Rally, Ruhengeri.

On the way to Ruhengeri (recently renamed Musanze) in the northwest of the country, you can catch glimpses of the Virungas volcano chain that straddles the borders between Rwanda, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, in the distance. Their shadowy figures cut impressive shapes on the horizon, usually crowned by a halo of smoke or clouds. You can see the soil turn from burnt orange to ashen black. One of the most fertile regions of Rwanda, the region boasts those same patchwork hillsides I love covered in crops. People haul unwieldy bundles of fat purple sugarcane. Flimsy bicycles seem to groan under enormous sacks of potatoes that sag close to the ground. Trucks pass packed high with bunches of green bananas.


We had gone there to see a rally, a car race completed in alternating stages of racing and technical assistance over some seriously challenging terrain. This rally ran a course from Kigali to Ruhengeri, one riddled with cliffs, muddy roads, sharp turns, hills, huge pot holes, and precariously steep drops into water. In short, it seemed like a sick death wish to participate in such a sport. Family, friends and other spectators formed a caravan on the road there. Occasionally a racecar would whiz by, and we waved wildly. We stopped in a small village just short of Ruhengeri for the official start of the race and were swarmed by local kids.

They huddle around you with little regard for your personal space, staring at your face, clothes, and trying to peer into your bags. Their intense gaze makes me uncomfortable.

During a lull in the afternoon, we drove up to the Virunga Lodge.

The children stare, wave, and smile as if you’re the first muzungu they’ve ever seen, though surely that road has seen countless funny people traverse its terribly treacherous path, speckled with that porous black volcanic rock. They run alongside the car with huge grins on their faces.

"Muzungu!!!"

One boy in particular really raced himself breathless at my window and kept yelling ‘bic-a, bic-a!’ We thought perhaps he wanted a pen (bic), and so we slowed and I handed over a pen. He ran from the car holding it aloft as if he had just won some trophy.

The Carina (the Corona’s replacement but definitely not an upgrade) took a serious beating on the ascent, but once there, we could see that sacrificing the car to make the climb would have been worth it: the 360-degree views were fantastic. The lodge - completely eco-friendly and powered by solar energy – had unusual ‘dual drop’ toilets (meaning, one hole for liquid waste, and one for solid… yes, be careful how you aim!) that require a bit of skill to use.

There, surrounded by two crater lakes, volcanoes, lush green hillsides, and nothing but the sound of a rather loquacious cow, you feel a little bit like the cherry atop a nature sundae.