Saturday we drove west, out of the city, through beautiful hills covered every inch in cultivation. Banana trees dominated. One area specialized in tea, waist-high yellow green dense shrubs brilliantly wet from the rain. None of the driving is quite describable; “potholes” is understating it, “muddy” sounds too tame, “slithering” maybe if you can say that about all sorts of vehicles moving at various speeds while taking random unpredictable turns as they hurl toward each other. At one point Phil said, “OK, close your eyes.” On signal I opened to gasp, as the hills on one side had been replaced by vast green space, overlooking the Great Rift Valley. Truly, it’s breathtaking.
Queen Elizabeth National Park was our destination, and we had several hours of daylight to spot twelve species of birds of all sizes. Four-leggeds included a hippo, warthogs with babies (cute if you can say that about a warthog), mongooses in a swarm, cape buffalo big and stately, waterbucks (an elk sized antelope beautiful and stately), and the back end of a furry forest hog.
On the Sunday early morning game drive (meaning we drive around looking for game) we saw more birds of all colors and sizes, a spotted hyena (!), elephants, and various antelopes. We stopped for a granola picnic at a lake within a volcanic crater, which was gridded by earth dams forming salt evaporation pools. This has been a traditional activity for local people for a very long time.
In the afternoon Phil and I took a boat trip along the channel connecting Lake George and Lake Albert. A gazillion waterbirds, buffalos, hippos, crocodiles, an elephant, and a fishing village all co-existed. My eyes itched from looking through the binoculars at all the sights and wonders, so sparkly and terrific.