After leaving Kigali we headed west to the Parc National Des Volcans. The volcano range sits right on the border of Uganda, Rwanda and the Congo, and one of the volcanoes can actually be said to reside in each of these countries depending on what side you’re climbing!
The national park is better known as a haven for gorillas rather than a location to trek volcanoes, however for the price of $500 per hour to see the gorillas, we sadly couldn’t take advantage of that opportunity. We’d heard, however, from other similarly cheapo Bisoke volcano trekkers that some people happen to stumble upon gorillas by chance – much to the guides’ annoyance – so we had our fingers crossed.
We reached the guesthouse at dusk and spent the evening reading books and snuggling up on sofas by a big open fire in the lodgings. Up at six, we ate a hearty breakfast of eggs – with unappealing grey yolks – and hideously greasy bread, with the only joyful experience being the exceedingly strong coffee and the sweetest baby bananas.
That morning I decided that dawn and sunrise beat dusk and sunset hands down. There have been many occasions since coming to Uganda where I’ve been out and about just after sunrise and I’m always mesmerised by the light. Waking up in this Rwandan volcano range was no exception. From the high terrain I looked down over an expanse of undulating hills. In between the treetops, the clouds lightly clung and layered themselves with such breathtaking grace. I attempted to take some photos to illustrate this (see previous blog), but to my dismay I couldn’t do it justice.
After paying our park fees of $75, we met our guide Ignacious. At this point, other than looking up at the formidable volcano, I hadn’t really considered what we were about to attempt. In the lonely plant East Africa guide book, all it says about Bisoke is ‘the ascent takes you up the steep southwestern flanks of the volcano to the summit, where you can see the crater lake’. Nothing too frightening or challenging in that sentence, and what defines ‘steep’ anyway? Well, in this case, ‘steep’ was about a 45-degree angle. I would like to say that it was even steeper because of the pain I was in, but maybe that would be an exaggeration.
The four-hour climb was relentless in terms of the steepness; there was literally no let up until we reached the summit. As you head higher up the volcano the vegetation changes quite dramatically. In the beginning the walk is very green and lush, trekking through thick forest, however as you climb higher – and the ascent in terms of altitude is very quick – the vegetation changes to become more alpine, with the streams of slippery mud, turning into pathways of smooth, but surprisingly non-slippery rock.
The few days before, the area had experienced a lot of rainfall and so for 75% of the walk we were trekking calf-deep in thick, extremely unstable mud. To say we fell over a lot would be an understatement. The park guides and porters must have seen us coming, because two porters offered their services right at the beginning, and we very firmly told them that it wasn’t necessary. They followed us up anyway, and just as they had obviously predicted, about ten-minutes into the climb, two of the girls in our group requested their services. I think we all realised quite quickly that this wasn’t going to be an easy feat, and the porters became very useful by helping to pull the girls up the volcano through all the mud.
The first half was manageable and I felt like I was coping quite well. I was out of breath constantly, but my legs were behaving and doing what I told them to. As I was climbing and scrambling around, tripping over and grabbing whatever was available, it reminded me of a time in Bristol many years ago when my Pupa suggested that we climb a rock face that was just as steep. At the time he was in his mid seventies and already walked with the aid of a stick, but I suppose we thought ‘if he thinks he can do it then so can the rest of us!’ I walked behind him, thinking that maybe we’d need to grab him as the pieces of rock loosened under his feet, but in the end it was him and his stick that saved me: I lost my footing and as my feet fell beneath me, I was holding on with just my hands. He turned and held his stick out to me and pulled me up.
This time I had Adam at my side, pushing my bum up when naturally formed steps carved into the volcano were too high for my legs to meet unaided. By the time we were a third of the way up, the two girls who’d requested porters were a little way behind and we decided to split up into two groups. This very quickly made me the weakest link, but hating defeat and refusing to ever give up on a challenge, I kept going as fast as I could. The last third was painful: my legs were shaking and I began counting to three, mustering up energy, when I came to a step that was exceedingly high.
All day the weather was playing games with us: the clouds would set in so quickly we were sure the rain was coming, but instead ten minutes later the sun would break through and clear the air again. It got colder as we climbed and the cloud thickened, but this was such intense exercise that the coolness of the clouds forming around me was a great and welcomed relief. In the last fifteen minutes of the climb the clouds dispersed and the sun came out as if to reward us for our efforts. The views from the top were awe-inspiring (see previous blog). We were 3711m high, which is not particularly high, but we could see all the way to the ground below, making us feel like we’d come a long way. My legs were truly like jelly by this point, and as great as it was to reach the summit, I was very aware that we were only halfway through the challenge.
After a rather hideous lunch of greasy cheese and greasy bread sandwiches, we headed back down. I have to say that I enjoyed this part much more. It was mainly strenuous for my legs, but with less cardio vascular pressure, we were able to chat for most of the way down. Near the bottom, we found out from the guides that on the way up we’d been literally metres from one of the three gorilla groups that are habituated. The guides were not allowed to tell us this, as we hadn’t paid, but still it was extremely annoying. As we were discussing this frustration, we heard and saw the bushes moving to our right and Lorna (I wish I could say this too) saw the black fur of a gorilla! So, as little as this glimpse was, we’re claiming that we saw a gorilla!
Just past this point of jubilation, the terrain began to plateau and the true damage to my thighs became apparent. Within a few minutes I realised that I could no longer really walk. Lorna gave me her stick – I already had one – and I used them as crutches to get me down. Two minutes into this, I suddenly became very light headed and my nose felt very hot. I put my fingers to my nose and realised I was having a nosebleed. Adam and Lorna came to see I was OK and then I sort of fainted. I didn’t pass out, but a feeling of ecstasy came over me and I lost all control of my body for a few seconds. Ultimately, I was fine!
So this was the end of the volcano trek; an exhilarating, but exceedingly challenging climb, that left me unable to walk properly for a week!
To end this entry, there are a few things I want to mention about tourism in this area and the affect on the villagers. From one angle it can be said that the way tourism is handled here is excellent. For the gorillas, yes they are habituated to human presence, but people do not encroach on them all day every day. Only one group is allowed to visit them per day and once they are located, this one group are only allowed to stay there for an hour. Tourism has also created business within the area in terms of accommodation and eateries, but there is a negative side that seems quite out of hand.
The children here beg; they chase the cars with little awareness of their own safety, holding out their hands to the car windows. Some run alongside holding up pictures they’ve drawn of the gorillas, hoping for money. At some point, some expats, or tourists have made the catastrophic mistake of giving money to these children and in that second a precedent was set. You would think that the parents of these children would discourage it, but they actually are teaching their children to beg. We passed one woman on foot at the beginning of the climb and she told her toddler to hold out his hand to us. It is so tragic and I can see it will be a very hard thing to try and change. The guides on the other hand are aware of how negative and unproductive begging is and firmly tell tourists to not give the children anything, and tell the children to stop begging and to go home, but this does little to discourage them.
They see muzungus heading up the volcano everyday and they know that we are rich. Even if 9/10 times they beg and get nothing, they know there will be some ignorant, conceited tourist, who thinks they are ‘saving children’ by giving them a few dollars. But for these children, they are growing up to think that dependency is a good way of life, when instead they should be learning to be self-sufficient, relying on themselves for survival.
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