What I Wish I Knew Before Gorilla Trekking

The Isimbi Family surrounded us, tumbling down vines playfully in the trees above, swatting their siblings like my own children do on a regular basis, chewing on stalks of bamboo noisily.

I had imagined this moment since elementary school, when I received the brief chance to meet and interview Jane Goodall. While my book report focused mainly on her conservation work with chimpanzees, I was determined to see both the elusive chimps and the few remaining gorillas in the wild during my lifetime. My dreams of becoming a primatologist were quickly quashed by getting my only B in high school in AP biology, but that desire to witness these animals stuck with me.

I tick off bucket lists for a living. People come to me with a vision they’ve held on to for decades, and I get to be the Fairy Godmother of travel dreams. Gorilla trekking is frequently one such request. The problem with being a luxury travel advisor is that my bucket list is a mile long, but Rwanda has always maintained a top position.

When my friend turned 40, we decided it was time to make that journey, “Gorillas in the Mist” tucked in our hand carries, optimistically imagining that hiking in Colorado would be enough of a litmus test for our trekking fitness.

The first thing you need to know is that there are two countries in which you may trek to find gorillas - Rwanda and Uganda. While gorillas are also found in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, so are mercenaries and civil war, so tourism has not exactly thrived there.

Uganda is typically the more price-approachable option, with lower permit fees and fewer luxury camps. It also has thicker jungle and the treks are notoriously more difficult.

Rwanda has developed infrastructure around the gorilla tourism industry that is simply incredible. In the hopes of discouraging poaching and encouraging environmental protection practices, Volanconos National Park and the country of Rwanda have priced trekking permits at $1,500 per day.

Between employing trackers, rangers, drivers, porters, and all the hotel staff in the area, tourism has become the single best opportunity for economic growth. When your community is so financially dependent on keeping the gorillas alive, societal norms trend toward anti-poaching.

Case in point - when a new baby gorilla is born, the surrounding communities all gather in the entrance to Volcanoes National Park and participate in a naming ceremony. While I was envisioning something like Mufasa holding up baby Simba in the Lion King, apparently the naming is conducted in absentia.

Rwanda is also home to luxury lodges with prices that rival Saint Tropez. The heavy hitters are:

• Bisate: ~$7,590/night total
• Singita Kwitonda: ~$7,260/night total
• One&Only Gorillas Nest: 6,500+ per room

I’m often asked, “Is it worth it?” Of course, there are many lodges that are available at a lower price point. I am rarely someone who does things half way, and I wanted to stay where my clients were interested in.

Unlike a traditional safari where you are chauffeured around in fully-kitted Land Rovers and served colonial-style sundowners in the bush, gorilla trekking requires actual physical exertion.

There are three levels of treks:

• Easy
• Medium
• Hard

These are determined by the time it takes to reach an assigned gorilla family. Easy treks are under one hour. Hard treks are upwards of 3 hours (one way). Medium covers everything in between.

In the chill of the early morning, we stood around making small talk with other travelers, sipping paper cups of coffee (included generously in our $1,500 permit), while our guides debated what sort of hike we could do. They observed us like sorority pledges, sizing up our footwear, age, and level of fitness.

While I had requested a medium level trek, the gorillas are animals and do actually move. That day, the Isimbi family must have decided to test our limits, as we found ourselves hiking up the mountain for 3.5 hours.

I am in decent shape and accustomed to altitude, but this was one of the most challenging hikes I’ve experienced.

To begin with, the trails are animal trails through thick sections of undergrowth and bamboo. The guides hack through green walls every five feet, holding back the occasional spiked branch so as not to impale our eyes.

Underfoot, downed shards of bamboo are slick with mud, inviting us to slide out and lose an ACL.

The stinging nettles reach out their feisty arms, zapping me through layers of LuluLemon. I should have worn the rain pants.

We pass the time trying not to catch our toes on wayward roots, and discussing language idioms with our guide. The woman in back of us is annoyed because she can’t hear our discussion, and is convinced she’s missing out on valuable gems of secret gorilla knowledge. Meanwhile, we debate the meaning of “raining cats and dogs.”

We are instructed to stop, drink water, and eat our carefully packed sandwiches that have now been flattened to oblivion in our packs.

The guide cups his hands around his mouth and grunts, “Huh-uhhhhh.”

We hear an echo from the brush five feet away. “Huh-uhhh.” We have found them.

Within minutes, we are welcomed to silverback Muturengere’s harem with a vigorous mating display. I can almost hear David Attenborough narrating somewhere in my brain.

We spend the next hour crouching and standing around, camera shutters and iPhones attempting to capture what we had flown halfway across the world for.

We learned later that regardless of which trek level you choose, you spend the same amount of time with your assigned gorilla family - one precious hour.

Eventually, I put down my camera gear and just watch. Perhaps this is the gift of a gorilla trek. While on a traditional game drive, you feel self conscious about spending too much time at any one sighting and anxious to see what else is out there, the nature of the gorilla trek is that single dedicated hour in one place, observing one family. It is an invitation to stillness.

That hour feels almost voyeuristic, like sitting in a family’s living room without being a hosted guest. Here is a family during their lunch break. Here are toddlers at play. Here is a mother scolding her prankster offspring. Here is a father napping while mother wrangles the wild ones.

A line repeats in my head, punctuated by rhythmic breaths as we listen to the gorillas: “They are just like us.”

The trek down feels equally daunting, and the mood is not helped by the whining early/20-something who said on the way up that she “doesn’t do hikes” and proceeded to shriek every time a nettle got her.

The rains closed in as we neared the entrance to the park, our shoes unrecognizable in their muddy halos. We stood triumphant, sweaty, itchy, and soaked, looking back into the jungle as if we could prove to ourselves how far we had come.

I fell asleep in the bus back to the hotel.

The next day, my legs ached in new places where I discovered I had stabilizer muscles.

We visited the Ellen Degeneres Dian Fossey Museum and Research Center. I learned how much Jane Goodall and Diane Fossey had influenced the preservation of these creatures, and how much work is still ahead.

Gorillas face threats not only from poachers and war in neighboring DRC, but also lost limbs from traps, deforestation, and diseases (the flu can kill them).

I had made it deep into the forest for 8 hours, and emerged with a new respect for those two women, as well as several mosquito bites. They lived in handmade huts for years, fighting off poachers and sending scientific dispatches by type writer.

I also had ticked off a promise to elementary school me, the failed primatologist. That is thing about bucket lists - each item is meant to be accomplished, then put away in a memory file to savor during cocktail hour retellings. I know the photos won’t do it justice.

I intended to write this article about the practical necessities of preparing for a trek:

• Wear the provided gators
• Don’t be me in LuLulemon nettle hell, wear rain pants
• Yes, hiking boots are advised if you do anything other than the medium trek. An easy trek is fine is tennis shoes.
• If you plan on doing more than one trek, sign up for the easy one so you can have time to enjoy your $7,000 per night lodge.

In writing this, I realized my takeaways are more about the ephemeral nature of this world we inhabit. Deep, I know.

I consult with hundreds of ultra high net worth families about their bucket lists every year.

We forecast trips 1, 2, 3 years out. We make room on their calendars.

Time is short, and priorities are easily reshuffled. There will always be a wedding, a summer camp, another trip you’re invited on.

Although the people Jane and Diane inspired are fighting hard for their future, I’m not sure how long these creatures will be accessible to visit. Keep gorillas on top of your list.

Take the time to go see them now, to watch them in stillness exist just as we do.