Jo'burg By Truck 1985-86

We drove on in gentle rain, climbing and descending potholed but firm roads through the mountains, and navigating occasional muddy bogs. Banks of thick mist sat in the valleys, hiding the brown river below us. For a while we drove above the tree line, through hills peppered with shrubs, into cloud, and past a mountain side of almost vertical rock. The few huts we saw, linked by paths worn through the grass, clung to the slopes like periwinkles, fire smoke seeping through thatched roofs like mist. The few people we saw, walking along the roads, were backdropped by spectacular landscapes.

Woke during the night to the sound of voices close by – our friends were huddled around the fire and lying under the truck chatting. It rained all night, and I woke again to water falling on the truck canvas and a dismally damp start to gorilla day. We pitched the cook tent over the fire and attempted to get things going.

Woke up to find our four friends had spent the night under the truck. Cold and wet, and still wearing tinsel necklaces, they huddled around our breakfast fire drinking mugs of coffee Vicki made them as they supervised Albert’s pancake cooking. They then enthusiastically shoved pancakes, bread, bananas, and jam into their mouths.

Walked on after breakfast, the beautiful valley views now strung with power lines. Back aboard Stanely, we drove into avocado country where we traded empty bottles for huge ripe avocadoes and bananas. Continued through valleys of reds, browns and multiple shades of green.

Drama before we’d wiped the sleep from our eyes: Anne knocked a container of our home-made jam out of the truck, leaving a sticky trail down the steps onto the ground. Vicki and I just looked at each other and got on with the morning. The "jam, incident" was the stick that broke the camel's back, and Kelvin promptly disbanded the Ann/Geoff cooking team.

It was cloudy but not raining when we deposited our diminished hiking team at the foot of the volcano. The rest of us then headed back into grey Goma, which looked no more friendly and welcoming than in yesterday's gloom.

This morning's clear sky was short lived, with clouds rolling in. 

Woke to the sound of a car arriving behind us and then voices. Kel helloed from the back that the plantation manager was a Sikh from Birmingham!

This morning we were quickly into banana country, where the hillsides were heavily planted with banana palms as well as other fruits and vegetables. The lush, green hills were peppered with mud huts with thatch roofs and occasional old, rundown Belgian farmhouses, some of them red brick buildings with arches, porches and pointed roofs, and all enjoying wonderful views of hill tops and valleys. 

Souvenir hawkers returned to camp for breakfast with more bows and arrows and other odds and ends. They demonstrated the power of the bows by firing headless arrows into the sky, the shafts going so high so fast that they disappeared. The children carried toy helicopters and planes made from balsawood.