Gorilla trekking. It's the sort of experience that animal lovers and wildlife photographers put on their lifetime bucketlists. During high season, the coveted 80 slots per day are booked months in advance. So it's a bit embarrassing to admit that I hadn't planned to see these massive primates firsthand. Or even worse, having done very little research on the country, I landed in Kigali thinking the "thing" to do was see the orangutans (for the record, Rwanda doesn't have any of those). I haven't even seen
Gorillas in the Mist.
But I'm the spontaneous type. Between an abbreviated web search on Rwandan tourism and colleagues in the US spurring me on, I caved quickly and dropped the cash. Let me say, it's not cheap. However like any other safari experience, I have yet to meet a tourist or expat who will tell you it's not worth it. I am fortunate in that I'm here for work, so to pay to come back to do it would be a far larger bill (as you can see I'm still justifying the expense).
November is one of the two rainy seasons, so tourism is typically lower. Along with the ebola scare (which might I add is about as far from Rwanda as SF is from NYC), the tourism industry is hurting. For me, that meant booking one day in advance was not only possible, but quite smooth.
It was a spectacularly clear morning, and as each Rwandan I spoke to commented on what a beautiful day it was, it dawned on me just how lucky I had gotten. Arriving at the visitors' center, the guides split us up into groups of eight or less. My group would be trekking to the Amahoro troop, one of the larger families with 18 members including a few babies.
There are approximately 880 mountain gorillas left in the world today, making them a critically endangered species. All are located on volcanoes which straddle the borders of Rwanda, the DRC and Uganda. The DRC also has lowland gorillas, though for security reasons does not have active tourism. The gorillas of course can go across these borders. For example, seven years ago a troop from the DRC migrated to Rwanda and settled. Now the Rwanda Development Board monitors them. "They got new passports," our guide Fidel joked.
After a short orientation, Fidel (not named after Castro, he insisted) led us through the fields of potatoes and pyrethrum daisies, where Rwandan children jumped up and down, screaming "Hello! Hello! Hello!". Then began the real hiking, a vigorous, uphill trek I'd categorize as medium difficulty. We marched along a narrow path beneath the vines of the cloud forest, our boots clomping in the mud. After an hour, the terrain changed as we climbed higher into the bamboo forest. This was where we'd find the gorillas. A team of four trackers communicating with walkie-talkies led us further up, and our guide instructed us to keep our voices to a whisper. Finally we were told to drop our gear - to our right was a male teenager having a snack.
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| Bamboo munching |
Amahoro means "peaceful" in Kinyarwanda, referring to the demeanor of the male leader, a silverback named Ubumwe. I haven't spent a lot of time hanging out with gorillas, but from what I saw I'd say that's an apt description. Following the teenager down the mountain a few meters, we watched in awe to be so close to this humanlike creature. But it was only just the beginning.
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| Gorilla on the right cleaning himself |
Of the 18 gorillas in the troop, we spotted 10 or 11 of them. Snacking on bamboo and leaves, scratching their bellies, napping on a particularly comfortable bush. Fidel and the trackers made low grunting noises to keep the gorillas calm. This group was unusual in that there was more than one older male, though only the leader could mate with the females. As we sat watching the three older males, there was a rustling and out of the bushes just above our group came one of the older females with her 4-month-old baby on her back. She came down the mountainside directly towards me. Pausing to smack the leg of one of the trackers she recognized, she then passed less than a meter in front of me and settled herself a bit further down the mountain. To prevent transmission of human illnesses, visitors are supposed to keep a 7-meter distance from the gorillas. But obviously the gorillas don't know this, and you end up in closer proximity than you'd expect.
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| The lead male enjoying a nap in the sunshine |
After an hour of photography, barely contained excitement and quiet observation, Fidel told us it was time to go. The gorillas must have sensed we would be leaving soon as well. Through a series of grunts, the leader communicated that it was time to move. As the troop began to migrate back up the mountain, the mother and her baby stopped directly in front of me - if I had reached out I could have touched her. Almost as though she was posing for the photos, she held her baby in front of her and look at us. After a minute, she cradled her baby onto her back and followed the troop uphill.
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| Posing calmly for the photo |
Back up at the meeting spot, we found the gorillas circled around where our gear had been (the trackers and porters moved it just in time). Surveying their surroundings and again munching on some bamboo, we snapped photos of the 8 or 9 of them from a few meters away. Then they were off again, following the leader further into the forest. Meanwhile we turned around heading back down the mountain, grins plastered on our faces. All I can say is it was an incredible experience I'm not going to forget anytime soon. The pictures can never do it justice, but here are some more anyway.
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| Momma and baby |
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| My closeup with a blurry gorilla in the background |
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| Fidel, the guide |
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| Beyond the mountains, Uganda to the east and the DRC to the west |
