92 days in

one bastard of a boat ride up the Niger

Well we made it to Timbuktu. But not without an insane amount of hassle. We’re learning that’s kind of the way they roll in Mali though.

Everything was fine for the first few hours of the trip, until we realised we’d only stopped once, for eight minutes in 12 hours. And the captain wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. When we questioned him, he said he’d stop at midnight, recommencing the journey at 6am. This caused a veritable shit storm among the eight passengers and the arguments started. The talk of mutiny didn’t stop until midday the next day.

Turns out there was some mix up between our contracts and the captain’s agreement with our guides, because he was intent on getting to Timbuktu in two days and we expected the trip to take three. To add further insult to our already festering injuries, our impressions were the boat would stop around 6.30pm and tents would be made for us along the banks of the Niger, Kumbaya . That was not the captain’s impression, which was fine by Sian and I, because we had our own tent and after managing to persuade him to stop at nine we promptly stormed off the boat to pitch up for the night. That turned out to be a mistake.

Around midnight I awoke to some gut-wrenching grunts and groans coming from outside our tent. Practically frozen with fear I leaned over and whispered into Sian’s ear to wake up, just as whatever African beast outside let out another guttural moan.
Both now frozen with fright we mouthed to each other questions about what to do, what it might be, where the thing was, etc. As more deep breathing and heavy grunts sounded in the dark, it became clear whatever animal taunted us, it possessed massive lungs.

As a motor boat cruised by, I dared to sneak a look outside. But I saw nothing, just a dark mass of scrub and the black reflection of the mighty river Niger beyond. As I was surveying the area the thing made another terrifying noise allowing me to pinpoint its location, about 10 metres off shore. That confirmed it, a Hippo.
Then I really started shitting my pants.

I’ve heard stories about Hippos being the most dangerous African animals and so my imagination was fraught with images of the terrible creature trampling us to death where we lay. My panic went on for about two hours or so until I eventually realised it probably wasn’t interested in us and drifted back to sleep. Sian, on the other hand, had fallen back to sleep 10 minutes after I awoke her.

Day two of the boat ride was somewhat better, with the boat crew stopping more often at various small villages and the day ending at 7pm with a camp fire and food. There was also a chance spotting of the previous night’s tormentors as we watched a small herd of Hippos dash for the water.

We only realised the next morning the reason why the crew were ok with stopping at 7pm: Timbuktu was just ten minutes from where we’d camped, so by 7.30am we were docked and on the way to Timbuktu in a 4wd.

So we’re in Timbuktu now and it seems pretty much like a nothing town in the middle of the desert. But the point was more getting here really.