I wasn’t prepared for the humidity, or for the sudden cloud bursts that, though brief, kept us perpetually damp. I definitely wasn’t prepared for the sections of swamp that bisected the trail. I say trail, but what I mean is the very narrow path hacked into the forest by two machete-wielding, uniformed men. They looked more like soldiers than park rangers. So did the man carrying the rifle. Our guide told us that the gun was to protect us from charging elephants, that the gorillas were rarely, if ever, aggressive. I understood later that the primary danger lay not with animals at all, but with poachers, hoping to sell baby mountain gorillas, elephant tusks, and other rarities on the black market.
Part 1: The Experience
The villagers in the surrounding areas have long referred to the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest as “the Place of Darkness.” Located on the western arm of the Great Rift Valley, it is one of the most biologically diverse environments in the world. “Bwindi” is derived from the local word for impenetrable, and refers to the impossibly dense hardwood groves layered with bamboo thickets and wrapped in a treacherous blanket of undergrowth.
The forest feels primordial, even other-worldly. I hesitate to call it a park, even though it technically is one. It seems wrong, discordant, to assign such a tame label to such an intrinsically wild place. I feel like an intruder, unbalancing some ancient, perfect symmetry with my neon backpack and elaborate camera lens. The forest feels like a living organism, pulsing and loud, brooding, rejecting our incursion with its own kind of brutal intensity.
In addition to vaguely menacing, the forest is beautiful. Sunlight filters through the dense overhead canopy, stealing in between breaks in the overcast sky and splashing onto the ground in a patchwork of yellows and grays. Tiny red blossoms drip from vines clinging to the edge of the trail. “Green” seems kind of like “park” in any description of this place, woefully inadequate given the complicated intensity of the forest’s color palette.
Our hike begins early. The guide explains that trackers have been out for hours, walking to the gorillas’ last known location before beginning the tedious process of finding them in the forest’s mountainous expanse. We’ll hike into their territory and wait for the trackers to radio in a more exact location.
The trail starts out passable, if muddy and rocky, winding along the edge of a narrow river. It’s when we veer off the marked trail, following one after another behind the machete-weilding rangers, that the going gets tricky. Low vines that have dodged the machete’s blade snake across the path to trip us, exacting revenge for our trespassing. There are some sort of invisible thorns or nettles that sting me repeatedly as I push my way through the forest. Giant ants bite my legs through thick socks, their jaws clamped through the wool even in death. We are taking the most direct path to the gorillas, across streams and muddy bogs, pulling ourselves and each other up cliff faces and crashing down the other side. The ground is invisible under the carpet of plant life, and drops away suddenly beneath us more than once.
There are two American women in our group; they’ve hiked out to see the gorillas every day of their week-long vacation in Uganda. I shudder at the idea of attempting this hike more than once. There’s a German doctor with us as well, a biologist who’s dedicated his career to studying primates, but never experienced them in the field until today. For many, this trip is the experience of a lifetime, the culmination of months of planning. The nervous excitement is palpable as we plunge deeper into the jungle.
I expected to hear them before we saw them, but the forest’s buzzing drowns out any new noises. There is no preamble, no warning from our guides, as we stumble into a sun-drenched clearing, perched, it seems to us, on the side of a cliff. It’s here that this family of mountain gorillas has chosen to begin their day.
The Bwindi Impenetrable Forest is home to 320 mountain gorillas, half of the total population remaining in the wild. Four of the gorilla families have been habituated to humans and receive up to one visit per day, for no more than one hour, six days per week.
This gorilla family is spread out over the side of the mountain, and we’ve found two adolescents and, much to the group’s delight, the silverback who at this juncture at least, has been charged with caring for the group’s infant. Though most of the gorillas ignore our intrusion, accustomed as they are to awe-struck visitors, the infant seems almost as curious as we are. He stares at us, twisting dramatically in the vines over the silverback’s head. I would happily have watched him for hours, somersaulting from tree branch to tree branch in joyous abandon.
The hour is over too quickly; I feel like we’ve only just arrived as we prepare to depart, even though we’ve drifted with the gorillas as they’ve ambled casually from bamboo copse to bamboo copse, feasting on the tender shoots and leaves. They move through the jungle with such grace and power, their easy movements defying their hulking size and obvious strength. Our group is frequently left behind, hurrying to catch up, lest we lose them in the dense, noisy wild.
Part 2: The Logistics
The logistics of silverback gorilla trekking are fairly straightforward, but do require some advanced planning. Due to the strict limitations placed on the number of tourists than can visit the park each day, purchase your permit well in advance. Permits are available at the park’s office in Kampala, from a variety of tour operators, and online. Permits purchased online can be either picked up in Kampala, or for an additional fee, delivered to your hotel.
At $500 each, gorilla trekking permits are expensive. I consider myself a relatively thrifty traveler, and agonized over my decision to buy one. When weighing the decision for yourself, consider the reason for the steep prices – the Ugandan government is competing with an army of poachers and thieves in its efforts to protect the gorilla and elephant populations of the forest. The steep price for the permits allows the park service to hire more rangers and pay them a salary that, while not extravagant, at least helps deter cooperating with poachers. Finally, the cost of the permits allows the government to keep visitors to the park at a manageable level and maintain the integrity of the gorilla families.
Transportation
There are endless options, depending on your travel style. Many people choose to organize their trip through tour companies in Kampala. Having a professional take charge of all aspects of the trip is certainly simpler, but comes at a high cost. We chose to take a bush plane from Entebbe to Kisoro, a small mountain town near the park, a few days before our trip and spend some time acclimatizing to the additional elevation and exploring the countryside. This option allowed us to see so much more of the country and experience the diversity of its village populations.
Equipment
It’s impossible to predict the difficulty of each day’s hike, as the path is wholly dependent on where the gorillas have wandered during the night. The park’s website recommends planning for between two and six hours of walking. During my hike, which was on the longer end, I was happy to have brought the following:
Long range camera lens: Even though you will likely end up in close proximity to the gorilla family, a long range lens allows you to capture a greater level of detail in the photo. Spend some time learning about the different features on your camera, particularly those that allow you to shoot in low-light conditions. We were fortunate enough to meet a photographer for National Geographic at our lodge who was kind enough to review our camera settings with us before the hike.
Poncho: It will probably rain, and it will definitely rain if you don’t remember your poncho. Wearing something that protects your backpack as well will save your fancy camera equipment from the vagaries of the weather.
Serious hiking boots: Our hike involved a lot of mud and scrambling and wading through water and sliding down cliff faces. A sturdy pair of hiking boots and socks will certainly make the trip more comfortable.
A change of clothes. No matter where you end up staying, the drive out of the park back to civilization is a long one. Having dry clothes and sandals to change in to before we departed made the return trip much more enjoyable.
Let’s be fearless,
Jen