Laku Bunyoni

Joseph drove us to the bus in the morning. Obviously we were late because he drove like a man possessed. We screamed in beside the bus and annoyed a lot of people as we showered them with muddy puddle water. We were rushed onto the bus without a chance to say a proper goodbye.

The bus conductor asked us for a large sum of money relative to the distance we were traveling so we refused. He continued to argue that it was the right price but some of the other passengers were laughing. When we asked them if he was charging too much they told us he was. He gave up on us and started dishing out tickets to the other passengers but because of the furor we had caused many of them were skeptical and insisted that they would only pay at the ticket office. In the end we coughed up the fee on the basis that we took his name so we could get some money back at the office in Kabale. When we arrived we went straight to the office and asked how much for a ticket to Kisoro, it was exactly what we had paid. We felt quite bad for the man as we had virtually called him a liar but in reality he was one of the few people who had offered us the right price off the bat.

We stopped in for breakfast at a local restaurant. After paying I told Di I was going to look for a waterproof jacket. My main objective was actually to pick up some chocolate on the sly for Easter. I bought three small blocks from a local store and to give truth to my alibi I went in search of some rain gear. I went to the market and through dozens of shops but in a town were it rains every day no one had a rain coat.

I went back and collected Di who was waiting at the restaurant. We caught a shared taxi out to Lake Bunyoni, the driver dropped us at a place called the Overlanders but it was one of those horrific backpacker haunts pumping out shitty music until all hours whilst overcharging on food and drinks to the people who never leave the compound. We walked around the corner and found a beautiful place which offered affordable camping. Like most guest houses in the area it had a perfectly manicured lawn area, basic facilities and lake frontage complete with diving board and sun baking platform. After pitching the tent and lapping up our surroundings we realised lunch time had snuck up on us. I went in search of some cheap lunch and a local pointed out a little dingy restaurant to me. It was precooked food; beans, matoke, potatoes and eel stew. One massive bowl was 500 shillings, about 30 cents. It tasted ok but the monotony was overwhelming so the last few mouthfuls were a struggle. Di opted to eat chips instead so we sat on the deck of the hotel restaurant looking out to the lake beyond and waited two hours for the chips and guacamole to be delivered.

In the afternoon the beckoning of the kids became too much so I joined them for a swim. The water temperature was as breathtaking as the scenery but it was warm enough to adjust to. When the kids saw Di pull out the video camera they put on a little show of singing and dancing just so they could watch it back. They were so eager to perform that it was hard to get away from them when we were ready to leave. The hotel provided some water for a rejuvenating hot shower. Finally we sat in a little stilted rotunda perched over the water, drinking beers and laughing at the tourists in dugout canoes doing circles until the sun went down. We had dinner overlooking the lake. It took another two hours to prepare so we made a point of ordering well in advance for future meals.

The next morning we walked to the main boat dock where we picked up a dugout that we had organised to hire the day before. We took off with confidence but pretty soon we were looking like the people we had been laughing at. We wanted to make our way to an island for lunch but with the lack of a map and the circles we kept allowing our boat to turn it was no easy task. It's not that I am unfamiliar with paddling, whilst I am no expert I am perfectly capable of rowing and ruddering an ordinary canoe. The dugouts have a mind of their own, I imagine their behavior is a tribute to the fact that they are no more than hollow tree trunks. We tried so many ways to correct the boat but to my absolute frustration nothing seemed to work. Despite all the spinning we were gradually leaving our camp behind. We stopped in to ask directions from a local fisherman and he pointed to a place out of sight. Change of plans, we opted to head to an island that we had passed by earlier. Before we left, the fisherman insisted that he explain in almost incomprehensible English how to fish and then invited us back to his house. We had no idea where his house was or even if we were capable of rowing their so we regretfully reclined. We had lunch on Nature's Prime Island. This time we waited for an hour for the food and as long for the change. When we finally got away we both agreed that we needed more practice so we made for Overlanders. We got there in good time without doing a single corkscrew. After grabbing a beer from the bar we realised that we had dropped a small sum off money. We chose to check back at the lunch spot before returning the boat. Whilst we never retrieved the cash we did get plenty of practice at steering the canoe.

We ate dinner at our restaurant as the staff had gone out of their way to heat up the oven so they could make Di a pizza. We watched a football match on T.V. until halftime when we walked to the Overlanders. They were the only place showing the Everton vs. Westham match and as it was a crucial game so we really wanted to watch it. For the remainder of the evening we sat around the idiot box with the local football aficionados only to watch a draw. Still it got my heart racing and I don't get to watch soccer much in Australia so it wasn't all bad.

My body clock woke me several times during the night but each time Di seemed a little to restless for me to move. Finally at about five I took an opening. I pulled the chocolate from its hiding place and laid them gently on the end of Di's sleeping bag. At about 6:30 I woke again, this time I announced to Di that "The Easter Bunny has been". She sat up as quick as a cobra strike and polished off the first two bars in about the same amount of time. I couldn't believe that Di had forgotten Easter. This special day marked not only the anniversary of Jesus' ressurection but also heralded the launch of our Lake Bunyoni tour. We hired a dugout from the hotel and packed all the gear we needed for the next three days into one bag. The rain kept us at bay for a good while but it began to dwindle in the late morning so we set off in light drizzle. Thanks to our developed skills we made a reasonably straight line for the mouth of the inlet we had been residing in. We passed another mzungu a fair way out and also a motorboat full of gawking, head-shaking tourists. Some friendly fisherman returning with the morning's catch gave us some brief instructions on how to get to our destination, Bushara Island. When we rounded the large land mass that was blocking a majority of the lake we could see what we hoped was Bushara Island just across a short, open straight. We took on a little water from the waves during the crossing but nothing serious. We drew up to a vacant pier but the attached sign insisted we circumnavigate the island until we found the Pelican landing. On our way around we saw some girls on a nature walk and they confirmed that we were indeed at Bushara. We found the public landing point and some helpful staff lodged our vessel in the reeds to stop it being taken by the wind.

We made our way to the reception where we paid our western priced camp fees. It was a long trudge to the designated camping zone and we weren't the only ones there. Two gigantic tents, larger than the average African house, stood proudly in the best locales. We set up between the two monstrosities, if nothing else they would make good wind blocks. When we returned to the main communal area a local orphanage performed a song and dance show whilst we waited for our pre-ordered food. The meals were absolutely delicious, among the best we'd had in Africa. After lunch we took some borrowed, dodgey looking badminton racquets to the volleyball net for some sporting action. It wasn't such a success story though as the shuttlecock passed through the strings as often as it went over the net. In the closing hours of daylight we took a walk around the perimeter of the island. The path was covered by a canopy of trees but we never lost sight of the lapping waters. The calls of birds were the only noises we heard on the walk. Along the way we saw a semi-beached, half-completed dugout a few metres from the path. The number of coin-sized wood chips sitting on the surrounding grass gave an indicator of how long a single boat must take to construct.

At night we met some former Ugandan come Rwandan expats who we chatted with about a whole range of topics. It turned out they were the ones sleeping in the the biggest tent. A little embarrassed I asked if they had heard us joking about it when we arrived. They had but they were unphased, quite believably they were used to it.

After breakfast we walked down to the pier with the bag. Where our boat had been there was now nothing. A little stumped we said nothing for a while. When we did ask around no one knew anything. I went back to reception but they knew nothing either. Apparently the two guys who saw us dock had been found and sent out in search of our canoe. It was distinguishable by it being one of the only unmarked dugouts on Bunyoni. Someone told us that it had probably blown away but unless someone had put it in harms way, that was virtually impossible. Someone else told us that lost boats usually take 2-4 weeks to show up. Against recommendation we decided to sit around for a while just in case it was found. To replace it was going to cost 300,000 Ugandan Shillings so we were over the moon when two nail biting hours later it was delivered safely to our hands. We had been watching the search party return with a boat from a small village on the lake's shore but it wasn't until they were within a few metres that we could positively identify it. Whilst onlookers suggested it had been taken by the wind it was pretty obvious that after an Easter lunch some tight ass had decided to steal our boat rather than pay the 200 shilling passenger fee. Regardless of the circumstances we were both very happy and gave an uncharacteristically high tip.

The delay had not infringed on our plan to reach Byoona Amagara, Itambira Island that night. We surprised ourselves by completing the paddle in just over an hour. Along the way we proudly stream lined past some mzungus we had spoken to earlier that had been adamant their boat was broken. We also passed a primary school on one of the islands but the children were obviously locked away as they didn't rush down to the shore to greet us. Like the pier at Bushara, Byoona Amagara had no chain to lock up our boat but we got an assurance from a staff member that our boat would be there in the morning.

The change of facilities from Bushara was an indicator of the change of clientèle. The Lazer sail boat had been swapped for a book exchange and the volleyball net for a mini-cinema. When we arrived the place was deserted so we sat on the deck and ate what was hands down the best vegetarian meal of my life. As the day drew on the overlander groups arrived in bulk and the place soon became over run with girls in mini-skirts and people getting pissed and noisily airing their views on anything they could think of. It's funny, a couple of times I have been traveling with a group of friends and we would have loved it but with my girlfriend in Africa I couldn't bare to be there. I grabbed a puzzle book off the shelf and we went down to the water front to escape it all. It was a far cry from the bar area upstairs as we chatted away with a German family who came down for a swim.

We had a long sleep as we used the tent for refuge. Before the other tourists arose with pounding headaches we ate and ran. We wanted to get the boat back before it started raining. The trip was just shorter than the two previous days combined so our conservative estimate was just over three hours. It actually took us just over 1. There were two of us in the boat but it was comforting that we were at least quicker than the locals going it solo.

When we got back I relayed the story of the lost boat to the super friendly manager. He gave me the impression that he wouldn't have minded too much, as long as it showed up in the long-run. Di and I were in no rush to leave the lake so I had another swim before we settled down for some cards. In the midst of a round of two-handed five hundred my attention was drawn to some footsteps coming down the path to where we sat. The smiling face of Miguel (from the Tanzanian safari) appeared from above the roof line. We put the cads down and caught up on everything that had passed between our rushed farewell and the present. We were happy to hear that the rest of his safari had gone well. At Miguels suggestion we paced up a hill behind our hotel to catch some good lake views before the threatening skies opened up.