Virunga

I worked most of this weekend to visit construction sites in three villages around Musanze (a school and two church buildings). All three were actually close to on schedule, and the right materials had arrived. This has been a rare occurrence here, but it put me a little bit ahead this week, so I took today off to adventure. Bear with me for a hell of an ending.

I decided to join a group of travelers for a hike this morning. There were 8 of us - two men from Switzerland, a couple from Espana, two from Canada, and another guy from U.S. We started out at five and set off toward Virunga National Park - where the borders of Congo/Rwanda/Uganda meet. There are six volcanoes in the park. We wanted to hike to a valley where two of them meet (called Gahinga & Muhabura). We hired two porters to go along as well - soldiers to protect against possible poachers or raiders who have crossed through the jungle from Congo. We drove along toward the border, and set out by 7 on foot across the rolling fields that lead up to the park. Here Rwanda changes. The country opens up, and the impossible rocky soil that defines much of the country gives way to dark, plowed dirt that benefits from the rainy season runoff each spring. This is widely regarded as the most fertile soil in Africa. As far as you can see, there are long furrows planted with potatoes, coffee, corn, wheat. There are no villages, only plots of three or four huts in a circle. Here you do find the traditional round mud house, thatched roof and all. By the time we passed through, families were wide awake, starting fires, carrying water (wooden buckets), driving livestock to graze, and carrying hoes and pickaxes toward the fields. Every surrounding field has been turned up and tended by hand, every day. Just imagining the task is daunting. As with most places in rural Africa, we walk along and draw a crowd. Children drop their chores to run along behind us, and we eventually build a crowd of at least 40. As soon as we get far enough, however, they turn back. We walk along rock fences through the fields, pressing on toward the jungle.

The terrain starts to pick up and grow steeper as the fields gradually give way to dry brush. By 9 we get to the jungle and begin to climb between the volcanoes. Here things get more interesting. The porter in front carries his gun in left hand and hacks down tangled undergrowth with his right; the porter behind keeps watch. At first, the jungle is mostly eucalyptus, and sunlight streams through. It smells sweet and cool. There is even a remnant of a trail that makes going a little quicker for the first part. But eventually ferns and vines and bamboo take over, and it gets tougher. We are shadowed over. We stumble and slog through mud and compost, sinking in to our ankles. There are elephant tracks as well, and trampled trees and bamboo warn us of their movement. Strangely enough, there are hardly any bugs here; the elevation is high and the air is cool, keeping the humidity and critters away. We climb on.

By 10 I'm breathing and sweating hard, gone through most of my water, and taken about 300 pictures. At the start of the morning, the air was crisp and we were ready to go. We spent the first couple of hours changing order, exchanging pleasantries and conversing about our respective parts of the world. By now, however, we go along single file, in silence. Exertion and jungle senses have trumped conversation. All the better. In our silence, everyone took note when the forest ahead of us began to shake. About 200 meters up, we saw the tops of trees sway and we heard bamboo cracking. The porter ahead hooted and ran toward the disturbance while we pursued behind. Let the chase begin. After a brief sprint to halfway, we slowed and crept along. Apparently our approach was noticeable, and whatever was ahead settled down to quiet, waiting. I do not know who spotted it first (not me, although I ended up being closest), but a couple of our entourage stopped and stared off to the right. There, crouched in the dark shadow under a large fern, were the watchful eyes of a large gorilla. Studying, waiting, curious. She was no more than ten feet from me. After a minute or so, she sat up, broke off some bamboo, and went about chewing as if we had been any other jungle animal that posed no threat. We shared the forest. We snapped plenty of pictures and moved on, all too aware the gorillas always travel in families.

About 100 yards further, we met the rest. In a small clearing, there was a dominant male, two other Silverback males, three females, and two babies. By now it had reached 11, more sun streamed through, and it was time to rest. The gorillas lounged, eating bamboo and laying to sleep. One even reclined, hands behind head. The babies rolled and wrestled and climbed and fell, over and again. We walked right up, amazed beyond words. For the next hour, we hovered in the area, snapping pictures and watching. Sometimes, another family member would pop out of the jungle behind us, split our crowd in half, and rumble through to join the rest of the family. They passed within feet. If we approached too close on our own initiative, one of the Silverbacks would rumble a calm, territorial growl. Yet not threatening. Cautious.

At one point, I split off from the large part of our group. I wanted to loop around behind the family to try and get a better view of the babies. As I walked a long circle to the other side, I was fiddling with my camera, changing settings and reviewing pictures. My American companion David followed my lead, about 30 feet behind. As I was looking down, not entirely paying attention, I heard a crack just in front of me. I looked up and found a young black male not five feet away, sitting and staring at me. I stopped immediately and slowly backed up, inch by inch. The gorilla let out a brief grunt, rose from the brush and ambled straight toward me. I had backed to about ten feet away, but I stood between him and the family. He walked up to me, looking straight ahead, obviously not concerned with meeting my gaze anymore. As he passed, he reached out and brushed me aside with his arm. It was incredible. David was behind me the entire time, deer-in-headlights.

This was one of the most intimate experiences I have ever had. I wish I had you all here with me.

I have to post the story, but I cannot do it justice. I cheat the experience with my words.

Many have messaged to ask about pictures from the trip, and today certainly promises many photos worth sharing. At present, I simply don't have enough bandwidth to upload them. I'll continue to share a couple with each post, if I am able. Peace & Love.