It's not home, but as close as it gets. The smell of the air is comforting. I would know where I was even with my eyes closed. Like a favorite old pair of jeans the humidity fits perfectly on my skin.

It is here were I have had my greatest moments and some of my worst, a place were I have experienced the extremes of dreams broken and dreams achieved, here I have missed disaster by a second and here I have been that second to slow. It’s a place where any thing can and often does happen.

Squeezed between some of Africa’s baddest boys, Sudan, Congo and Rwanda, it does not have the same fearsome reputation as its neighbors anymore but if you cant find adventure here, you don’t deserve it. All my biggest missions have started here. Here I walked hard miles towards becoming the man I am.

Memories of past trips flash past as I look up at the blue, never cloudless sky. After the mountains of Norway, the African sky seems even bigger and more open than I remember. Maribu storks, the real national bird of Uganda, having missed out on the honor due to there grotesque appearance, and left to prosper for the same reason, ride the thermals above me, their massive wingspans effortlessly carrying the cross dressing vultures in great circles over the swamps and banana trees surrounding the airfield.

Once again it’s a challenge that brought me here, this one so unforeseen that I grin at the irony. My life, like a river is one long chain of linked event and that river has now brought me again to this airstrip on the lush shores of Lake Victoria. Ahead of me lay a mission I could not have imagined a year ago when my life took one of those sudden, yet gentle and beautiful turns that make you want to believe in destiny.

Uganda has always represented freedom to me, a place where I needed no one, were I could do whatever I wanted. The gods are having a laugh, and its at my expense. This time it would be all about responsibility, the worlds most reluctant baby sitter will be a parent. Somehow in the last 6 months I had acquired a rebellious teenager. Ahead of us lay a proper mission through the Wild West and the only person in deeper over his head than me was him, a fact that brought another little smile to my, wannabe, bearded lips.

“Just remember this is what you asked for” I mutter to myself as I walk towards the new and improved airport building.

The visa office has change for my English pounds, yikes, order getting a foothold in Uganda. I’m not worried, the wheels will come of soon enough.

Thomas is there to pick us up. Danish, he came to Africa for a short contract 8 years ago. Now he has a wonderful wife, a healthy boy and it would seem everything else a man might desire. The official “voice of reason” for the expedition, he is a man who has been there for most of my decade long love affair with Uganda, from the early days when I lived on his couch for months at a time, we have seen each other pass through different stages and a strong friendship based on mutual respect has grown from it.

The van is covered with his company logo, advertising safe and comfortable sightseeing trips in Kampala, I briefly wonder why you would bother leaving home if you wanted safe and comfortable, imagining the plump white flesh safely behind the one way glass of the mini tour buss. Each to his own, personally I am all for risky and uncomfortable over the next month, one look at the twinkle in Thomas’s clear blue eyes tells me the buss is heading that way.

Part 2 I bend over the raft to wet my hands, a little habit I have developed though the years before dropping into the big stuff, the bigger the rapid the bigger the splash, later in the day I would be taking a small shower but for now a splash would do.

Its Silverback, one of my all time favorite rapids, for those of you who don’t know it, there is a lot of water splashing, especially through the middle and that is exactly were I plan an taking Gangster . It’s a gamble, his first time on a real river and if he falls out here, which is likely and doesn’t like it which is possible, its going to be pretty hard getting him back on the river. We are not here for haircuts though and its time to test the young mans mettle. Get down hold on. The first wave kicks like a mule and sends Gangster flying, his jean clad legs spread-eagle over his curly head. He is a tough little bugger and to his credit he still has a hand on the raft, holding on for life. Unknown to him, things are about to step up another level. Smack in the middle of our now inevitable journey lays the real Silverback, wave one was just a pretender.

For me it’s all on auto pilot, I see his facial expression, its says” I don’t know what’s happening but I think its bad” I feel a little bit bad for him as I square the raft into the inevitable ass kicking he is about to receive. It’s a rough ride to loose your cherry on but he should live.

As the raft hits and stops, he is unceremoniously ripped of the side, its basic math’s from there on. He pops up, but mostly down for 50meters before being washed into a safety kayaker, like a bug and a windscreen. It’s a man size swim and dragging him back in the boat I am ready to play a jedi mind trick I learned back in the US of A, A Rebel yell and a high five before they get there focus back and you can convince a terrified client that they actually enjoyed the experience. It’s not needed, he gets back in the boat with precisely the right smile I was hoping for, the corners of his mount inches from terror but still pointing in the right direction.

Midday, on the flat pool after lunch, the world is moving like its stuck in quicksand and to hot to care about it. Me and Gangster are sizzling in the heat, smarter people would be hiding in the shade, its all just about perfect. As I reach into my dry bag for one of the cheap cigarettes I have been gorging on since arrival, my phone rings. Imgen... ok nobody panic, so what if there is reception on the Nile, I calmly and more bemused than anything, press green on the little buzzing box. “ Hi Thomas”. From there the conversation progresses to “mmmhhhh” “that’s not so good” “bugger” “ Ok get back to me when you know more” “ There has to be a way around this”

Thomas has been attending Sudanese beurocracy 101 at the embassy. It’s a fast lesson for a slow course. Seeing their shock and lack of comprehension at someone wanting to go to Sudan as a tourist, he changed his angle of attack to business visa. A safer path with more establishes guidelines, which lead him to the next little bombshell they had forgotten to mention a month ago on the phone. Moslems have no sense of humor. Apparently the Sudanese were still upset about the cartoon of Muhammad printed in a Danish newspaper and have banned all Danish people from coming to Sudan. Thomas must be the first Danish national to actually care.

I have kept a space on the team open just incase I found someone loitering around Jinja that might add value to the expedition. It being a magnate for people who would drop everything for a bit of adventure, I figured the chances were good.

If Thomas couldn’t make it we were starting to look a bit thin on members. Across from me Scottish Chris, rowing us across the flats, was just telling me how much he would like to go on a mission like this, being a man who only believes in coincidence when it suits me, I offer him a spot right there. Why not? He owns a video and stills camera, something we lack, and from what I hear he is not afraid to use them. Sweet. More importantly he possesses the one element which I rate above all else on an expedition, enthusiasm.

To be continued