Emily was terrified. She’d been saying to me for weeks that she didn’t want to do it. And now, as we teetered at the top of a 10-foot drop, she was regretting that she’d ever followed my lead by agreeing to go white water rafting.
We were facing upstream but were stuck on rocks at the top of one of the most notorious grade 5 rapids on the White Nile near Jinja, Uganda. Behind and immediately below us, the water tumbled down as a ferocious force of froth and foam.
Further below, those in the other raft in our party looked up at us. For the group that had, up until now, been the boisterous banter boat, they were eerily quiet. Nervously watching us as we awaited our fate.
The guide had his leg out of the craft and eventually pushed us free from the rocks. The current caught us and we tumbled backwards down the rapid. A wall of water hit us full in our faces. Crouched low into the raft I clung on for dear life.
When the rush of water subsided I opened my eyes. Emily had vanished.
I looked across and I could see her head bobbing as she was swept along in the turmoil of the white water. Her eyes wide as she saw the rocks that were ahead. Emily was now being tossed about in what was known as “the washing machine”.
We all shouted for her to swim to the raft. As if a switch was flicked, she appeared to snap our of her panic and swim towards us. With a few powerful strokes, she was back at the boat and we hauled her into the raft.
This was just one of the rapids on our daylong white water rafting trip on the White Nile. I too took many a tumble out of the raft on the trip. Although I’d rafted before, I’d never rafted it in warm water with warm sun on my back so I didn’t really mind if I fell in. In fact, on the traverse between rapids, we all got into the water and swam alongside the raft rather than cruising slowly.
We’d spent a few well-needed days off the bike at the Nile River Camp in Jinja, which is a secluded and peaceful backpackers that overlooks the White Nile. The rafting was of the many activities in the area they offered. I’d only ever rafted in the freezing waters of New Zealand, North Wales and Northampton before, so I couldn’t resist the warm waters and reliable rapids of the White Nile.
From Jinja, we made our way towards Kampala. But we had an important stop to make first.
When my camera smashed in Ethiopia, I needed to get a replacement sent to me quickly and, crucially, without being liable to a ludicrous amount of import tax. My mum swung into action and contacted Sister Mary Costello, a nun she knew from her time working in Zambia 50 years ago but who now lived in northern Uganda. Sister Mary put her in touch with someone she knew was travelling from Dublin to the convent in Mukono, near Kampala and also to another nun who was to travel from London to Dublin. The new camera thus made the trip from Hampshire to London, then from London to Dublin and on to Kampala.
We stopped in Mukono to meet Sister Mary – a name I’d heard over many years. It was great to meet her and learn of her order’s work with disadvantaged children across Uganda. Sister Mary also told us many stories from Lwitikila; the village in Zambia where my parents lived and where we are to visit in a couple of months’ time. Thank you mum for your work behind the scenes and to Sister Mary, Kay and the other nuns for welcoming us in Mukono.
After saying goodbye to the nuns and Kay, we continued our soggy ride towards Kampala. For the remaining 25km the traffic was some of the worst we’d experienced in the whole trip. Although the volume of traffic meant speeds were relatively low, the impatient drivers tried anything to make an advantage that meant they drove perilously close to us. We were limited to cycling well off the road on the potholed and rutted dirt. Progress was slow. On reaching Kampala city, it was rush hour so, instead of battling against the motorbikes, cars and trucks on the packed roads, we walked the remaining 3km to our central hotel on the pavement.
In Kampala we met with Anna, an old friend of Emily’s who just happened to move to Kampala a week before we arrived to start a new job. We’re thankful to Anna because she used some of her precious luggage allowance to bring out couple of essential items for us: we now have a chain whip!
We also met up with ‘Pikey’, another friend of Emily’s who’d made the trip down from his home in Juba, South Sudan, to see us for the weekend. ‘Pikey’ has been pivotal to our journey through East Africa and we can’t thank him enough for sharing his knowledge and contacts in the region. It was great catching up although quite a bizarre experience playing croquet in a garden in Kampala whilst being watched over the fence by the locals.
Whilst in Kampala, we visited the Rainbow International School to tell the kids about our trip. We knew that a couple of journalists would be there but what we didn’t expect was that a full press conference had been organized. We sat at a long table and spent half an hour or so fielding questions form the journalists lined up on chairs facing us. As a result, we made the Ugandan national TV news on their prime time news program. Sadly, the message about the charity element of our trip and the work of the Rainbow International School in supporting us was lost from the badly edited segment. And phrases such as “on the cusp of history” and “swashbuckling adventure” were used.
We spent the afternoon the as guests of the school’s directors, Mr and Mrs Kotecha and met the teachers and some selected pupils.
We are grateful for Mr and Mrs Kotecha for putting us up for the night in a great hotel that overlooked Lake Victoria and we returned to the school the next day to take part in an assembly that had been organized on our behalf.
Once again we were blown away by the facilities and ethos of an International School and how bright (and well-behaved!) the students were.
From Kampala we headed West towards Fort Portal. We spent nights in Mityana, Mubende, and Kyenjojo. The road was in good condition so progress was reasonable, although the terrain in Uganda makes cycling difficult. There’s no flat whatsoever and countless hills to climb – never more than 7% in gradient, but it meant that 50% of the days’ rides were uphill with no real time for recovery. For a 100km ride, 50km is uphill with no real time to recover on the disappointingly short descents.
The kids at the side of the road greeted us warmly although, in these Western parts, they tend to say “goodbye Muzungu” as we approach.
We passed miles of banana and tea plantations and also a forest reserve where the sounds of birds and monkeys in the trees made us feel as though we were deep into tropical Africa.
Now in Fort Portal, we’re staying two nights at the RuwenZori View Guest House; a beautiful and peaceful place. We sat at a huge table and enjoyed a sumptuous 4-course dinner whilst chatting to other guests about there travels and work in the area.
Electioneering is still in full force. And the government schools are closed until all votes are cast. We leave Fort Portal tomorrow and, for us, it’s a race to get cross the equator and reach the border of Rwanda before the election results are called because there’s talk of trouble on the streets regardless of who wins the election.
If you’ve enjoyed reading this blog post, please donate to World Bicycle Relief. Every penny goes to the great work the charity does in Africa – not to fund our expedition in any way.