Wednesday, 7th July. GMT: 8:03 . Semliki Time: 10:03

On under two hours sleep, my cognitive abilities have begun to loose their edge. None the less, I’ve had such an incredible day that I will attempt to press on regardless. Still on English time, my English time, I couldn’t sleep last night until 5:00 am which was a shame as I had to rise to take the bus to Fort Portal at the ungodly hour of 6:45. At least, that’s when I thought I had to rise. As it turned out, that was when the taxi driver actually wanted to leave. The cheeky fellow charged us an extra 5000 Ugandan Shillings due to my late rising, a fact I was not best pleased with.

Eventually bundled myself onto the bus and we were off. The road immediately out of Kampala was not great. Pot-holes abounded and sleeping-policemen (speed bumps) were so steep that they ricocheted everyone on the bus about a meter into the air every time when went over one. This was rather jarring on the old butocks, but facilitated my enjoyment of the scenery no end. Scenery is best enjoyed with your eyes open after all. Just out of Kampala we passed through a swamp which gradually shifted to verdant rolling hills as we continued on out. Until we began to close in on Fort Portal, the gateway to the Semliki reserve as well as various other national parks, the hills continued to verdantly roll, but after a good four hours tea plantations began to appear, the road became well cared-for and the Ruwenzori mountains materialized as ghosts in the misty distance. At long last, and just before the pain in my bruised posterior elicited actual yelps of agony, we pulled into fort portal and stopped. Alex and I began shifting our giant collection of bags out of the bus and onto the pavement. I’d just climbed up to grab the last one when the bus started again and I was left in the awkward position of yelling “stop” while running away from the exit towards the back. We kept going. I grabbed my bag and charged back towards the driver yelling a little louder. The conductor asked me what the problem was. I said I wanted the bus to stop. The bus was stopped but the conductor stood directly in my way in front of the exit. The driver, impatient, started driving again. I yelled stop again. We stopped again. I jumped past the conductor, nearly decapitating an unfortunately proximate checked and bolted through the door. The door opened. I was free.

This wasn’t the end of our problems though. We’d arranged for the camp supervisor Edson to pick us up outside the supermarket. Sadly, we couldn’t raise him on the phone and found ourselves stranded in what seemed like the supermaket capital of Uganda. By supermarket, we’re not talking tesco here. We’re talking large corner shop with limited refrigeration facilities and a big sign that says “Supermarket”. I left Alex with the bags, and went on a mighty pilgramage to each of Fort Portals numerous supermarkets asking if anyone knew a fellow called ‘Edson’.
“What did he look like”, they asked.
Sadly I didn’t know.
“Where did he live?”
Two hours drive out of town at the foot of the Ruwenzoris. Suffice to say, noone knew a fellow called Edson.

Luckily, we eventually managed to reach him on his phone and a light lunch followed by an hour long wait later (that’s two hours in Africa, we discovered), we headed off to Semliki. The rift valley, which we had to navigate, we stunning. The Rwanzoris set the backdrop for a stark rip in the hillside throughout which the valley wound. Huts precariously perched on the mountain edge where their owners made a living farming the 70 degree slopes. Those of them that were savvy enough to wake themselves up in the morning before stepping out of the front door. We stopped in a small village to pick up some supplies and various curious villagers came to greet the Mzungu, even going to far as to give us pet names. I can't remember mine (Alfred or something), but Alex was lucky enough to garner the title “Kiki”. Was honestly quite jealous.

After the village came the national park. Jungle, grassy savannah and open-forest which is home to one of the largest collections of endemic birdlife in the whole of Uganda as well as Warthogs, Elephants and baboons. Was particularly impressed by the Warthogs, who move with their tails extended into the air, earning them the local nickname ‘Telegraf’ and gallop around as if on drugs. Love Warthogs. Dinner was sorghum ground into a doe and served with a hearty meat stew. Delicious. Internet works like a charm. A very very slow charm. Cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings.