WHAT'S AROUND THE CORNER
Rafting is, for us, a good illustration of the fears and problems we've faced on our journey so far. It's great fun but it does present some rather poephol-knyp moments.
Before we left Seffrica, we were aware that there would be times of uncertainty and a certain amount of nervousness but the fears that we imagined have, largely, not materialised while others, completely unforeseen, have become regular problems.
The stories of "Big, Bad Africa" and its ravening hordes of bribe-demanding policemen and scam-filled villagers haven't (yet) emerged. Instead, our biggest fears have resulted from the constant move into regions of uncertainty.
"Where are we going to stay tonight?" was one of the first niggles that plagued us but that has slowly dissipated as we've learned to accept that we will always find somewhere to stop the vehicle and sleep peacefully.
Another constant is that gut-twisting feeling when Wag 'n Bietjie (often referred to as "You f****** fat slug", especially in times of stress) develops a new screech or something stops working. Not being a mechanic, I worry that I won't be able to work out what is wrong, let alone fix it.
But that hasn't happened yet: we've always found the problem, been able to fix it using the workshop manual and carry on. There are always fellow travellers with more knowledge and a willingness to help, either diagnosing the problem and repairing it or directing you to competent mechanics.
Navigating has been the cause of most of the tension between Lisa and myself, particularly when entering large towns and cities. Street maps are scarce, road signs even scarcer but locals are generally willing to help and even if they don't speak English, they will find someone in the area who does.
We heard the news this week that another family of South Africans drove into trouble in Ethiopia, the husband being killed by bandits who were ransacking vehicles they'd stopped between Bahir Dar and Gonder. The wife had to drive her husband to the nearest town with the two children sitting in the back.
We'd heard, from other travellers, about the family when we were in southern Tanzania and had hoped to meet up with them at some stage but they were travelling faster than we were and it didn't happen.
The longer we've travelled the more we've realised that there isn't much to fear but there is lots to be careful of and to do your homework about. It's much the same as living in Johannesburg: there are many places you don't go and other areas you go into carefully. You just have to learn where the troublespots are and how to avoid them.
Other travellers, heading in the opposite direction, are a very good source of information and information swapping is a regular part of campsite life.
But then you go rafting, with a personal guide to lead you through the perilous sections, and you still get smacked in the face and your sunglasses are ripped off!
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A-NILE-ATION
Jinja, 21 February 2002
The water level may be a little low in Egypt this week as between Lisa and myself, we must have swallowed half of the flow coming from the source of the Nile just below Lake Victoria.
Yup, we went rafting again but this time it was a little more eventful and expensive than our previous experience on the Zambezi River.
The Victoria Nile, as it's known at this point, leaves the Lake Victoria beside the town of Jinja, about 80 km east of Kampala in Uganda, but its flow is regulated by the Owen Falls dam, over which you drive to get to the town.
In the not too distant future another dam is planned a few kilometres downstream from the first dam to increase the hydroelectric generating capacity. This, naturally, will stuff up a beautiful stretch of river and drown some of the best rafting rapids on the river. Ah, progress is such a wonderful thing.
Back to the face-damaging fun that is rafting the Nile River. We stayed at the Nile River Explorers campsite 8 km north of the town and having a beautiful view of the river just as it approaches the Bujagali Falls. The term "falls" is a bit of a misnomer on this stretch of the Nile as the water only drops about 2 m over a set of rapids.
Run by a Seffricans, the campsite is also the base for the rafting expeditions and morning after we arrived, Lisa and I and two Dutch friends, Gillis and Yolande - whom we'd met in Kibale and travelled with since then, signed our lives away and boarded the rickety truck heading for the launch point just below the Owen Falls Dam.
All Aboard
After listening to all the good and sensible advice about how to keep our heads above water should (note: not "when") we be separated from the raft, we donned our life vests, helmets and paddles and shoved off for some "on water" practice - how to get back into the raft; how not to stick the handle up a fellow paddler's nostril; how to float gracefully downstream without getting 10 gallons up your nose or a rock up your rear end.
Naturally, when we had to put this into practice, none of it was as simple as it initially sounded and I, for one, got at least 8 gallons up my arse and a rock or two up each nostril.
The Nile has fewer rapids on this stretch and it's wider than the Zambezi but it is also shallower and the waves on some of the rapids are bigger. The smaller rapids were negotiated without too much problem but when we hit Total Ganga - all the rapids have bizarre names: I'm sure it has something to do with the traumatised childhoods of white water rafters - things changed a little.
Total Ganga has a 3 m high surging wave called "The G-Spot" which grows up to 3 m and then collapses. If you're unlucky - and we were - it collapses on top of the raft, wetting everybody!
We went down the rapid and halfway up the surging wave before it decided to collapse on top of us, tipping the raft sideways and dumping us all into the river.
'S Not Easy
Even though I followed all the training and advice, one moment I was holding tight to the rope around the edge of the raft (and my paddle) and the next I was holding tightly to the paddle and wondering which way was up. When I came up for air I tried to orientate myself correctly but found it a little difficult to keep my feet facing downstream and time my breathing between being dumped by each of the standing waves, particularly as I had to swallow large amounts of water before grabbing each mouthful of air.
But I finally found calmer waters and the raft and reboarded.
After lunch, we headed for the last Grade 5 (big and boisterous) rapid of the day, named Silverback (Very Ugandan gorilla patriotic!). This one just has a big wave and when Dave, our guide told us to "Get Down" - which means "try and hide in the bottom of the boat and kiss your nether regions goodbye" - I did as ordered, tucking my face in so that I didn't get splashed!
Trouble was, my face ended up being lined up with the pontoon of the raft and when the wave hit the raft, the pontoon took it out on my face, smacking into it with sufficient force to ram my sunglasses halfway through my good-looking features before washing the lenses and frames away, never to be seen again.
When we came out of the wave and righted the raft, I clambered aboard with blood streaming down my face and the arms of the expensive Oakley sunglasses still tucked behind my ears but without the benefit of the fancy UV protected lenses.
The face will heal without any further disfigurement but the wallet may suffer for quite a while as a result of the shock from the glasses and party that we had that evening, talking late into the night about everything from our soggy escapades to future routes.
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