Jared and Dianne

We plunged head first into the New Taxi Stand in Kampala. It could compete with Mecca as the most hectic place in the world. Thousands of mini-vans with no more than 10cm between anyone of them were crammed into an area about the size of a football pitch. Carrying our huge backpacks with mattresses strapped onto the side made it almost impossible to navigate the continuously changing labyrinth of vehicles. It took at least 15 minutes to walk 50 metres. When we finally found the Jinja matatus they were right next to another gate. Even still it took the van ten minutes to reach the road. I felt sorry for the taxis in the middle which would need at least an hour to break free.

The trip from Kampala to Jinja should take around 1-2 hours depending on traffic in the capital. It took us nearly three. The highway had been washed away during the storms we had watched from the comfort of our hotel a week prior. This meant that all of the vehicles plying this major route needed to find another way. There were a series of worn, dirt tracks criss-crossing the country side to give access to the surrounding farm lands. Our driver took his pick, somehow after subjecting the van to much torture we were back on sealed road, past the damaged tarmac.

We hoped to organise our river activities in Jinja that day so after a quick lunch we went in search of Internet. We found an access point and took down the prices and details of the different rafting and kayaking companies. It was probably going to be easier to sought it out in person so we hired a boda-boad (motorbike) to take us to the falls. The first place we visited was Kayak The Nile, At $100 per day with instruction, equipment and lunch it was the maximum price I had allowed. After asking some satisfactorily answered questions we walked down to a campsite which sat right above the falls. Their kayaking and rafting prices were much cheaper but I had to wonder why the others cost so much more. A little skeptical we asked to speak to the organiser. He was not available until the next day. We decided that instead of rushing ourselves we would set aside the following day to select our operator. We set up our tent near the shore of the river just above the falls. It would have provided a great view of the Nile at its most powerful if our tent had windows. The falls are more a string of seven or more impressive rapids than a typical waterfall. They range from grade 5 to 6 and served to get me very excited about the next few days.

Our campsite was swarming with school kids on an excursion which broke the serenity no end. To escape we went for a walk to find a good dinner place. We ended up eating at the place where Prince William had stayed during his visit. It may sound impressive but it was actually a very basic campground that served a few good meals.

The next morning as we set of in search of a good deal for kayaking we were approached by a local guy. Without introducing himself he said "I was told there were two mzungus who wanted to learn to kayak". We assumed that to be us and asked what a five day itinerary might be. When he told us that we were going to learn to roll in the morning then do the rapids, pointing to the grade fives and sixes in front of us we told him we'd think about it. After going to all the offices for all the companies we discovered that our only real option was Kayak The Nile. We got free dorm accommodation thrown in at the Nile Explorers campsite when we signed up for three days, looking to extend to five. We had planned on doing a Nile Breweries tour that afternoon but it was touch and go with time so we ended up just milling around Jinja. On our way back to Bujigali falls that night we were stopped at a road block. There were dozens of people standing on the side of the road carrying Ugandan flags. A car emerged from a near by driveway. It was the president of Uganda. He was standing in an open roofed car waving proudly to his constituents. In return they jumped and screamed fanatically. It reminded me of footage from The Beatles tour of Australia, just on a smaller scale.

That night, in an attempt to avoid the ridiculous food prices inside the camp we found a little stall called The Bujugali Chapatti Company. Run by a young, budding kayaker named Shaffi. It served a variety of vegetarian, chapatti based wraps for genuine street prices. We ran a tab with him for the remainder of our time there and consumed nearly forty chapattis.

We met our instructor at nine in the morning. His name was Ibra. He was 6 foot something and more ripped than a hobos t-shirt. As a professionally qualified local who had been kayaking the same river for near ten years he instilled confidence. After introductions we kitted ourselves out with a skirt, boat, helmet, life jacket, paddle and water bottle. We spent the morning in the flat waters near the camp. There we learnt several different stroke styles and got used to the hyper sensitive movements of the boats. Following the basics we practiced T-Rescues, one of us tipped upside down and with assistance of the other persons boat we righted ourselves. It was simple enough but difficult to do properly. The idea was to use mostly our hips and just a little assistance from the hands. Whilst useful in its own right it was used as an introduction to eskimo rolls.

We were fed well for lunch with homemade sandwiches and a handful of assorted snacks. After letting that settle we were taken by truck to the base of the dam wall. We quickly recapped all of the morning lessons. Then we moved on to rolls. To begin with Ibra guided our paddles into the set up position for us. Di managed to get upright on the very first try and backed it up the second go. It wasn't so easy for me though and I took three attempts. Without paddle guiding it was a little more difficult, we got it sometimes and not at others. When we were tired of the flats and ready for the real thing we took off down the river. There were several grade one or two rapids between us and the camp. These were separated by flats where we could practice the basics again. The Nile is renowned for its high volume and thus large standing waves so even though we never exceeded a grade two there was still a 1m high wave to tackle. Di flipped on the final rapid and nearly ended up swimming down Bujugali Falls. Luckily Ibra came to the rescue, after taking her to the shore he drained her boat and then towed her back up the river. We both had an absolute ball in the afternoon and our improvement was bolstering. Before we stopped for the day I practiced my rolls again with varying levels of success.

For the second morning we learnt about ferry lines, a fancy way of saying how to cross rapids without being pulled too far down. At first we tried crossing water which didn't even rank, then we moved onto grade ones and eventually twos. It was harder than I expected as you need to lean in the counter-intuitive direction, down stream. We certainly didn't master the art that morning but were capable of crossing the grade twos on occasions.

Again in the afternoon we ran the dam section of the river. This time we incorporated our ferry lines into the run. I even tried a little wave surfing in the grade ones. This in turn provided numerous attempts at rolling in the rapids. Again it was touch and go if I got them or not. One time I rolled so intently that I rolled right over until I was back upside down.

By the time day three came around, seven hours a day of paddling had taken its toll on Di, she was exhausted.Until lunch time we re-ran the same trip as the afternoon of day two. This time we took on some slightly more tricky lines at the bottom but it was mostly for practice.

The afternoon was a big step up. We took a forty minute truck drive to the access point for a rapid called Superhole. Ibra didn't tell us but in order to get to Superhole we either had to portage or run a grade three rapid. As we approached the rapid we could see nothing but a big drop and jets of water being shot up from the turbulence below. Instead of heading straight down we pulled over at a rock near the top to scope it out. There was a massive drop with a pit at the bottom. The water was being thrown back in over and over again. I considered that some of the water may have been trapped there so long its long service leave was due. This pit was called the 'death pit' and I deemed its name to be accurate. Between the death pit and a rock riddled path to the left was a small section of green water which was the easiest route. Ibra pointed out a hydrangea that was going where I was meant to go. Di chickened out and I decided to run it. The rapid was a grade three but 50cm either side was a grade 5.

My nerves were racing when I came in. I avoided the two standing waves at the top and rode the step hydro-chute down the two metre drop. At the bottom I clipped the edge of the wave responsible for the death pit. Despite hitting right on line I was still greeted by a metre high foaming wave of white water. I was flipped immediately and managed to roll back up almost quickly. I threw my hands up with pride and was tipped again by the next wave for my sin. This time I couldn't roll. Ibra came and we did a T-Rescue. As I waited for Di I saw the hydrangea again. This time it was torn into dozens of pieces. It sat in an edie at the bottom of the falls surrounded by other vegetation which had suffered a similar fate. So much for a good line. Di portaged down but could not ferry across the rapid. She flipped and took off down the river. Ibra went after her and I was left to ferry across it by myself. Luckily I managed it ok. When we were all upright and back together we found ourselves at the wrong side of the river. We ferried across five rapids to get to Superhole. Di flipped twice on these. By the time we were finally where we wanted to be Di was fatigued. Whilst she waited on the bank I tried many times to surf the grade three wave belonging to the Superhole rapid. For the first few attempt I couldn't even get in. After much practice and lots of flips I managed to get enter the wave. Now the challenge was staying upright, it was many more flips later that I finally started to get the hang of it. Whilst I couldn't manage the somersaults that Ibra was pulling I was happy just to be in there. I had about three good rides but i was wearing out, I was no longer capable of rolling and we were running out of time. We paid a local to carry Di's boat back to the truck and headed home.

In the hope of Di recovering we took a break the next day. Except for using a bit of free internet and taking a trip into town to get out some money and to have a change of flavour we didn't do much at all. Night time was as horrible as usual. we were sharing the camp with a group of professional kayakers, the kind that make the movies. They were absolute cocks, throwing things, breaking glasses and carrying on like they owned the world.

When it was time to return to the water I was by myself. Di was more than happy to stay and read her book. Not only was she getting tired but the force of the rapids we were taking on were somewhat intimidating for her. In order to resuscitate my recently acquired skills we repeated the day three rapids. This time with a lot more aggression and success. In the morning I could ferry everything on the dam section without any drama and my rolls were coming off without fail. In the afternoon I even managed to get down the monster drop and past death pit without flipping. We ran Superhole from the top and took off from where we finished the last time we were there. Being the only student in the class and having worked so hard already I wore out very quickly. That being said I still managed to get a few surfs in, at the mercy of the wave. On the other hand my rolls were deteriorating rapidly.

I was very happy with what I had learnt over the four days I had been instructed but for the final day I just wanted to run some big waves and drops. With that in mind Ibra took me to some distant rapids. Usually run as the second day of a kayaking trip. We carried our kayaks down a steep face and dropped them into a pool at the bottom. I had only a 2 by 1 metre pool to warm up in. We had just portaged past a massive grade six and began at the bottom. Within two strokes I found myself in a long series of big waves which made up a grade three rapid. The tiniest of pools at the bottom fed straight into a long grade two and then calm. I put it down to freshness that I got through this upright. The remainder of the trip was made up of some killer grade threes and fours. Some of which extended for over 100m. The names of some included Vengeance, Hair Of The Dog and Kula Shaker. I can't remember which was which but i distinctly recall running a big grade four. It began with some monstrous 2 metre waves. I managed to pass through these and avoid the most horrendous looking pit/whirlpool. Nearing the bottom of the rapid I passed Ibra who was caught in a wave. As I was watching him I got caught in another wave myself. I was flipped, I waited for some calm water to right myself but it never came. Out of patience and out of air I rolled where I was only to find myself exactly where I had gone over, still in the wave. I didn't have long to take in the scenery before I was thrown back down into the pit. This time I was forced to pull my skirt. Ibra came and grabbed me and my boat. With no chance to get back in I was forced to swim the next 150+ metres of rapids until we hit the pool at the bottom. fortunately I had fallen at the last big wave but I was disappointed to miss out on kayaking the rest.

I had conquered nearly all the rapids of the day and was feeling mighty proud of myself when we reached the heralded Nile Special. A grade 3-4 wave which brings the world's elite for an annual freestyle competition. I was expecting just one wave with some meager rapids behind but was greeted by an entire train of hormone taking waves. That said I was able to get through without much difficulty and it was certainly easier than some of the other rapids. The challenge was to actually get in and surf the wave. Rather than go headlong into such an adventure I decided to take some lunch. My arms were like jelly from five days of paddling and my rolling had declined into a pitiful state once again. I watched Ibra and a couple of safety kayakers flip and spin on the wave. It was getting on a bit and I readied myself. The run into the wave was treacherous enough without having to ferry in and then turn around (or go down backwards). I didn't even get close. I tried half heartedly to roll but it was all over. We paddled to our waiting truck via the Hairy Lemon Island. Determined to go out on a positive note I practiced my previously perfected rolls in the final pool. To my utter frustration and Ibra's bewilderment I couldn't get up. I took my boat to the edge and drained it. At least forty litres of water flowed from my already 14kg boat. The next time I tried I rolled five times in a row, almost effortlessly. It was a perfect day to finish a great time at the Nile. Whilst it hadn't been cultural it had been fun.

After collecting Di and our bags from the camp we organised the truck to take us into town. Before we said our final good byes i ran to grab a couple of chapattis for the road. We had become close to Shaffi over the duration of our stay and he gave us an avocado as a farewell present. It was funny but touching. He doesn't have much money compared to me and what he does have he works 14 hours a day to earn. To give any sort of present to a wealthy foreigner is a big deal. The bus dropped us at the taxi stand from where we caught the last matatu to Mbale.