Tracking Gorillas in Rwanda

Visit the last mountain gorillas in their Rwandan haven

 

 

Encountering the last mountain gorillas face-to-face is one of the most memorable wildlife experiences I have ever known. Only a few hundred of these endangered giants survive in the remoter parts of the highlands shared between Rwanda, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Although the primates live in protected national parks, the Rwanda tourist office organises some restricted gorilla-tracking visits. I simply could not pass up such an opportunity! Even though the fee is hefty ($250 plus another $25 to enter the park), it is the price to pay for ecotourism, since the revenue goes towards conservation efforts and local community projects.

As soon as possible, I headed north from Kigali, the capital, on the "Virunga express", a service of Toyota mini-vans commonly used as public transport. The only white person in the van, squeezed in between way more passengers than the van was conceived for, I spent the three-hour long ride admiring the view.

Known as the "land of thousand hills", Rwanda is a country of understated beauty. Even the steepest hills are terraced, with tiny plots quilting the reddish-brown earth. Shimmering eucalyptus trees line the roads. Finally we reached the small town of Ruhengeri, above which loomed the huge mass of the Karisimbi volcano, turning blue in the late afternoon light.

The next morning before sunrise, while the surrounding volcanoes were still veiled in a rosy mist, I shared a ride with other tourists to the Parc National des Volcans. The park was the base for Dian Fossey, who studied the primates here in the Virunga mountain range for two decades, as recounted in her biography "Gorillas in the mist".

At the entrance, we were divided into small groups of 8 people and assigned guides. Each guide is in touch by walkie-talkie with trackers on the slopes of the volcano, to guide the visitors towards the few groups of gorillas who have been habituated to human presence. We set off along pastures and fields, then into the thick rainforest. We trudged up muddy paths. We clawed our way through thickets of bamboo. We clambered over fallen trunks. We sweated. At last, after hiking more than two hours, we reached a ridge. Ahead of us lay the crater of the dormant volcano, covered in thick, lush vegetation.

"The gorillas are down there," said the guide, pointing to what looked like impenetrable green. Working our way down, we came across the trackers. The family of a dozen individuals that they had been following was just a little further on, so it was time to prepare for our encounter. Drop our rucksacks here. Take nothing but cameras, flash off. No pointing. No shouting. No touching the animals. And our hushed group marched ahead excitedly.

All of a sudden, my first gorilla was there. Yes, right there! A mere three steps ahead, just off the path. An enormous mass of coarse black fur, squatting peacefully, her brown eyes gazing in our direction. With her head cocked inquisitively to the side, it looked like she was slightly amused. I walked right past, snapping photos.

Then we spotted a pair of juveniles playing in a clearing. They were instantly recognisable as youngsters by the hair standing straight up from their heads, like teenagers' brush cuts. They picked at each other, rolled over, showing their little potbellies, scratched, nibbled at shoots. A small female observed a fern leaf she had pulled, obviously considering whether to snack on it.

All were totally unperturbed by their awed visitors. In fact, they quite plainly ignored us. For us, on the other hand, it was a moment of great intimacy with the gorillas, as if we were peeking through their living room window. Several metres away, I noticed a large black mass climbing up a bamboo stalk, which inevitably started to bend more and more until the gorilla and its perch both came crashing to the ground.

Then a tracker pointed out the silverback, the dominant male of the group. Its pointy head looked so massive that I figured I couldn't have circled it with my arms – had I wanted to approach the formidable beast. That would have been unwise, of course, since the silverback is the leader of his group, watching over the females and juveniles during rest sessions and will defend them fiercely.

Before we knew it, our allotted hour with the gorillas was over. Still wonderstruck, we made our way down the mountain, leaving the gentle giants to their quiet lives.