The group of locals went on partying until the early hours and their close proximity, combined with an insatiable urge to itch the tetse fly bites on my legs, made for a rather bleary eyed start to the day.

I did better than on previous mornings and managed to be conscious before Charlie appeared with the morning round of tea, at which point he also reported the chaos left in the kitchen. There was a rumour that our boat might be going straight to Lagosa, which would cut out the walking and motorbike legs of our journey, so we packed our bags and boiled our remaining 4 eggs for a somewhat speedy breakfast. We boarded the TANAPA boat in our bay and left the beach, waving goodbye to the mysterious ways of the Mahale Mountains as the sped through the crystal clear water.

Our guide accompanied us to park HQ where it was confirmed that the boat trip to Lagosa was not on the cards but the smily geriatric boatman would drop us to the next bay where we very much hoped our advanced arrangement with Asher and his motorcycle men would be honoured.

We arrived on the appointed hill at 955 to a distinct lack of motorcycles and it was a long 4 minutes before Bob picked up the sound of approaching engines. To our relief it was the 3 guys from the village, grinning as they came to a halt in a cloud of dust and their engines clicked as they cooled down. Asher appeared a minute or so later wearing a black and red tuxedo jacket and the widest grin you ever did see, greeting us all like old friends. We mounted and, with sunglasses firmly in place, set off in close formation following a jubilant Asher who, with Bob as pillion, set off in a cloud of dust and oily fumes.

We travelled as a much tighter group though I could barely see Bob's ponytail bouncing amidst the swirling sand cloud ahead. My guy must have had corneas made of transparent steel as we navigated through the villages and plantations and even with glasses on I was having to squint to keep the dust out. Hattie generously lent Charlie's sunglasses to her pilot and I felt like I should follow her generous example, though I was visually incapacitated in the process. After half an hour of wiggling through narrow tracks the awkward moment we were all dreading arrived as we came to an unexpected halt at Asher's house. Trying not to make eye contact we listened as he proudly announced to his family that he was collecting his suitcase as he was travelling on to Kigoma together with his new Mizungo friends...

So followed a painful conversation, where it felt as though we had kicked an entire litter of puppies, and we managed to iron out out some of the misunderstandings but ever the optimist he tied his suitcase and smart shoes behind Bob and we travelled the remaining few kilometres to the guesthouse in an awkward silence.

Our trusty driver was ready and waiting with the car and we thanked our motorcyclists after retrieving our eyewear from them. After some more awkward discussions, and approval from the driver, we managed to pile our bags in such a way that Asher could lower himself into a man shaped space in the boot. This would mean him sitting on the spare wheel for the bumpy 6 hour ride to Kigoma but he seemed overjoyed with this result and when Charlie returned from foraging a fist of green bananas we set off, waving a thankful farewell to the guesthouse of horrors where the 4x4 had been parked.

The ride was cool and dust free but felt sluggish in comparison to the motorbikes. Asher bounced around happily in the back, occasionally striking up loud conversation with the driver, who was concentrating on navigating the circuitous route, and the resultant shouting nearly drowned out Stephen Fry who was narrating Harry Potter to the rest of us.

We soon arrived at the major river crossing which we remembered from the trip down and eyed the steeply channelled exit of slick mud with concern. Our driver pressed as many buttons and levers as possible and we set off creating a formidable bow wave. The V8 roared as we hit the far bank and although the tyres clawed us out of the water their lack of tread could not keep us there and we slid back so that our exhaust burbled a merry little underwater tune to itself as we tried to remain cool.

Charlie and I hadn't exchanged knowing looks in a while so we did that whilst a second and third attempt failed to gain any further ground. Having dropped us off on the bank, our driver retreated to a shallow beach in the middle of the river to reconsider his approach. A large crowd of locals had gathered and they watched as we worked to fill the holes with rocks, topped with palm fronds. One surly individual offered Asher the services of his family as mercenaries for an extortionate price and when rebuffed settled back to watch the Mizungos struggle with a smile on his face. After a few more attempts we managed to wedge the heavy car a third of the way up the slope with rock chocks under the wheels. Whilst propping up the stranded vehicle Asher made an impassioned speech to the crowd of Tanzanian spectators about how shameful it was that they just watched, and while most laughed, 2 young men jumped into action with adzes and machetes, cutting greenery and filling in the ruts. After 45 minutes of trial, error and preparation our driver took another run up from the far bank and the 4 tonne beast crashed, churned and eventually slid its way past the disappointed crowds. As expected there was suddenly a throng of people claiming it was their efforts which had got us up the slope. In the confusion we managed to single out the 2 individuals who had responded to Asher's passionate address and remunerated them well, in plain site of the miserable vultures who were willing us to fail. After 1 more spell on his soapbox we managed to pack Asher back into the boot and continued, with praise all round. Despite our initial misgivings Asher had earned his passage.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, other than a second tyre destroying puncture just metres from the one on the way out. We changed it swiftly and were soon back on tarmac where we said farewell to Asher and our driver bought some onions.

We picked up some icecreams before being dropped back to the guesthouse and said farewell to our excellent driver and the heavy Landcruiser. A cold beer was very much called for and we watched the sun sink over the lake whilst ordering a quartet of pizzas.

The food tasted fantastic and we chatted to an American aid worker whilst also learning from the manager that the guest house which we stayed at in Lagosa was not the one which had been intended...well there's a surprise!!!