It's days 6-7. And we're headed on safari. Can you guess what animals we'll see?

I'm up early to capture the mountain’s sunrise and symphony. We eat breakfast, then load our bags. As we part with people who’ve become friends, I hold back tears.

We journey northward, and the mountains yield to flatter ground. Across five hours of roadway, communities emerge and fade. Life here looks so different yet feels familiar.

On the outskirts of Queen Elizabeth National Park aka QENP, the landscape shifts to a yellow savanna. The Buffalo Lodge shares the landscape’s earthtones and character. Small cottages, thatched roofs, animal print; I’m transported to our next adventure - the safari.

Again, we're greeted in the most welcoming way with warm, damp towels and glasses of juice. It's hard not to wish for such care all the time.

During check-in, we’re baffled to learn that we have to call security to leave our room after dark. Our cottage is close, and we don’t understand the caution. Until we see the giant poo pile near our door.

“Wild elephants cross here,” our escort explains, nodding toward the pile. Even after seeing the poo, it’s hard to imagine an elephant casually strolling past.

We enter our room, awed by the decor. My favorite feature is the driftwood bedframe. I’m drawn to the huge soaking tub, but we have activities scheduled. So, instead of a soak, we bird watch. As the sun descends, we depart for an evening safari.

QENP expands before us, a golden landscape dotted with flat-topped trees. Herds of antelope and water buffalo shift their ears and tails as they mill about. Our eyes are peeled for the elusive lion.

We’re on vacation, but life is still life-ing, and an hour into our game drive, the truck overheats. Godwin, who’s well-connected, flags down another safari group to take us in. We protest leaving him in the looming dark. However, he insists we continue our safari.

Our new safari mates are jovial and talkative. They’d spotted lions and our hope grows. “Is that a rhino!?” my partner exclaims, pointing to the creature ahead.

No; it’s a warthog and looks much smaller as we approach. We laugh heartily. The guide explains that rhinos are found further north in Murchison Falls National Park. Our new pals, fresh from a visit, share stories about seeing the “big five.”

The drive ends without lions. We reach our lodge at dinnertime and I hungrily consider the meatless options. Some ingredients I recognize, but I opt for something new. Tonight, it’s an inspiring peanut sauce…that I’ve been unable to replicate.

After dinner, we message Godwin. He’s found a mechanic and confirms our morning safari. With that news, we pull down the mosquito net and settle in.

Early mornings feel anti-vacation, but we wake up on nature’s schedule.

We’re escorted through the dark, past a lone antelope, to breakfast. Godwin arrives as we finish. A short drive later, we’re at QENP looking at the bulging, blue-purple clouds for signs of dawn.

As the darkness persists, the guide predicts rain. And rain it did.

Water pools on the trail, creating muddy craters and ruts. Godwin adjusts to the downpour, his steering besting the soft, slippery paths.

Everyone isn't so lucky. We come upon a truck stuck in a rut. The guide and passengers look to us, hopeful. Godwin goes to help, trying to steer the vehicle to a better place while the driver pushes. My partner adds to the pushing and the vehicle escapes mud’s grasp.

The safari isn’t a selfish venture. When passing, the guides exchange information. If wildlife is nearby, we join a caravan of vehicles racing to see it.

The strategy works, and we see hyena, leopards, elephants, buffalo and antelope. It makes up for the ever-elusive lion.

On the way out, we pause at stands of clothes, wooden statues, trinkets and food. The salt mines of Lake Katwe are in the distance. I buy some mined salt and an antelope-shaped bookmark.

We also stop at the east-west equator. Then, we ride back to the lodge for lunch and a midday break.

Fewer people safari during rainy season, but today we see another family at the lodge. It feels like we're an exclusive group of adventurers.

After eating, we're out again, this time for a boat ride on the Kazinga Channel.

The hippos are abundant, their mean mugs menacing. We learn that they can’t swim, but can gallop underwater and hold their breath for five minutes. They’re also territorial and attack boaters who drift too close. The boat guide’s brother had died from a hippo bite. We maintain a safe distance to watch them submerge and frolic.

Crocodiles bask along the banks. Females are lime green and lemon yellow; males are duller. Our untrained eyes struggle, but the guide spots them easily. Binoculars help us focus in.

Birds flit from branch to branch, playing and eating. Turquoise, scarlet, cerulean, golden, feathers reflecting the rainbow. With over 1,000 species, Uganda is for bird-watching.

The water safari ends, but more surprises await.

During dinner, our server asks that we follow her. She points to an elephant who’s walking the lodge grounds. It yanks a trunkful of leaves and munches, oblivious to our awe. For a while, we watch it snack, then return to our own meal.

It's been an active week. So, we're changing the pace for our next destination: the lakefront. It's home to 29 islands, a few with astonishing stories. Keep reading for more adventure.

It's days 6-7. And we're headed on safari. Can you guess what animals we'll see?

I'm up early to capture the mountain’s sunrise and symphony. We eat breakfast, then load our bags. As we part with people who’ve become friends, I hold back tears.

We journey northward, and the mountains yield to flatter ground. Across five hours of roadway, communities emerge and fade. Life here looks so different yet feels familiar.

On the outskirts of Queen Elizabeth National Park aka QENP, the landscape shifts to a yellow savanna. The Buffalo Lodge shares the landscape’s earthtones and character. Small cottages, thatched roofs, animal print; I’m transported to our next adventure - the safari.

Again, we're greeted in the most welcoming way with warm, damp towels and glasses of juice. It's hard not to wish for such care all the time.

During check-in, we’re baffled to learn that we have to call security to leave our room after dark. Our cottage is close, and we don’t understand the caution. Until we see the giant poo pile near our door.

“Wild elephants cross here,” our escort explains, nodding toward the pile. Even after seeing the poo, it’s hard to imagine an elephant casually strolling past.

We enter our room, awed by the decor. My favorite feature is the driftwood bedframe. I’m drawn to the huge soaking tub, but we have activities scheduled. So, instead of a soak, we bird watch. As the sun descends, we depart for an evening safari.

QENP expands before us, a golden landscape dotted with flat-topped trees. Herds of antelope and water buffalo shift their ears and tails as they mill about. Our eyes are peeled for the elusive lion.

We’re on vacation, but life is still life-ing, and an hour into our game drive, the truck overheats. Godwin, who’s well-connected, flags down another safari group to take us in. We protest leaving him in the looming dark. However, he insists we continue our safari.

Our new safari mates are jovial and talkative. They’d spotted lions and our hope grows. “Is that a rhino!?” my partner exclaims, pointing to the creature ahead.

No; it’s a warthog and looks much smaller as we approach. We laugh heartily. The guide explains that rhinos are found further north in Murchison Falls National Park. Our new pals, fresh from a visit, share stories about seeing the “big five.”

The drive ends without lions. We reach our lodge at dinnertime and I hungrily consider the meatless options. Some ingredients I recognize, but I opt for something new. Tonight, it’s an inspiring peanut sauce…that I’ve been unable to replicate.

After dinner, we message Godwin. He’s found a mechanic and confirms our morning safari. With that news, we pull down the mosquito net and settle in.

Early mornings feel anti-vacation, but we wake up on nature’s schedule.

We’re escorted through the dark, past a lone antelope, to breakfast. Godwin arrives as we finish. A short drive later, we’re at QENP looking at the bulging, blue-purple clouds for signs of dawn.

As the darkness persists, the guide predicts rain. And rain it did.

Water pools on the trail, creating muddy craters and ruts. Godwin adjusts to the downpour, his steering besting the soft, slippery paths.

Everyone isn't so lucky. We come upon a truck stuck in a rut. The guide and passengers look to us, hopeful. Godwin goes to help, trying to steer the vehicle to a better place while the driver pushes. My partner adds to the pushing and the vehicle escapes mud’s grasp.

The safari isn’t a selfish venture. When passing, the guides exchange information. If wildlife is nearby, we join a caravan of vehicles racing to see it.

The strategy works, and we see hyena, leopards, elephants, buffalo and antelope. It makes up for the ever-elusive lion.

On the way out, we pause at stands of clothes, wooden statues, trinkets and food. The salt mines of Lake Katwe are in the distance. I buy some mined salt and an antelope-shaped bookmark.

We also stop at the east-west equator. Then, we ride back to the lodge for lunch and a midday break.

Fewer people safari during rainy season, but today we see another family at the lodge. It feels like we're an exclusive group of adventurers.

After eating, we're out again, this time for a boat ride on the Kazinga Channel.

The hippos are abundant, their mean mugs menacing. We learn that they can’t swim, but can gallop underwater and hold their breath for five minutes. They’re also territorial and attack boaters who drift too close. The boat guide’s brother had died from a hippo bite. We maintain a safe distance to watch them submerge and frolic.

Crocodiles bask along the banks. Females are lime green and lemon yellow; males are duller. Our untrained eyes struggle, but the guide spots them easily. Binoculars help us focus in.

Birds flit from branch to branch, playing and eating. Turquoise, scarlet, cerulean, golden, feathers reflecting the rainbow. With over 1,000 species, Uganda is for bird-watching.

The water safari ends, but more surprises await.

During dinner, our server asks that we follow her. She points to an elephant who’s walking the lodge grounds. It yanks a trunkful of leaves and munches, oblivious to our awe. For a while, we watch it snack, then return to our own meal.

It's been an active week. So, we're changing the pace for our next destination: the lakefront. It's home to 29 islands, a few with astonishing stories. Keep reading for more adventure.