by Dr. Justin Venebal
Mention the White Nile to a kayaker, and visions of epic big-water play waves cause uncontrollable salivation in many of our brethren. However, there is another stretch further downstream, flowing through Murchison Falls National Park that deserves equal recognition for its ability to induce anxiety and provoke perspiration among those familiar with its challenges. It is often spoken of in hushed whispers around campfires. Those who have seen it usually vow never to return; it is often these same men and women who find they cannot stay away from this ecological jewel despite the risks. It seems the only ones truly salivating there are the man-eating crocodiles in anticipation of a delicious meal!
Dr. Justin Venebal describes the expedition in 2006 through Murchison National park in the heart of Africa, alongside Kiwi Kayaker Ben Brown, and a team of experienced kayakers and rafters.
An epic adventure awaited, and I was invited to join this intrepid group of boaters as the kayaking doctor by the expedition leaders, South Africans Hendri Coetzee and Peter "Megadeath" Meredith; the dual talismans of African river exploration and essential roster members on any serious expedition on the continent.
As details of the trip were explained, the challenges quickly became evident and I began to experience that warm sensation that usually precedes a Class V Dump, (which occurs while scouting when the bowels loosen quite suddenly in anticipation of a possible beat down). Hendri explained that the whitewater is huge, the access is remote wilderness within a national park setting, potential for violence from rebels was a real possibility, and the densest concentration of hippos and crocs in the world ratcheted things up to a level of insanity. Hippos are to be avoided at all costs, and charging crocs must be dealt with reciprocally: kayakers will all charge directly back at him, prepared to strike with our paddles and hope for the best. Vigilance for approaching wildlife must be maintained at all times, with everyone announcing our presence by constantly beating paddles on hulls. The extreme remoteness of the stretch virtually eliminated the possibility of emergency helicopter extraction in a reasonable amount of time or cost. So I was here to do what I could for anyone who ended up seriously injured a long way from any hospital.
Murchison Falls National Park, also called Kabalega Falls, is Uganda's largest park and one of the most spectacular parks in all of Africa. Named after the founder of the Royal Geographic Society and regal geologist Sir Roderick Murchison, the park begins as the river flows over the still un-run Karuma Falls and downstream for 80 km. Then the world's longest river explodes violently through a narrow 6 meter cleft in the Rift Valley escarpment to plunge in 3 cascades to a frothing pool 43 meters below with a deafening roar. Park wildlife populations have largely recovered from the mass slaughter and poaching in the 1980's; now elephant, giraffe, cape buffalo, leopard, warthog, many antelope species, lions, monkeys, hyenas, and baboons are commonly seen.
After a serious of formalities we're off! 300 metres downstream and just around the bend, whitewater is heavy and team members Pete and Dustin flip in a hole. It requires seven of us to right the heavy boat. The incentive of survival is enough motivation to have both of them on top of the raft in record time, as a large six meter croc is trailing us through the water to see if we are something tasty. Within 30 minutes, the raft flips again! Back upright and we continue downstream with an ominous feeling in the pits of our stomachs, to our right lay rebel country. This was where men killed one another and women and children. We stared hard at the bush for signs of life, wary but at the same time fascinated with a morbid curiosity of this place that we had heard so much.
The landscape of the park varies from dense rainforest to undulating savannah. On sandbanks large crocs bask in the sun, impossibly large and slothful-looking until they spot kayakers in the river and suddenly erupt to life, sailing into the current much faster than anyone could paddle away from. Paddling through pods of hippos, one feels as though you are paddling through a land mine field; you quickly realize that if you boat here long enough (or perhaps at all), your luck will eventually run out.
We spot river otters, bathing Cape buffalo, and men on the bank with AK-47's who we kindly ignore and paddle quickly away from. Finally we spot a nice campsite on a small rock ledge and agree to stop for the night. Steve and New Zealander Ben Brown begin the battle for fisherman supremacy; delicious stew is prepared as the daily late afternoon thunderstorms roll in.
Awake at first light for coffee and cereal, we quickly rig and shove off toward more whitewater, holes and excitement. It is quite easy to imagine a hungry lion stalking up on us while we bank scout rapids. We located some fortuitous hippo trails that traversed a large rocky island in all directions and dispersed to find the best route leading to another small channel into which we could bypass the chunkiest section of whitewater. The trouble with utilising hippo trails for access is that eventually you are destined to encounter a hippo!
While searching, Steve and Ben startled a cow hippo and her calf in the thick bush; she bellowed loudly and began crashing through the jungle, frantically searching for the safety of the river. Steve and Ben both attempted to run from the charging beast by diving off the trail and into the impenetrable jungle; both were immediately ensnared by thick vines and thorn thickets, unable to move their arms or legs at all. Luckily for them, the hippos happened to run in the opposite direction. "I can't remember the last time I had been so frightened," Steve say's. This was interesting coming from a boater with such a reputation for fearlessness. I encountered Ben running at breakneck speed back towards the boats, jungle vines trailing him from his dash from death and explaining that we were under siege.
My own Hippo encounter was just as scary. A large tree was suspended above the water and spanned most of the river in the middle of the steep rapid, invisible until we had entered the flow. We all managed to avoid the wood but were concerned for Pete and Dustin in the raft. Scott and I attempted to hack back upstream to alert them of the danger. Scott stayed low to the water as I decided to use a hippo trail to get back up above the rapid and report to the boys. I heard a loud grunt just ahead of me and looked up to see the jungle ahead erupt into chaos, shaking wildly back and forth. Something huge was bearing straight down on me very quickly. I panicked and realized that I could not outrun whatever was coming, so I looked up and grabbed the largest vine I could reach and clambered up hand-over-hand as fast as I could. Just as I reached about eight feet off the ground and pulled my legs up, two massive bull hippos came charging straight underneath me on the same trail I had just been standing on! I clung desperately to the vine until I thought it safe enough to return to the river, hollered for Scott (who had managed to warn the boys in time) and got back to the boats as quickly as possible.
Leaders Pete and Hendri both continually instill confidence and quiet strength which permeated the rest of the group to maintain calm even when charging crocs or hippos threatened our safety.
We all paddled across the river to eat lunch and decompress. Hendri led us up to a high grassy knoll overlooking the falls; this was easily one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. We noticed from this vantage point that a transformation had begun taking shape; the thick, dark jungle was changing to savannah; beautiful Acacia trees, with their stratified branches like low, wispy clouds, hovered randomly like many islands in a sea of golden waist-high grass. Buffalo and Impala grazed on rolling green hills that stretched into the distance, and the cascades thundered below. We agreed that we were indeed blessed to see such beauty still completely unmolested by the hand of man. Peter makes a delicious meal of two chickens stuffed with garlic, lemons, and ginger and smeared with olive oil and spices on coals with butternut squash and mashed potatoes. We tear into the feast like hungry wolves. Afterwards, we sit around the fire under the tarp and tell lies while the croaking of baby crocs lulls us to sleep.
Back on the water and on to the next large rapid, "Jou Ma," to strategize about how to avoid the massive hole at the bottom that seems to be sucking light from the sky. We negotiate the ledges successfully in kayaks, but the raft is inadvertently pulled into the main channel at the bottom, with a spectacular flip and a deep flush. The boys are fine, we right the raft again and continue pushing downstream. The number of hippos is astounding so we are forced to stay in the main flow and avoid all eddies like the plague.
Arriving at "Likkewan", we encounter a complex series of violent pourovers in the center and large curlers feeding the maw on the left. The raft flips again attempting to run left and we quickly right her and make our way to the last river camp, and best yet. A wide, grassy beach and view of the rapids upstream provides ample fishing opportunities. Ben catches two nice sized Nile perch, much to Steve's chagrin. Fisher bakes them up for us on a bed of coals in true river expedition style and we fall asleep watching shooting stars in an unparalleled equatorial African sky.
Everyone wakes early for the crux day. Just after entering the river, a massive seven meter croc which at first appears dead, sees us and flings himself with shocking speed and agility into the water to give chase. We manage to disturb a pod of land-grazing hippos that recognize our presence and dash back to the river, sending small tsunamis speeding toward us from their panicked belly-flops. The greatest concentrations of animals are along the river; even some elephants allowed us to get quite close to them as they grazed along the bank.
"The Matrix" is first up, famous for its colossal standing wave with a true 20 foot face; this time, with lower water, it had degenerated into a breaker with a chaotic pile on the left shoulder and a sticky ledge just downstream. We lined the raft around the upper drop and took turns defying gravity in our kayaks on the herculean wave, broad smiles greeting each other in the bottom, "thank God" an eddy.
"S-Bend" is the crux rapid of the entire run; it is nearly a mile long with a last-chance eddy on the left that, if missed, results in an inevitable first descent over Murchison Falls. Des has trekked upstream from the falls to meet us and her boyfriend, Steve. She invigorates us with the knowledge that she has procured plenty of cold beer, and it awaits our arrival at the takeout. We choose our lines carefully over the many ledges and between pods of hippos amidst the heavy whitewater. We all execute flawless runs and make the critical eddy with no problems. Fortunately for us, the most serious carnage of the entire trip included foot rot and skin infections from acacia thorns; amazing considering the potential for serious injury or death.
We had arrived at last. We embraced and breathed deeply of the euphoria that accompanies success. There was a general consensus that we had just shared the greatest river experience any of us had ever had. We passed the evening with friends and girlfriends and too much strong drink. We told stories, we joked, and danced. In the air there was a slight fever that reigns over survivors of an ordeal, tinged with a hint of regret that the action is over.
It seems to me that it is useless to seek happiness elsewhere than in the warmth of friendship and shared experience. Nothing can match the treasure of common memories, of lessons won from shared hardship which bind us forever. It is such a privilege to spend the greatest moments of our lives among rivers that remind us of our vulnerability, our ultimate lack of control over the world we live in. Rivers that demand humility but yield so much peace in return.
