It was the worst nights sleep yet. The hot and dry mosquito ridden air was completely still as we lay not knowing what to do with ourselves. I didn't get to sleep until 2am and was woken again at 6 by a cacophony of noise created by the troop of birds which lived in the dangling nests level with our tent.

My lazy start revealed a hive of activity from the others. Clothes were being washed, eggs fried and coffee brewed. Bob drew the line at washing my socks so I took a load of the more heavily contaminated clothing with me to the shower while she applied steroid cream to the elaborate dot-to-dot drawing covering most of her right hand side which had been etched by the very hungry mosquitos in our tent.

With most four clothing draped around the glade of acacias we set off on foot to investigate the possibility of climbing the local peak, Ol Doniyo Lengi. Having walked the kilometre to the information hut in the searing heat, ignoring an entourage of women and children hawking beads, bangles and necklaces, we were all slightly hot and bothered and the collection of men gathered conspiratorially in the gloom would have been wise to tread carefully.

They didn't and their fee of $280 to allow us to get up at midnight to climb the active volcanoe did not sit well, especially as the guidebook had quoted $100, which was still ridiculous. They could offer no explanation for the nearly triple price rise and we had had enough of being taken for a ride. We left them in no doubt that these tourists were not just another money sponge to be squeezed at every available opportunity and stormed back to the campsite. Significantly fewer hawkers approached, sensing the significant negative vibes which emanated from our group.

We flounced back to the pool and slipped gratefully into its cool green waters, bemused and disappointed in the blatant money grabbing which appeared to be customary in Tanzania. With the grumbling out of our system Charlie and I compiled salsa filled avocados for the girl's lunches and Charlie finally got to eat his noodles.

We spent the afternoon relaxing, watching kingfishers dipping in an out of the pool and were eventually surrounded by fragrant yellow trumpet flowers, discarded by the tree over head.

We cooked supper of tuna and sweetcorn pasta, though the main ingredient smelled more like cat food, and sat around our little camp proudly lit by the candles now shielded by their plastic bottle themed wind surrounds.

We played cards in the bar as a friendly bat swooped around the light fittings trying to make an impression in the clouds of mosquitos. After several rounds of Eggy Azalea we were very content and returned to our camp to sleep