Crypto coincidence

Have you heard of OneCoin? It's an online currency like Bitcoin except (except?) that it's a scam - possibly the biggest cryptocurrency fraud in the world so far. Launched in 2014 and still up and running, it has attracted hopeful investors from all around the world who are, to put it mildly, dismayed to be just learning now that their hard-earned money has disappeared into the ether.

Well, not disappeared - it's actually been banked (presumably, and ironically, in a conventional off-shore account) by the scheme's founder: glamorous, red-lipsticked, Bavarian-born intellectual Dr Ruja Ignatova. Dr Ruja is the one who's disappeared and, as I've been squatting on a steep bank in my garden here on Waiheke, cutting steps out of the clay and sweating profusely in the spring sunshine, I've been listening to a gripping 8-episode podcast all about it: The Missing Cryptoqueen by technology journalist Jamie Bartlett and his BBC producer Georgia Catt. 

The last episode has just been uploaded - being real life, there's no neat tying-up of the loose ends, or even a well-deserved comeuppance for Dr Ruja. Instead, there are more false trails and heart-breaking interviews with people who thought their financial problems were all over, sucked into the hype of getting in on the ground floor with this new money-making scheme. Jamie talked to people who had persuaded their family members to invest huge sums of money - tens of thousands of pounds - and who now were faced with having to tell them that their life savings were gone. Or not tell them - one sad young man simply couldn't bring himself to confess to his mother that he had lost her money, and was desperately stringing her along in the hope that - somehow - the worst might not actually have happened.

And it was at this stage that this blog post's hook revealed itself: Jamie and Georgia had followed the trail of investors to Uganda, and had gone to a small town there to speak to this young man in front of his mother who, fortunately for her peace of mind, didn't understand English and had no idea that her life's savings were lost. And this random town, in the middle of Africa, where this particular victim, out of 50,000 investors in the country, was chosen by chance by Jamie and Georgia? Mbarara, which I passed through twice on my Intrepid Basix journey to visit Rwanda's mountain gorillas in 2017 - just about the time that Dr Ruja dropped out of sight.

I remembered the newspapers stapled shut on the newsstand in the shop where we bought drinks, the motorbike traffic with its sunshades and huge loads of goods and/or people (up to 4 men), a teeming market; and, on our return journey, camping in the bird-busy grounds of what by then seemed to us a fancy hotel, where I drank Nile beer in the garden bar and was quietly thrilled to hear Toto's 'Africa' being played. That was Day 12 of our dawn-to-dusk camping tour in a rattly bus with inadequate upholstery, passing through a never-ending roadside parade of lives lived on the margins. We were all looking forward to getting to journey's end in the sophistication of Nairobi and the subsequent return to our soft and comfortable lives. It had been an education, to see how hard these people's lives were - and, now, it's an outrage and a tragedy to know how much harder it is for some of them, all thanks to a clever woman with no conscience.

Intrepid Travel Gorillas & Game Parks - review and advice

Keep in mind that the Intrepid Game Parks and Gorillas tour I did in November 2017 is unlikely to be offered in the same format in future since Rwanda, having already doubled the price of a gorilla permit this year, is rumoured to be planning further increases. They know there’s a demand, and they’re going for the upper end of the market (they already have a permanently-full lodge there that costs USD3,000 per night – a staggering sum by African standards).

But I can give you an idea of what it’ll probably be like to do the new-version Intrepid tour to view the gorillas from the Ugandan side. So will the website’s Trip Notes, which pull no punches and warn about long days on bad roads in an un-airconditioned truck, variable toilet/shower facilities, putting up your own tent, and chipping in with the chores.

In reality, it’s even more rugged than that. The truck – which, to the credit of its carer – didn’t break down or even get a flat tyre, is rough, battered and pretty irritating in a number of ways. Even simply the steps into it: all different heights, just made to catch you out. Despite the big sign about fastening seatbelts, they’re all dodgy: either too loose or too tight, the buckles sometimes too stiff to use, at least one clip missing. The seats are padded, but not adequately for African bumps, so it’s a good idea to sit on a rolled-up mattress. That’s also helpful to lift shorter folk like me high enough up to see over the intensely annoying window-pane edging and reinforcing bar which are exactly at eye level. Further, the window glass is old and dirty, covered in tiny grains of whatever that make it impossible to wash them clean (I tried). When the prime reason for your being here is to see the country, I reckon that’s unforgivable. So a lot of time, the windows were down (they’re arranged horizontally) – but only if your neighbours behind are ok with the draught. It’s really frustrating for photographers. Having said all that, other companies use the same trucks, so it’s not purely an Intrepid feature. The main necessity is for the vehicle to be able to cope with the challenging roads, which ours did – it’s hard to imagine a fancier bus making it unscathed along this route.

The tents are sturdy, straightforward to erect and offer good protection from rain (as long as you remember to zip up your windows, sigh) – but they are heavy to haul around, and the clips that hold them to the metal frame can be really stiff and hard to operate. Some are better than others. Inside, it’s a snug fit if you’re sharing, and you won’t be able to store much gear in there – safer to use the truck’s lockers, anyway. On this tour, the maximum number is 16 (gorilla visiting parties are limited to 8) so, since the truck seats 22, there are surplus mattresses in the locker – thus it’s possible, by stealth or negotiation, to use two, which is much more comfortable.

The campsites varied a lot, but the common feature for most was disappointing facilities: we had, variously, no water, cold water, muddy water and, now and then, lots of nice hot water. Take wet wipes. There was, on the other hand, free wifi more often than not, although usually pretty slow of course. There were often upgrades available, into dormitories or rooms, and the prices were usually pretty reasonable though it does add up. That doesn’t, by the way, guarantee you good facilities – some of them had no bathrooms, and others were just as challenging, light- and water-wise, as for the campers. One, though, was enviably luxurious.

The food was substantial and healthy although fairly monotonous: lots of salads and vegetables, stews of various sorts, and fruit for dessert. It did, though, get pretty boring by the end, and though the veges were tasty, the stews were invariably on the tough side. To our cook’s credit though – and due in large part to his authoritarian manner re hygiene, no-one developed anything inconvenient over the entire 16 days. We all took our turns, according to the rota, at preparing the vegetables, and washing up dishes and pots (also, sweeping/mopping out the truck daily). The system was good, and efficient, and flapping (the dishes dry) soon became second nature.

As far as equipment is concerned, don’t stint on your sleeping bag, because it does get cold at night in some places along the route. Some people even brought proper pillows, which were comfy both at night and in the truck. Be prepared for your body, clothes and shoes to get dirty and stained orange with Africa's dust/mud. Leave the good stuff at home, and your standards. Wear things multiple times, don’t worry about clashing patterns, or buying up Kathmandu. Just have something beige/green for the gorilla day. Game drives don’t matter because you’re tucked inside the truck. A head torch is essential. For the gorilla trek, boots are a bit over the top – most people managed fine with trainers, and some appreciated gaiters because those big stinging nettles they have there in the jungle are truly vicious and can bite through fabric. If I ever did it again, though, I would wear gumboots/Wellingtons like the guides do – as long as they have soles with good grip, you’ll be fine, and they’re so much easier to wash the mud off after. I really wished I’d brought my Hunters.

The optional activities added some variety to the trip. The chimpanzees were a universal disappointment: because of cool weather they stayed way up in the tree tops, so that was $70 pretty much wasted. The boat cruise in QE National Park was really good, with lots of hippos and birds. I recommend the horse ride at Jinja – lovely horses and a good guide, and you needn't be experienced. Other people enjoyed the white-water rafting and quad-biking there, though some of them were relieved when it was over.

More than anything else, though – and this here is a counsel of perfection that, personally, I fell short of - you need to make sure you bring along quantities of patience and tolerance, and a sense of humour. Travelling in a biggish group of strangers, you’ll be tested in many ways. Try to stay positive and concentrate on the good bits, and rise above the irritations. The gorillas will be worth it, I promise.

Final verdict: I’m glad I went, though there were a couple of serious disappointments. Our guide Edwin was useless and didn’t tell us any more than he needed to and sometimes not even that, sitting silently down the back of the truck day after day. Someone more forthcoming would have enriched the experience immeasurably. But the other guys, Ben the driver and OT the cook, were excellent and professional and did a great job. Retracing so much of the route after the gorillas seemed kind of a waste but I don’t know if it’s possible, road-condition-wise, to do a circle route. I was prepared for it to be rugged, and was resigned to a monotonous menu, so that didn’t matter. The gorillas were exactly as promised, super-special and worth the money and effort. The cavalcade of African life past the windows every day meant even those long, long days on the road were fascinating and never boring. I never felt unsafe and, Edwin apart, everything else was professionally organised and reliable. I think you should do it. Even the rough stuff will give you great stories to tell back home.

Intrepid Travel Gorillas & Game Parks - Day 15

There was mist over the Nile when we rose this morning – “I’ve never seen so many dawns,” someone said plaintively. We headed out of camp at 6.45am, rattling a bit more around the truck because four of our number headed off early this morning to Entebbe airport, one couple going to Mauritius for some R&R, the other making the connection with their next Intrepid tour, to the Serengeti.

The rest of us continued retracing our steps back towards the tour’s end tomorrow in Nairobi; tonight’s destination is the camp at Eldoret - it already seems an age ago that we stayed there on Day 3. Everyone is now looking forward to their next journey – Serengeti, Cape Town, Mauritius, or home – and few of them paid much attention any more to the cavalcade of African life parading past our windows, preferring to read, nap, write, chat.

I don’t know when, if ever, I will be back in Africa, so I remained glued to the window, still fascinated by the sights, despite their being (now) so familiar: Masai cattle chewing their cud on roundabouts as trucks rattle past; women bent double sweeping the dirt with hand-besoms or working with babies tied to their backs; security guards leaning against walls, guns slung over their shoulders; kids playing with footballs, in the ditches or doing Saturday chores, the littler ones waving excitedly from the verandas of their homes; goats fossicking, chickens scratching; four-poster beds, metal doors and window grilles on display outside dark, poky shops; stacks of plastic-wrapped mattresses (also often seen rolled up being transported on the backs of motorbikes); carpenters, mechanics and welders at work beside the road; people hacking with mattocks at the orange soil, surrounded by green luxuriance; lines of washing strung between trees, done in plastic basins on the ground, with water carried in the ubiquitous yellow jerry-cans; and everywhere people, walking, cycling, with loads on their heads or on their backs, working, watching over cattle, or just sitting. 

One of the more frequent advertisements plastered across the fronts of the terraces of shops is for a brand of paint, the slogan ‘Colour Your World’. Pretty superfluous instruction here, I reckon.

We reached the border crossing, lurching and swaying again across old bridge over the river and up to the Kenyan side, driver Ben negotiating a tight 90-degree turn around a truck that he judged to a nicety. The formalities this time included taking our temperatures and actually checking the yellow fever certificates that have been ignored so far – the ebola outbreak in Uganda is the reason for that. We changed our money back via the fat jolly man with a fat wad of notes in his hand who came onto the bus, and then we were on our way again, urging Ben to get ahead of the Exodus Travels truck that we shared Adrift with last night, and which is heading to the same site tonight in Eldoret. There was some anxiety that they might beat us to the upgrades – though not on my part, natch: it’s the last night for tenting and I planned to finish as I began.

And so the journey continued, as before, with the foreground so absorbing it was easy to ignore the backdrop of green hills or wide plains, the occasional rocky outcrop, and a big, big sky. Lunch was in the grounds of a tatty little hotel with smelly loos and a sad skinny cat who mutely begged as we ate our final – yay! – standard lunch of sliced tomato, cucumber, pepper and onion, with grated carrot and cheese (livened up in my case with mixed mayo and peanut butter) and crumbly bread. The cat appreciated the cheese, and also the Spam that I took for the first time for his sake, which I hope didn’t disagree with him afterwards (I haven't eaten it for precisely that reason).

We pressed on, into Eldoret where a detour was necessary because of the funeral of an Archbishop, attended by the President (who has already held us up once before on this tour). It was when I’d watched a man wheeling a bicycle along the street with a load of stacked firewood on the back fully 2 metres high, and only as he disappeared thought I should have taken a photo, that I realised how standard I’ve come to consider such sights.

I put my tent up unaided this time and got the shower to work properly: it’s only taken two weeks to get the routine straight. Same goes for the others. We did the post-lunch clear-up of washing up and flapping in eight minutes flat, so we’re clearly now a well-practised team - either that, or the four who left this morning have been holding us back all this time. 

Intrepid Travel Gorillas & Game Parks - Day 14

How lovely to wake without an alarm - and also to the novelty of monkeys scrabbling across the tin roof. It was a beautiful morning, the Nile glossy and smooth, with just a few fishing canoes dotted across it below the dam. Today we went in all directions for our optional activities; it was just me who chose the horse-riding.

Moses came to pick me up on his boda boda - a motorbike taxi - and we chugged along (helmetless) for half an hour on roads busy and deserted, paved and dirt, the engine switched off on the downhills to save petrol, to Nile Horseback Safaris. This is an admirably well-run operation which is home to around one quarter of Uganda's horse population (that is, 23 - there are just over 100 altogether. In the entire country). With very little fuss Suzie did the formalities and introduced to my guide, local man Danny, and my horse, a good-looking chestnut called Rusty with smooth and comfortable paces.

With two trainee guides in tow, we set off along tracks and dirt roads, past simple homes with coffee beans drying outside, little kids waving in excitement, adults smiling shyly or giving the upward nod, depending on their coolness, past shops and stalls. We rode through maize plantations (the reason for Rusty's mesh muzzle - sweetcorn leaves are very tempting for horses), past potatoes, yams, mango and jackfruit trees. 

We cut across a school playground at playtime, the kids used to seeing horses now but still fascinated. And then we got to a viewpoint and sat to gaze at the beginnings of this mighty river, which from here has so far to run to the sea.

We had some trotting, several canters and almost a gallop at one stage; Danny chatted companionably and I learned more about Ugandan life from him in ninety minutes than I have from Ed in two weeks. And then we were suddenly back at the beginning, and Suzie was welcoming me home again. She told me all about her adventurous history, and how she, an Aussie, ended up in deepest Uganda working with another Aussie and a Kiwi running a horse-trekking operation which is now in the top three of In the Saddle's best-rated businesses. Their week-long safari sounds just lovely. And it was good to hear how they are helping out the community by - so practical! - digging a couple of landfill pits and arranging a supply of rubbish bins; and also beginning a small-scale Riding for the Disabled set-up.

It's a hard place to keep horses, though: they have to have their health checked every day because of ticks and tsetse flies, and the risk of tetanus, and anything serious means a vet has to be flown in from South Africa.

Back at Adrift, despite 'Hold Back the River' being on high repeat in the background there, it was very pleasant to have downtime in the bar with a bit of lunch that wasn't a salad sandwich and a banana, to watch a couple of bungy-jumpers get their thrill and to hear about the others' adventures as they returned. It seemed, for some, that the white-water rafting was equal parts terror and hard work, and good to have in the past. Give me Rusty, any day.

There was to have been a sunset cruise on the Nile that everyone had signed up for, but the weather broke late afternoon and it was eventually cancelled, disappointingly. But since the river had completely disappeared from view - totally rubbed out, from the bar's deck - there was no arguing. So instead that's where we stayed, to the pleasure of the hotel's lovely and friendly little dog, River.

Intrepid Travel Gorillas & Game Parks - Day 13

It was another noisy night for us doughty campers. Crickets, frogs and birds: good. Constant rattly trucks on the nearby road, right through the night: bad. But in the morning, while the others feasted on dainty treats at the hotel buffet, we had eggs and, for the first time, bacon, to the ironic accompaniment of the muezzin’s dawn call.

We’re covering familiar territory now, heading back towards Nairobi – not that it’s boring, at all. Today there were brick kilns smoking and crackling away, huge papyrus swamps, the usual villages with everything happening alongside the road.

It was misty, it rained, then the sun came out, and we stopped again at the Equator marker for a group photo, and coffee (a rare treat). Next we approached Kampala, around a new bypass cutting straight through slums so crowded and tatty that the mudbrick huts we’ve got used to seeing in the country look positively idyllic in comparison. There were market stalls laid out along the pavement, selling cheap tat, and behind them a stagnant stretch of water. There was also a nasty smell, presumably the attraction for a big flock of vultures hunched on the grass.

After that squalor, our lunch stop, next to the carwash in the bare carpark of a shopping mall, felt quite upmarket. The rain poured suddenly down, forcing us to eat in the truck for the first time – there are two tables midway, which until today have mostly been used for playing cards. We had to close the windows to keep out the rain and it rapidly became like a sauna. The salad, as ever, was fresh and crunchy; but everyone has now learnt to avoid the bread, which falls apart if you even look at it.

Kampala is notorious for its traffic jams and we got caught in one as we tried to leave the city, crawling along for ages beside gutters foaming with bright orange run-off. It gave us time to observe features, eg a big domed building on a hill, like a cathedral or basilica. “What’s that, Edwin?” “A church.” And so we left Kampala, unenlightened as to its history, points of interest, role in Ugandan life. Great work, Ed. There was also some, unfortunately not unusual, excitement when one of the traffic jams turned out to have been caused by yet another truck on the side of the road with a smashed-in cab. We passed two ambulances on their way to the crash.

We carried on towards today’s destination, Jinja on the Nile, where we will be spending two nights so that tomorrow we can choose how we want to experience its adventure offerings – everything from Grade 5 white-water rafting to a booze cruise. Tonight someone local will be coming to tell us all about it. It’ll be nice to get some actual information, for a change.

We crossed the Nile again and turned off down a side road, excited by a big posh sign reading ‘Jinja Nile Resort’ – but then drove straight past it and in the gate of a much more basic outfit, Adrift. We had a choice of camping in our tents, or dorms, or safari tents or rooms, so we spread ourselves out amongst them all (dorm for me tonight: a small, tall room with 3-storey bunks made out of polished poles).

Then we repaired to the bar above the river (notable for its displayed flags, which included NZ but *cough* omitted Australia - perhaps a nod to our introducing the world to the bungy jump, which they do here?) to make friends with the cute resident puppy, River (the resident black and white cat, nameless, is also very vocal and friendly – until he’s not. Typical cat). We learned what we could do – again an even split between full-on white-water rafting, the ‘chicken boat’ option, quad-biking, horse-riding, and just hanging out and maybe going for a stroll.

Dinner was more nice vegetables and an almost-tender stew, and then we went to bed, luxuriating in the knowledge that there would be no alarm in the morning.

Intrepid Travel Gorillas & Game Parks - Day 12

We were back to Intrepid-normal with a vengeance this morning: up at 4.30am for a 6am departure. We wound our way up out of the valley and down the other side, leaving the volcanoes behind. Ed warned those of us “afraid of long drops” not to sit on the left. By now we’re all pretty inured to the horrors of the long drop – but of course he meant the steep hillsides that, even so, were intensively cultivated with all sorts of luxuriant crops.

Everyone was going to work, or already at it: the woman plodding up a steep track with a baby on her back, a load on her head and a mattock in her hand; the men sawing a log lengthwise the old-fashioned way, one above and one below; or washing their motorbikes in a stream; or hacking at a rock face and scraping off minerals to shovel into heaps; or builders standing on precarious wooden scaffolding.

There was less work happening in the immigration office, when we got to the border, and a long line outside it, but we were eventually recorded and stamped, and set off again switching back to drive on the left. We had a photo stop – only about the third in the whole trip – with a long view down to Lake Bunyoni over more terraces, as well as some goats and now, again, the long-horned cattle they prize here.

We had an audience of only three boys and four cattle at our lunch stop, so, hardly awkward at all. We really shuddered at the litter all around though, so noticeable again after the neatness of Rwanda. Such a shame.

Then we carried on, the roadshow continuing: bricks and blocks being moulded by hand, stacked in the sun to dry, and fired inside tomb-like kilns; villages all with the same set of windowless stores, selling food and vegetables, plastic goods, wooden beds, padded chairs, metal doors, and workshops repairing bicycles and motorbikes, welding things, making wooden doors. Oh, and pubs with pool tables under thatched shelters.

We passed back through Mbarara and after 250km and more than 9 hours from departure got to our accommodation for the night. It's a pretty fancy hotel with rooms that anyone would be happy to stay in, and in which, apparently and in our recent experience unusually, everything seems to work as it should. Not for us hard-core campers, though, eschewing the upgrade and pitching our tents on an appealingly soft and tidy lawn. The main shower, some distance away, had flies and beetles crawling all around the basin; and the other unisex ones in a line nearby didn’t have any sort of door or curtain. They eventually found some to hang up – but they didn’t sort out the hot water. Still, the day was sticky enough for that not to matter.

And so we ended the day in the usual manner: a beer in the bar until dinner was ready, which we ate under a big pergola while Ed gave us tomorrow’s briefing. It’s a 7am departure tomorrow. Cushy.

Intrepid Travel Gorillas & Game Parks - Day 8

There was a hyena howling in the night, and early this morning hippos chortling nearby in the dark, but the main nocturnal soundtrack was music from a party in perhaps the school hall along the road, which went on until 3am. Friday night is clearly a big event (also, by the way, they specialise in marathon music mixes here: they go on forever). But I’m into the camping groove now, and none of it mattered.

We left at 7am for the long drive to Lake Bunyoni, along roads less interesting today because it was raining and people were naturally mostly indoors – though there was a big bull elephant right on the verge, which was lovely to see. Can you ever get blasé about seeing an elephant? Hard to imagine.

On the bus there was card-playing, patch-working, and device-based entertainment, punctuated by occasional bush toilet stops. We also stopped to buy bananas and avocados from street sellers, who ran up to the window, baskets on heads, clamouring to be the one whose goods were chosen. Bare-footed small children stood in the mud, smiling at us, bicycle repairmen did their work under thatched shelters, new wooden bed frames, displayed out on the verge, got wet.

There was a snack/money stop in the ramshackle town of Kabale, where men with Singer sewing machines did repairs under the eaves of buildings, and motorbike taxis with umbrella roofs buzzed along the main street and the local rag had such intriguing headlines I was especially frustrated that all copies on the stand were stapled shut. Because the rain was so heavy, lots of things got cancelled. Ben our driver wouldn’t risk our big bus up the presumably dirt - rather, mud - road to the scheduled camp on the hill by Lake Bunyoni, where this afternoon we could have rowed canoes or gone bird-watching. Instead, we descended on a by-Intrepid-standards fancy hotel where everybody, in the face of steady, drenching rain, opted for the USD30 upgrade to a room with ensuite (hot water! A proper loo!). Reader, I was one of them. And then, of course, after our very late lunch, the rain cleared and the afternoon brightened.

But it was nevertheless, after a week of deprivation, a huge treat to have privacy, comfort, hot water (did I mention that already?) and a proper bed to starfish in instead of a mummy-shaped sleeping bag. And also wifi – though naturally we were instantly dissatisfied with the speed.

Gorilla fever is steadily building, with note-swapping of Google research, curiosity, excitement and an undercurrent of anxiety that there won't be proper sighting. Most are agreed that that would cause tears. But tomorrow is more about crossing the border to Rwanda and being sure that we aren't carrying any inadvertent plastic bags, since they have, most admirably, been banned there for the last 30 years. I'm keen to see that: Africa without plastic. Now that will be something special.

Intrepid Travel Gorillas & Game Parks - Day 7

And indeed there were hippos in the night through the camp, with evidence left behind. Just as well it had been mind over bladder in the stilly watches.

We set off early again for another game drive through the park but though we saw some wildlife, we spent much more time gazing at lush green vegetation while bumping and lurching along the side roads. Rainy season is the wrong time of year for good game viewing, that’s just the way it is, but it’s still hard not to feel some disappointment.

We did though get close up to a solitary bull elephant, who was feeding right beside the road and then crossed behind us. Elephants here look much darker than I’ve seen elsewhere, but that’s probably because of the deep red soil here that they happily cake themselves with as sunblock and tick eradicator. It’s always splendid to get up close to such a magnificent animal.

There was waiting while administration was done, or at least attempted in the absence of a working generator; and shopping. The group Shopper has identified herself and is happily accumulating a mass of souvenirs, many of which are tempting even to a shopaphobe like me. I’m holding out for a carved gorilla in Rwanda.

In the interests of full disclosure, it has to be said that there is growing dissatisfaction with our guide Edwin, who began very serviceably but has become oddly sullen and silent over the last couple of days, leaving us wondering if we have somehow offended him. He’s answering questions, but not talking to us at all, and there is already dark muttering about his not getting a tip. Ben the driver and OT the cook, all agree, are doing their jobs splendidly.

After a highly starchy lunch – chips, plantain bananas and beans (we’re doing it African today) – we headed out again to take a cruise along the canal that joins Lakes Edward and George. It was a birder’s delight – from pelicans to pied kingfishers and heaps in between; and also well supplied with wallowing buffalo, sunbathing crocodiles and mostly submerged hippos. 

The challenge here for me was to get the cliché shot of the yawn, and I missed it again and again; but finally, you’ll be relieved to hear, cracked it. And just in time: then the rain came, and wind, and the windows were rolled down so that all we could see were the terns and kingfishers following the boat, hovering and diving on the fish our propellor was stirring up in the shallow water.

On the way back to camp, we encountered a solitary bull in the road – a one-elephant jam – and politely watched while he drank from the puddles on the road and eventually moved out of the way. So after a fairly blank morning, we ended the day feeling pretty well served with wildlife.

Dinner was more African fare – maize meal, chapatti, lentils and lamb – and then everyone repaired to the open-sided bar to talk about Tasmanian devils, kangaroos and koalas, amongst other things, in light so dim that faces were invisible. Tomorrow we have – surprise! – an early start before a 250km drive to our destination, Lake Bunyoni.