Busia District

I knew cycling out of Kampala wasn't going to be fun, but I hadn't counted on a bit of rain turning the gravel roads into sticky mud swamps, which demanded a lot of my brakes and drivetrain. That was one part. The other was the loads of traffic (once the rain stopped) which just makes cycling so boring. It was either sticky mud or heavy traffic (or both) for the morning; and since I stuck to the roads I started to get really annoyed with cycling here in the afternoon, too much traffic, nothing to see.

So I accidentally ended up at a touristic campsite at the Victoria Nile, where I also went rafting the next day. (I was not motivated for cycling, just too much traffic.) Bit of a letdown bit of fun, but we did have one section where the boat flipped over and all of us where in the water. A huge tourism group was also staying at the campsite—some people were cool, some people just reinforced my prejudices about tourism groups. Hehe.

The next day I first talked to another guy on a bike: a local guy carying a big stick, which he told me carried the spirit (I think) of his grandfathers or heritage, and he was part of the tribe of the buganda kingdom (Im sorry, I forgot)... Interesting to learn sth about the culture though. But I got to witness a lot of different tribes later that day.

I took a detour from the road that was a detour from the main road, and ended up, via gravelroads and small tracks, to a singletrack through a swamp; I couldnt find the road anymore. Luckily in Uganda you are never alone, and an old guy on an old bike saved my day. I followed him for 15 km or so, and the old guy just ripped it down the hill on his shitty bike: so much fun. Then I got to very small villages with twenty or so (over exaggeration) different tribes, with I dont know how many languages between them. Every tribe has their own language, and so everyone speaks quite a few languages; at least the guy did who showed me to a hotel with dead cockroaches on the floor. Good times.

Next morning was a nightmare. First, my front brake pistons were stuck, and I seemed to have broken one of the seals when pushing it back, rendering the brake totally unusable. Then I wanted to just make it to the main road, but the road was so muddy due to the rain, that my tires kept clogging up 5 times: every time took 10 minutes to clean at least. Kids pushed and helped me, and I finally managed to get out of the worst mud after an hour.

I reached the main road and the first car mechanic immediately on the left was run by an american, with no knowledge on bikes but lots of knowledge of how to make makeshift tools, so we actually managed to bleed my brakes again and fix everything. Well, almost, I still spent another 2 hours elsewhere cleaning the pistons and am now carrying dot fluid just in case XD.

But I made it to Kenya. Sorry for the delay: this "to Kenya" story ends here.Read more