There has been a lot of confusion and concern over the Gorilla trekking. We should all have been trekking in Rwanda but it now seems we will all be trekking in different locations, on different days, mainly in Uganda. To add to the confusion the Big Yellow Truck will also be moving on as we trek, meaning we may end up spending a night away from the group. It seems I have been allocated one of the toughest treks and I am feeling a little nervous, to say the least. Several people have offered to swap but, despite my nerves, I hold my place. There’s already enough confusion and I would be mortified if I swapped and the person who took my place didn’t see the gorillas. Holding my place also gives my knee an extra day to heal but as we set off up the mountainside with the sun rising there are butterflies in my stomach.
Our group is lucky. There are only 5 of us as some people have not turned up. Our guides are fun and interesting and I am gratified that when we are asked if we want porters to help with our bags, the others follow my lead. My porter is Lonnard. He is young, strong, and anxious to please, taking my hand at every opportunity to ensure I do not overbalance or slip on the steep slopes and undergrowth. The start of the trek seems fairly simple and apart from the stunning jungle scenery, we could be going for a walk in a park (albeit a hilly park). We follow the track for a couple of hours and spot huge holes in the mud on the tracks. It seems we have to look out for mountain elephants as well as mountain gorillas. It does not seem believable that elephants can climb these very steep slopes and navigate the dense undergrowth and trees and I am keen to see how they differ from the elephants on the plains of the Masai Mara. But our guides are not so keen. These elephants are aggressive and tend to wander in large groups of 10 or more. They are nimble and strong and would easily outpace us in this unforgiving environment. As I struggle up the mountainside, we are actually climbing in parts and I have this vision of the elephants hauling each other up by their trunks. For my part, I am grateful for Lonnard carrying my day pack and am surprised that my knee is not causing more problems as I scramble over fallen trees and clamber up muddy paths.
Half way up the mountain we stop for a snack although it is well past lunchtime. I am beginning to doubt that we will ever see any gorillas as the previous groups had spotted them within a couple of hours max and we have already been trekking for 5 hours. We have only a couple more hours to search.
Whilst we are having our rest, 2 trackers appear. They are assigned to each family of gorillas and there is a mutual familiarity between them and the gorillas making it easier for us to approach. It seems we only have to climb a bit more to get to where our family is today. On we go, with the trackers making a path with their machetes as we go. Onwards and upwards, to infinity and beyond, or so it seems and I’m not sure how much longer my knee or my lungs will hold out.
Then Lonnard points to a tree in the distance. Peering over I can just spot the dark fur and big eyes, peering back. It seems so close but quite far away and we will have to descend before ascending if we want to get closer or is this it? Is this as close as we can get? The trackers continue ahead, chopping through the undergrowth. As we get closer, we spot several more of the gorillas, chomping away at a tasty meal of leaves. The others are much more able than me, and my injury is causing problems with my balance on the steep slope. As we get close, everyone has their cameras out snapping pictures, right, left and centre. I also want photos but more than that, I want the time and peace just to observe. But is impossible. Ursula, a German who joined our group at the last minute, bobs and darts around, her camera taking a hundred shots a minute. The gorillas are unfazed, and just keep chomping away. One guy (or is it gal), has made a little nest between some branches and is lying on his (or her) back just swinging from side to side. Next is a baby gorilla, clung to a tree trunk, blinking at us between the branches. Mum is just below, munching away, quite happy and relaxed.
Less than a metre away from me, an enormous black hand reaches to branch but there appears to be no arm attached to it.
I am happy just to sit there and watch but the trackers have found Big Daddy , the Silverback male and are hacking their way through. There is a stampede (or as much of one as our lot can muster perched on precipitous undergrowth on the side of a mountain) to follow them. I tread gingerly after them, Lonnard constantly checking that I am ok, and holding his hand out to steady me. Bless.
Ursula bobs her way to the front. The cameras snap snap away until suddenly he pulls a large branch down in front of him. The photo shoot has come to a close, our allocated hour is up and we have to make our way back. Down the mountainside, back through the undergrowth. Up the mountainside. There is no shortcut. We have to go back the way we came and now it’s raining. I say goodbye to Lonnard and we exchange email addresses. When I check it all becomes clear. The East Africans often confuse L & R. Lonnard is, of course, Ronald. By the time we get back we have missed the border crossing and the truck to Rwanda, so it’s back to Kisoro for the night. But every cloud has its silver lining and mine is a private room in a little guest house with ensuite and a HOT shower. Bliss.
Our group is lucky. There are only 5 of us as some people have not turned up. Our guides are fun and interesting and I am gratified that when we are asked if we want porters to help with our bags, the others follow my lead. My porter is Lonnard. He is young, strong, and anxious to please, taking my hand at every opportunity to ensure I do not overbalance or slip on the steep slopes and undergrowth. The start of the trek seems fairly simple and apart from the stunning jungle scenery, we could be going for a walk in a park (albeit a hilly park). We follow the track for a couple of hours and spot huge holes in the mud on the tracks. It seems we have to look out for mountain elephants as well as mountain gorillas. It does not seem believable that elephants can climb these very steep slopes and navigate the dense undergrowth and trees and I am keen to see how they differ from the elephants on the plains of the Masai Mara. But our guides are not so keen. These elephants are aggressive and tend to wander in large groups of 10 or more. They are nimble and strong and would easily outpace us in this unforgiving environment. As I struggle up the mountainside, we are actually climbing in parts and I have this vision of the elephants hauling each other up by their trunks. For my part, I am grateful for Lonnard carrying my day pack and am surprised that my knee is not causing more problems as I scramble over fallen trees and clamber up muddy paths.
Half way up the mountain we stop for a snack although it is well past lunchtime. I am beginning to doubt that we will ever see any gorillas as the previous groups had spotted them within a couple of hours max and we have already been trekking for 5 hours. We have only a couple more hours to search.
Whilst we are having our rest, 2 trackers appear. They are assigned to each family of gorillas and there is a mutual familiarity between them and the gorillas making it easier for us to approach. It seems we only have to climb a bit more to get to where our family is today. On we go, with the trackers making a path with their machetes as we go. Onwards and upwards, to infinity and beyond, or so it seems and I’m not sure how much longer my knee or my lungs will hold out.
Then Lonnard points to a tree in the distance. Peering over I can just spot the dark fur and big eyes, peering back. It seems so close but quite far away and we will have to descend before ascending if we want to get closer or is this it? Is this as close as we can get? The trackers continue ahead, chopping through the undergrowth. As we get closer, we spot several more of the gorillas, chomping away at a tasty meal of leaves. The others are much more able than me, and my injury is causing problems with my balance on the steep slope. As we get close, everyone has their cameras out snapping pictures, right, left and centre. I also want photos but more than that, I want the time and peace just to observe. But is impossible. Ursula, a German who joined our group at the last minute, bobs and darts around, her camera taking a hundred shots a minute. The gorillas are unfazed, and just keep chomping away. One guy (or is it gal), has made a little nest between some branches and is lying on his (or her) back just swinging from side to side. Next is a baby gorilla, clung to a tree trunk, blinking at us between the branches. Mum is just below, munching away, quite happy and relaxed.
Less than a metre away from me, an enormous black hand reaches to branch but there appears to be no arm attached to it.
I am happy just to sit there and watch but the trackers have found Big Daddy , the Silverback male and are hacking their way through. There is a stampede (or as much of one as our lot can muster perched on precipitous undergrowth on the side of a mountain) to follow them. I tread gingerly after them, Lonnard constantly checking that I am ok, and holding his hand out to steady me. Bless.
Ursula bobs her way to the front. The cameras snap snap away until suddenly he pulls a large branch down in front of him. The photo shoot has come to a close, our allocated hour is up and we have to make our way back. Down the mountainside, back through the undergrowth. Up the mountainside. There is no shortcut. We have to go back the way we came and now it’s raining. I say goodbye to Lonnard and we exchange email addresses. When I check it all becomes clear. The East Africans often confuse L & R. Lonnard is, of course, Ronald. By the time we get back we have missed the border crossing and the truck to Rwanda, so it’s back to Kisoro for the night. But every cloud has its silver lining and mine is a private room in a little guest house with ensuite and a HOT shower. Bliss.
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