The bus ride to Musanze was pretty uneventful. I mostly watched the scenery go by and tried to spot buildings with the X for demolition painted on them. The bus was full and therefore pretty crowded. There are five rows (I think) of seats—two seats to one side and one to the other. However, after those fill up, there are little seats in the aisle that fold out for people to sit on. Luckily I had a window seat.
We pulled into Musanze and got a taxi to our guesthouse, which we had booked ahead of time for once! It was inexpensive and also just a five minute walk from the tourism office, which one has to visit before 7am to confirm or purchase permits for any activities in Parc National des Volcans.
The park is located in the Virungas—a string of volcanoes situated where Rwanda, the DRC, and Uganda meet. The Virungas are famous for being the last place mountain gorillas can be found and they are where Dian Fossey did most of her work at Karisoke research center between the mountains Karisimbi and Bisoke. She was brutally murdered in 1985 and was buried alongside Digit, her favorite gorilla, in the graveyard by Karisoke. Probably the most common, and certainly the most expensive, activity in the park is gorilla tracking. If you have a permit, you join a group and a guide leads you to one of the gorilla groups inhabiting the mountains and you can observe them in close proximity for about an hour or so before trekking back. Thing is, these permits are $500 each. Ouch. They also sell out far in advance. That being out of my price range, the other available options were golden monkey tracking ($100), climbing to the crater lake at the top of Bisoke ($75), or hiking to Dian Fossey’s grave ($75). There are also treks over other volcanoes, but those take several days. Hayley and I had decided on doing the hike to Dian Fossey’s grave, which would take less time (we were thinking of heading to Gisenyi, on Lake Kivu, before going back to Kigali) and would be less strenuous. I also was really interested in Dian Fossey as a kid, so I wanted to see Karisoke and her grave.
Sadly, when we got to the guesthouse, Hayley got sick again and hiking the next day was out of the question for her. She didn’t want me to have come to Musanze without doing something though, especially since visiting the Park was a big motivation for me to go to Rwanda. We agreed that I’d get up in the morning for my 7am check-in at the tourist office and try to do the hike to Fossey’s grave myself. I was getting nervous about going solo though, mainly for financial reasons. The hikes don’t start from the tourist office—groups must be brought to trailheads in a 4x4 and the drive takes about half an hour. Getting a ride is $80 per car, which I really did not want to spend all on my own. I was hoping that I would find a group kind enough to let me join theirs to split costs. For a little while before bed I nervously tried to watch TV, but the only station that worked was in Arabic so I gave up and listened to the new Bon Iver instead.
I got to the office in the morning and waited my turn in the line at the desk. There were some middle-aged Spanish guys in front of me who were arranging to hike Bisoke. When it was my turn and I asked the man at the desk if anyone was doing the Fossey hike he said there was no one unless someone turned up suddenly. I’m not sure if I could have done it alone even if I hired a car by myself—there might be a certain number of people required to warrant a guide and park rangers (which are needed). Not wanting to turn around and give up, I approached the group of Spaniards. Luckily two of the four spoke English pretty well (because oh man, is my Spanish rusty and it wasn’t all that good in the first place) and I explained my situation to them. They were so nice, immediately telling me to join them and that there was no reason for me to be alone. Of course I could ride with them to the trailhead and hike Bisoke! So, plans changed, I bought the Bisoke permit.
There was a group of us hiking Bisoke: me (the only American and loner), my newfound Spaniard friends, another group of four Spaniards (I think two couples), and a group of four Belgians who study together at the country’s military university. We introduced ourselves and were off on the bumpy ride to the trailhead. Once we reached the spot, we disembarked and were joined by a host of porters and armed guards. The armed guards were there to protect us from wildlife—the mountain is covered by a dense forest and animals apart from gorillas that could also harm you, namely cape buffalo. And off we went, hiking on a dusty path through farms until we reached the buffalo fence, meant to keep buffalo from the crops and to denote the beginning of the park. From there, the trail became tough.
Bisoke.
The trail became steeper and rougher, and we hiked for a while until we reached a clearing where we took a break. At this clearing, those wishing to visit Fossey’s grave and the old research station turn left while those hiking Bisoke bear right and begin the truly challenging part of the hike. So that’s what we did. The guide warned us about stinging nettles (and I may have brushed a few), but for me the biggest danger was the trail itself. It was basically a steep, bumpy mud path up the volcano with no switchbacks. I was also not properly dressed for the hike. Since I thought I would just be going to Fossey’s grave (no problemo) I was in jeans and had my camera bag rather than a small, easier to carry backpack with snacks inside. Between my jeans and my short legs, some of the slippery steps up were a challenge. Luckily, about halfway up, a porter offered to carry my camera bag and began giving me hands up certain steps. I befriended one of the Belgian students on the hike and we took turns being led up the particularly steep sections of the hike by our helpful porter. He, by the way, was wearing galoshes—it was really muddy! My mere hiking sneakers were covered in mud, inside and out. So were my jeans, poor things.
The dense forest harboring gorillas, buffalo, and probably ents. Check out the mud path.
So the hike was challenging. My partial hike of Mount Kenya was actually much easier! Sure, that was strenuous but I felt good and healthy basically the whole time and by the time I got to the meteorological station I was so euphoric and filled with adrenaline that I didn’t feel tired—in fact, I felt quite energetic! Bisoke was different. The trail, being so muddy and steep, was much more of a trial. We were also climbing a lot faster. Bisoke is 3711 meters, or 12,180 feet, high. We climbed it in less than four hours, straight up. By the time we were nearing the top, I felt like our porter was basically dragging me and the two other people hiking nearby at that point up the steepest bits. I was really just putting one foot in front of the other and hoping I wouldn’t slip down backward. It got easier after we passed the tree line and reached the scrubbier landscape, partly because there was less mud and partly because I knew we were close!
Finally!
The lake. And I'm not sure how you'd get down there to swim...
At last we reached the crater lake and then I started feeling good after struggling my way up. I had been hiking along with one of my Spanish friends and we joined the rest of the group. After taking a few photos and cooling down it became evident that it was truly cold up there because of the altitude and mist. I only had my thin white jacket to put over my t-shirt (Fossey’s grave would have still been in warm territories!). Also, after the longer-than-planned-for hike I was quite hungry and everyone was pulling out their snacks. However, the Spaniards turned out to be wonderful and without me pitifully having to ask, they began to share everything with me. “Here, drink some coffee! Eat some of these cookies! Eat this half of my sandwich! You’re cold, take this jacket. And this hat.” They were so nice! The coffee, by the way, was truly amazing. I almost never drink coffee with sugar but their milky sugary warm coffee hit the spot. They also insisted that I join their group photograph by the lake. It was really very lucky that I found them!
Guide, guards, porters, and mist at the top.
The hike down took about two hours. I could almost say “our run down,” too—the trail, so steep and muddy, almost demands that one jog down nimbly or lose her footing. So down we went, shedding layers along the way, and luckily I didn’t slip and fall on my butt. There were a few ominous rumbles of thunder, but no rain. After the scramble down I tipped my porter and joined the Spaniards for the ride back. They gave me some wipes for my now dirty hands and I found some old sticks of gum I had forgotten in my bag, which were all I could offer in exchange but at least they gladly took them. I also offered to split the cost of their vehicle but they wouldn’t have it; they wouldn’t even take the cash I offered so they could get drinks on my tab that night (“we will drink, but to your salud!”). I at least got their email addresses so I can send them the photos I took as soon as I get a better internet connection.
It was a really nice hike despite the strain and my general unpreparedness. It’s always nice to find such generous people while you’re traveling as a reminder that people can be really nice and welcoming and that things tend to work out somehow. The hike itself was great too. I have never really done mountain hiking before, but I think my appetite has been whet and I’d really like to do more! This also means I should get in better shape again so the activity won’t be as painful, haha. I suppose I’m not terrible at the moment at least. Our guide was surprised that everyone completed the hike because apparently it’s rare for a whole group to succeed. Nevertheless, I should exercise!
After all that, I went to the guesthouse to pick up my pack and then took a long moto ride into Musanze town to meet Hayley at the hospital, where she had gone to get checked out. Thankfully she was feeling a bit better again and she got some medicine that seemed to help. We decided to return to Kigali to play it safe, so back we went.
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