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I was the first in the dining room for breakfast at 7:15. As usual, it started with fruit and toast. I asked for a Spanish omelet with bacon, and received a generous serving with three big round bacon slices. Afterward, a chubby lady met me at my room and said I should try to get into a gorilla group, because I was one of the six people on the standby list (which I hadn't seen yet). This was Florence, and she had put me on the list yesterday morning.
I quickly put my boots on and grabbed my cameras and lenses, and headed down to the office. Baker and Florence followed. I saw that I was second on the list, though the park officials were reluctant to acknowledge this, since according to the rules, people are supposed to put their own names on the list. Florence was persistent, and they ended up going along with her. We waited until the 8:30 deadline to see if there would be any spaces. But everyone showed up this morning, so nobody on the standby list would go today.
Baker and I packed the land cruiser and departed for Kisoro. Shortly after leaving Bwindi, Baker stopped the car, saying the accelerator was broken. Sure enough, the cable had come loose. He was able to reattach it, and we continued, passing many children on the way to school.
Baker stopped to get some food for lunch, and I waited in the vehicle. A young man came up to talk to me. He wanted to know why I had come to Uganda. He said he would like to go to America, but it cost too much, and he didn't understand why Americans would want to come here. He didn't look at me much as he talked, as is common here, but seemed interested in the interior of the car. A small crowd gathered around him. The man asked how we had been able to travel through the parks, and if there had been trouble. He saw my camera in the car, and asked what I was taking pictures of. He asked if I would show my pictures to people at home, so that more visitors would come to Uganda. He said that would be good, and then departed, wishing me a safe journey. Baker returned with boxed lunches, and wondered what all the people around the car were bothering me about.
The route followed a narrow, winding dirt road through the mountains, going up and down many switchbacks and following narrow ridges which provided some of the best views I had seen in Uganda. It was a beautiful route, but Baker said it was difficult, risky driving. We passed through pine forests, and also through cultivated land, with fields extending high up the steep hillsides. Although it was a bit hazy, the views were usually spectacular, and Baker stopped a number of times so I could take pictures. I didn't take too many though, since I had already loaded both cameras with 1600 speed film for tomorrow's gorilla tracking, and I only had one more roll of 1000 speed film.
While driving over the bumpy ridge-top roads, I heard a loud pop, and smoke came out of the radio. This happened a few more times as we drove, probably because a loose wire was causing a short. We stopped at a hill-top market, and Baker bought a large bag of passion fruits, giving me one. Descending into the valley, we crossed a floating bridge, and then came to a toll gate. Baker adamantly refused to pay the man, who said that all private vehicles must pay toll. Baker still refused, and the man didn't seem to know what to make of this, so he opened the gate anyway.
Baker stopped on one of the ridges, pointing out Kisoro in the distance. The most obvious feature was a large collection of tents, which Baker said was a refugee camp. Although we were close to the border, there were no security checkpoints today until the top of the last ridge before descending into Kisoro. The officer waved us through without even approaching.
As we approached Kisoro, we came upon a steady stream of foot traffic. Most of the women were brightly dressed, and most carried large baskets on their head. Baker said these were refugees from Zaire, and people going to a market in Kisoro today. We soon encountered the refugee camp I had seen from the distance, filling a large field left of the road. Baker was having trouble with the dust, and leaned out of the car, spitting and coughing.
We went directly to Mgahinga National Park headquarters in downtown Kisoro, and checked in. This time, everything was in order. They had my reservation, and the lady at the desk was expecting me. She had also booked a room for me at the Sky Blue Motel in town. She knew baker, who had been in with Jumbo clients before, and was friendly with him. Posters in the office listed a wide variety of activities in the park, aside from gorilla tracking. These included volcano climbs, caving and Zaire border walks (for the truly adventurous?).
Mgahinga National Park occupies a small corner of Uganda which meets both Rwanda and Zaire, adjoining the Park National des Volcans and Park National de Virunga in those countries. In Kisoro, we are 6 km from the Rwanda border and closer to Zaire. I paid $120 US for the gorilla permit and $15 for the park entrance fee, in cash. The bills had to be issued in 1990 or later. Baker wanted to go too if there was a space. As a Uganda citizen, he would pay only 20% of the gorilla tracking fee. The lady would know at 5 PM whether everyone who was booked had claimed their permits.
Baker offered the lady a ride for lunch, so she came with us. She introduced me to the ranger who would guide the gorilla tracking tomorrow. It turned out that the vehicle wouldn't start, probably due to the short in the radio. The lady didn't have time to wait around, so she walked to lunch. Baker and I pushed the vehicle, a diesel, until it started, and then drove a short way to Sky Blue Hotel.
Sky Blue Hotel was definitely a third world establishment, with about a dozen spartan concrete rooms surrounding a central concrete courtyard, in which laundry was hanging. Noisy chickens scurried around in back. The shared bath in the back corner had only a squat toilet, and there was no evidence of running water. However, there was a large cistern in the front corner of the courtyard, and a small canister across from it with a basin and soap. In front of the hotel was a bar and restaurant. The hotel was reasonably clean, but rather noisy, with the chickens and a blaring radio and staff working in the courtyard.
For lunch, I ordered curried meat (probably goat) with rice. It was pretty good, especially after I added some hot sauce. Baker had told me that the Blue Sky chain was known for good food, and the lunch confirmed this. The Mountains of the Moon Hotel I had stayed at in Fort Portal is the best hotel in the chain. This one was much more basic, but the food was fine. Baker later brought in the boxed lunches, which he bought this morning because he thought the drive would take longer. I said I didn't need two lunches, but he said it wouldn't last until tomorrow, so I saved it for a snack later.
Baker walked down to the market, and later brought back a large earthen pot. He asked the hotel staff to help him push-start the land cruiser so he could drive back to park headquarters for final instructions for tomorrow (and to see the lady there). He would also take the vehicle to a garage.
I walked around outside a while, not going far, but watching the refugees and shoppers stream past. There was a water shortage in Kisoro, and many people lined up at wells waiting to fill jugs. It was hot and I was sleepy, so I returned to my room, ate part of my boxed lunch, and took a nap. I awoke in the late afternoon, and saw a lady bringing two freshly killed chickens into the hotel from the market. As dusk fell, I talked to a friendly hotel waiter on the front porch. He had seen the gorillas, and said they are just like people, except they don't talk. He asked if I had visited the market, and I hadn't, but thought it would be a good idea, except that I had slept all afternoon and now it was getting dark.
I went into the dining room and ordered dinner. My first choices were thwarted due to a lack of beef, but remembering the fresh chickens I had seen, I decided on poultry. I ordered escalloped chicken. I wasn't sure what this was, but the waiter assured me that it was excellent. The preparation took a full hour. Eventually, I received a big piece of chicken, coated with spices and breading, and deep-fried, served with a tomato and a shredded onion ball, similarly treated. It was all hot and crispy and very tasty. The only thing that kept this from being a meal of deep-fried perfection was the soggy grease-laden French fries, the first bad fries I had encountered in Africa, and especially surprising since everything else was fried so well.
Baker came in and suggested that I could get a ride with the Danish women dining outside on the porch, who also would be tracking gorillas in the morning. He said my vehicle still wasn't working well. I talked to the women, and we agreed to leave at 7, to be sure we made the 8:30 deadline for checking in. At Baker's suggestion, I also gave the waiter my breakfast order, a Spanish omelet with toast, requesting it for 6:30, which was earlier than they usually serve breakfast. I prepared the things I would need for gorilla tracking, and went to bed around 9:30. I slept well, until the chickens started crowing around 4 AM.
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| Previous: February 16 | Journal Contents | Next: February 18 |