Mzungus in the Mist

First let me explain: mzungu means “white person” or “foreigner" in Swahili; our “mzungu-ness” became a common joke throughout the day of our gorilla trek which was often reinforced by the fact that we were as much of an attraction as the gorillas we came to see. The phrase “mzungus in the mist” was screen-printed on some of the t-shirts being sold by the locals after our trek - not the official shirts I’m sure, but priceless none-the-less. I arrived in Kigali, Rwanda around 6pm the day before my trek and met my driver at the airport. My driver John told me the trip to the camp on Lake Bunyonyi was about three hours, two hours to the border of Uganda and then another hour to camp. It was just getting dark when we drove through Kigali, and rush hour as well so traffic was slow moving but the streets were remarkably clean and the traffic signals were quite modern, with counters ticking off the seconds until the light changes. I’ve never seen a countdown clock on a traffic signal before, only for pedestrians, so I was a little surprised. It was certainly the opposite extreme from Nosy Komba, which had no roads to speak of. Once we were out of the city the roads quickly changed to curvy mountain roads with no lights and lots of blind turns. It was stressful driving and not particularly relaxing as a passenger either. I told John I was in no rush and only to drive as fast as he was comfortable because I sensed he was rushing. He slowed down and I could feel us both relax. It wasn’t as if he was driving crazy like my first taxi-brousse driver, but he seemed tense and I imagined he thought I was in a rush to get to camp. 

We arrived at the border of Rwanda and Uganda just after a large bus so the line for immigration was quite long, but at least it worked as a bit of a funnel, moderating the flow of traffic to the immigration office on the Ugandan border. That said, the border crossing probably took about an hour and we lost another hour as we changed time zones into Uganda. John was clearly more comfortable driving in Uganda, perhaps it was because he knew the road better, or he was driving on the left side of the road again or maybe it was driving on dirt roads or a combination of the above. We sped along the dirt roads and I have to admit, I was impressed not only with his driving but with the ability of the van, that had seemed ungainly when I first climbed in, to handle the rough roads. About four hours from leaving the airport, we pulled into a small lot and John advised that this is where I’d be taking the boat - I hadn’t even realized that the camp was on an island. So my bags and I were loaded onto a small skiff and we motored out into the lake. I also hadn’t realized how immense Lake Buyonyi was - in the darkness it was difficult to see much of anything besides the reflection of water, the darker shape of land masses, the sporadic twinkling of lights here and there and the vast starlight night sky. It was an exhilarating ride, motoring off to some unknown destination in complete darkness with this incredibly clear sky overhead. It was only about twenty minutes until we reached our island, where I was met, given the details of our 5:15 departure and headed off to bed. Part of me was thirsty for a beer after all my travels but I opted for water and a solid four hours of sleep.

I was back down at the dock by 5:15 the following morning and it was still dark. I encountered the five other groggy figures who would be the remainder of the group trekking together. It was another two hours over dirt roads to Bwindi - I was able to nod off for a bit but once the sun came up I was excited to see the beautiful land spreading in every direction. The mist was still heavy in the valleys but the hills and mountains were a vibrant green, with almost every stretch of space neatly cordoned off into fields, despite the incredibly steep incline. We passed the occasional local walking along the road, almost every person had a farming tool over their shoulder as they trudged along. Small packs of cows and goats were herded along the road and nearly every small child we passed would smile and wave excitedly, occasionally yelling “hellloooo” at the van of mzungus. As the sun rose higher and we came closer to our destination my companions awoke and I got to see who I’d be spending my day with. There were five others, all in their early thirties - a Dutch couple on their honeymoon and a group of three British guys. I was secretly thrilled to be around people closer to me in age.

We reached Bwindi around 8am and spent about an hour at the main area for an overview of the experience, do’s and don’ts and getting sorted into our groups. The maximum size for a group is eight people but we were lucky and the six of us were one group. My companions expressed their relief at not being stuck with some of the older folks - apparently their trip chimp trekking a few days earlier was slowed down considerably by the two older couples who were in their group. I hoped that I could keep up with everyone - they seemed quite fit and given they were predominantly guys, I estimated they might also be somewhat competitive. We were given the offer of using a porter, which I had been considering. There had been a few moments on the very easy hike tracking lemurs during which I had wished I didn’t have a backpack - more because of the obstruction it caused navigating through the forest and the brush than the additional weight. When the other woman in the group said that she was going to hire a porter I was relieved and decided to do the same. Little did I know just how wise that decision would be.

We were to trek to visit the Busingye group which required being driven a good thirty or so minutes from the orientation area, through a small village and then back up into the mountains. We met our porters at the starting point, mine was a tall, shy man who went by Steven. I felt a little awkward using a porter but during the introduction they explained that using porters was a positive way to contribute to the communities in the area. The gorillas could sometimes be destructive to crops when they came closer to the villages and in the past there had been issues with poaching. It is important that the villages understand the benefits of wildlife conservation and paying the locals as porters was one of the most direct ways to do so. Steven gave me a walking stick and our group set off up the road, following our guide, another Steven, and an armed guard. They explained that two guards went with each group in case we encountered other non-habituated animals, such as elephants and chimps, along our trek. The guards would fire into the air to frighten off the other animals. Apparently it was rare but possible. I’m guessing that animals are not the only thing that the guards were protecting us from. Two trackers had gone ahead early in the morning and would be in contact with our guide, instructing where to go in order to find the gorillas.

The trackers leave at first light and return to the area the gorillas had been last seen on the prior day. They search for the “beds” in the area to see where the ground was imprinted from the gorilla’s night asleep and then followed their trail to find them. Even after a tour leaves, the trackers stay behind for a few hours so they have the best idea of where the gorillas may be on the following day. I had read how challenging gorilla trekking can be; it can take up to four or five hours to reach them, the terrain is steep and muddy and my research indicated hiking boots, long pants and long sleeves, rain gear and gloves were all highly recommended. 

Even the first ascent up a dirt road was steep and long enough to give me a sample of the kind of muscle burn I should expect for the remainder of the day. The three Brits charged along right behind the guide and I looked longingly at the other group we passed who had already stopped for a rest. I’m terrible at estimating distance so I can’t detail how long the road was but it felt never-ending and was a constant uphill climb. We stopped once along the way and again at the plateau where the road turned into a grassy hilltop with 360 degree panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and farmland. Uganda is impressively beautiful. We followed a trail that wound around the mountain with relatively minor ascents and descents for about an hour. It was good hiking, not easy but not grueling. There were a few challenging patches, muddy or with sheer rock faces that were difficult to scramble up. These spots were the beginning of my insight into the value of my porter as he would climb first, offer his hand and give me a good tug to me help get onto the rock. We reached a narrow path that cut away from the trail into the forest and our guide recommended putting on our gloves for the next portion. The next hour was even more difficult that the initial steep ascent as we literally climbed through the dense forest. We continued along the “path” the guide hacked through the brush, the ground at a constant angle, gravity working hard to encourage our slide away from the intended path. The footing was treacherous, the exact terrain difficult to see through the thick brush, holes and rocks hiding unexpectedly and vines working as both friend and enemy, sometimes helping to hold your footing, other times catching your foot unexpectedly. The descents were the worst, my knees always remind me of my age and previous injuries on the most simple of declines, but this was by far the most difficult hiking I had ever done. I suppose that’s why they call it trekking.

I felt better seeing that my companions were also struggling through the difficult terrain, our pace had slowed and everyone was sweating and breathing hard. We scrambled through countless masses of thorny branches that snagged our clothing and since we had all stripped down to t-shirts, occasionally caught our skin as well. Many of the trees in this area had an unusual spiky bark, I was thankful for the gardening gloves I brought because the trees were ideal to hold as I navigated the slick, angled ground cover. The porter and walking stick made for excellent additions to help improve the difficult conditions. Our guide told us we were getting close to the gorillas, which was good timing because I think we were all more than a little curious how much further this difficult stretch would continue. 

We stopped for a quick water break since nobody is allowed to eat or drink within close proximity of the gorillas and I felt my stomach rumble in a way that concerned me. I had some premonitions during the trek but I think now that we had stopped my body was making it’s intentions clear. As the rest of the group navigated the last few meters closer to the gorillas I desperately indicated my situation and the female porter helped me find a location. What a bad time for the runs :(. I’ll just say this, I was thankful I brought toilet paper and it was over quickly. I suppose it made the experience that much more “authentic”. 

Fortunately the rest of the group was too distracted to even notice so I rejoined them just as they came into full sight of a small baby gorilla and a large silverback. It was such an amazing experience, it’s difficult to even put into words. Sure, I’ve seen gorillas in the zoo before but here I was, standing in a temperate rainforest, within a group of ten wild gorillas. It was like being in an orchestra pit with gorillas on three sides, the baby was hanging from a tree feeding on leaves and tumbling around the vines, occasionally beating his little chest. He was endearing to watch. A silverback sat peacefully behind the tree, barely within sight, quietly monitoring the situation. Another youngster watched from the forest floor, laying on it’s back watching us upside down and then rolled onto it’s belly and watched us for a few minutes more before tumbling like a log down the hill a ways. We were within about fifteen feet of each of them - including a massive silverback on our right. He didn’t seem upset that we were there but he also didn’t want to be a part of it, unlike many of the others he was not curious about us and kept his face turned sideways. When a tracker moved closer to shift branches to improve our view he eventually lumbered off another five or so feet away, some of the youngsters, scrambling over to be closer to him. The maximum time allowed to remain with the gorillas is only one hour, which seemed to fly be as we took photos and just watched them, awestruck. I’m positive I had a huge grin on my face the entire time - I wish I could have stayed for hours. The adults were so calm and peaceful and the youngsters so playful and curious. It was simply amazing. 

Our total trip was about five hours, four hours of intense trekking and one hour with the gorillas. It was absolutely worth it but spending that hour with them is definitely something you earn. Our guide confirmed that we moved pretty quickly as a group; there were others groups with some older folks that didn’t complete their trek until almost two hours after we had returned to our starting point, essentially because their pace was slower and they stopped for longer breaks. I felt for them as the rain began - we heard the thunder rolling in shortly after we left the gorillas which kept us moving just as quickly as we had from the start. It drizzled a bit but we made it back well before the rain began. Our adventures continued but that’s for another post.