AsiaLIFE

They’re back from the brink and now thriving in Central Africa’s volcanic jungles. Adam Bray heads to the mountains of Rwanda in search of the greatest of the great apes. Photos by Peter Stuckings.

My group arrived early in the morning at the Virungas National Park Headquarters, nestled at the foot of Mt. Visoke, a dormant volcano. The peaks were shaped like colossal tree trunks; their steep, black ridges sweeping down into the valley like tree roots. Morning fog pulsed through the hanging valleys above, at once cooling and drenching the rainforests perched on their slopes. Though chilled by the morning air, the excitement of today’s impending trek motivated me to ignore any discomfort. We were here to meet one of the great emissaries of Africa and a veritable mascot of Rwanda—the Mountain Gorillas.

Grouping Tourists, Journalists and Gorillas

All five members of my group were travel writers from the US. Additionally, a British journalist from The Guardian accompanied us, along with her friend, a British actress whose name I can’t remember. The anticipation of encountering wild gorillas was too much to be bothered with celebrities.

The elevation of the Virungas (“Volcanoes” in Kinyarwanda, the native Rwandan language) is between 2,500 and 3,000m above sea level (most of Rwanda is above 1,500m), ensuring that we would be huffing and puffing our way up the mountain. I took no small comfort in the fact that three of my teammates were also overweight. I didn’t want to be the only one struggling up the incline—and certainly not the one at the back of the line—at least not all of the time.

We weren’t the only group heading out. There were half-a-dozen teams—some tourists, others exchange students, and a smattering of dignitaries here for the annual Baby Mountain Gorilla Naming Ceremony, known as Kwita Izina, which I attended the day before. Teams were limited to eight individuals, with one team per each of the seven gorilla groups. A maximum of 56 visitors hike in the park on any given day. “Visitor numbers are kept low to both reduce the stress on the gorillas and limit their negative ecological impact,” our guide told us.

After a brief orientation during which we were given a list of rules and tips (not least of which was how not to piss off the 180kg silverback), we clambered into jeeps and each group drove off to a separate area of the park. Each team would trek out to see a different gorilla group, predetermined by trackers earlier that morning.

Typically, a gorilla family group consists of one adult male (the silverback), several adult females, and offspring ranging from infants, to juveniles, to young adult males (known as blackbacks). Only seven among the many wild gorilla groups roaming the mountains are acclimated to prolonged human presence.

Our group was named Hirwa or “Luck” in Kinyarwanda and consisted of nine individuals. The large silverback’s name was Munyinya.

Ascending the Volcano

From the park headquarters our jeep ploughed through a muddy track of cropland. The Virungas are surrounded by private farms, a significant source of conflict as they encroach on the park. The jeep was soon stuck in a deep rut. We climbed out and pushed. Amber-coloured mud flew everywhere as the tyres spun, covering one of the women in the group from head to toe. The driver flashed a few dollars and farm hands came running to help.

Back in the car, we drove a few more metres and were once again stuck in the mire. We stopped and started a few times before we gave up, abandoned the car to our driver and hoofed it up to the park boundary, a thigh-high stone wall at the top of the hill. I was exhausted before we even started the official hike.

Silverbacks determine where their groups wander in search of food, which means they roam throughout the park. Thus some teams may not have to walk very far to find their gorillas. In fact, any given group might not even be in the park—they may very well be trespassing in the farmlands below. Then again, other groups might be high up on the mountain slopes—a six-hour hike each way. Even more inconvenient, a few groups regularly cross over into Uganda or the Democratic Republic of Congo, as they, unlike the tourists trekking after them, have visa exemptions. Our guides assured us that the Hirwa group was just two hours into the jungle.

We passed into a dark bamboo forest. The air was still and silent—super-saturated with moisture. I was drenched in minutes. We squeezed through the bamboo bunches, climbing over and under leaning stalks. Every accidental tap of a stalk brought a momentary shower of rain from above. Every brush of the bamboo also left blackish-green algae stains on my clothing.

The Gorilla’s Patron Saint

I imagined what it was like for Dian Fossey, walking through these same forests when she first arrived in the Virungas and founded the Karisoke Research Centre in 1967. It is due to her own groundbreaking research, in turn built upon that of the immanent field biologist Goerge B Schaller, that the world first learned about the unique Mountain Gorillas and their dire struggle to survive the onslaught of poachers, habitat destruction and civil war.

Oddly enough, Fossey, the titular patron saint of mountain gorillas, was against exploiting the gorillas for ecotourism. Like other apes, mountain gorillas are susceptible to many of the diseases that humans carry, but generally lack our natural immunities. Fossey reported several cases where tourists transmitted diseases leading to the deaths of gorillas. She also believed that tourists interfered with the gorillas’ natural behaviour, as well as her own research.

As a result of habituation, gorillas are not afraid of raiding crops. Thus they come into direct conflict with farmers. They also do not fear poachers or the many refugees and soldiers that invaded the park during the DRC’s long and bloody civil war. Certainly Fossey had some valid arguments.

Nearly two decades after founding Karisoke, Fossey was found murdered in her cabin on Dec. 27, 1985. Her murderer was never found. Some suggest she was killed by poachers, but others speculate that those responsible were in fact the very people who stood to gain from exploiting the gorillas for tourism. Fossey is buried at Karisoke, among her gorilla friends, who died at the hands of poachers.

The last entry in her diary read: “When you realize the value of all life, you dwell less on what is past and concentrate on the preservation of the future.”

The Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund International (the only one of several organisations using Fossey’s name that was established and authorised by her) spearheads most of the gorilla research and active conservation in the park today.

An Hour in Eden

We climbed a bank into warm rays of sunlight. The bamboo forest lay behind us like a green, vertical game of pick-up-sticks. Before us was a tangle of vines, tree ferns and giant Hagenia trees matted in soft moss and narrow leaf ferns, the latter a favourite food of mountain gorillas. Our guides told us that the trackers had located the Hirwa group nearby. We would leave our packs and walking sticks here, and climb down a ravine to meet them for their morning feeding session.

I looked across the chasm. Our goal was not to reach the bottom of the gorge, but rather climb down only a short way and then work our way horizontally across the ledges, where the gorillas were perched. There were no trees on the ridge, which was matted dense with vines. The incline was steep and there was no cleared path. We descended by hanging onto vegetation—something that I never expected myself to be doing, nor knew I was even physically capable of. It was a bit like climbing over an enormous pile of brush; my feet constantly slipping through the tangle, but never meeting the rocky surface below. As I grabbed a handful of stinging nettles in one hand and brushed a line of biting ants with the other, I grimaced and wished someone had suggested bringing gloves.

Suddenly there was a rush of whispers and rustling for cameras. Ahead of us a knee-high, black ball of hair sat watching us. Much like a human child might, the juvenile gorilla heard our approach in the bushes, and driven by curiosity, ran out to meet us. We passed within inches of his glossy brown, zircon-gemstone eyes and wrinkled nose as we climbed further in to meet the rest of his family.

There was a pungent smell like human body odor—a musky, oily scent that comes from not bathing. It was the gorillas, and not least the silverback. Black bodies began appearing amidst the tangled sea of ferns. Babies tumbled through the brush in play, glancing back at us as if hoping to instigate a reaction on our part. The mothers paid us little notice, sometimes passing within a few feet. Their focus was on feeding.

“No flash photography!” Our guide gasped. A startled and dizzy baby scuttled back to its mother as a colleague, red-faced, reset his camera.

Unlike the others, the eyes of Munyinya, the Hirwa silverback, were forever on us. He reclined in a nest of ferns, propped up on one elbow, like a great sultan watching over his harem. He made no aggressive moves. Occasionally he uttered friendly groans in response to the ones that our trackers taught us to make. Only once did he puff and snort, but did not move, when one of his babies tumbled too close to us.

“His lower right canine is broken,” our guide pointed as Munyinya yawned. “He lost the tip in a fight. Mountain gorillas are very peaceful, gentle animals, but sometimes males must defend their group.” I made a note not to get too close.

Climbing Up From the Cliff

Park rules stipulated that we remained with the group only for one hour, so as not to disrupt the gorillas’ daily itinerary of feeding and napping, or cause them anxiety over the safety of their offspring. We withdrew from our communion with the gorillas reluctantly. My experience with the gorillas left me thirsting for more.

Much like the Hirwa group perched itself on the edge of the gorge, so too the mountain gorillas have clung onto existence despite remarkable odds against their survival. Bloody wars, poachers and habitat loss have all been significant threats since the time of Dian Fossey and will not cease to be serious hurdles in the near future.

Though not the solution that Fossey herself envisioned, gorilla tourism has proven to be one of the most successful components of gorilla conservation. It provides both the funds needed to manage the national park and income for local families who might otherwise turn to illegal logging or poaching themselves. Once under threat of extinction, the mountain gorillas of Rwanda have climbed above that desperate ledge to a more secure footing, and will continue to receive many visitors for the foreseeable future.


SIDEBAR

Flights: All flights from Cambodia route through Bangkok. Cheapest options include Ethiopian Airlines and Kenya Airways, and may include stops in Nairobi, Addis Ababa and Entebbe before landing in Kigali, Rwanda. Round-trip flights originating in Cambodia start at around US$1,300.

Sleeping: Hotel Muhabura www.hotelmuhabura.com, Ave du 5 Juillet, Tel: 0252 546 296. Muhabura is the oldest hotel in town and was often used by visitors to Karisoke in Fossey’s time. Accommodation is comfortable and atmospheric with all the basic amenities, a good bar and restaurant. Rooms are US$35-US$45.

Transport: Musanze (formerly known as Ruhengeri) is the closest town to Virungas National Park. Hourly buses depart between Musanze and Kigali, take two hours and cost under US$3.

Park Entry: Permits for the Virungas National Park cost US$500 per person and should be reserved well in advance through any regional ORTPN (Office Rwandais Du Tourisme Et Des Parcs Nationaux). The minimum age for gorilla trekking is 15. Jeep transport from Ruhengeri to the park via ORTPN costs US$80. See www.rwandatourism.com.

Other sights: Notable attractions near Muhabura include Buhanga Eco-Park, Musanze Cave and Natural Bridge and both Burera and Karago Lakes. Around Rwanda, the other must-see sights are Lake Kivu, Nyungwe National Park (including a wild chimpanzee trek and stay at the luxury Nyungwe Lodge) and the capital city Kigali and its several genocide memorials.