After our training in Entebbe, we decided to spend the weekend at the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest to observe how our closest animal relatives live.
Now, Gorilla trekking is not for the faint of heart, the skittish or the unfit and Bwindi is not called the impenetrable forest for nothing. My battle scars and a sore bum are proof of this. Additionally, the cost of gorilla trekking could be prohibitive, it’s easily 500USD or more – a percentage of the money goes for conservation efforts, the escort of armed guards to protect us from another type of forest guerilla – many rebels also live in the forest – and our permit into the protected forest. Luckily for us, low season brings a discounted price, few encounters with rebels and a group fare, allowing us to split the costs.
At our misty 7am briefing, we are told that there are about twelve habituated gorilla families in the forest, meaning that they are wild but unbothered by the presence of humans and we received multiple cautions that did not necessitate the use of coffee to jolt us awake “don’t run”, “don’t carry food”, “don’t feed the animals” and most importantly “don’t touch them” as we could infect them with unwitting human diseases…
We’re off. We (mainly me) clambered ungainly through the thickest of forests ever encountered. The overgrowth and the undergrowth made walking challenging. I was much unprepared for the trek and my left sneaker at one point decided to abscond from my foot, causing my guide the scurry down the river behind it! Sometimes morning light would peak through the trees but it’s mostly dark, dank and bushy. I dare not remove my rain jacket though it is hot and muggy, it provides needed protection against bugs, stinging nettle, thorny bark trees and other felt-but-unseen-forest-inhabitants. This is real jungle.
Then, all of a sudden, our pygmy guide perks up, and stops… he starts to make this grunting noise deep in his chest, animal-like. The Forest Park Ranger says that he has tracked a gorilla. I personally didn’t see any gorilla but I was kinda hungry and tired, and too trekked out to argue especially as his grunting was a bit off-putting.
But then, he pointed him out, through a small clearing we could see an alpha male just four feet away, chomping on some leaves. He was big, black and handsome and big and in my mind we almost stepped on him. Did I say he was big?
It was at this moment that I stopped breathing and the magnanimity of this close encounter bore down on me. We were about to reveal ourselves to a wild animal, in his habitat, an animal that may or may not appreciate our approach, an animal that in one fell swoop could kill us all. I remembered a quote that I once read that said if you ever being chased by a bear, you need not be the fastest but you need not be the slowest in your group. I looked at my trekking companions. our eyes had grown huge in our heads and I fell back a little realizing that if it got down to a foot race, I wanted to better my position and be the first one to jump a hasty forest retreat.
Our guide cut through the brush and there in front of us was this Alpa male, a silver-back, so called because of the silver hair running down his back. We observed him as he gorged on his leafy breakfast… who says herbivores are skinny? This guy was easily 500 pounds. I said he was big, right?
Our eager photographer got a little too close to the animal for his liking, and he turned and swiped at him, causing us all to gasp and me to experience temporary bladder malfunction. This is not kindergarten. This is real life. The pygmy guide got between the two and started his grunting again, apparently this was gorilla speak for I come in peace. The animal went back to his breakfast – apparently his leaves were the equivalent to forest bacon and eggs.
Soon Mr handsome got up and started ambling though the forest on his stumpy legs, the pygmy had us follow him at a respectable distance. Every now and again the gorilla would reach up and pluck at a few leaves, stuffing them into his mouth with one hand, and lumbering through the forest on the other. We struggled to keep up, fighting off gnarly branches and thick undergrowth. He eventually led us to his family of six, his wife was busy feeding herself and their four children – breakfast was being served.
They knew we were there and glanced at us ever so often, human-like, the children were romping in the trees, with one frisky teenager annoyingly taunting his mother as she ate; maybe he wanted pancakes for breakfast instead of bacon and eggs.
This was surreal. But its only when the Alpha male stops eating and locks his gentle brown eyes with you that you feel a sort of connection, a sacred empathy – its unnerving and you feel maybe he is trying to tell you something…. Maybe he wants you to tell the outside world about him, maybe he is just fed up of people coming to stare at him like he is some kinda animal… his gaze sweeps back protectively to his family and you figure out maybe he just wants to eat breakfast in peace with his family.
The hour quickly passes and we make our retreat, never turning our backs to the family, not knowing where we are stepping, but stepping back slowly. After a respectful distance, we turn and make our way unsteadily out of the forest – nervous and anxious not sure if we are being followed, not sure if we would encounter another family on the way, but we didn’t, at the end of the trek, we got an opportunity to eat and we all gained certificates of accomplishments.
It was truly a profound experience, unbelievable.
To share an hour in the wild in the company of an animal that is almost human and on the brink of extinction.
It’s an experience that causes you to reflect on your own impact on the planet and on your shelf-life.
It’s an experience that you are likely to never ever forget.