After a week in Jinja, I was rested and recovered and ready to move on. Of course, a 3 hour road journey ended up taking 7, but I arrived in Sipi Falls before dark, giving me time to set up my tent and eat in the light. I had been recommended a guesthouse where I could camp for cheap (at $3USD a night this was the cheapest in Africa yet) with beautiful views of two of the three falls at Sipi. I was also the only person staying there, as it was a bit under construction. This meant that every morning about 8 people showed up to work on the property, so I had a lot of people to talk to and discuss my lack of marriage and children plans and compare Canada to Uganda, which I always answered with “very different”. Everyone was so friendly and it was nice to stay locally, as most times the backpacker accommodation is owned or managed by foreigners.
The next morning I set off with a guide to see all three levels of the waterfall. I had been warned it would be muddy, but I figured it couldn’t be any worse than the hike in Rwanda, and I was right. It was definitely muddy, but doable. And I didn’t even fall! I was also lucky as the rain held off.
The hike had been advertised as 4 hours, but we were back in less than 3, giving me lots of time to wait for water to heat up for a hot shower, drink a large thermos of local coffee (Sipi is known for its coffee production), and read. I was now out of paper books and was waiting on an e-reader when Cheryl meets me in Ethiopia, so was reading on my phone. Desperate times!
The next day I embarked with my guide Ben again for a longer hike, to the top of the plateau surrounding Sipi. It was gorgeous, if a little cloudy. And muddy. This time I did not escape, falling on some rocks, giving me a nice bruise. But again, it didn’t rain so I was happy. After 5.5 hours of hiking/slipping and discussing circumcision with my guide (apparently female circumcision is now illegal but still happens locally, as you can imagine the law doesn’t hold too much power in this remote area of the country- my guide brought it up, not me), I was ready for a shower and coffee. I had been eating at the Crow’s Nest next door and the friendly manager enquired if I knew of any “thirsty Canadians craving an African husband”. I assured him that if I did, I would send them along to him.
After three lovely nights in Sipi, and the forecast calling for lots of rain, I left with a miraculously dry tent for the town of Mbale, near the border of Kenya. I made it there in good time as a shared taxi was leaving just as I was ready to, giving me lots of time to get to the doctor, as by now whatever I had, bilharzia or not, was back. I found the nicest looking clinic I could find where I was seen by two doctors, who ran lab tests, and finding nothing, concluded I either had bilharzia and the drugs treated it and some eggs were leftover causing the rash, or I had some other random rash caused by a viral infection and it would disappear in a few weeks or months. Great. At least it was nothing serious, and beach time was still a while away (the rash is not a great look).
There’s not a lot to do in Mbale, so the next day I headed over to Kenya.
