Kunyoni

Thick red mud sucks at my boots. Fire ants pinch my skin. Sweat trickles down my shins. A medley of sounds echo through the thick forest air; rain pattering on leaves, machetes swiping at dense vegetation, monkeys calling to each other.

I trip over tree roots and step ankle deep in the footprints of forest elephants, sweaty, breathless and determined to keep up with our guide who is striding effortlessly through the verdant jungle, guided by his internal compass and the radio calls of the trackers.

Seeing mountain gorillas in Uganda had long been on my bucket list, and my anticipation is palpable. The guides make low grunting sounds as they walk ever deeper into the undergrowth. Suddenly there is an answering grunt and everything shakes. Just like that I find myself mere metres away from Kunyoni, a fully grown silverback mountain gorilla.

Kunyoni is one of less than 1,000 Eastern mountain gorillas left in the world, all of whom are located in Uganda, Rwanda and Democratic Republic of Congo. For years numbers plummeted due to civil conflict and poaching. Now, thanks to inspiring conservation efforts numbers are slowly increasing. Permits are strictly limited and get you no more than 60 minutes in the company of the gorillas. The $500 price tag and the physical exertion required means that tracking is unlikely to fall prey to mass tourism, which I view as a positive for such a sensitive area of conservation. However, the high cost did present a moral dilemma for me. I debated long and hard over whether or not I could justify undertaking something that was so far beyond the means of many Ugandans.

Kunyoni and his family make up the Mubare group, the first gorilla group to have been habituated in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Habituated gorillas are slowly accustomed to human presence over a number of years. You are very much a guest in their territory, taking a privileged peek into their lives. Kunyoni and his family regarded us with mild curiosity while they sat around munching on wild celery. Mothers groomed their moon-eyed babies with furious concentration. A hopeful female strutted in front of the silverback. He responded by idly scratching his head, yawning, and then rolling over on his back like a dog.

As I crouched down to take a photo, Kunyoni looked steadily at me with an unnameable energy that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. He was an unapologetic power, a wild beauty.

My brief interaction with the mountain gorillas was worth every penny and every laborious step. It totally surpassed my bucket-list level expectations. There was more beauty, humanity and intelligence in their faces than I ever imagined. The commitment and pride of the conservation staff and local community was beyond inspiring.  

Standing in the personal fiefdom of a greatly endangered animal who could rip your arms off is a powerful lesson from nature. Sometimes travel throws an experience at you that is, quite simply, priceless.