Trekking Mt. Bisoke

We spent all day yesterday trekking up Mt. Bisoke, a 3711m volcano located in Rwanda's Volcano National Park. We set off at 8am, driving nearly 45 minutes from the park head quarters to the edge of the national park and the base of Rwanda's sencond hightest peak. Led by our guide, Jean-Pierre, and sandwiched between two rifle totting armed guards, we set off up a trail that we expected would take us no more than 5 hours to complete. The trail began as little more than a nature walk, cutting through local farms and lush, dense forest. An hour into the walk we reache the true base of the volcano and the once-home of Diane Fossey. "Now the hike begins," warned Jean-Pierre. "The next 3 hours will be uphill." And uphill they were. Ankle deep mud, rocks, and stinging nettles occupied my concentration as we climbed. As we got higher, the mist thickened, and the group grew more and more tired. The cold gripped my fingers, making it difficult to get a firm grasp on my walking stick. But we kept going My feet absolutely blackened by the wet mud, my nose dripping, my breath escaping me. About half way up, 4 people turned back overwhelmed by the intensity of the trek. Hunger began to set in, people's moods deteriorated, muscles began and cramp. "Only 40 more minutes," Jean-Pierre announced. A low grumble came from the other hikers. The promise of scaling a colcano, the beauty of its crater lake, and views of the DRC kept me going. Fatiguing my body felt incredible. My feet struggled to grip the muddy trail, my arms burned from incessant contraction as I pulled my body wp the path. But eventually, finally, and with utter relief, we finally made it to the top. The terrain changed quickly from wet, mist covered rainforest, to rocky, grass covered plains. Hungry and fatigued, but thrilled to have reached the summit, I broke out in a run towards the volcano's center and the crater lake tucked in its interior. I sat there, just on the edge of the volcano, engrossed by the stunning views and my proximity to the DRC, literally just a stone's throw away. After devouring a few odd snacks gathered from other hikers, (I didn't bring food with me as I expected the hike to last only a few hours and to return to town by lunch!) watching the clouds roll on and off the peak, and taking a few photos, our guide announced it was time to begin the descent if we were to make it off the volcano by nightfall. I had expected the trek down to be much more difficult than it was, however within minutes we were all covered in mud. My hands and feet were completely caked in black goop and sliding down the face of the mountain proved disatarous for my poor Chacos. The straps were tested to their limit and the soles of the shoes, that just a few days before underwent their fourth superglue job, came undone. Halfway down and with still two hours to go, I decided to finish the trek barefoot. The mud felt great squishing between my toes. Sometime between worrying about stepping barefoot on stinging nettles and swinging from the vines of a giant tree, Jean-Pierre hushed our conversations and pointed into the thick vegetation. "You hear that? Can you hear the gorilla's eating?" We watched in excitement, the rustling in the distance. And then he appeared. A silverback gorilla sitting peacefully, chomping on wild celery. Without a care in the world the gorilla glanced in our direction revealing the enormity of its head before going back to the mundane task of peeling his celery. Having not purchased the $500 permits to officially track the gorillas, we were told to keep moving and sternly reminded not to take photos. Fair enough. Another 100m down the trail and the rustling began again. Jean-Pierre pointed out into the thicket of grasses, vines, and trees, and a streak of silver lumbered away from us before finding the perfect place to sit and eat. Jean-Pierre explained that in this family group there are 27 members, 5 silverbacks, and we just encountered 2 of them! The sheer rush of excitement that pulsed through my body shot through onto my face in a wild-eyed smile that took a long time to fade. We observed the second silverback for a few minutes before we were ushered off and continued down the mountain. To be in the presence of such an amazing animal, such an elusive giant, but one that is gentle and exhibits such striking resembalences to us, especially when you look into their eyes, its no wonder individuals ahve gone to great lengths to save them. The feeling is indescribable.

We completed the hike by 3:30pm, a long, exciting, and unforgettable 7 hours later Kate managed to not once, but twice step into wet, juicy mounds of buffalo poop, covering her socks and sandals in the stuff Between my barefeet covered up to the ankles in thick, black mud, and hers in buffaloo poop, we were a mess. Luckily for us however, one of our fellow hikers offered to give us a ride to our next destination, Gisyeni, a lake-side town 150km away.

The ride to Gisyeni was uneventful and by 6pm we had expressed our gratitude to the Dutch man and his son, hopped on the back of motorcycles and rode the last 2km to a cheap local hotel. Tired, hungry, and in desperate hope of finding a hot shower, we were dropped at Auberge di Gisyeni, where the man at the reception adamently refused to let us stay in a single room. Too tired to argue for long, we conceeded to the more expensive double room, but when the toilet didin't flush and the shower didn't drain, and the stale stench of the room's last occupants permeated the sheets and walls, we were moved to that cheaper, single room we'd wanted to begin with. The room was clean, but the shower was frigid. A cold shower, a heaping plate from the restaurant's buffet, and a Primus later, we passed out on our soft bed, tucked snuggly into the green Shrek sheets. What an amazing day!