Kingfishers vs Nile. PART I
Like many KingFisher battles of the past decade, it was a tale of two halves. And when I pulled Brian up by his orange lifevest after 20 seconds of face-chugging Nile water - it felt like Mother Nature and the churning washing-machine waves of the White Nile had won.
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Let's walk it back. It's 5:30 am at the Ugandan border and Brian and I haven't seen Odeke for 45 minutes. He finally returned with typewriter-written insurance papers just as the morning mosquitos began to attack. We galloped past the final gate and into the lush emerald-green Ugandan countryside.
(Customs depot at the crack of dawn. Efficiency was not a priority).
We were behind schedule after the 2.5 hr border snafu and needed to make up time. Chhh-chcckkkkk. Stick-shift engaged and the firecracker red Jeep Wrangler purred to Odeke's sweet whispers.
Just as we breached 90 mph, we hit the first of many cop-stops. Luckily, the AK-47 wielding, camo-clad guard was a soldier, not a bribe-happy policeman. He let us pass on our merry way. Thanks to some fancy footwork and hair-raising passes by Odeke, we shaved an hour off our google maps time and pulled up to Nalubale Rafting in Jinja at 8:30 am ready for battle.
(One of many crisp overtakes. Look at that open road. Yum.)
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LEG 1
We suited up. Life vest. Check. Helmet. Check. Terrible randos who don't know how to paddle and will throw your very existence into extreme peril? Check.
Odeke and I helmed the front with Armstrong in the 3 spot of our hardy yellow raft. With no concept of the destruction ahead, we happily paddled North, down the vast, open river Nile.
(All smiles. You're probably thinking these rapids are tiny. Just wait.)
Our 14 km stretch of Nile started 30 min North of the source at Lake Victoria. The Nile is wide and raw there with fertile green banks and all sorts of birdlife (though no crocs or hippos). Our path was through category 3-5-4-5-4 rapids. The first 3 was cake and our confidence was high as the African eagle flies. Now to the first 5.
(Don't think we were supposed to go in backward...)
Led by the 3 Kingfishers in front, our chants of "Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!" fell on deaf ears as our back team did little but weigh us down. We entered backward, missed the waterfall, but miraculously avoided the rocks and survived unscathed. While Flying Panda (our guide) was none-too-pleased with our paddling, the team's confidence was now at Icarus-like levels. We just dummied a 5 in the most incompetent way possible. It seemed that the Nile was already tamed by our yellow inflatable vessel.
But we soon realized, as Icarus did, don't f*çk with Mother Nature. The 4 that was coming would shred our inflated egos and send us groveling for divine intervention.
It seemed harmless enough though. We went in head-first this time, poised to dominate once again...
(So cocky. We were about to learn a valuable lesson about hubris.)
But, offset by feeble left-side paddling and ill-advised weight distribution, we quickly turned 90 degrees to the raging rapids. Our skiff flipped in a split-second, sending Kingfishers, German tourists, and Flying Panda deep into angry white water. The river would have her revenge...
(Tossed by the first wave in a long series of rapids... Time to hold your breath.)
When I first gasped for air, all I tasted was Nile water. I was trapped under the upturned raft and then violently sucked back down into the washing machine. Up was down. Down was up. Panic gripped me and every struggle brought me further into the depths. Seconds lasted minutes. Finally, Mother Nature released me and I shot up, breathing free air once more.
I looked around and Brian was near the left bank, rescued by a kayaker. Odeke was still under.
When we finally clambered back on our raft, coughing and sputtering, the attitude was far more respectful of the white water and the river's effortless power. We looked up to the cranes gliding high above and realized that today, we would be tested. Victory would not come easy.
Next was 50/50. They call it 50/50 because 50% of rafts flip there. It's a category 5 rapid directly below a category 6 called the Dead Dutchman (you can probably figure out why). We portaged around the Dutchman and re-entered our raft in a small inlet adjacent to massive, swirling, undulating power.
(Headfirst into the waves. Hesitation was punished.)
We broke free of the first rapids then were send completely vertical to one side - all hands diving across to right the ship. We were almost goners but at the very peak, we rebalanced and the boat fell back with a splash, minus 185 lbs.
Armstrong was overboard. He later tried to convince us that his selfless eject was the reason we stayed afloat. We were skeptical. The evidence is murky - you can be the judge.
And so, having conquered 50/50 and the next category 4, we quenched our thirst with well-deserved Nile Specials and recapped our adventure. Through the narrowest of margins, the KingFishers sneaked a victory over Lady Nile in the first leg. But we knew that she would be back in all her violent majesty. Tomorrow would be a real test.
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It was my birthday so we celebrated the day and the win with well-tequila, jager, cool Nile Specials, and bongo drums deep into the night... The Nile, however, was calm. She was saving her strength.
(We knew victory was temporary, so we'd enjoy it while it lasted.)
"If there were no difficulties, there would be no success. If there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved.' – Samuel Smiles (my ancestor)" – Cap JE