The volcano that was to be the final part of our 1975 spring-break tour is considered Africa’s most dangerous. As was typical of travel in Zaire, we had little knowledge of its particular unpredictability. Indeed, the very next school year, Nyiragongo erupted, killing scores of people — and then it erupted again in 2021, destroying part of Goma and forcing thousands to flee. 

“The next and final event of The Tour part of the trip was no less amazing than the first two: A climb up an active volcano, Nyiragongo, a 12,000-foot peak just north of Goma. We left about 10 a.m. and reached our huts near the top at about 5 p.m. It was a grueling climb but marked by dramatic changes of foliage and splendid views of the lake and other volcanoes. We ate dinner in our huts, then made the strenuous final climb to the top of the volcano. The view was breath-taking: A huge, perfectly circular bowl rimmed with sheer rock walls, filled for the most part with cool lava forming a hard black circle, and in the middle a gaping void plumed with smoke through which one catches views of huge black boulders thrown high out of liquid fire. The noise: a steady and powerful low rumbling.

“We stayed until after dark as the sight became ever more impressive. The red grew more brilliant, and the inner circle showed itself veined with tiny red lines, cracks of fire connecting pools of fire. I think for me this was the most amazing experience of all on the trip. I could never have envisioned such a sight, and never saw a better proof of nature’s awesome powers.”

“At this stage, our traveling companions returned to Kinshasa. We checked out of the rather posh tour hotel, walked to a mission we had been told of, left our Zaire money there, then hiked a few miles across the border into the country of Rwanda, which turned out to be a jewel of a tiny mountain paradise. We entered the town of Gisenyi and spent the first day walking all around it, looking for a camping spot. We finally found, through some Canadian missionaries, a lovely lakeside site, where we set up camp, took off our clothes and took a wonderful dip in the cool lake waters.

“The next day we walked back into town, buying some strawberries at the local market, getting some Rwandan francs at a bank, then sticking out our thumbs for a ride. Our destination was a town called Ruhengeri, about two hours away by a terrible mountain road. We’d been told that this Ruhengeri served as headquarters for Rwanda’s Volcanoes National Park, where we hoped to do some climbing. The ride, a wonderful one, and free, was in a huge truck driven by Ugandans who carried tea between the two countries. The trip was beautiful, through lush countryside sporting the hugest banana groves we’ve seen.

“When we pulled into Ruhengeri, we sought out the good sisters, having discovered already that Catholic missions are the best bet for clean, cheap beds and good, cheap food. (We had been told we could not camp in and around the towns.) Next morning, we begin a 12-mile hike out to the town that ACTUALLY was the park headquarters — no information (and no ride) being available in Ruhengeri. This turned out to be one of the most interesting things we did. The first part was on a path through banana groves and villages, the second part on a barely traveled road past more villages. When I say barely traveled, I mean by vehicle. We were part of a constant stream of foot traffic, and we have rarely felt so much a part of things, so little cut off from the majority. There we were, on foot like everybody else, carrying a heavy load like everybody else — though we were noticeable in that our packs were on our backs rather than on our heads. We were led at one point by a group some 15 girls, who were singing and dancing, and surrounded by scores of children.

“We made it to the base of one of the volcanoes, and there we camped. We found out that the hike to the volcanoes we had hoped to climb was even longer than the hike we had made that day, just to reach the base. Footsore as we were, we contented ourselves with our fine views of this most interesting string of six volcanoes, all different sizes and shapes. We had a nice evening, camping in their territory, and the next day we walked all the way back to Ruhengeri. We traveled back to Gisenyi in what’s aptly called a fula-fula, which you have to be a foola to ride in, as you’re all stuffed into the back of a truck standing up. Still, we made it to our destination, which was a mission we had noticed just outside of the city, where there was an art workshop and a guesthouse. We spent the night there, after attending mass in a Bantu language, with beautiful singing by the young schoolgirls. The next day we relaxed on a lovely sandy beach and took our last swim in pure water. (One cannot swim around Kinshasa for fear of getting all manner of horrid diseases.)

“We walked back to Goma, spent the night with the sisters there, retrieved our Zaire cash and purchased great piles of carrots, cauliflower, strawberries and huge potatoes, all grown in Kivu and virtually unattainable (or unrecognizable as themselves) in Kinshasa. We boarded the plane for an eventful trip home — with a connection in Bujumbura, Burundi, where we were almost crushed to death by people who had heard the plane was overbooked. (They were right). We got on, but people were sitting four on three seats — those who were sitting at all. It was a madhouse. It was Air Zaire. And thus we were re-introduced to Kinshasa, our wonderful adventure concluded.”

This would be the last big trip of our first school year in Kinshasa. Now we’d pour our energy into planning the summer-vacation adventure. We would travel through much of eastern and southern Africa —  and we would begin by climbing a very different volcano: Kilimanjaro.