Hitchhiking out to Murchison Falls National Park

We set out early this morning after a fried egg and toast breakfast, backpacks strapped to our backs, cameras in hand, and began walking. 89km to Murchison Falls National Park--no problem! The copper dirt road lined with maize and sugar cane fields, twisted and turned endlessly. We walked and walked, thumbs out, hoping to catch a ride with a passing vehicle. To pass time, I began singing "The Ants Go Marching" and only got to the 8th verse when a salt truck slowed down just enough for us to jump in. We bumped along in the back for about 10km before the turn off the the park came up on the left. Thanks for the lift! We continued on foot for a good hour, stopping to hand out stickers to kids and shake hands with villagers. Eventually a tractor came up behyind us and enthusiastically welcomed us on board. Within minutes, I found myself driving the thing. Waving, laughing, having a great time. I guess all that tractor driving up at my dad's has finally come in handy...they were impressed with how well I handled the 1906 British engine! We rode in the back of the tractor until it reached its farm, which lucky for us was only a 20 minute walk from the park entrance. Once we reached the park gate, I immediately made friends with Assaf, the park ranger, convinced him that I was a resident of Tanzania (thanks to my Swahili skills!), shared a peanut butter sandwich with him, and before long secured passes into the park for the much discounted resident price! The first rest camp inside the park however was another 50km down the road, and Assaf sternly warned us that if we walked "the animals will eat you!" Not wanting to risk my life with the beastly baboons patrolling the road, we sat and waited. I chatted iwht a few of the other staff that were hanging around, sharing peanut butter sandwiches and slices of mango. Eventually an SUV pulled up and a young Indian couple offered us a ride, although they only had room for one. Kate hopped in and enjoyed the cushioned front-seat luxury of an air-conditioned SUV. Lara and I on the other hand crammed ourselves into the back of a beat up Toyota Corolla packed to the brim with melons and eggs en route to an high-end lodge. Lara sat on my lap, I cradled a box of eggs in my arms and off we went. The three men up front drank beers and chewed on coffee beans as the beat of Africaized-Christian rock hammered through destroyed speakers. Wildabeest, warthogs, and baboons aparently sprinkled the road, but all I could see wat the number 11 on the back of Lara's bright orange t-shirt. When we arrived at the Red Chilli Rest Camp we were told that there were no more accomodations, but of course, we quickly made friends with a few of the guys who work here, and they've promised to find a place for us to stay. Hakuna Matata!