding. Easily the most scenic day I'd had on the trip, and I felt very lucky to be cycling through it as that wasn't really the plan. There was very little traffic so I pretty much had the road to myself: apart from the whirr of Tina's tyres on the tar you could hear (but not see, unfortunately) birds all around. I was expecting about 20km in the park, and didn't enter it until about 5pm, so I was already on the back foot. It turned out to be more like 35km and I ended up riding both the sun down and the moon up. I deployed the bike balls and head torch for safe riding and, although on the chilly side, it was still a great experience. I got to camp at about 7, by which time it was pitch dark, to find a bit of a worried parent waiting for me. First time on the trip so a bit of a novelty! Luckily he'd booked us in and set up camp so I didn't have to worry about that. He'd butchered putting up the Coffin a bit, but an admirable effort all the same. Camping was $30, which is a bit pricey anyway, but when Dad told me there was no running water, and certainly no hot, it took on the aspect of a rip off. Moaning about things seemed to have no effect at all, and to be honest the price reflected the general trend of expensive and low standard accommodation in Rwanda. On the upside, there was an unexpected little restaurant that turned out a very respectable beef stew with veg and rice for £3. We washed that down with a warm Primus beer and I ordered a second plate of the same again. Oink oink! Senior moment number one occurred that evening too: 'I've got Mountain Rwanda 3G signal' said Dad. 'Errr, it's MTN, the name of the network provider, not because we're on a mountain'! Following that, the guy I'd moaned at a lot also very nicely made us a fire so we got another beer and sat about there for a while. It was definitely damp wood, which required frequent and energetic wafting to get flames, but I suppose in a Rainforest this was hardly surprising. It was quite brisk temperature wise, and in an ironic twist, it was Dad who was cold all night, not I, the whimpy tropic acclimatised one. I guess old bones feel the cold a bit more, eh! Unfortunately the ridiculous pricing in Nyungwe continued the next day. In Kigali the tourist guy had told us we could walk and do trails on our own for free, but upon arrival it became clear that this wasn't the case. All activities had to be guided, and even a walk was $40/person. This was extremely vexing as I was still cross about the crap state of the campsite, but we decided to just go for it and pay $80 for a walk. Then things got even more annoying as they made us wait until a designated start time and lumped us in with two chicks. They looked on the slow side so, deciding I didn't care if I offended them, I threw a mardy and said that, for the princely sum of $80, I expect our own guide so that we could go at our own pace etc. Initially they didn't understand, and then we moved onto 'standard policy' chat, but I would not be swayed. We decided to change route to another walk where we were the only ones. To be fair, the new guides were good lads, and let us do the trail we originally wanted to - at least until we were spotted and he lost his nerve. The guy was a bit of a wheeler dealer and was hawking admission to the USAID donated canopy walkway. It's an eye-watering $60/pp and only 160m long. He started off at $40 for both of us, but when I replied to his classic 'What do you want to pay?', with '$5 each' I think he lost heart. The walk was very cool, and the first time I'd been in a Rainforest. The scenery and vegetation is amazing, but it's also quite a frustrating experience as you basically can't see anything unless it's right on the path. We saw zero monkeys, and although we could hear lots of birds, saw very few of them. The walk was actually quite tiring too, but a nice experience overall. After a good lunch (just the one portion this time) we decided not to try and wring more value out of them by doing another walk, but to head off to Kamembe where the Congo Nile Trail starts and Dad's bike was being delivered. The first section was set to be complicated as we were in the middle of a rainforest, so the first plan of attack was to ask all the cars at Uwinka. There were quite a few unhelpful Mzungus and dead ends but I chanced my luck on a fortuner as he was getting ready to leave. Jackpot - he was going to Gisakura and could drop dad at the 'bus station' (more of a t junction). So we packed up frantically and sent Dad off with as much luggage as possible. I kept one pannier and my tent, but seeing as it was only 50km that wasn't an issue really. I was also quite happy to cycle the last third of the park given yesterday's experience. I saw lots of monkeys again, and the elusive Blue Turacao. The irony of getting the best game viewing for free on the main road wasn't lost on me, but there we go. I also saw a live snake and two dead ones - fodder for the roadkill album. Upon emerging from Nyungwe it was back to tea estates and more hills. I went through some fatigued patches but it wasn't too bad as the last few km into Kamembe were downhill. By the time I got to town Dad had got off the minibus and got a taxi down to the lake with the luggage, and checked us in to Hotel du Lac. It was nothing special, and we had to share a bed, but it had a hot(ish) shower and you could see Congo from the window across the river. Very exciting but probably close enough really. After washing up and devouring a lemon cake from La Gallette we headed over to Hotel des Chutes to collect Dad's $150 steed. This was a second hand Kasimbiri (named after an extinct volcano in N Rwanda) bike from Rwandan Adventures, and rather than hire her, we agreed that we would buy her outright for $150 and donate her at the end of the trail, in the spirit of my fundraising endeavours. The important difference over the Buffalo bike was that this lady had 24 gears: a vital point of difference in the hilly, and occasionally off road terrain of the CNT. At this point she was yet to be named, and whilst an attractive looking bike, she was certainly no Tina. The hotel didn't do, or at least include, breakfast, so we set off on empty stomachs at about 8 the next morning. Seeing as the first 30km were exactly what I did yesterday from Gisakura, I knew that we were in for: a real going over in the hills department. We were straight into it pretty much, and I think we climbed from kilometre one to ten or so. Dad took it pretty well, but I'm pretty sure the only thing keeping him going was ignorance (I chose not to divulge the true extent of what was coming up). We stopped in at a restaurant, but breakfast seemed to be meat and beans so we declined the offer and carried on. I knew it was important to keep him well fed, but just when you want bananas, there aren't any. I stopped at a few places, to no avail, but did pick up some form of foodstuff. Generally speaking in Africa, baked goods are pretty rubbish - fried bread and dry, flavourless cakes are prevalent. And to make matters worse, often they seem to taste of diesel. Not the kind of fuel I'm looking for! Anyway, I bought some cakes which actually weren't that bad on the scale of awful African baking. However, Dad, clearly used to fine English dining, was unimpressed. Fussy, fussy! After a while we began to see a lot of cows on pieces of string, and eventually we happened upon a very busy cattle market. I was there first and set off in search of bananas, enlisting the help of a local in the process. No banana vendors present, yet, I was told. Consequently I turned my attention to peanuts and bought up a whole pound's worth of those. Generally in Rwanda I've found they're much fairer to the Mzungu and tend not to hike the prices. The nuts were a steal, but when a banana vendor finally appeared she was not kind to us. The middle man probably didn't help, but 800 francs for a bunch of small ones was not a good price. I moaned a fair bit, but Brook senior needed feeding so I coughed up the extortionate fee. It's more annoying when you know you're getting mugged off, but there we go. After stopping the old man buying any cows - 'You're on holiday' I told him - it was onward. Seeing as we'd sent some stuff up on the ferry, by my standards I was travelling light, with just 2 rear panniers, but I suppose it was a bit of a horrible shock for Dad, especially seeing as he always overpacks. Selfie on the first hill of the trail. Before the smiles turned to grimaces! The road was lovely, pristine tar and there really wasn't much traffic. The scenery was also staggering, dipping up and down close to the lake, so all in all it was pretty spectacular riding, and I'd been very impressed with Rwanda so far. At one point we passed a school and we must have been mobbed by about 300 kids. It was biblical in a sense, and it was like parting the Red Sea for a good kilometre or so. Even I was a bit shocked by the amount of them, and I've cycled past a fair few schools on the trip now. Rather cheekily I sped up to leave Dad to take the majority of the hassle. All part of the experience, I reasoned. Shortly after that we stopped for lunch and indulged in a bit of a Rwandan buffet. It was another classic one plate, but pile it as high as you can, affair. Dad, being new to this, got a much smaller plate than a pro like myself. I think by lunch we'd done about 40km and I was originally aiming for Kilimbi Bay where there was accommodation marked. However, either we missed it, or it wasn't signposted. Rwanda is particularly difficult as every place has two, or even three, names. Anyway, we ended up having to head for Karengera, which I think is fair to say was a bit too far for Dad. I started asking around for somewhere to stay at around 3, but there was nothing about so we had to carry on. At about 4 we saw a very nice looking sign for Green Hills Lodge, so we took the dirt road up into what turned out to be Karengera. However, our triumph was shortlived: Green Hills was an absolute dive, with rooms under construction. It was that classic situation of 'You can't stay here', but getting an alternative out of the guy was like pulling teeth. He also walked incredibly slowly. Anyway, we took our plight to the street and a nice pikipiki man said that there was a school up the hill that had lodging. I was sceptical but followed him on the bike whilst Dad waddled up the dirt road. It turns out we'd stumbled upon the official Basecamp for the trail at Karengera, and the sign gave me confidence that we'd be ok. There was a bit of a wait and some checking and checking, but then we were shown to a lovely little missionary house on the site. Dad immediately collapsed on the spare bed whilst they got the room ready around him: Rwandan Hills 1 - Dad 0. He's not much of a napper, so he must have been wiped out as he was snoring away whilst I caught up on my travel journal. I left him be and woke him at 5 ish for Fanta sundowners on top of the huge school building overlooking the lake. It really was a cracking view, just a shame you had to walk all the way into town for beers. After a warm, yet refreshing soda, we walked down to town for some supper. We found a little bar on the main dirt drag and asked if they did food. I don't think they did really, but said that if we gave them 40 minutes (meaning around an hour normally) they could do us goat kebabs and fried bananas. That would do, so we placed our order, got a table set up on the verandah, and got some beers. There was also an excellent bakery (finally) next door, so we stocked up on lots of egg and meat samoosas, and some bananas for the next day. The food was really quite good, and the accomm was both nice and cheap, so I considered it a victory and a saved day. There's no easy way of doing 70km and 1600m of climbing on a bike really, so we hit the hay at around 8. Dad did pretty well I'd say, but we had another 50km to do the next day to get to Kibuye (half way on the trail). HILLY AS BALLS!!!!! (Note the duct tape post Ritco bus drive by) We got up pretty early and were on the road by 8, before it got too warm for the Pom. The first couple of hours were very pleasant (for me at least) with the road mostly in shade as the high escarpment cut out the low sun. The roads were pretty quiet, and apart from the odd vicious hoot from a Ritco bus, we got along fine. That was until a rogue Hilux came haring along: it came round my corner, tyres squealing and mostly on my side of the road, but then Dad and a group of kids (he was asking for another push I expect) were round the bend. Apparently he completely lost the back end and was careering towards them with the rear end fish tailing wildly. Dad dumped the bike and leapt off, and was understandably a bit shaken up. As a neutral observer I was allowed to appreciate the hilarity of the situation, envisaging him piling into the storm drain, terrified. Aside from that bit of excitement, it was business as usual: amazing, amazing scenery, friendly locals, photo stops, waiting for Dad to catch up etc. We also saw our first Mzungu trail cyclist: a Swiss girl doing it on the same bike as Dad with a guide. They were nice and friendly, so we had a bit of a chat with them. I couldn't see how they were going to do it in 5 days given they'd only managed 10km by 12 that day, but there we go. Shortly after meeting them we came across a Coffee Washing Station and asked to be shown around that. Unfortunately it wasn't laundry season, but it was still interesting to look around and see how it works: it's basically for taking the berry and then mucus off the bean via a series of machines. It's then graded using an elaborate swimming pool and canal type system. No coffee available, but I didn't really care as I don't drink the stuff. Luckily day 2 wasn't as hilly, or as long as the day before, but there were still some long descents down to the lakeshore, followed by brutal climbs back up to the watershed. We took our time that day, and got to Kibuye at about 2. We headed for the recommended Home St Jean, a RC hostel overlooking the Lake with its own little beach. We checked into a twin room, then sat on the terrace with some beers and had lunch. Very civilised indeed! After that we both did a bit of washing and then headed down to the beach. It was a lovely little garden-y type of thing, with lots of plants and birdlife, and we passed a very pleasant afternoon down there. I'd been very impressed with ze Germans' travel hammock so put an order in via Dad. We strung that up between 2 trees right on the shore, and after a bathe and wash in the lake, complete with bar of soap and lather, I took first dibs on the hammock (I'd been carrying it, after all). After a lovely afternoon relaxing and reading by the lake, we headed up to the terrace for sundowners. We met some American - Brian - who had done a lot of cycle touring and the CNT a few years ago. He made me quite worried about finding somewhere to stay at Masasa the next day, but he ended up annoying me a fair bit as he was one of those types that has an opinion on everything, but not much of one. We declined his suggestion of dinner together (but did take his advice on what to order at the hostel). We enjoyed some excellent sambaza starters (little fish called Kapenta in most of the other lake regions, and probably whitebait in UK) and fish kebabs, washed down with various exotic beers. We decided that, given our timescale, and the state of Dad's arse, that we would get the bus some of the way and then cycle some of the trail from the north. For that we decided an early start was best, so we were up at 6:30, having breakfast at 7, and into town by 8. The Ritco buses we were expecting didn't run a service up to Gisenyi, but one of the smaller buses (they're odd, a lot larger than your standard Toyota HiAce minibus, and not seen them anywhere else in Africa) could take us and the bikes on the back seat to Bumba for 9000 francs. However, it was only 18,000 all the way to Gisenyi, so we decided in the end to go all the way to the top and do an excursion heading south rather. The journey was fine, not too busy or cramped, albeit a bit dusty from the road works. I'd been in regular comms with Rwandan Adventures, who I'd sourced Hilary (since christened by Dad in honour of all the hills), and Katie suggested we get off the bus at Pfunda Tea Estate and then take a scenic route to their office to collect the bags we'd sent by the ferry etc. By this time the bus was pretty chokka, so it was with a slight tinge of awkwardness that I told the driver we were getting off here. It was going to be a pain, but we'd paid a fairly hefty fair, and it would free up space for more customers on the bus if we got out. In the end it was quite painless as Dad, being the spritely young chap he is, scrambled out the window and I passed him all the bags and Hilary (front wheel removed) out to him. Tina was too large for the window exit so came down the aisle upside down with me. We then put everything back together witnessed by an ever growing crowd, most of them gawking and pawing at my skulls. Tina is always the centre of attention, and my macabre adornments cause endless fascination, closely followed by the catapult. Pfunda Estate was on the CNT Map so we decided to ask for a tour. The security guard took a lot of persuading, and we had to use a different gate, albeit one right next door, to get in, which was all rather bizarre and didn't augur well. However, it turns out there was an official tour for $10. We had to hang around for about 10 minutes whilst they searched for the cashier, and then another 20 before our tour guide Fabian pitched up. We passed the time, not sipping on some free tea as you might expect, but watching and trying to photograph sunbirds flitting about amongst the flowers, and observing the various uniforms. All workers were adorned in overalls (or jumpsuits as the Yanks would call them) and funny little caps in all different colours. It was kind of like being in a rainbow themed prison to be honest, and then when Fabian arrived we found ourselves made to don ridiculous labcoats and caps. I don't even like tea, and didn't think much of being dressed as an absolute doucher for the duration, but there we go. Fabian wasn't much of a guide to be honest, and what could have been really interesting was concluded in about 20 minutes, without so much as a hint of a cuppa. We did learn a few things, such as the new leaves can be picked every 10-12 days in peak season, and they'll process something like 600 tonnes of leaves a day. It is then fermented for about 12 hours before being chopped and turned into an odd pea green playdough. It's then dried via a pretty awesome wood fired boiler and drier, and then mechanically graded according to size, the larger stuff being better apparently. The factory smelt very nice actually, and we both fancied a brew after the tour so we cycled round the corner to their tea shop. 50p a cup and powdered milk didn't make the best impression but it did the job on Dad who bought two lots of tea to take home. After tea and biccies (the saving grace) we headed for Rwandan Adventures. There were some pretty ropey directions, and some equally paranoid following of them, especially where hills were involved, but we actually got there fine in the end, via a cool dirt road short cut. Once there, at about 2ish, we set about getting some local advice and making a plan for doing some trail from the top end the following day. We ended up wangling their garden for camping purposes, which was very generous of Katie and convenient for us. The plan for the afternoon was to go to the hot springs, possibly for a massage, and then for a swim in the Lake. However, what ensued was the first argument of the holiday. Those who know my father know that he has a tendency to just wander off, so I guess it wasn't surprising when I got back from filling up my water bottle to find him gone. I, reasonably I considered, thought he must have got a head start to the springs, so set off after him. I went all the way to the hot springs, which was probably 3km away, and then turned around. I met some Aussies on fancy bikes (Rohloff hub and disc brakes) and talked to them for a while, and he still didn't appear. About 40 minutes later I came upon him just by our starting point. I was pretty hacked off with him by now and told him off. Of course he said he didn't leave, just going 'a few metres to check out the lodge'. I pointed out that he'd disappeared so naturally I assumed he was going towards what we agreed to do, and not the opposite direction. It's Mum who can't tell her left and rights, so he couldn't even use that as an excuse! We both cycled towards the springs in a huff, when I told him I didn't really want to go any more. It was probably the wrong choice as the bar we went to was not very good, and the water all oily so no good for swimming. On the plus side, after a beer and meagre serving of sambaza as a snack, we were on improving terms. We decided to check out the lodge opposite for a potential dinner venue, and this place was very nice indeed. It had a little craft shop, and Dad immediately took a liking to a goatskin rug. Shopping - Classic Dad! We were coming back for dinner and goatman was to bring more wares round for inspection. Dinner was excellent except Eric the waiter mugged us off a bit on the G&Ts: we decided to try Ugandan Waragi gin, and Eric came and made them at the table for us. However, rather ominously the bottle of gin remained. It turns out you have to buy the it by the bottle, all 350ml of it! It made for a few G&Ts too many to be honest, but we almost finished it. The next morning the woman next door observing our breaking up of the camp hissed at me (Rwandans have a horrible habit of doing this to get your attention, which I hate), and motioned that I should give her the bottle. That was pretty depressing as it was about 8 in the morning, and she had plenty of child caring to be getting on with rather than boozing. Her attitude may have explained why, on the way to sundowners last night, one of the kids shouted 'Hey Mzungu, fuck you!', and gave me the finger. This was the first Mzungu abuse (which I'd understood at least) on the whole trip, and I must admit I was pretty shocked. Naturally he received the exact same response in reply, which he found hilarious, and I admit I found myself chuckling about it a few minutes later. Cheeky bastard, eh! After packing up camp, doing my bit for stemming African alcoholism, and making porridge, we set off on our third day of the trail. We left at about 10 and the plan was to do about 40km of dirt roads down to Kinunu, overnight there, and get the local water taxi back early in the morning. The first 15km were quite tough, with poor roads meaning you couldn't really enjoy the cycling in my opinion: you had to constantly be on your brakes and weaving around dodging stuff. I'm more of a roadie at heart, so that's probably why I was longing for the nice sweeping tar descents rather than being bounced around at 12kph. It was also super busy, and constant 'Give me money' detracted somewhat from the experience. However, after that initial stretch, things opened up a bit more, both in terms of village/population spacing, and better, more undulating dirt road. Then it was a real pleasure to cruise along the edge of the lake, taking in the views and greeting the locals. I came to rename the CNT the Turkey Trail as there were so many of the birds around. We both tried gobbling at them - like father, like son I guess - but these ones don't respond to gobbling; a high pitched scream one of the herd boys showed me (yes, the turkeys are often accompanied by a herder) was what was needed. He found it utterly hilarious that my high pitched squealing went unanswered, and collapsed in a storm drain laughing. We dipped down into a fishing village with some rather rustic roads on both the descent and ascent, but funnily enough it was in another hilltop village where they were cooking sambaza over little charcoal braziers. Dad didn't want any, but I got 50ps worth served up in a banana leaf. The good thing about these little fish is that, apart from being delicious, they are easy to share. I dished out the remaining 20 odd to my audience. We renamed the Congo Nile Trail the Turkey Trail due to the amount of the birds we saw along the way. The descent down to the lakeshore at Kinunu was very rough again, and I noticed upon arrival that I had broken another spoke - the third of the trip. This was a bit surprising as I was traveling relatively light, with only one pannier on the back. Maybe they're all just getting a bit worn out after so much riding. My derailleur was definitely getting a bit ropey and skipping gears and jamming a lot too. There were two options for the night in Kinunu, and we picked the fancier Rushel lodge. It was rather large and empty, but I haggled us a decent deal on a room and breakfast, and it had a beach/lake front so job done. We rode all the way down to the waters edge and plunged straight in for a dip. It had been a tough, but spectacular 40km on dirt roads, with plenty of hills. Dad went off to order beers and I went for a full on Lake bathe and laundry session. I got roundly abused by the local boys across the water, but they all get butters in the lake so I decided I could too! Dad then fell asleep in the hammock mid beer, so I polished that off for him, and took a pic of him snoring. Dinner was an excellent repeat of sambaza to start, and then tilapia curry for me. Another early night followed - classic - as we had to be up at 5:30 for 5:50 breakfast in order to get the boat back to Gisenyi. As luck would have it, our very friendly waiter Lewis was also getting the boat, so after pancakes, chai and omelette by his own fair hand, we walked down to the lake with him. We boarded at 7, and enjoyed the 2,5 hours ride sat on the roof of the boat with our bikes. Apart from one rush of activity where we had to hastily don life jackets as the boat police were approaching, it was all very relaxing and an extremely pleasant way to get back to town. That was the Congo Nile trail concluded for us, and I think we'd done pretty well, all things considered. We'd missed out about a 40km section, most of which was roadworks, so couldn't lay claim to completing it all, but we'd mixed it up with some good long days on the bottom tar half, a bit of a bus ride, some dirt roads from the North, a tea estate and coffee washing tour, and a boat trip. Upon getting into Gisenyi we spent a few hours getting Tina repaired and serviced, and planning the remainder of the trip (Dad in a major senior moment, thought he was flying on the Saturday, not the Sunday night he actually was). The servicing was taken care of by the marvelous, no-hand track stand Marcel, with me peering over his shoulder and trying to feel useful/learn something. I tried to make Dad come up with a plan so that perhaps he would have more of a sense of timescale for the remainder of his holiday. We'd decided that, having bought Hilary for Dad, we'd try and get her into Uganda for Louis (the future brother in law) to ride for a few days, and then donate her to a friend's charity project in Kampala. Without being too boring, we decided to get another big Ritco bus up to Musanze as that helped me with bike logistics, and was also on the way for Dad's trip back to Kigali on SUNDAY. We'd do some exploring out of Musanze using the extra day and night. The whole bike into Uganda thing was still unresolved, but it was very useful to get Tina serviced and have a base at Rwandan Adventures to plan from and sort out some loose ends - so thanks very much to Katie who was a big help to us over the course of that week. I'd probably been a bit hard on Dad at times, particularly on the riding side of things, but it's sometimes quite tough to adjust your mindset from that of solitary speedy cyclist where you only have to think about yourself. It's funny as Dad said he was finding it very relaxing, not having to think about anything, whereas I found it a bit stressful making decisions for two, and trying to make sure he enjoyed himself. Overall I think we got the balance of things right, and I certainly hope he enjoyed the trip and experience. We'll see how soon he goes near a bike again I guess! Trail completed, and a very tired Dad. I'd also seen him buy a Red Bull the day before, so it's fair to say I tired him out! I finished his beer whilst he dozed - you snooze you lose!
1 Comment
Ian Bowland
18/7/2017 10:56:40 am
Lovely tea outfits gents!!
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AuthorSam Brook - A mildly Africanised Pom about to cycle from Joburg to Nairobi. Archives
August 2017
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