From Tanzania, there are two options to cross into Northern Mozambique, which was our thirteenth and final country in Africa. There is a ferry that wasn’t running for the next five days due to low tides, and then there is the Unity bridge connecting Tanzania and Moçambique (as the locals write it). The obvious choice was the bridge since we were in a bit of a hurry to get back to ZA, sell the car, and explore a new continent. It is a very nice structure with enormous granite elephant tusks on either end. The border was easy as we were the first ones there (even before some of the employees). However, the journey was slow going because the roads after the bridge put Tanzania’s to shame.
We had read about the Mozambique police being some of the worst in Africa. Marcos and Natch were ahead of us, warning us that they’ll frequently stop you and want to search the car. He suggested that we buy waters to hand out along with some change as it makes the process move much smoother. However, we aren’t as sweet as them, so we refused to buy them something plastic that they would just throw on the ground. Being prepared certainly helped us keep our cool with them as they made us pull everything out of the car, and we almost made it out of Mozambique without a ticket, but then would it even be Africa if we had?
Five hours after we left the border, we arrived at Mueda, a little outpost in Northern Mozambique and the closest civilization to the border. We went straight to Ntima guesthouse, the only place mentioned in Lonely Planet as an option to spend the night. The good — it was the coolest place we had been in a while and we were able to finally get a good night’s sleep without waking up covered in sweat. The bad — there was no running water so we had to use the bucket of water in the bathroom to flush the toilet, a cup if we wanted a shower, and the same bucket of water from the bathroom to wash our dishes. Africa!
This was a new low for us.
Ilha de Moçambique
Our first major excursion was to visit Mozambique Island; it is connected to the mainland by a one-lane bridge, and the tide was so low in the morning that we could’ve walked across most of the way! The island is rich in culture and architecture as it was once the capital; conquered by the Portuguese in the early 16th century, it is adorned with colorful but run-down buildings, massive forts near the water’s edge, and plenty of places to worship.
This was some of the best architecture we saw in Africa.
We went to the museum where we removed our shoes and walked through the governor’s old stomping grounds. Our guide spoke little English, so Coons was crucial in translating our guide’s Portuguese with what similarities he could pick up from Spanish. The mansion had lots of Chinese and Indian influence as well — what a lavish lifestyle that man lived! What was most interesting was seeing old items we still use to this day like tea kettles. Rumor has it that you can dive near the island and find remnants of china from sunken ships!
The entry to the Portuguese governor’s mansion.
We had read that the best local spot was this place called Sara’s, but it was closed due to the power outage on the island. We decided on Rickshaw’s Cafe, a beautiful spot with ocean views and a nice breeze. Little children in their underwear (sometimes birthday suits) were jumping off a nearby pier to keep cool during the scorching afternoon heat. We had fish tacos for lunch which really hit the spot after the fourth consecutive day of peanut butter and bread.
Every now and then it’s worth it to spring for a good meal.
Nampula
After lunch we continued on, slowly making our way into southern Mozambique where it is considered safer, for there is a lot of political and cultural unrest in the North. Coons drove through his last city, Nampula, with the exception of Joburg (which he was now a pro) and we stayed in another stuffy, overpriced hostel. The kitchen had Coons dreaming of Westmoreland. We slept at a campsite, promising great views of the Zambezi River (lies) and a hot shower (there was no running water). Our supplies had to last one more day; we planned to meet Marcos and Natch at a campsite just short of Tofo with promises of running water, a shower, and friendship.
These kitchens are too damn small!
Marcos & Natch
We met up with Marcos and Natch at Goody Villas campsite in Inhassoro which had a nice ocean breeze and plenty of shade. We spent hours catching up, and we all cooked dinner together and shared pot-luck-style. Marcos was able to snag some prawns from a local fisherman, and Coons marinated chicken thighs and grilled them up! It felt nice to have company and swap stories (largely about the pesky police) well into the night.
We made sure to meet up one last time to celebrate the completion of our overlanding journies.
The next morning we left for Tofo, but Marcos and Natch wanted to stay an extra day. To be fair, that campsite was awesome, but we had diving reservations and a timeline. We would meet up with them once at the backpacker hostel in Tofo, and then again at our second home in Johannesburg, Westmoreland Lodge, where we shared one final meal together to celebrate the end of our African safari adventure together. We were able to meet up with them five separate times in four different countries! It’s been real, you two, see you in Barcelona!
Tofo
Tofo has some of the best diving in Mozambique, so we were excited to get back under the sea. We booked two dives with Peri Peri and went out one day later than expected due to high swells — they weren’t kidding about the swells; both of us felt wicked sick after each dive, although only one of us threw up off the edge of the boat (it was Coons!) On the first dive, we could feel ourselves swaying back and forth with the surge. We saw an enormous turtle, some batfish, and eels. One the second dive, a drift dive, we barely had to use our flippers as we were floating with the current like astronauts in space! We saw the biggest lobster we’ve ever seen and a lot of different colored starfish. We were a little bummed we didn’t see any more whale sharks or manta rays (which frequent the area), but we just love diving!
Large school of batfish.
When we weren’t diving, we were eating delicious seafood and hanging out at our backpacker lodge. We were back in Savannah (cider beer) territory which tastes delicious on a white sand beach. We enjoyed playing in the waves and chatting with other travelers. We wished we could’ve stayed longer in southern Mozambique and we understand why this is a popular tourist destination for Africans and ex-pats. We can definitely see ourselves returning for a visit. But alas we had reservations for Kruger on the 16th so the birthday girl could look for her African animal friends one last time! We didn’t realize we would miss South Africa this much!
We arrived at the border and pulled underneath a porte-cochère — except there was no valet to attend to PJ. Instead, a man greeted us and asked if Coons wanted to exchange money. He negotiated with one gentleman who scoffed at Coons’ exchange rate app saying that the internet was making his job much harder (read: he cannot rip people off as easily anymore).
The border was pretty standard as borders go. We signed in and paid for our visas, although, there is no fancy sticker for Tanzania. They just ask for $100 USD and give you a regular stamp and write in pen that you are allowed multiple entries for one year. Boring! If we’re paying that much, we at least want a sticker! We registered the car and needed to walk to the bank to deposit the funds. We tried one bank up the hill, but their servers were down. So we walked to the next bank past a police officer who greeted us in the oddest way as if we might be in trouble for not greeting him properly. After chatting for a bit with him, we went to the second bank where the attendant informed us that he dreams of going to Dallas because he knows a lot of Tanzanians that live there. This was a common theme throughout Africa. Each country, or region, has an area in the US that everyone goes to. Best we can tell, one person from the area goes somewhere in the US, then tells everyone it’s OK and more join them. From there, more and more come until it’s the only spot they would consider moving.
Once we were set we hopped in PJ and drove through the gate where we were immediately stopped and asked to pull over. An unofficial-looking man said there was a 10,000 Schilling (~$4.50) fee to pass through the gate. We said “no, thank you” and rolled up our window. He probably should have asked us before he let us through the gate! We had read on iOverlander that this man would be here collecting money illegally. Why the border patrol officers sitting around in the shade doing nothing don’t stop these men is beyond us, especially when they have signs with mission statements boasting about their commitment to safe, corruption-free crossings. All in all, this border was pretty painless though.
Crossing into Tanzania, we were rewarded with our first glimpse of vast greenness. It was breathtaking the number of palm trees for as far as the eye could see, and so so green. Of course, green means rain, but that was a problem for another day.
Book It
At this point, we had to be in Uganda to start volunteering, so we were trying to haul it through Tanzania as fast as we could. The roads were terrible! And by that, we mean that they were working on a road that pedestrians and cyclists used which was paved and smooth, and we were on bumpy, uneven, crimson mud off to the side. We wild camped both nights on the way to Uganda. The first was off a dirt road near a field where we saw some cows and a few people walking around, but no one bothered us. The second was a quarry that was being used for the road work. We tried to hide off to the side and distance ourselves from others, but as we were cooking our meal, a security officer approached speaking only Swahili. We managed to understand that we could camp here, but it’s dangerous because the locals aren’t happy with the construction, but he would protect us. He hung around to try and speak with us, and we decided we should feed him in exchange for his protection. He was very grateful for a full meal and some coffee (we were drinking wine but figured coffee would help him stay up). He even called his wife to tell her of his good fortune. After dinner, we went right up to the tent and passed an uneventful night.
The next morning we packed up in the pouring rain, again. The guard was nowhere to be found, so we left. Here you are still only allowed to drive 50 in towns and “not 50” outside of towns. However, there are towns EV-ER-Y-WHERE! The police are notorious in Tanzania for their speeding tickets, especially to overlanders. We got pulled over for the first time shortly before the border, but the officer told us he “felt the holy spirit of Jesus” and let us pass. Unfortunately, this would be the exception rather than the rule.
How fast can we go? Ah yes, “not 50.” Got it!
Hospital Detour
After leaving Rwanda, we were faced with another journey across Tanzania, this time West to East. We planned on a couple long driving days, but on November 26th, Coons started to feel really really sick to his stomach. Kourtney offered to take over, and surprisingly, he said yes immediately. Within a few minutes, Coons reported he might pass out, and as he was trying to roll down his window, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he went ghostly white. Kourtney pulled over and ran over to the passenger side of the vehicle. Not well versed in syncope, Kourtney checked for breathing and a heartbeat, yelling “HELP!” to anyone who might hear. Watching a body seize and convulse to provide oxygen back to the brain is fucking terrifying — there’s no other way to say it (he certainly doesn’t faint like a Disney princess). Find a nurse, doctor, EMT, or other medical professional and give them a crisp high-five for all they do! And what do you do when you’re in the middle of freakin’ nowhere speaking a foreign language?
Kourtney turned on Coons’ data to try and find a hospital as he regained consciousness. Providing a cool cloth for his head, she found a clinic, but a nice woman came forward from the crowd gathering to watch, pointing that there was a Mzungu hospital nearby and that she would take us there. Thank goodness ‘hospital’ is one of those universal words because this conversation was mostly gesturing. Our good samaritan and her friend crammed in the back and we went to the hospital. After one hour and $8 USD, we found out that Coons had a bacterial infection in his blood, and they sent us on our way with some antibiotics and pain killers. Kourtney’s first thought was today is the day we’re supposed to take our Bilharzia medication. Remember we mentioned that parasite living in the lake in Malawi? Well, you’re supposed to wait six weeks to take the medication and November 26 was precisely six weeks since we left Malawi. Leave it to Coons to be right on time!
So Kourtney continued to drive, watching Coons’ chest rise and fall beside her at he napped it off, but there was no way we were making it as far as we wanted. We stopped earlier than expected and stayed in a hotel. When we woke up to leave the next morning, the gatekeeper was washing our car, so we tipped him and were on way to an oasis on the hill.
Revenue Authority
After recovering in the hotel room, Coons was well enough to hit the road again. A couple of hours into the day, near Katesh, we were pulled over by an officer who had a WhatsApp picture of us driving 85 in a 50. We told him this was incorrect and that we’d read about police taking pictures of vehicles, changing the numbers, and then stopping them kilometers later. He showed us the time (30 minutes prior) and the date (today) and said this was legitimate. We told him this situation sounded sketchy, and he replied that they like to place the cameras where people cannot see, so they can see how fast people drive in towns when the police aren’t around. We told him we wanted to see the speed camera footage and we were happy to wait. He replied that his supervisor wanted to see us and he would need us to take him to the station 10 kilometers down the road. Thinking he might give up, we told him we had no room. So he pulled over another vehicle and was able to get a ride to the station with them, telling us to follow him.
The first thing the supervising officer said was that we had been arrested. This was either a great scare tactic or his English needed a bit of work. We explained our situation over and over to each man but they wouldn’t let up. They said it would take two more hours for the officer with the speed camera to arrive because he would have to take a bus. Not wanting to spend all day at the police station, we opted to pay the 30,000 Schillings ($13 USD). The officer then brought us to the bank and we deposited the money in the police account. He made a point to demonstrate that he wasn’t pocketing the money like we told him most police did. Then we walked back to the police station where we had to wait for a receipt. Another officer had to take a boda boda (motorbike) to deliver a new receipt machine because the one at the station wasn’t working. These men actually pay their own money for these rides back and forth! You have to admire their perseverance, I guess, although we would have been much happier with a warning.
The second time we were fined was leaving Arusha, a busy tourist town that could absolutely use police directing traffic to keep people safe and honest. We were super excited to finally be back in real grocery store territory — one-stop shopping is something we’ll never take for granted again. We had a delicious lunch of fish tacos, and we were heading toward Mt. Kilimanjaro. Instead, the Tanzania police have decided to single-handily keep the government afloat by fining (mostly, white) people. Outside of town, in the distance, was an officer in white in the middle of the road (in a not 50 mind you), standing with his hand straight up. He stopped us and called the man over with the speed gun. 57 in a 50 which is like 35 mph in a 31 mph. Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me?!
He told us to pay him 30,000 in cash and we said we wouldn’t pay him and would only pay a bank. And there was no way he was letting us go; we tried. Unfortunately, there was a bank right next to us, so he was all too happy to walk with Kourtney to deposit the money. He wasn’t even as cheeky as the other man, and she feels bad about it, but Kourtney lost her temper and bickered with the officer. We’re just trying to tour Tanzania and have a good time, and you know what, we are NOT feeling most welcome.
East Tanzania
Eager to put the police behind us, we headed to our next destination, Migombani Campsite. Marcos and Natch had raved to us about this place and after some pretty awful campsites in the West, we were very excited for a proper campsite again. We were only planning on staying one night, but after we pulled in, we knew we would be here at least two. Even though we were right outside the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater National Parks, we couldn’t pull the trigger on a visit. The national parks in Tanzania are incredibly expensive — to enter for the day with PJ would have set us back a couple hundred dollars. When we compared that to the parks in Southern Africa we were visiting for less than $50/day, we couldn’t justify it.
Doesn’t get much better than an infinity pool beneath a baobab tree.
After a couple of days resting at Migombani, we were eager to check out the next attraction — Mt. Kilimanjaro. We stayed at two separate campsites with views of this enormous beauty and caught the smallest glimpse of it at 6am the day of our departure. It was spectacular looking. There was even a rainbow peeking out in between the rain, sun, and clouds. To climb it takes seven days and around $2,500 per person. We cannot wait to return and conquer that beast!
One day we’ll be back for you!
Eventually, we would reach Dar Es Salaam, our gateway to Mafia Island. Dar, for short, is a busy city with a lot of construction currently going on. We like to play a game and guess in what year we should return to see the project finished; this one is at least a decade. We stayed in a nice hostel, and the women gave us a feast for breakfast. They win the award for best chapatis!
Mafia Island
We arrived at the local airport at 11am thinking we would buy flight tickets for the next day, but the travel agent said the pilot could take us at 4:30 that afternoon, so we said why not and booked it. We negotiated the price down quite a bit and then parked in the compound of the police department where they said we could leave our car for the three days. They even let us keep our keys after we protested!
This small charter plane was a better alternative to the ferry which left anywhere from 2am-5am depending on the tides and took about four hours. There is no safety equipment and no coast guard to speak of, so if it goes down, you’re gonna have a bad time. Thankfully, Mama Coons gave us some money so we used that to ride in style, Africa speaking. The plane ride was bumpy and seemed to be moving so slowly that we thought we might fall out of the sky, but we made it!
Arriving in style to Mafia Island.
We were there for one reason and one reason only — to swim with whale sharks. We had been chasing them around the globe at this point, missing them in Mexico in October and Honduras in November. We were out the next day on the first boat, and it seemed like they were just waiting for Coons. Afro Whale Shark Safaris doesn’t chum the water, so they get near the sharks, cut the engine, and then tell us when to jump out. Decked out in our fins and snorkel gear, we would duck underwater and try to swim with them as fast as we could. They were huuuuuggggeeee — the longest one around 36 feet in length. The water is murky because the plankton are plentiful, and they swam past with their mouths open; tiny yellow fish cruise in front of them just escaping a gulp. At their pectoral fins were small white fish dragging off them like an Olympian swimmer. It was just as awesome as we imagined, and after two hours, we were tired and happy.
You never knew when they would pass by, but each time was a thrill!
The nice thing about Mafia Island is that it isn’t as touristy as Zanzibar, so we weren’t being hassled, and we were paying local prices for fresh pineapple and mango. The local cuisine was pretty tasty and usually contained seafood to go alongside the normal rice and beans.
Eager to get back in the water, we decided to go snorkeling in the marina the morning before our flight back to Dar. We ended up snorkeling in the rain which was pretty cool and saw lionfish, starfish, eel, and the most elaborate coral. By the afternoon, the rain cleared to yield a bright sunny day — we had the sunburn to prove it!
We saw some of the most unique coral we’ve ever encountered off the coast of Mafia.
So we continued our journey, driving by day, and camping at some pretty cool places by night. Sometimes in the lush greenery, relaxing poolside in the heat; sometimes we were in the sand, relaxing in the hammock, or looking for crabs in the sand.
Crab people!
We’re not sure where it is best to view the African sunset, but it might be the beach! We will try and remember these accommodations and forget the ones in small towns with broken AC when it’s over 90 degrees out, no bug net when the place is infested with insects, and of course the blaring speakers at all hours of the night! The next day we would reach our final country in Africa, number 13, Mozambique!
Doesn’t matter if it’s day or night.Tanzania’s beach does it right.
Sadly, this will be our last installment of PJ in Africa as this chapter of our travels has come to an end. In case you want to catch up on this mini-series, you can find the other entries here (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5).
Uganda to South Africa
Living in Lugazi for a month meant much less time in PJ, although he was our mode of transportation to and from Hopeland School every day. Each morning we would navigate the dirt and mud, weaving around potholes and tractors to make it to school on time. In the afternoon, we’d drive back and hope that the traffic police wouldn’t stop us (they usually did). Since it was the rainy season, we usually returned with an incredibly dirty car, but thankfully the night watchman enjoyed washing cars at 3:00am so we got a carwash once a week.
Sometimes you gotta get a little mud on the tires.
Despite the limited use, PJ still found ways to act up. A week into our stay, we noticed the refrigerator had stopped working. We bought it six months ago! After some internet research, we discovered this was a common problem with Engel fridges and was typically solved by placing it upside down for a day, right-side-up for a day, and then plugging it back in. Whatever this did to the compressor, it started instantly after following those instructions. Crisis averted!
Near the end of our stay, PJ threw another wrench into our plans. The rear door wouldn’t unlock or open, no matter what we tried. This was the only way to get at the fridge and gear in the back, so there was no way we could continue without that functioning. Innocent took us to a local mechanic who disassembled the door, cleaned the locking mechanism, and put it all back together. We were back in business! Or course, this being Uganda and us being white, they gave us a price of $45 for 20 minutes of work. Thankfully Innocent was with us and negotiated it down to $20, which I’m sure is still five times more than a local would pay.
Five minutes later, the whole inside of the door was off.
After our volunteering stint in Uganda, we set out for Rwanda where we would leave PJ behind for our excursion into the DRC. After that, it was a drive across Tanzania and down the coast of Mozambique, finally ending back where it all started in Johannesburg. We encountered some rough roads and overzealous traffic police along the way and racked up $30 in speeding tickets (one for going 35 in a 31), but PJ didn’t give us any real issues (minus a blown fuse) as we made the long journey back.
On December 17, six months after we first took off in PJ for our wedding, we arrived back at our second home, Westmoreland Lodge in Johannesburg. Now, all we had to do was sell PJ, all our gear, and hop on a flight to Asia.
Anybody Need a Car?
Despite numerous posts and price reductions as we made our way back to South Africa, we weren’t getting much luck on a buyer for PJ fully loaded. We thought we had a couple from Israel who would put him to good use, but they decided that owning a car in Africa was more than they were ready for (which, to be fair, is probably true). Although we weren’t getting a lot of interest in the car with gear, we were getting a decent amount of interest in everything separately, so we made the decision to disassemble PJ to facilitate a sale and our quick exit.
Once we started posting items, we got plenty of responses, albeit at prices well below what we paid. Faced with the option of prolonging our stay in Johannesburg or a speedy sale so we could spend time in Malaysia, we opted to get out of there as quick as possible, booked a flight for December 24, and opened the floodgates to the sharks.
We posted everything on Gumtree (South African Craigslist) and a few Facebook groups – the South Africa Pajero owners group was by far our most successful post and was where we sold almost everything. Some of them even knew who we were from our earlier requests for assistance with the engine trouble – Oh, you’re the American couple with the engine problems — we were Pajero celebrities!
Friday, December 20 was the biggest day. After striking out on a couple of avenues for selling PJ, we finally had a buyer as well as a separate one for the rooftop tent, awning, and some cooking gear. Our first stop was in Pretoria where we met Jacques at his shop. He was thrilled to get our tent and awning for use on his family camper and even sent us some pictures later that week of his boys testing out the tent. We were super happy that our gear was going to a good home. Selling PJ himself was a bit sketchy and forced us to deal with a rather unsavory fellow, but he paid cash (without even test driving it himself) and we dropped it off at his house and quickly called an Uber. The reality hit on the way back – we were homeless again.
The end of an era.
With the big items gone and our flight deadline looming, we turned our efforts to selling off the rest of the gear in earnest. As each of our prospective buyers would come to our hostel, Coons would keep bringing extra gear out from our room to spread it on the porch like an overlanding flea market. One guy had to beg him to stop bringing items out because he couldn’t help himself, but Coons kept finding excuses to run back and grab a few more things. Everyone who came over was incredibly friendly and gave us some good tips about how we could sell the rest of the gear (or bought way more than they planned). We even have a few standing invitations to braai (BBQ) the next time we’re in South Africa!
Finally, we were down to some miscellaneous items that we loaded into a borrowed shopping cart (thanks Pick N’ Pay) and took to the local pawnshop to scrounge up some cash.
Totally normal thing to do.
We had a hell of a ride in Africa with PJ. We covered 30,000 kilometers (18,650 miles) over 10 countries. We visited 10 different safari parks, waded through rivers, drove through desert & beach sand, and climbed sections of roads that we honestly weren’t sure we could. It was such a great experience to be self-sufficient with a tent, fridge, and cooking equipment and be able to go anywhere we wanted on our own schedule. We met a lot of incredible people along the way – thankfully we kept the third seat as we used it quite a bit for other travelers – and saw a lot of things that wouldn’t be possible outside of Africa. PJ, you will be missed and we’ll never forget you (but next time, we’re shipping from the US!).
Happy to be back on the road, but dreading another border crossing, we decided to take the longer route through the Uganda mountainside. Not only was this a more scenic drive, but it would take us to our favorite type of border — an uncrowded one! Getting out of Uganda was fairly straightforward (other than a police officer asking us if we would buy him a soda) and entry into Rwanda wasn’t too bad either. Add that to the nice restroom facilities and this may be one of our favorite borders yet.
One thing we had to make sure to remember as we entered Rwanda was which side of the road to drive on. This was country number 11 for us in Africa and was the first right-hand side drive country we’ve visited. Now we had to drive our right-hand drive car on the right-hand side of the road — talk about confusing! We also had to be careful of the people. We’ve grown accustomed to people, animals, bicycles, carts, etc. being in the road at all times, but Rwanda took this to another level. There were people everywhere. Forget driving on the right side; we were basically in the middle of the road. After a couple hours of driving we reached our campsite at Red Rocks, a chilled-out hostel-type campsite that was a big supporter of the local community. They had plenty of local artwork, crafts, and even banana beer for sale (which was cheap, strong, and delicious). They also had some pretty eerie sculptures sprinkled around the campsite.
These things were real creepy, especially at night with a flashlight.
We passed the afternoon chatting with a girl from France, cooked a nice meal in the kitchen, and hung out at the campfire for the evening.
The next morning we were up and on our way to Gisenyi, where we would be leaving PJ for a few days while we ventured into the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). We found a nice hotel near the water that let us camp in the backyard, let us pick up fallen avocados, came with a delicious breakfast, and let us leave our car for free while we crossed the border on foot. We spent a rainy day inside taking advantage of their WiFi and then the next day we shouldered our heavy bags and set out for the border.
Virunga National Park
Not having a car made the border much smoother, and the National Park office helped us with the DRC visa process. Once we finished the formalities, we hopped in an old-school Land Rover and began making our way north through the hectic streets of Goma. After a couple of Ebola stops to wash our hands and get our temperature checked, we picked up our armed escort who would be with us at all times while we were in the country. After five months in Africa with no guards, this had the unintended consequence of making us feel less safe. Why do we need guards now?
We made it to Virunga National Park without incident and arrived at Kibumba Camp, our home for the next two days. We’re not sure if safari-chic is a style, but if it is, these guys nailed it. The main building was a beautiful, open-aired structure with a bar, a dining hall, multiple fire pits, and a great view of the volcano we would be climbing in a few days. Our tent came complete with a porch, a king bed, and an attached bathroom with a hot-water shower (although the tiny drain did little to prevent the water from invading our tent). All of our meals were included in the price and the three-course dinners were fantastic. We even returned to hot water bottles in our bed to ward off the nighttime chill!
Safari-chic at its finest.
That evening, before dinner, we received our briefing for the gorilla trek. Informative and entertaining, we learned quite a bit about the endangered eastern mountain gorillas we were about to visit. We were assigned to the Welungula tribe, a large family of 44 gorillas with five silverbacks and a wide array of young’uns.
Up early and with a shockingly on-time departure we set off into the jungle. Our ranger team consisted of 10 rangers – five had gone out hours earlier to find the gorillas and relay their position while the other five would accompany us on our trek. We were lucky and our family was only an hour away. Since the families are always moving, we could have had to hike up to six hours to reach them. Given how dense the jungle was, an hour was enough for us.
When they say ‘through the jungle’ — they really mean through the jungle.
We stopped just before the family to put on our face masks and get out the camera. Gorillas share 98% of our DNA so they are very susceptible to diseases. In addition to the face masks, we weren’t allowed to eat, drink, or spit anywhere near them to minimize our impact.
Then, we turned the corner and were immediately greeted by 5-10 gorillas of various ages going about their morning routine. Kourtney’s eyes immediately welled up as the rangers motioned us closer. We were told during our briefing that we would need to stay seven meters away from the gorillas but apparently the rangers didn’t get the memo as we got MUCH closer.
The gorillas were everywhere!
A couple times the smaller gorillas would start coming towards us, beating their chest, only to be turned away by a ranger. We spent the next hour visiting different groups of the family and following them through the jungle as they foraged for breakfast. We got within ten feet of the dominant silverback – he was huge!
Are you sure these guys aren’t dangerous?
Watching the gorillas in their natural habitat was incredible. The younger ones are incredibly rambunctious, alternating between wrestling and climbing trees that they would come crashing down out of. The larger gorillas were equally active, crashing through the jungle without a care as they searched for the perfect leaf. All too soon though, our hour was up, and we bid the gorillas farewell and returned to the lodge.
We were up early again the next day as we jumped back into the jeep, picked up our armed guards, and headed towards Nyiragongo Volcano. Our packs were fully loaded and we set off into the jungle, again with armed guards, to hike the 11,380 feet to the rim of the volcano.
The clear skies wouldn’t last — I guess there’s a reason they have a rainy season price.
Waiting for us was the largest lava lake in the world. The hike up was steep, but we managed pretty well with some long breaks that seemed more for our guards’ benefit than our own. Once we got to the top we were treated to a clear view of the lake a couple hundred feet down in the crater. Hissing, bubbling, and steaming – we couldn’t wait for the sun to go down for the real show to begin.
Our guides really didn’t like how close to the edge we kept getting.
As she so often does, Mother Nature had other plans. Once it started to get dark, heavy clouds rolled in and we were soon forced into our A-frame shelter as lightning and thunder crashed above us. As cool as it was, we were a bit bummed that we couldn’t see anything other than a red/pink haze from the crater.
Really cool, but not exactly the view we hiked up there for.
Determined to see the lava lake in all its night-time glory, Coons set an alarm and got up every two hours to check the weather. Finally, at 3:00am, we were rewarded with a perfectly clear night sky and an amazing view into the crater. We spent a half-hour enjoying the view and taking some pictures and videos before cold and exhaustion sent us back to bed.
There it is!
The next morning we had an uneventful hike down, crossed the border back to Rwanda, and walked back to our campsite.
Kigali
Since most of the tourist activities in Rwanda were well above our budget (gorilla trekking is $1,500 vs. $200 in the DRC) we decided to spend a few nights in the capital. Whenever you think Rwanda, one of the first things that comes to mind is the genocide that took place in 1994. On our first day in the capital, we went to visit the Kigali Genocide Memorial — which doubles as the final resting place for 250,000 victims and a museum to learn more about what happened. The most remarkable thing, beyond the capacity for violence committed by the Hutus, was the way the nation went about healing itself.
Kwibuka means ‘to remember’ and refers to the 25th anniversary of the 1994 genocide.
Rather than bog down the courts and prisons for years with trial after trial, local trials, called Gacacas, were established to mete out justice within the community. This was a place for victims to be heard and face their attackers and gave those who committed the atrocities a chance to seek forgiveness. The jails still ended up with their fair share of inhabitants, but these trials jumpstarted the healing process and set the country on a better path. We also learned that despite the fact that the genocide left thousands of children without parents, there are no orphanages in Rwanda. Extended families, religious leaders, and community members all came together to ensure that every child had a place to go. It was a powerful memorial, punctuated with plenty of video and interviews with survivors and left us in awe that the country could put itself back together so quickly.
On our last night in Kigali, we decided to use Mimi’s Thanksgiving gift a few days early to take advantage of the dining scene in the capital. We went to a fantastic restaurant near our hostel and feasted on steak and pork belly. It tasted especially good after a month eating maize meal and beans in Uganda.
Happy Thanksgiving!
This was an amazing detour that we made, thanks in big part to a wedding gift from Mimi & Papa; the day with the gorillas and the night on the volcano are memories that will stick with us forever.
