When Cecilia and I were first planning our trip, we had decided that an adventure we absolutely had to make happen was trekking with gorillas. We had the perfect opportunity – our good friend Campbell had been living in Goma, within the Democratic Republic of Congo, for a few years. Virunga National Park, one of three places in the world to see the mountain gorillas, was a short drive from Goma, and Campbell knew quite a few people at the park and would be able to arrange for a truly unique trekking experience. We settled on an approximate date and talked my brother, Jacob, into flying out from Chicago to join us.
We were three weeks away, when we received the fateful WhatsApp message from Campbell – there had been an “incident” in the park and our plans were in jeopardy. Turns out the “incident” was two British nationals being kidnapped in Virunga. They ultimately were released, but one young park employee lost her life, and the DRC decided to shut down entry into the country completely for tourists until at least 2019. And just like that, it seemed apparent that the once-in-a-lifetime adventure we’d been planning, the one my brother was flying 8,000 miles to join, was not going to happen. The only two other places to see gorillas were Volcanoes National Park in Rwanda and Bwindi Impenetrable National Park in Uganda, and considering we were three weeks away, permits for our dates had been sold out for months.
We didn’t completely give up hope, though. We’d read online that there was often a secondary market for previously allotted permits that different tour operators were able to get their hands on. We had agreed that we’d search feverishly for permits to Bwindi — Volcanoes was just too expensive at $1,500 per permit (and that was on the primary market — who knew what astronomical price they might ask for on the secondary market). Cecilia started shooting off emails and WhatsApp messages to any possible contact information we could find on the internet. After a few hours, we got a hit. A Ugandan tour operator claimed they could get us five permits (Nina, Campbell’s now fiancée, would be joining us), we just needed to wire the costs of the permits, plus a 10% mark-up for the finders fee, to a bank I’d never heard of before. We did as much research as possible into the legitimacy of the company and decided it seemed legit enough to take the gamble. I made the wire transfer, all the while thinking about how we had just been duped by a more sophisticated version of the stereotypical “Nigerian prince” scam.
Turns out we weren’t scammed at all. In fact, the company (Uganda Adventure Safaris) couldn’t have been more pleasant to work with. They kept us updated on permit status the whole time, and ultimately delivered them in person to us when we arrived at our hotel in Kigali. The gorilla trekking was on and we couldn’t have been more excited.
The day had finally arrived — we headed to the park, got our safety briefing with about 80 others, and broke off into smaller groups. The gorilla trekking at Bwindi is a well-orchestrated operation — small groups of rangers track each of the 10 habituated families of gorillas overnight, then radio in their location to the guides leading each group of trekkers in the morning. We were in a group of 8, all relatively young and fairly fit, which meant we were assigned the Kahungye Family, who were located a bit deeper into the forest than the other groups.
We hopped into Campbell’s old model Toyota Landcruiser (a preferred method of transport in this part of the world — able to handle the rugged roads with ease, but built so stiff that each passenger feels the full magnitude of every bump) and tailed the rangers until we arrived at the top of a bluff on the edge of the forest. We joined forces with armed rangers, and after brief introductions, we set off into Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. After 15 minutes, it became very clear how the national park received its name, and why this is one of the few locations left that the endangered mountain gorilla still resides. The forest was thick, immense, and a shade of green that you associate with an abundance of life. We continued along for a couple hours, up and down the muddy slopes, across a few streams, until we met up with the rangers who had been tracking the family. Rangers and lead guide then veered off the path and began hacking towards our final destination with his machete. After another 50 meters we stopped and were introduced to the Kahungye Family.
Sitting a little more than an arm’s length from a full-grown, adult gorilla, was a surreal experience. I was blown away by how gentle they looked – their eyes conveyed a sense of calm that I never could have imagined. That said, I couldn’t help but think that one mistake on my part could result in any one of them choosing to rip the limbs from my body and use them as toys. At one point, I got within a few feet of one of the family’s three silverbacks and just watched him chew away at his breakfast. He frankly couldn’t have cared less about my presence and was much more interested in finding the tastiest leaves within reach. The years of repeated encounters with humans who never threatened them had led to this type of reaction – it’s almost as if we were just another animal passing through, in a forest where they are the kings.
It was near the end of our time with the family that things started to get exciting. A ranger motioned me to follow him — there was a clearing up above and a couple of the juveniles were playing around. I tucked in behind him and we headed upwards. Then all of a sudden, I heard a rustling through the trees headed straight for us. What transpired next was the most terrifying, yet most exhilarating experience I’ve had on our entire trip. A huge silverback emerged from the thick jungle in front of us. He stood tall, raised his arms, and barked at us in a threatening manner. The hairs on the back of my neck shot straight up as I tried to keep from soiling my pants. As I froze, I tried to remember our training for this situation — I could remember three key things: don’t run, don’t look the gorilla straight in the eye, and sure as hell do not threaten the gorilla back. I was dumbfounded when the ranger in front of me broke two of those rules — he stared down the gorilla and threatened him, machete raised high in his right hand. Was this guy insane? No way was this a good idea. The two of them traded threats and I fumbled around to get my camera and start shooting. The ranger made one final threat, motioning further with his machete, and the silverback finally backed off. Amazing. My heart was pounding as I turned around to the others in the group wondering if they saw what transpired — most were too far back and hadn’t really seen the exchange (though Cecilia caught most of it). Now that I was seemingly safe, I reflected on just how awesome that experience had been (while also getting annoyed that the few photos I was able to get off weren’t quite in focus).
The hour that we spent with the family of gorillas will hopefully remain in my memory until my final days. It was truly a once in a lifetime, pinch me I can’t believe it, type of experience. I only hope the experience will be available to future generations — the gorilla population was absolutely decimated through the 20th century, but is now on a slow and steady rebound. Let’s hope it continues.
