Our welcome back to Uganda was as warm the second time as it was the first, with visa officials chuckling amicably as they remembered taking our $100 just 3 weeks previously, and gladly took the same amount for the second time while pasting our second visas nest to the first ones with far too much glee! The roads were reassuringly bad again (confirming a lack of foreign aid and therefore begging) and the fruit was ridiculously cheap. Being back in Uganda was a breath of fresh air!
Our first stop was Lake Bunyonyi where we bagged a camping spot right on the lake and took 5 days to finally sort out our car and to do the ridiculous amount of washing that had piled up. There were no taps so the staff directed us to the jerry where they do the hotel's landry, offering to do ours as well. When we declined their offer, they brought us buckets and stood around
chuckling at these mzungus doing their laundry "African" style: scooping water up from the lake and stomping on our clothes. I think this exercise, which took up the better part of our first two days, earned us some respect amongst the staff because the all made a point of greeting us from their canteen each morning and bidding us good night again upon their departure, always with a wink and a conspiratorial chuckle. We did manage to take time out from our doemstic endeavours and hikes up the top of the hill with views accross the black lake dotted with tiny islands which looked similar to lake Kivu but was far cheaper and had camping! The Swedish owner of the hotel also seemed to be lacking interaction because she took it upon herself to divulge all the daily operational details and problems to us at length, often first thing in the morning when we were on our way to the loo, so we decided it was in the interest of maintaining normally functioning bladders to head off and explore the r
est of Uganda, with clean clothes and a decent looking car.
Now aparently geologically, it is very difficult to have a diverse array of sights within the same area so Western Uganda consisted mainly of forests and lakes on the Congoles border, which were pretty impressive the first time you hike through the tropical rainforest and spot the various types of monkeys, an area on which I now conmsider myself quite an expert I might add, but gets a bit tedious after the fourth hike with Ugandan guides who insist on divulging the latin name of each and every tree. And there were many. If it weren't for the persistent safari ants who somehow manage to make it up to your crotch before you even know you stepped on any, the hiking would have been slow going and not great practice for Kili. Half of the Western world also seem intent on saving Africca and all seem to want to do it from the comfort and safety of Uganda so instead of bumping int fellow travellers with which to exchange anecdotes, we were surrounded by American missionaries or school tours from the UK all doing their bit to save Afrfica from itself and who 
were all amazed that we were actually just travelling and not preaching or teaching. So socialising was mainly done with the friendly Ugandans who seemed just as relieved that we weren't trying to convert them as we were to find normal conversation, although none of them believed that we were from South Africa but rather from some European country and just living in SA.
After the bombings in Kampala and the aparent continued threats, we would have preferred to give it a skip had it not been for the fact that I had forgotten to buy hking boots in our rush to leave SA and now needed to buy some for Mnt Elgon and Kili. Unfortunately the sales people were intent on selling me mens workboots 7 sizes too big, telling me just to wear thick socks, so that didn't really work. Getting into the only shopping centre in Kampala was reassuringly difficult as cars and occupants were thoroughly searched. When they got to our car however and saw the sheer volume of stuff they had to look through, their enthusiasm immediately waned and they just looked Shaun and I up and down and the let us through, sattisfied that we didn't look like people planning to blow themselves up. Our determiniation to get in had very little to do with my needing hiking boots and more so with the massive SPur sign on the side of the centre! Indeed, we were there, faces pressed up against the glass, well before opening time and got our orders of milkshakes and Money Gland burgers in well before any other patrons had even arrived. In fact I am proud to admit that my Spur meal invoked more exitement from me that day than our impending date with the monster rapids of the Blue Nile, and it didn't dissappoint.
Our attempt and independant travel in a country mainly catering to pre-organised tours as well as a dip in travel enthusiams levels now that we were technically on our way back home saw us throw in the towel and pre-book our whte water rafting in Jinja and a hike up Mnt Elgon through a travel agent which sadly to say, was very exiting! We were going with the biggest company in Jinja (the town at the source of the Nile) and had an 8 day FULL BOARD package booked at Sipi Falls and Mnt Elgon, ending out time in Uganda in luxury!
As we gathered on the bansk of the Nile on the saturday morning with the 99 other people about to be battered by the rapids, my exitement finally surpassed the Spur. All we had to do now was get into a boat with people more our age and not with the gaggle of school kids that made up most of the numbers and were perpetually going on about the fact that if Moses made it down the Nile in a basket, they would to. Shaun thankfully noticed that we were standing dangersouly close to a chattering group of Chinese so pulled me to the other side of the gathering mob and miraculously got us into a raft with 7 other 29 year olds!
The morning started with some drills including practicing flipping the boat back up, floating through rapids correctly and most importantly, how to take cover in the raft when hitting the big rapids. The water was surprisingly cold and when I somehow managed to float very far away from the safety of my group, I was reassured that there wereno corocodiles. It wasn't long
before we hit our first Grade 3 rapid but it didn't quite get the adrenaline going as the first grade 5 which litteraly blinded us as the waves just slammed into our faces. With two heavies in the front of the boat however (Shaun and a Canadian), we made it though all of the rapids like professionals and soon got a little arrogant, even I'll admit. Our guide who had been superb all day with dry remarks like "If we don't get the rapid in the right place, you'll die." with a deadpan face which had us all glancing at each other nervously, also decided that our ride down the river thus far had been too dry and that our egos needed some bruising so slammed us sideways into the towering wave of the second last rapid of the day. He claimed it was a grade 3 but we were lifted, tipped and slammed so hard WWE style that Brad (the guy sitting behind me) and myself were sucked under so deep that when we opened our eyes to see which was was up through the bubbling yellow water, we could see everyone else's feet metres above our heads. Brad grabbed onto Shaun's feet (he had managed to keep holding onto the raft) and dragged himself up by Shaun's legs, being rewarded with getting hit on the chin by Shaun's paddle. I on the other hand was far too thoughtful to possibly pull someone else under with me so was rewarded by being machine washed by the river until blue in the face and spat out only once it had had its way with me, helmet gone but still proudly clutching on to my paddle - they had told us not to let go of them. Thankfully almst all of the other rafts had suffered the same fateso our egos were only marginally as water clogged as our noses when we got to the last and worst rapid of the day, known only as "The bad place". Ｔｏ ｄｒｉｖｅ ｔｈｅ ｐｏｉｎｔ ｈｏｍｅ， ｔｈｅｙ ｍａｄｅ ｕｓ ａｌｌ ｇｅｔ ｏｕｔ ａｎｄ ｓｔａｎｄ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｂａｎｋｓ ｉｎ ａｗｅ ｏｆ ｔｈｉｓ ａｑｕａｔｉｃ ｂｅａｓｔ ａｓ ｔｈｅ ｇｕｉｄｅｓ ｃａｒｒｉｅｄ ｔｈｅ ｒａｆｔｓ ａｌｏｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｓａｆｅｔｙ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｂａｎｋｓ ａｗａｙ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｇｒａｄｅ ６ ｓｅｃｔｉｏｎ． Ｏｎｅ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｙｏｕｎｇｅｒ ｇｉｒｌｓ ｓｔａｒｔｅｄ ｃｒｙｉｎｇ ａｎｄ Ｉ ｍｕｓｔ ａｄｍｉｔ ｔｈａｔ ｔｈｅ ｓａｆｅｔｙ ｂｏａｔ ｌｏｏｋｅｄ ｖｅｒｙ ａｐｐｅａｌｉｎｇ ａｔ ｔｈｉｓ ｓｔａｇｅ， ｅｓｐｅｃｉａｌｌｙ ｗｈｅｎ ｏｕｒ ｇｕｉｄｅ ｔｏｌｄ ｕｓ ｊｕｓｔ ｔｏ ｃｈｕｃｋ ｏｕｒ ｐａｄｄｌｅｓ ａｎｄ ｈｏｌｄ ｏｎ ｆｏｒ ｔｈｅ ｒｉｄｅ ｗｈｉｃｈ ｄｉｄｎ’ｔ ｉｎｖｏｋｅ ｍｕｃｈ ｃｏｎｆｉｄｅｎｃｅ． Ｈｅａｒｔｓ ｉｎ ｏｕｒ ｔｈｒｏｕａｔｓ， ｗｅ ｓｏｍｅｈｏｗ ｍａｎａｇｅｄ ｔｏ ｍａｋｅ ｉｔ ｔｈｒｏｕｇｈ ｗｉｔｈ ｏｎｌｙ ２ ｏｆ ｕｓ ｌｉｓｔｅｎｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｏｕｒ ｇｕｉｄｅ ａｎｄ ａｃｔｕａｌｌｙ ｌｅｔｔｉｎｇ ｇｏ ｏｆ ｔｈｅｉｒ ｐａｄｄｌｅｓ ９Ｉ ｈａｄ ｃｏｍｅ ｔｏｏ ｆａｒ ｗｉｔｈ ｍｉｎｅ ｔｏ ｓｉｍｐｌｙ ｊｕｓｔ ｔｈｒｏｗ ｉｔ ａｗａｙ） ａｎｄ ｗｅ ｅｎｄｅｄ ｔｈｅ ｄａｙ ｗｉｔｈ ｆｕｌｌｙ ｉｎｆｌａｔｅｄ ｅｇｏｓ， ｃｈｉｌｌｅｄ ｂｅｅｒｓ ａｎｄ ｍｅａｔ ｋｅｂａｂｓ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｂａｎｋｓ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ Ｎｉｌｅ ｗｉｔｈ ｔｈｅ ｓｅｔｔｉｎｇ ｓｕｎ ｉｌｌｕｍｉｎａｔｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｔｈｏｕｓａｎｄｓ ｏｆ ｂａｔｓ ｔｈａｔ ｈａｄ ｔａｋｅｎ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｓｋｙ．
Ｓｉｐｉ Ｒｉｖｅｒ Ｌｏｄｇｅ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｌｏｗｅｒ ｓｌｏｐｅｓ ｏｆ Ｍｎｔ Ｅｌｇｏｎ ｗｉｔｈ ｔｈｅ ｓｅｃｏｎｄ ７０ｍ ｆａｌｌ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｔｈｒｅｅ ｔｈａｔ ｍａｋｅ ｕｐ Ｓｉｐｉ Ｆａｌｌｓ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｂａｃｋｙａｒｄ ｗａｓ ｈｏｓｔ ｔｏ ｏｕｒ ８ ｄａｙ ｐａｃｋａｇｅ ｗｈｃｈ ｉｎｍｖｏｌｖｅｄ ２ ｎｉｇｈｔｓ ｏｆ ｌｉｖｉｎｇ ｌｉｋｅ ｌｕｘｕｒｙ ｔｒａｖｅｌｌｅｒｓ ｉｎ ａ ｒｏｏｍ ｗｉｔｈ ｗａｌｌｓ ｔｈａｔ ｄｏｎ’ｔ ｆｌａｐ ａｎｄ ｈａｖｉｎｇ ａｌｌ ｏｆ ｏｕｒ ｍｅａｌｓ ｃｏｏｋｅｄ ａｎｄ ｓｅｒｖｅｄ， ｉｎｃｌｕｄｉｎｇ ｏｕｒ ｍｏｓｔ ｅｘｉｔｉｎｇ： ａｆｔｅｒｎｏｏｎ ｃｏｆｆｅ ａｎｄ ｃａｋｅ． Ｔｈｅｙ ａｌｓｏ ｏｒｇａｎｉｓｅｄ ａｎｄ ｃａｔｅｒｅｄ ｆｏｒ ｏｕｒ ５ ｄａｙ ｈｉｋｅ ｕｐ Ｍｎｔ Ｅｌｇｏｎ ｆｒｏｍ １７００ｍ ｔｏ ４３２１ｍ． Ａｌｌ ｗｅ ｈａｄ ｔｏ ｄｏ ｗａｓ ｐａｃｋ ｏｕｒ Ｓｏｕｔｈ Ａｆｒｉｃａｎ ｓｕｍｍｅｒ ｔｅｎｔ， ｏｕｒ Ｓｏｕｔｈ Ａｆｒｉｃａｎ ｓｕｍｍｅｒ ｓｌｅｅｐｉｎｇ ｂａｇｓ ａｎｄ ａｌｌ ｔｈｅ ｗａｒｍ ｃｌｏｔｈｅ ｗｅ ｃｏｕｌｄ ｐｏｓｓｉｂｌｙ ｇｅｔ ｏｕｔ ｈａｎｄｓ ｏｎ ａｎｄ ｈａｎｄ ｔｈｅｓｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｔｗｏ ｐｏｒｔｅｒｓ ａｓ ｗｅ ｔｏｏｋ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｍｏｕｎｔａｉｎ ｗｉｔｈ ｏｕｒ ｇｕｉｄｅ Ｐａｕｌ．
Ｔｈｅ ｆｉｒｓｔ ｓｅｃｔｉｏｎ ｃｏｍｐｒｉｓｅｄ ｏｆ ｈｉｋｉｎｇ ｕｐ ｔｈｏｕｇｈ ｖｉｌｌａｇｅｓ， ｆｉｅｌｄｓ ｏｆ ａｌｌ ｓｏｒｔｓ， ｓｔｕｂｂｏｒｎ ｃｏｗｓ ａｎｄ ｅｎｔｈｕｓｉａｓｔｉｃ ｇｒｕｂｂｙ ｃｈｉｌｄｒｅｎ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｍｉｄ ｍｏｒｎｉｎｇ ｓｕｎ ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ ｗｅ ｈａｄ ｇｏｔ ｓｔｕｃｋ ｉｎ Ｆｒｉｄａｙ ｍｏｒｎｉｎｇ ｍａｒｋｅｔ ｍａｙｈｅｍ ｔｒａｆｆｉｃ ｏｎ ｏｕｒ ｗａｙ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｌｏｄｇｅ． Ｔｈｅ ｓｉｇｎ ｔｈａｔ ｅｖｅｎｔｕａｌｌｙ ｃｏｎｆｉｒｍｅｄ ｔｈａｔ ｗｅ ｗｅｒｅ ｆｉｎａｌｌｙ ｅｎｔｅｒｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ Ｍｎｔ Ｅｌｇｏｎ Ｎａｔｉｏｎａｌ Ｐａｒｋ ａｌｓｏ ｓｉｇｎｂａｌｌｅｄ ｔｈｅ ｓｔａｒｔ ｏｆ ａ ｇｒｕｅｌｌｉｎｇ ｃｌｉｍｂ ｕｐ ａ ｃｌｉｆｆ ｆａｃｅ ｎｏｗ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｍｉｄｄａｙ ｈｅａｔ． Ｗｅ ｗｅｒｅ ａｗａｒｅｄ ａｔ ｔｈｅ ｔｏｐ ｗｉｔｈ ｌｕｓｈ ｔｒｏｐｉｃａｌ ｆｏｒｅｓｔ ｔｈａｔ ｓｈｉｅｌｄｅｄ ｕｓ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｗｏｒｓｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｒａｙｓ ａｓ ｗｅ ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｅｄ ｕｐ ｔｈｅ ｍｕｄｄｙ ｐａｔｈ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｆｉｒｓｔ ｃａｍｐ ａｔ ２９００ｍ． Ｗｅ ｒｅａｃｈｅｄ ｉｔ ａｔ ２ｐｍ ａｎｄ ｗｅｒｅ ａｗａ
ｒｄｅｄ ｗｉｔｈ ａ ｌｕｎｃｈ ｂｒｅａｋ ｂｅｆｏｒｅ ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｉｎｇ ｏｎ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｎｅｘｔ ｃａｍｐ ａｔ ３５００ｍ， ａ ｗａｒｍ ｃｕｐ ｏｆ ｔｅａ ａｎｄ ｋｎａｔｔｅｒ ｗｉｔｈ ｏｕｒ ｐｏｒｔｅｒｓ ａｐａｒｅｎｔｌｙ ｎｏｔ ｂｅｉｎｇ ｐａｒｔ ｏｆ ｏｕｒ ｉｔｉｎｅｒａｒｙ．Ｔｈｅ ｌｕｓｈ ｆｏｒｅｓｔ ｇｒａｄｕａｌｌｙ ｇａｖｅ ｗａｙ ｔｏ ａｌｐｉｎｅ ｈｅａｔｈ ｏｆ ｇｒｅｙ ａｎｄ ｙｅｌｌｏｗ ｔｕｆｔｓ ｏｆ ｇｒａｓｓｅｓ， ｄｅａｄ ｌｏｏｋｉｎｇ ｃｒｏｏｋｅｄ ｔｒｅｅｓ ａｎｄ ｇｉａｎｔ ｌｏｂｅｌｉａｓ ｔｈａｔ ｌｏｏｋｅｄ ｌｉｋｅ ａ ｓｃｅｎｅ ｆｒｏｍ ａ ｄｉｎｏｓａｕｒ ｍｏｖｉｅ．
Ｗｅ ｒｅａｃｈｅｄ ｃａｍp ｊｕｓｔ ａｓ ｔｈｅ ｓｕｎ ｗａｓ ｓｅｔｔｉｎｇ ｂｅｈｉｎｇ ａ ｃｌｕｍｐ ｏｆ ｇｉａｎｔ ｇｒｅｅｎ ｌｏｂｅｌｉａｓ ａｎｄ ｑｕｉｃｋｌｙ ｅｒｅｃｔｅｄ ｏｕｒ ｔｅｎｔ， ｇｏｔ ｄｒｅｓｓｅｄ ｉｎ ａｌｌ ｏｆ ｏｕｒ ｗａｒｍ ｃｌｏｔｈｅｓ ａｎｄ ｓａｔ ａｒｏｕｎｄ ｃｈａｔｔｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｏｔｈｅｒ ｃｌｉｍｂｅｒｓ ｌｏｏｋｉｎｇ ｌｉｋｅ ａ ｐａｉｒ ｏｆ ｅｓｋｉｍｏｓ． Ｗｅ ｓｕｍｉｔｔｅｄ ｔｈｅ ｎｅｘｔ ｄａｙ ｏｎ ａ ｇｒｕｅｌｌｉｎｇ １８ｋｍ ｈｉｋｅ ｔｈａｔ ｓａｗ Ｓｈａｕｎ’ｓ ｈｉｋｉｎｇ ｂｏｏｔｓ ｓｉｌｅｎｔｌｙ ｌａｕｃｎｈ ａｎ ａｔｔａｃｋ ｏｎ ｈｉｓ ｈｅｅｌｓ ａｎｄ ｂｉｇ ｔｏｅ ｔｈａｔ ｌｅｆｔ ｈｉｍ ｌｏｏｋｉｎｇ ｌｉｋｅ ａ ｖｉｃｔｉｍ ｆｒｏｍ ａ Ｓｔｅｐｅｎ Ｋ
ｉｎｇ ｆｉｌｍ ａｎｄ ｒｅｎｄｅｒｅｄ ｈｉｍ ｉｃａｐａｂｌｅ ｏｆ ｃｏｍｐｌｅｔｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｒｅｍａｉｎｉｎｇ ５０ｋｍ ｃｒｏｓｓｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｈｉｋｅ ｂａｃｋ ｄｏｗｎ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｌｏｄｇｅ．Ｗｉｔｈ ｏｎｌｙ ｏｎｅ ｇｕｉｄｅ ｍｙ ｉｎｉｔｉａｌ ｉｄｅａ ｔｏ ａｂａｎｄｏｎ ｈｉｍ ｔｏ ｈｉｋｅ ｂａｃｋ ｔｈｅ ｓｈｏｒｔ ｗａｙ ａｎｄ ｄｏ ｔｈｅ ｃｒｏｓｓｉｎｇ ｂｙ ｍｙｓｅｌｆ ｗａｓｎ’ｔ ｇｏｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｗｏｒｋ， ｓｏ Ｉ ｈｉｋｅｄ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｃｒｏｓｓｉｎｇ ａｎｄ ｂａｃｋ ｔｈｅ ｎｅｘｔ ｄａｙ ｗｉｔｈ ｔｈｅ ｇｕｉｄｅ ｗｈｉｌｅ Ｓｈａｕｎ ｓａｔ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｔｅｎｔ， ｎｕｒｓｉｎｇ ｈｉｓ ｗｏｕｎｄｓ ａｎｄ ｆｅｅｌｉｎｇ ｖｅｒｙ ｓｏｒｒｙ ｆｏｒ ｈｉｍｓｅｌｆ， ｍｏｒｅ ｓｏ ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ ｗｅ ｈａｄｎ’ｔ ｔａｋｅｎ ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｆｏｒｍ ｏｆ ｅｎｔｅｒｔａｉｎｍｅｎｔ ｓｏ ｈｅ ｗａｓ ｆｏｒｃｅｄ ｔｏ ｐｒａｃｔｉｃｅ ｓｈｕｆｆｌｉｎｇ ｃａｒｄｓ ａｎｄ ｐｌａｙｉｎｇ Ｓｕｄｕｋｏ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｐｈｏｎｅ ｕｎｔｉｌ ｔｈｅ ｂａｔｔｅｒｙ ｄｉｅｄ．Ｈｅ ｇａｍｅｌｙ ｈｉｋｅｄ ｂａｃｋ ｄｏｗｎ ｔｈｅ ｍｏｕｎｔａｉｎ ｏｎ ｄａｙ ４ ａｎｄ ５ ｈｏｗｅｖｅｒ ａｍｉｄｔｓ ｔｈｅ ｐｏｕｒｉｎｇ ｒａｉｎ， ｗｈｉｌｅ Ｉ ｗａｓ ｔｈｅ ｏｎｅ ｃｏｍｐｌａｉｎｉｎｇ ａｎｄ ｍｏａｎｉｎｇ ａｂｏｕｔ ｅｖｅｒｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｇｅｔｔｉｎｇ ｗｅｔ ａｎｄ ｃｏｌｄ．
Ｔｈｅ ｈｏｔ ｓｈｏｗｅｒｓ ｂａｃｋ ａｔ ｔｈｅ ｌｏｄｇｅ ｗｅｒｅ ａ ｗｅｌｃｏｍｅ ｒｅｌｉｅｆ ａｓ ｗｅ ｄｕｍｐｅｄ ｏｕｒ ｅｎｔｉｒｅ ｗｉｎｔｅｒ ｗａｒｄｒｏｂｅ ｗｈｉｃｈ ｗａｓ ｎｏｗ ｃｏｖｅｒｅｄ ｉｎ ｍｕｄ ｉｎ ａ ｔｕｂ ｏｆ Ｏｍｏ ａｎｄ ｆｅａｓｔｅｄ ｏｎ ａｆｔｅｒｎｏｏｎ ｃａｋｅ ａｎｄ ｃｏｆｆｅｅ， ｇｌａｎｃｉｎｇ ａｔ ｏｕｒ ｗａｉｔｉｎｇ ｖｅｈｉｃｌｅ ｗｉｔｈ ｑｕｉｔｅ ｓｏｍｅ ｒｅｌｕｃｔａｎｃｅ．
