Leaving Nyungwe National Park, I chose not to chase the smooth ribbon of tarmac leading straight to Huye. Instead, I veered onto the quiet trails that curl around the highlands, where every bend whispers a new story. The ride was unhurried, dictated by rocky slopes and narrow paths, yet it carried a rare kind of freedom. Out here, on roads less traveled, you don’t just pass through—you become part of the landscape.
Nyamagabe’s rural ridges unfolded slowly, giving way to Nyaruguru’s endless hills dotted with small settlements. Farmers waved with calloused hands, children ran barefoot alongside, and in those fleeting moments of connection, I discovered the true hidden gems of the Southern Province. They were not carved on maps or signposts—they revealed themselves in the rhythm of daily life.
The tea highlands surrounding Nyungwe are a world of their own. Shagasha, Gisakura, Gatare, Gisovu, Kitabi, and Mata—each estate stretches like a sea of emerald around the forest’s edge.
Crossing Mata’s plantation, I pulled over and lingered. The rolling hills shimmered in shades of green, the air was rich with the scent of tea leaves, and silence hung in the air, broken only by the rustle of plants swaying in the breeze. In that stillness, I felt what it means to ride free—not racing toward a destination, but pausing long enough to let a place reveal itself.
By the time I rolled into Huye, I carried with me more than muddy tires and tired muscles. What lingered was the quiet joy of discovery—the reward of choosing winding trails over the certainty of tarmac, of seeking out hidden corners where the land beats with its truest rhythm.