My apologies for not getting pictures not formatted better I'm paying by the minute and Blogger is not cooperating.

Well now. I wrote a long rambling account of my travels and had to format it into oblivion because of viruses. It was unusable as it was because it needed edited in the worst but, preferably the best way.  I know I can't rewrite it as it was so I will give a synapses of the journey for any would-be traveler who may stumble upon it. Informational parts will be in italics and the less travel related bits regular text.

I got it into my head to travel from Kampala to Kigoma without passing through Rwanda and Burundi. Mostly this was because Dan had done it that way and I could find no one who said it could be done my way.

This account will be broken into stages according to where I had to change buses. Monday I intended to leave early with Dan but waited because of early rain.(we would have ridden boda-bodas) I got to the bus stop in Kampala at about 9 am and found a bus about to depart to Mutukula. Once we were clear of the city the trip was a comfortable 3hr journey on fairly good blacktop roads to the boarder.

As I was getting off the bus I inquired about the border exchange rate. Any time you exchange money at a border you know you will be skinned. I just wanted to be skinned at the standard rate. The bus guys didn't know. At the door of the bus a guy attached himself to me as a 'guide' or as I've come to think of now a leach. Why exactly I should need a guide as a practical matter is unclear since the immigration offices were clearly marked. At one point I did actually see him waiving off other money changers but since at that point I wanted to get the paper work done before changing money I didn't care. I never really expected the money guys to give him so much professional courtesy. Neither immigration office was able to give me the official skinning rate so in the end we did business. The official border rate as it turns out is 600/=tz for every 1000/=ug. I got 500/= which worked out to me giving him an extra $13 or so above the approximate 20% boarder skinning. The lesson I take away is I should have not cared about his feelings and bluntly asked about what the rate was and if he didn't like it not have done business with him.

After clearing immigration ($100 for a one year multi-entry visa with visits of no more than 90 days.) I got a Matatu which was crowded with up to 23 persons down to Bukoba on a 2hr asphalt trip. Spice Beach Hotel came recommended and was right on the lake (about $10). The bathroom only gets a 9 rating. The room was comfortable and secure.

In the morning I caught a boda-boda to the bus stop. While we were pulling in one of those guys who hustle you onto buses got it into his head that I was probably going to Kampala. By the time we were stopped 8 (i didn't count but this is my story) guys were surrounding us shouting at their lungs "Kampala this bus...Hey boss just this way...Kampala.....Kampala". I shouted back "Who said anything about wanting to go to Kampala?" but they were too loud to hear me. As I was taking off my helmet (try wearing a communal helmet and not thinking about lice.) one guy at the front on the other side grabbed my bag over the handle bars. Faster than you can read this I was up grabbing it back. Just as I reached for the handle he was lowering it and I came up with a handful of face, mostly eyes. Now everyone chorused that he was a thief. He wasn't, he was opportunistic. At a different bus stop I saw 4 guys fighting over one suitcase, each pulling in separate directions. Once I waved my already purchased ticket in their faces they dissipated like the morning dew.


The lady selling the ticket recommended I go as far as Bwanga and catch a bus from there. Looking back at Google maps it seems there may be better routes but then again maybe not. It was about a 41/2hr journey on good roads.

All the way to Bwanga almost all the virgin forest have been cut and the country is mostly open except for scrub and thorns. The rest is farm land with any other trees being planted by people.  This stretch of road travels by Lake Victoria and occasionally you break through and get a breath taking view of the lake. The road at this point is several hundred feet above the lake. What are peaceful small farms would in Dallas real estate sell by the inch.


From Bwanga was an one hour hop on dirt roads to a place that Google couldn't even find called Lunzewe.

You would think I'd learned but in Lunzewe a leech attached himself to me, he had a ticket sales book. We came out at a 'T' intersection and there didn't seem to be any buses going my way. Apart from the one guy no one really seemed too concerned about me. To this guy it seemed preposterous that someone should think of traveling at this time of day. It was 15 minutes after noon. Finally he said let me make a call. Ah yes, this guy is going...this way. What I realize now he did was set up that they would let him sell me the ticket for 15,000/= on a trip that sold for 10,000/=. The one comfort in the situation was I was not the only one he did this to. I checked...yep definite signs of dampness persisting behind ears.

The one good thing that guy did was insist that I get a front seat. This bus driver and conductor were in a class by themselves. I never did get an exact count but if I had to guess I'd say we had at least 26 people in the van. Anything above 23 and someone is basically standing hunched over leaning on the back of a seat. There is only ever 3 in the front. We managed to run out of gas twice. The first time we got 1/2 a gallon from a passing motorcycle. At the next wide spot in the road we were able to purchase probably 1 1/2 gallons from someone selling it in old water bottles. Then we ran out again and finally someone came with about a gallon. I'm not even sure how they got it, someone just rode up on a bicycle with it. Finally we got to a gas station and filled up. We were also always stopping to pick up or drop someone. This is to be expected. We picked up these 5 soldiers at the road to their camp. About a mile down the road was a swamp at the bottom of a steep hill. A large group of cadets were washing themselves and the clothes they were wearing in the open water either side of the road. Because the guys were on the road too and the guys we had picked up were talking out windows to them we were moving at a crawl. All of a sudden one guy jumps out and started yelling at a cadet who was in the all together.....I assume for not strategically holding his hands and offending the sensibilities of our lady riders. Everyone in the bus enjoyed seeing the poor chap run off into the swamp, it is after all a long and boring journey and we have to get our entertainment where we can.


Out of Lunzewe for a short time the road was tar but they are still working on it and from there on is all dirt to Kibondo where I spent the night at Pongezi Guest House. The bathrooms here were not self contained and I'd rate 6 and if I'd been willing to wait could have had warmed water but it was late and I was tired. The rooms are clean but spartan located off a central courtyard. The power comes on at 7pm and is not on in the morning although they leave a lantern burning in the courtyard by the bathroom door.

Kusulu is another 3 hours away over dirt roads that in part deterioate from their standard washboard rough to somewhat worse. During the rains I don't doubt bits can be nasty.

The last leg is into Kigoma where we were once again on a big bus which makes washboarding slightly more comfortable. The final bit from Monyovu is blacktop.