Adrift

It's 1am. I'm sitting in the truck. It's pissing it down. It's raining hard, but it's raining hard over a period of several hours. If I explain just how I noticed it was raining, that should give you some idea of the tone of tonight's missive. I may have to start at the beginning, though...

We went rafting today – hammering down over angry white water on nothing more than something a balloon modeler might whip up with four enormous novelty condoms. Rafting and kayaking is basically the raison d'etre for Nile River Explorers' Camp, and there were two truckloads of people on the river today, which made up about eight boats. Rob had been talking up the insanity levels last night, and there was a core of us who were keen for some mayhem. I don't know whether it's a 'boy' thing or a 'me' thing, but I am willing and able to try anything with reckless (if not gay, naturally) abandon. The only proviso is an instructor or guide needs to tell me it's okay. So, to put it bluntly, I have total faith in anyone who's done a week-long 'Guiding 101'. Works for me. The problem this morning was that different people had different expectations. We gathered a group of six who were up for a bit of, as the guides described it, 'go-getting'. Jess then inveagled herself onto our raft (basically, I assume, because she wanted to be with 'Papa' Huw), then proceeded to spend the entire day moaning about how cold she was and about how she 'didn't mind going in the water but didn't want to get flipped'. Goddammit, if that's what you wanted, go in the other boat! And she's fat.

Oh yes, rafting. It was fantastic. It far exceeded my experience at Vic Falls (which was also fantastic). The rapids were faster (more 'rapid', I suppose) and harder, and boats were flipping regularly. The river itself was much wider, and the rapids were a long way apart. On the Zambezi, one tended to have two minutes to prepare for the next rapid, whereas on the Nile, we sometimes had half an hour. We had lunch on the raft – half a pineapple each, hacked into chunks with a machete on the bottom of an upturned kayak thrown onto the deck of a raft. I tell you, it was the most fantastic pineapple I've ever tasted. As we ate, hundreds and hundreds of bats – roused from the nearby island, circled.

There were four or five grade v rapids on the way down, and after each one, the river looked like the aftermath of a ferry disaster, with rafts and bodies everywhere. People swam to the nearest raft so, at one point, we had eleven people on board. It then took ten minutes for the repatriation process.

Dave has moved beyond parody. Jen an I were talking about rafting insurance, and I was telling her my insurance for the Heli-boarding – 'Dogtag' – covered me. Dave overheard this, then (and I'm deadly serious here. No word of exaggeration) proceeded to tell me all about my insurance and why it was so good. The best I could do was ask him whether he'd ever had insurance from the same company. He replied that he hadn't, with absolutely no trace of irony. And there's no-one I can tell about this! No-one would understand. I feel like bleedin' Salieri! And I want to hit him.

Oh, there's more! Let me not deprive you,.. We were talking about Uganda, and he asked me if it's the weirdest place I've ever been. 'No', I replied, 'that would have to be Kamchatka'. He then immediately asked me if sushi was popular there, and launched into a description of why the best sushi chefs come from Vladisvostok. You can't fault his general knowledge, but FOR F*CK'S SAKE I wish he'd listen for a change. No matter how much he knows, I could have told him something new, but he simply uses it as a springboard for the sound of his own voice. Hell, he's done a ski season in Val D'Isere, so is 'into' snow sports. Not one question about the heliboarding I was doing in Russia. Not interested, probably because he hasn't done it. Seriously, it's like he's been put here to torment me, and no-one else really sees it.

Elsewhere, Dan, Leigh and Boyo are turning into an interesting triumvirate. Leigh turns into a total flirt when she's plastered. Boyo, being a good working-class Shropshire Hobbit, flirts back, in his own crude and unsubtle way. Dan – obviously in love with Leigh – has himself set up as her moral guardian. So, at Leigh's suggestion, Boyo asks Dan if he can take Leigh to bed. Keep in mind that Dan is already mightily ticked off with Boyo over the 'testicles' incident. Dan fails to see the funny side, and explains to Boyo in a very stern voice, 'You have to understand, Leigh is like a sister to me, and if anyone mistreats her, they'll have me to answer to.' Dan teaches children under the age of ten, looks like he rarely goes out in the daytime, and couldn't fight his way out of a soggy paper-bag. It would be funny if it wasn't ever-so-slightly uncomfortable. Cue a long and serious conversation between Dan and Leigh. Dan, my friend, it's never going to happen. Run away.

Continuing in the same vein, I was talking to Derek. I've just about gotten the hang of his thick Irish vernacular, although it's the subject of many, many jokes. We were having a bit of a bitch and moan about various people. Jess is irritating me at the moment. I find her a little bit too gobby for someone who's the youngest on the trip, and she rarely separates herself from Huw. That' not his fault, of course. Well, it is a bit, I suppose. She also finds his jokes absolutely hilarious – even the ones that aren't funny. I thought this might bother Derek, since he and Huw are travelling together. He's not a big fan of Jess, but he's not too worried as it means he gets his own tent most of the time. No, what really surprised me is he can't stand Alex. I was shocked, since Alex is just a bundle of fun. Yeah, she's a little younger, and I suppose I can see why he finds her irritating and immature. Different folks, different strokes, I guess, but it's interesting how someone's opinion can differ so widely.

Oh, it rained. It rained and rained. We were on our rafts at around midday when the heavens opened. We all looked at each other, hoping Boyo or some of the others were around to shut our open tents. Sadly, when we returned, they weren't. There was my sleeping bag, with a small puddle on it. So I hauled it into the truck to dry off. Shortly after the Boyo-Dan conversation, I noticed Rob and rachael had disappeared. I ran to the truck, hoping to retrieve my sleeping bag and mat before they, erm, settled down for the night. And got soaked. Rain was coming down in sheets – on my open-to-dry-out tent. Godammit. So, since it appears R&R are staying in Rachael's tent (because Jess is staying in the extra tent she and Huw put up because Derek is in Derek and Huw's tent. You have to keep up.). So I'm sleeping on the truck, on the 'beach' tonight - and hoping Rob and Rachael don't have an argument.