Mike and I headed back to Kampala after dropping my Auntie Chriss off at the airport, with a small but annoying motorcycle maintenance list, which had to be completed before we could head off towards Rwanda. We both needed front tires, Mike needed a 17-inch rear, we both needed to check valve clearances and change the oil. We had been procrastinating a bit, because it’s always a chore to go into the city center and find the tires and the oil that’s needed.

However, things did not go to plan at all. Mike mentioned he was feeling strange, feverish and sore joints and skin. It was five in the afternoon and we both did not want to be finding a hospital at night, so we went to the pharmacy in search for an over the counter Malaria test. We were surprised to discover, Uganda does not have that kind of test that is common in all other East African countries. The Pharmacist directed us to the local hospital just around the corner.

We rode over there and Mike got the simple blood test. Ten minutes later, we found out, he did indeed have malaria and the bad type - Cerebral malaria. We booked in with a doctor to ask what happens now, and he just sat there behind his desk laughing at us. “See, now you can see and feel what it is like for an African”. I was blown away by his attitude to us and did not trust him one bit as I started to wonder if he just wanted to somehow extract more money out of us. When he recommended Mike was to be admitted I was not too happy about the situation and asked if he could be treated as an outpatient. That was permitted even though they kept on telling us it might be impossible.

While I nervously filled out the next of kin information, Mike was emitted to a bed and was put on an IV drip that contained the drugs needed to fight the malaria. This was the start of a routine of 4 hours on the drip and 4 hours off and repeated for three days. Everything seemed like it was all moving way too fast and I really didn’t want him to spend the night in this hospital in case they took his kidney while he was sleeping!

Mike in hospital

After  the first IV we decided to go back to the guesthouse, leaving Mike’s motorcycle at the hospital because he just didn’t feel up to driving it and I wouldn’t dare to drive his bike in crazy Kampala traffic with all its pot holes. When we got back to the guesthouse, I desperately tried to get a Mike a room, but they were completely booked out. Back to the tent, it is then.   4:30am came too fast. I do not think either of us slept much and now we had to return to the hospital.

After the second round of medicine, Mike’s energy levels had dropped so much we decided to stay in the hospital. We were lucky to have a room with two beds, so I was able to stay with him the whole time and watch the nurses like a hawk to ensure they were doing their jobs correctly and didn’t run off with Mikes kidneys!

After three days of this four hours on and four hours off, he was able to go home. However, Mike’s treatment was not over, he now had to start a course of pills for the next three days. When we were waiting for my malaria test to be completed at the hospital, a doctor walked pasted, noticed Mike and his medicine and casually said, “You’re taking those? You are going to feel like crap”. Thanks doctor, for scaring the living shits out of me! Now I have no idea how Mike is going to react to the medicine.

Then, amongst this stressful time, we finally got a nice surprise. Mike’s Dad then emailed me, saying Mike’s mother was worried and he had booked her tickets  to come and visit for a few days to reassure herself Mike is ok. I moved us all into a two bedroom full self-contained cottage. Tony brought with her a huge suitcase of goodies. It was like Christmas all over again!

Mike slowly recovered, but lacked a healthy appetite and energy levels. It had been a whole month since he first was diagnosed with Malaria and we still had not managed to work on our motorcycles. In the meantime, Jay another overlander (to visit Jays website click here) I met in Nairobi , came to visit us at the guesthouse and gave us his front tire he had been carrying with him since South America. Another overlander came through and left us his partially used tire, as he did not trust it anymore after pulling out so many thorns. Now all we had to do was find good engine oil and a 17-inch rear tire for Mike.

We quickly gave up trying to find the tire, down town traffic was manic and then getting lost on all the one way systems meant circling around where we wanted to go a couple of times before we got frustrated. It didn’t take too long and we had both bikes with well-adjusted valves and clean oil and ready to hit the road.

Kampala seemed overwhelming with the crazy boda boda traffic and the ultra-busy guesthouse compared to our tranquil memories of Murchison Lodge. We were all absolutely buggered from our amazing ten-day tour around Uganda, visiting the source of the Nile at Jinja, learning all about coffee in Sipi, and then driving across the country to Murchison National Park where we spent three days spotting animals in the long savannah grass.

It had been a fantastic trip and I could hardly complain about the company. I really didn’t want it to come to an end, but all good things must come to an end and my Auntie Chriss had to return home to her husband, her job and of course her friends. I am sure Chriss would agree with me, that she loved Uganda and its friendly people, laid back culture and stunning scenery.  I too was going to miss this country, as Mike and I had plans to head south towards Rwanda in the next couple of days.

Well, there is one thing I would not miss, and that is the car. I did love the fact we didn’t have to worry about what kind of weather we were driving in, the amount of food and luggage we could carry and the security of our things inside the car. But after the ten days in the car, I desperately wanted my motorcycle back! I came to loath the two seating arrangements. Being in the front did mean you could see everything but it came with a price. It was just too hot, I felt as if I was in a hot house with no wind on my face. The back seat however, had all the breeze you could ask for but you hardly see anything out the tiny back windows. In fact, I spent most of my time in the back seat either reading or sleeping. The country speed past me, without me even noticing.  Next time I hire a car, I want either a convertible or maybe I would settle for just a jeep.

We had a couple of days before Chriss would leave me and make me cry. To fill in the time, we decided to go and learn how to make paper beads. I found a great bead shop where a couple of local women sit down next to you and show you how they do it. After some gossiping with the ladies, I discover that the owner is actually a Kiwi! For those who are interested, I have illustrated below how to make the traditional Ugandan Paper Beads.

Once you have made enough beads to full on whole necklaces then thread them onto a piece of nylon. Dip the beads into a dish of glue, this will ensure your precious beads will last a long time. Then once they are dry, remove the nylon and thread them on to string of your choice.  Chriss and I ended up with two awesome necklaces, which we decorated with a nice natural bead in between our very own handmade ones.

Ugandan Paper Beads

Before I knew it, it was time to say goodbye to Chriss and let her go home. Being back to two was a felt a little strange, as I tried to keep it together and not cry too much as we headed back to Kampala.

Message to Chriss – Thank you so much for taking the time to come over and visit me here in Uganda. I had such a wonderful time with you and I was very glad to share a slice of my life with you. I hope to see you again – Maybe in South Africa???  Oh and did I mention, Thank you for bringing over a bag of goodies for me!

Love you lots Danielle Xox

Small beams of light lights up the muddy road. We can see evidence that the small rivers have sprung up overnight, flooded the entire road but left before we arrived. We’re sliding sideways into the savannah grass that’s licking the edges of the road, as I sit in the front seat, nervous, hating the fact I am trapped in a car, but happy I am not doing this on my motorcycle. I wonder what the park is going to be like today with these terrible muddy roads and streams of tourist buses turning up the soil.

Uganda Kob

It has been raining at lot last night. I had to get out of the tent in just my undies and singlet to try to pitch the tent slightly better as water was seeping in through tiny holes and had completely saturated one of the mattresses Mike was lying on. Mopping up the puddle that had developed at the end of the bed, we then unrolled the spare one and laid it down on top so Mike will get a good night sleep at least. However, the sound of the storm was enough to keep us wide-awake most of the night.

Hence why I now squint with sleep stained eyes through the muddy windscreen, yet another truck from our lodge screams past us with little regard to us or his vehicles shocks. We eventually arrive at the ferry office unscathed and join the long queue of vehicles. An elder man waves out and begs us forward. We can see there is space in front of the tour groups. Moving forward, on the opposite side of the road, the guy’s face changes and starts screaming angrily at us. Storming over to us, he speaks in a clear Swiss accent “I didn’t mean you, I meant for my friend to come forward”. Supressing a giggle, Mike replies “Sorry” and continues to move forward – stuff the old man and his playground antics!

Murchison Falls

Everyone here is trying be on the first ferry across the Nile to the National Park. Being on the first boat not only means you get to see the animals before they move away from the roads but also you get to spend an extra hour searching for animals before it becomes too hot and they have their afternoon siesta. However being last does not mean you have to wait until the next ferry is scheduled to leave. The ferry does return for the remainder of the cars and passengers. Now that we have purchased our tickets, we are moving further down the hill and queued once again. We peek at our grumpy friend and noticed smugly they are going to be like us and get on the second ferry and better yet, the last to exit the ferry too. I do have some competitiveness in me, but it is heightened by their lack of courteousness. Excuse the pun, but we are all in the same boat!

Yesterday we did an early morning safari, so we have some idea where we want to go and where we had luck at finding animals. However, the best thing about Safaris in a huge national park such as Murchison, is not actually knowing if you will see anything or not. But the chances of seeing a giraffe and an elephants are high, not to mention hippos and buffalos.

Warthog

Buffalo

Guinea fowl

Since the ferry is on a schedule and it fits in with our lunch buffet that’s included in our accommodation fee, we had better leave the animals behind and catch our boat. With less than a kilometre to the ferry, we see a huge male elephant cross the road. Mike notices he looked wet behind one ear, which apparently means he is looking for a lady elephant and we best not get in his way. We wait for him to move on before moving past him, but he stands there looking back at us. “ Please Mr Elephant, we are not a lady, we are just three people in a car wanting to get home for some lunch” but the elephant isn’t listening and it becomes a Mexican standoff. Mike moves the car forward past the elephant, just as he raises his long trunk (the elephant, not Mike) and screams at us. I nearly peed my pants, since it was my Auntie Chriss and I closest to the elephant as we passed. But he didn’t move, he was just letting us know he was there – dude, you’re not exactly small…

Wet Behind The Ears Elephant

The roads dry up over the course of the day. I’m not sure why I was so worried earlier in the morning. I am proud of our Rav 4. The only incident we had was when following another vehicle down a long narrow sandy path. A large safari 4×4 steamed through a puddle and then pulled off the main tracks to let both of us pass, but doing this, it got stuck in the soft sand. The car in front of us helped pull him out, but then the driver didn’t have any patience to let us pass him first and forced us to back up down the soft sandy tack for a couple of kilometres. As soon as he could pass, he did. I felt sorry for the passengers for putting up with a driver like that. We were able to continue back towards the puddle, only to find out if he had waited on his side of the puddle, he could have had avoided all this trouble!

Murchison Lodge

We love the lodge we were staying in so much, we all agreed to spend yet another day just relaxing on the couches and enjoying the view of the Nile. I especially am looking forward to a sleep in and not having to get up at 5:30am!
There is a ton more photos on flikr – click here to visit the photostream

2013 Motomonkey Adventures Calendars

I am proud to announce that I have photography and a cartoon calendar available for pre-order. Just follow the link below to be taken to my website where you can purchase your very own copy! By pre-ordering you will ensure you receive it before Christmas.

Click HERE to view the calendar in more detail

Gorillas – Mountain gorillas, in particular – What springs to mind when you hear that word? King Kong, Gorillas in the mist, extinction, Dian Fossey, Congo, Rwanda, Uganda, adventure, excitement, and rainforest… For me, it is all of the above. As a child I was reading very early, probably because I spent a lot of time on the ‘naughty chair’ at preschool, with my back to the goings on, and the only thing to do there was look at the books that were in the box. After a few sessions, the pictures got old. So read I did, voraciously!

Are Gorillas only in fairy tales?

Before I was 10 years old, I was already reading about the Rift Valley and of the wildlife writers and explorers for example Dian Fossey, George Durell and many others. Drinking in the pictures of all the strange beasts that I would never get to see in my life. One didn’t do these things or go to these places, this type of exploration and adventure was for other people, not the children of a New Zealand army sergeant and his wife.

So, with my strange reading habits ongoing, my family was eventually posted to Waiouru in the North Island of New Zealand, and then on to Singapore, and I realised that people from my background could and did travel, so I resolved to do so when possible, but on leaving school and landing back in NZ, at 16, my main focus became putting a roof over my head and food in my belly.

Years later and many moves, I was living in Matamata when a friend asked me to go with her to Australia, and so we ditched our jobs and set off, landing in Sydney then hitchhiking our way around the bottom of the country, caught the Ghan up to Alice Springs, Ayers Rock and then on to Katherine in the Northern Territory. I had found my passion and never stayed anywhere long, never putting down roots and only having enough stuff to fit in my car with ease.

And so I come to today, writing about my taking advantage of my niece’s presence in Africa, Uganda to be precise, and the opportunity to visit her and spend a few weeks seeing the world through her eyes. Hopefully seeing the Mountain Gorillas of my childhood dreams would become a reality, but if it didn’t, I would be having an adventure anyway.

After many long hours on planes and waiting in airports, sitting on tarmac in 45 deg heats, here I am in Entebbe, a bit later than anticipated. Danielle and Mike are right there at the door waiting for me, Yay! They didn’t give up and go home.

Ugandans pride themselves on been able to grow their cows horns very large!

Skip to Gorilla Day.

Now here we are a week later and today is Gorilla day. We rise early and have a funny African tea (very weak milk tea) for breakfast with an Omelette. Yum, but my stomach is all over the place with excitement. Across the road we go, to the Ranger headquarters, to have a little info chat, get a porter and a pole, and head off into my adventure!

The night before we had looked over the edge of the precipice, down to the jungle below…uh oh, it’s a bit scary – but what the heck, too late to chicken out now, I will give it my best shot!

The view of the impenetrable forest.

So Lawrence is my porter and Benson is the Ranger, we have two armed guards, a scientist and seven other paying guests, a porter for most of the guests, and the trackers are already down there doing their thing. The armed guards come with us as we are on the edge of DRC, Democratic Republic of Congo. Some of the rebels like to borrow the tourists and ask for money to let them go home again. I don’t particularly want to go and visit with them, so I am more than happy to have these guys with us.

We set off heading up the hill, along the road, and I am thinking, oh goodie, we’ll be using the track that is up here, to go down the mountainside, how easy is that? My glee is short lived, a radio call and we turn around, head slightly past the ranger station, and turn off down the hillside, some really scary stuff.

I shan’t bore you with the trials and tribulations of the horrendous physical demands made on our bodies on the way down, suffice to say it is stinking hot, very humid, the vegetation is up to 5 feet tall, we stamp it down as we go and it is very wet and slippery. Everybody falls at least once, some of us many times, the walking sticks we took are a godsend sometimes but do become caught in the vines and other bushes etc. The steepness of the slopes is about 45 degrees and it takes us about an hour and a half to get down.

We miss the chance to look at the view of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest though it is directly in front of us, just because we have to concentrate so hard on every foot placement, a broken leg is a huge possibility. By now I have had a big slip, taken out my porter in the slide, and hurt my knee and my foot. My twisted knee doesn’t allow me to walk properly, even on flat ground. It’s also quite painful, making me reconsider how the hell I was ever going to get out of there? I wonder aloud if there is a helicopter somewhere. Next thing I know, there is a little stream in front of me, and we turn left and are told the gorillas are only a few minutes away. Oh my gosh! It is really happening!

After waving Chriss goodbye like a girl heading off on her first day off school, with enough money in her pocket to pay for the porters and some spare for any tips she may feel like giving. Mike and I had slipped across the road to the most expensive hotel (min $600USD a night) in the area which was just next door to our relatively cheap guesthouse ($5 camping). We were on the hunt of a good coffee. One we had missed because they only had African Tea available at our guesthouse. We sat on a beautiful patio with our plunger coffee, casually discussing the facts of Uganda with the managers. My mind wondered to my Auntie wondering how she was getting on going down that incredibly steep slope that I had nightmares about hoping she won’t hurt herself.

As I am lagging behind and am slower than everyone else, my porter is allowed to come with me even though all the other porters stop at the river. We have to leave our poles and bags behind as well. Being a bit slower becomes a bonus very quickly though, as Lawrence (my porter) and I come upon a baby gorilla hanging in a tree right beside the trail. No one else is around so we stop and watch, and I am so completely mesmerised by this little thing playing happily by itself, I forget to take out my camera and when I remember, it is almost too late!

Lawrence says we have to catch up, so off I limp and catch up with the rest of the group, where the most amazing experience awaits me. Gorillas are everywhere we look, so I crouch down and just watch. The vegetation is very lush and wet, so we have to still be very careful of our footing, trying to see everything that is going on and not slip or fall over and disturb these magnificent animals. We are in their environment and they are truly wild, just habituated enough to tolerate us if we behave appropriately and only then for one hour.

Is it real? Its really a Gorilla!

Lawrence (my porter), learns how to use my camera pretty quickly, so I can sit and look. I do take a few photos myself, but really just want to observe. I am thrilled to bits when one young female and then a juvenile wants to pass very close to us. The bigger adults have just walked past but these two obviously feel either threatened by or submissive to us (one of the Swedish girls and myself are standing right next to the path!) so we slowly crouch down and move away so they could pass. It is a very emotional moment for me.

The gorillas start to move away after a while, and we are much slower moving than them, which is quite fortuitous, as there is a bit of yelling, screaming chest beating and argy bargy emanating from the jungle in front of us! Scary stuff. Benson is very good at making these lovely low reassuring sounds that help settle things down. Two of the Silverbacks have had a difference of opinion, and he doesn’t want us to walk into a bit of a physical disagreement between them. I miss a lot of this as we are separated by a juvenile and older female playing in the way to join the others, then a silverback cames back to see where they are, and sits on the far side of them, having a little snack, and keeping an eye on proceedings.

He is very polite and let me photograph his face and seems very calm and settled, and I know enough not to look him in the eye or make any sudden moves or noises. Lawrence put himself between me and the silverback, my protection! But I never felt in any danger or apprehensive at any time while with these magnificent creatures. Eventually we catch up with the others after the gorillas have moved off, and our hour is nearly up.

After several cups of coffee, Mike and I decide was should go and pretend we did something other than lazing around in this beautiful resort. Just as we walked outside, this man approaches us, asking if we were Mike and Danielle. I take a sharp breath in, wondering what has happened. “Yes, that’s us, whats wrong?” “Just wait here” he tells us walking off to the building. “Mike, something is wrong! What are we going to do if she had hurt herself?” Mike reassures me that nothing is seriously wrong. It seems like ages when the guy with the walkie talkie returns to us. “Your Auntie can not make it back up the path so we are sending down a stretcher. How much are you willing to pay for the porter fees? How about $300?” I balked at the price. Mike kept a cool head and said we just didn’t have that sort of money. “How many people do you think it will take to carry her up?” Mike asks. After a discussion through his walkie talkie they decide on ten men and we agree to a price of $10 each, a price which is the normal porter fee. I felt kind of bad negotiating the price of my Aunties return, but they were trying it on.

Our guesthouse and camp for the two nights. The cheapest in town of course!

Somebody (probably me) wondered about my ability to get myself up that hillside, well, within about 24 hours or so, if I am lucky. Walking back along the river bank, we get separated into two groups again by my inability to keep up. My knee is screaming at me by this time, climbing around with the gorillas hasn’t done me any favours, I can’t move into or out of some positions when necessary. I was certainly not going to miss anything, so my high pain threshold was a bonus in this instance, but the body being in pain is telling you something….namely, stop, don’t do this.

Benson, Danielle and the guy at the Ranger station negotiate the porter fee out for me, and by the time I catch up with the others at the lunchbreak, I am feeling pretty stupid. I thought I would manage this expedition reasonably well, but nothing I could have done at the gym was going to sort me out for the physical challenges I faced today. Even without the knee damage, I would have been struggling to get out.

When Mike and I saw ten men rush down the hill with a stretcher in hand, we had to laugh, hoping my Auntie could see the funny side of this and completes the adventure! Mike and I sat on our fold out chairs next to our tent which overlooked the beautiful cannon and waited for my Aunties return, sweat free.

Camping with a view to die for!

The other guests are very encouraging, laughing and joking with me when we see the basket/stretcher I will be riding in for my trip up the mountain! I am a little dubious, but secretly saying – thank goodness for that!

The Strecher

So 10 guys take turns at carrying me – at a run most of the time- in this stretcher affair, made of woven local reeds and grasses and tied to poles with the local grasses as well. It is quite a comfortable trip, a little unnerving at times as they have to negotiate around some tight turns and up some very steep places. I do wonder once or twice if I am going to tip out! But I never did, and on the last section, the guys all decide they need a rest, and while we are having a chat, the word is called up the slope in relays, that they need to hurry up as the stretcher is needed for another guest!

All the Porters

I am loaded back in and lickity split and off they took, basically at a flat out gallop! I don’t think they really needed to hurry much, as obviously, that person wasn’t going anywhere, but they are keen to get back down and get them out.

Chirss’s View From the Basket

Chriss in the Stretcher

Danielle is there to meet me, and took care of the cost of the porterage, which could never have been too much as far as I am concerned, the experience of seeing the Gorillas was worth every penny, and every ache, groan, and painful twinge for the next week or so until all the broken bits sorted themselves out again. It was a BIG day out. Thank you Danielle and Mike for making it happen for me.

Chirss and Laweracne (her porter)

Mike and I had already decided to take my Auntie out for dinner at the flash hotel next door. A special day needs a special evening!