THE THIN LINE

Fort Portal, 15 February 2002

We crossed the line. Some might even say we've gone too far this time, but we think our actions were justified. In fact, we say we didn't have an option, that it was the only path we could have taken.
It was a clearly demarcated line that we crossed when we reached the equator, with big concrete circles on either side telling us that we were crossing the zero latitude line.
Our GPS system said the marks were a lie and I had to walk another 500 or so metres to reach what it called the equator. Following the road, the GPS system indicated the equator was right in the middle of a small, grubby village the main business of which was to supply Congolese truckers with food and relief.
The road we'd been following, through the Queen Elizabeth Park (QEP) and on towards Kasese and Fort Portal, seems to be one of the main transport routes for supplies going into eastern Congo (Zaire) and it's condition makes me wonder whether the reputation for having the worst roads in Africa is due to Congo's weather or it's drivers. The public road through QEP had some rather deep holes, clearly the result of heavy trucks getting stuck in the mud and spinning their way deeper.
We've spent a lot of rest days since arriving in Bukoba just south of the Tanzania/Uganda border. I think the stresses of travelling finally caught up with us and we just needed to sit and relax for a while without planning where to go next, what to see, how to find and why we're lost.

Bump and Grind
We'd been told that the road north from Bukoba to the Ugandan border was referred to by locals as the "Disco Road" and we found it much like a night on the town - far less bump and grind than we'd been promised but not unpleasant.
The last 20 km to the border had us wondering whether we'd taken a wrong turn as it turned into a single lane track bordered by high reeds with little sign that it was regularly used. It was - 3 vehicles had been through the border ahead of us that day!
The border control for people leaving Tanzania is 20 km south of the border but when we stopped there we were told to do everything at the border where there was another set of officials. There, the immigration bureaucrats got upset because they were having to do somebody else's work! The customs official, housed confusingly in the Tanzanian Revenue Authority's offices, was really helpful, really well educated (especially so by Tanzanian terms where the level of schooling is abysmal - on a par with the roads) and really efficient. Of all the border officials we've met so far, this guy was the smartest and I couldn't help wondering what he'd done wrong that he'd been dumped in such an out of the way place.
There isn't even a boom demarcating the border at the small town of Mutukula where we crossed; you're just supposed to know that the next building is a Ugandan one and you have to pay more money.

Doggone It
Getting into Uganda was the closest call we've had with problems. It was a stinking hot day and we'd gone through all the formalities except the final police checkpoint (there are double and triple checks for everything in an attempt to stop corruption) where Lisa had to go off and write out the vehicles details once again.
While she was doing this I was chatting to the policewoman who was leaning in the window wanting to know what we had in the back. She seemed satisfied, wandering back to her seat in the shade after realising I wasn't going to understand what she meant by "sweets" - or maybe that's all she did want. Either way, we didn't have any.
Then her colleague arrived and had to be seen to be doing his job so I was asked to open the back of the truck. As we got there a small child very nearly got it right to run into the path of a car arriving at the checkpoint and both police officials and onlookers had a lot to say about how bad it was that kids are allowed to run into the road or play without supervision.
The driver of the car got out and gave the kid - all of 2 or 3 years old - a lecture as he shooed her out of the road again, "hitting" her with a stick so gently that I wanted to laugh.
It's quite incredible how much of a sense of community there is - nobody wanted to call the police because the driver was disciplining somebody else's child but everyone was concerned that a child could have been injured. It is as though parenting is a communal affair in some respects.
Alas, the policeman was not to be distracted and even though I stalled as long as possible, he still wanted me to open the rear door. As I swung the rear window up Tigger, who'd been lying very quietly (on instruction) in the hole we create amongst all the luggage when we cross borders, sat up and grinned at us. The effect was doubly strong as it was stinking hot and she was panting but the policeman didn't know this and changed his mind about searching the truck.
He chose instead to question whether it was allowed to bring dogs across borders. I told him it was but neglected to mention that one should have a movement permit (a piece of paper from a government vet only issued if the rabies and inoculation certificates are up to date) for the animal.
Rather amazed that someone would take a dog across a border, Mr Policeman asked if we had a passport for Tigger and seemed satisfied when we told him there wasn't a passport but we did have identification documents for her.
It was a nerve-wracking 10 minutes waiting for Lisa to return and wondering whether the policeman was going to tell his colleagues about the dog, one of whom would actually know what the procedure was.

Sun Spot
We got away without any hassles and didn't stop until we reached Masaka.The backpackers just outside the town is run by a local guy, Joseph, who is a fantastic host. His home is also the communal quarters - lounge and bathroom - for campers and seems to be in a continual process of upgrade.
He was building new showers when we arrived. He also has a solar cooker, something I've been interested in for years and have seen prototypes of but never seen one in use by a private user. It is a large - 1.5 m - mirrored dish with a stand in the centre on which you place the pot. The dish is mounted on a cradle and is repositioned as the sun moves or when you want to reduce the heat. It's such a simple system, ideal for Africa where there is lots of sun, but the initial costs (about $200) are out of reach of most people here.
Heading south the next day for three days at Lake Bunyonyi we were delayed in Kabale by a broken accelerator cable bracket, getting it welded in Mbarare for $2. We also need to have the wheels balanced when we reach somewhere able to do it.

Lazy Days
At Bunyonyi we gorged ourselves on an eat-as-much-as-you-want buffet serving small fresh-water crayfish (just like their big brothers but only 15 cm long) and boiled potatoes, chicken, beef stew and stir-fried vegetables and relaxed for three days.
In between playing Scrabble, watching Tigger leap into the lake off a diving platform 1.5 m above the water to fetch sticks and watching the birds, I also managed to fix a bolt with stripped head, drilling it out without (miraculous for me!) damaging the threads. At least now the radiator fan cowling should stop trying to leap into the fan once a day.
The road from Kabale, where people are ferried around in bicycle taxis fitted with a padded seat on the carrier rack, to QEP was spectacular. We were warned that it was a "bad" road with average speeds of only 40 km/h. After Tanzania we figured it had to be a good road if you could travel that fast, so we took it.
It climbs through the Mafuga Forest Reserve, reaching 2 450 m before dropping back to the plains and entering the QEP. The highest section of the road was above the cloud line and we were driving through surreal forest landscapes watching the cloud move around us.
The Queen Elizabeth Park was a major let down and shortly after lunchtime we pushed on to Fort Portal, finding the Mabere/Amabere Caves and Waterfall Campsite (marked on the signboards as: Caves Waterfall Camping").

Disappearing Act
The past two days have been ones of splendid isolation and tranquility with the staff coming around once a day to check whether we are okay but otherwise not bothering us at all.
There are two campsites with the cheaper one being more private and secluded, having a greater variety of birds and being closer to the forest where Guerre black and white colobus monkeys forage. The downside is that you have to shower in a waterfall in the forest.
It's a brilliant setting but the water is cold, painfully so. It's takes a real dose of courage to get under the 5 m fall of water but surviving it is so refreshing. We, naturally, have only gotten around to showering at 6 pm when the heat has already gone from the day.
The mornings are misty and still, the evenings clear and crisp, the days filled with bird calls and the flurry of wings and the nights cool and damp as condensation settles everywhere. For about $1.50 (per person per night) Amabere has been the most incredible value we've found on our trip. They even supply firewood free of charge and milk fresh from the cow for $0.25 a litre. The cows on the farm are the fattest and healthiest we've seen in Africa with a really healthy sheen to their coats. Most of the cattle we've seen have been scrawny animals with dull, bone-stretched coats and a listless look. Quantity rather than quality seems to be the rule.
Now that we've recharged our batteries, it's off to charge the truck's batteries and our wallets with Ugandan Shillings. Then it's a short drive to a crater lake campsite and some chimpanzee viewing which is significantly cheaper ($15) than gorilla viewing ($250) which we decided to skip because of the cost factor.