Video Log 11: This Is What Nine Hours in the Back of a Truck Will Do To You

Oh, the backpacker lifestyle. We're obviously trying to save money wherever we can on this trip, given its length and some hefty expenses (ahem, $500 for a permit to track gorillas in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest). As a result, we sometimes make interesting (M would say 'awesome') travel choices, like opting to load ourselves in the back of a truck with around forty Africans and a couple hundred pounds of flour, fruit, booze, firewood, sweet potatoes, and other sundries to get ourselves to the far edge of Bwindi, many winding miles away on rocky, unpaved roads. The usually-accurate Lonely Planet let us know of the existence of said truck (the cheapest option to get to Bwindi, departing Kabale Tuesday afternoons) and also said the journey would take four hours. M and I, ever the intrepid travelers, thought, 'Doable,' clambered into the back, and tried to settle our bottoms as comfortably as possible on the exterior railing of the truck bed (M) and on bags on lumpy potatoes (me) for the 240 minute journey. We were definitely the only muzungus in sight.

When we pulled ourselves into the truck bed, a wonderfully cheerful and chatty guide from the camp we were headed to happened to climb in as well. We got to talking, and an hour or so in I asked what time we could expect to arrive - rather, my numb bum was wondering and my lips did the talking. Since we got on just after two, I was expecting an answer in the 6 to 7 PM range. Nestor, our new friend, grinned widely and said, 'Oh, it may be 8 or may be 9 or may be 10 PM!' Shortly thereafter, the truck, which was already extremely full by American standards, added another fifteen people and several huge rolls of firewood, boxes, and giant sacks of goods. Sure, we've ridden in minibuses intended for 14 passengers carrying 24, but this was a whole new standard of crowded. In the friendliest way possible, everyone jockeyed for space for their feet, elbows, knees, and children. People fell asleep with their cheeks resting on strangers' backs/thighs/arms. At one point, I tried pulling a toddler who was awkwardly squished under his dad's legs into my empty lap (note for context: kids here get passed around to strangers on public transport CONSTANTLY) but he saw my relatively pale skin and immediately burst into tears, to the great amusement of the 13 people seated within two feet of me. (Note for context: this same child later fell asleep on my thigh, in almost the same spot where his tears had fallen earlier.) Nestor's brother, who happened to be on the same truck, smiled and said, 'This is Africa.'

Several hours later, after nightfall and several stops to offload/onload goods and passengers - we had to disembark every time the grade got too steep, walk top the top of the hill, then repeat the amiable competition for space when we got back in - we made it. Not to our camp, but to 2 kilometers away from our camp, which we decided we could walk to faster than the truck was moving. We beat it there by about twenty minutes. At about 10:30 PM, having traveled about 80 kilometers, we rolled into our VERY fancy-by-our-backpacking-standards safari tent digs and used what energy we had left to make this video. We hope you enjoy it, almost as much as we enjoyed our afternoon on the truck. We may have been sore, dusty, and tired, but we got to experience some spectacular countryside from our slow-moving, open-top ride, make a handful of new friends (we actually just missed a call from Nestor today, a week later!) and reconcile with a child we'd previously moved to tears. It doesn't get much better than that.