Gorillas!

This weekend was our gorilla weekend and I think I speak for both of us when I say it was in the top five experiences either of us has ever had.

We left Kigali on a Friday afternoon bus to Ruhengeri, the town at the base of Mount Bisoke and Karisimbi. The bus was packed, and as we swerved around on Rwanda’s windy roads, our fellow passengers were busy singing religious songs in Kinyarwanda. A guy sitting next to us explained that, thanks to the songs, the whole bus would be saved. Given how close we were coming to the edge of the road, I was happy to hear that. I hadn’t yet been to eastern Rwanda and I didn’t realize how beautiful it would be. The volcanic mountains tower over the villages and at dusk a bluish orange glow sits over the foothills where they layer the horizon. From Ruhengeri we took another local bus up to Kinigi, a village at the edge of Volcanoes National Park, which is where the gorilla trekking happens. After getting off the bus we needed to find our way to Kinigi Guest House, a small hotel up the road from the village and just across the street from the government office where we would gather for the trek. Just as we were asking a police officer for directions, a car pulled up behind us and asked if we needed any help. I turned around to find Lisa, a girl I met at Canada Day, and her friend Ian, who also happened to be on their way to the same hotel. At the guest house, we also ran into Betsy, a public health student I know here in Kigali. Two quick reminders that Rwanda, and especially the ex-pat community, really isn’t all that big.

We were up early the next morning and by seven we were at the office, where we learned that we’d be seeing the Umubano group of gorillas. As the guide started to tell us about the group—their names, behavior patterns, etc—it really started to hit me that I was about to be face to face with the animals. I’d been excited all week, but this was the point when I started smiling and couldn’t stop. We met the rest of our human group, three tourists/consultants from Minneapolis, and then we were on our way to the base of the mountain. After a twenty minute African massage (our driver’s euphemism for the bumpy roads), we parked, received our walking sticks and armed escorts, and hit the trail into the park.

The climb is steep and constant as soon as you enter the park. Over the course of a couple hours, we ascended about 1,800 meters. The trail was narrow, slippery, and scattered with low-hanging branches and stinging nettles. As we went higher and higher, the view grew more and more spectacular, and the lingering clouds made it easy to understand why the movie was called Gorillas in the Mist. Professional trackers, some of whom were former poachers, spend the day on the mountain and they radio directions back to the guides. When we reached the trackers, we were asked to put down our bags and walking sticks. We then crossed the final thirty yards of hillside, trying our best not to slip, and all of a sudden we were face to face with the gorillas.

I was in awe.

Within seconds of entering the area, one of the young gorillas scampered over to the group and touched Betsy’s leg. Charles, the silverback gorilla, was sitting about ten meters away. The others in the group played around, groomed one another, wrestled, beat their chests, and stared back at us as we looked on. Whenever they came too close, the guides would grunt at them to signal them to move away but they didn’t always listen. There was an eleven-month-old baby in the group who was, of course, adorable to watch as she played around. She did her best Sisyphus impression, running up the hillside over and over, only to be knocked down by her sibling as soon as she reached the top. The entire group seemed relaxed, happy, and completely at ease in the presence of the guides. Each group of visitors gets a maximum of one hour with the gorillas, and I don’t think sixty minutes has ever gone by so fast.

Probably the most remarkable thing about the experience was how natural it all felt. None of it felt produced, altered, or artificial, and I left feeling that we’d treaded as lightly as possible.

The rest of the photos are up on Picasa.