The Mountain Gorillas of Ruhengeri

Editor's note: This is the second in a three-part series written by Katelyn Baldwin, a Colony High School student who spent more than a month in Rwanda this summer.

By KATELYN BALDWIN/Special to the Frontiersman

We parted Kigali in the pitch-blackness of early morning, an hour before the sun arose to greet Rwanda. From 4:45 a.m. when I awoke, to the point of actual encounter, exhilaration flowed through every vein in my body. The back of the white Land Cruiser was packed full with the trekking paraphernalia of six people.

Located in the heart of eastern Africa, our destination was Rwanda's Parc National Des Volcans near the northern town of Ruhengeri. To ease the sense of anticipation overwhelming the atmosphere, our driver Alexie, a native Rwandan, tuned his radio to a station streaming with Swahili conversation. Everyone in the vehicle was determined to end the day having looked into the eyes of one of the closest relatives to mankind. We were going to seek out the mountain gorillas.

Crammed with my American friend Elizabeth into the rear three foldout seats of Alexie's Land Cruiser, we managed to drift in and out of sleep. Throughout our roller coaster journey into the mountains I unintentionally walloped my cranium on the roof a few times, when coming upon particularly large bumps in the dirt road. The countryside between Kigali and Ruhengeri was very rural and undeveloped.

Gazing out of my window, I observed villagers loading outdated bicycles with bushels of green bananas. Due to the immense amount of weight on the bikes, the boys and men manually pushed the bicycles up the winding mountain roads. The local women were frequently seen hauling 5-10 gallon buckets of water on their heads as far as 5 kilometers. Driving through an assortment of villages, I noticed everyone worked very diligently. The rural societies would rip apart at the seams if every person didn't pitch in and do their share.

Three hours later we reached the headquarters of Parc National Des Volcans. We were introduced to and assigned to be led by Francois, a guide with 10 years' experience bringing international tourists into the Virunga Mountains to observe the mountain gorillas. Since only a few visitors are allowed to infringe upon the various gorilla groups' personal space, our party reached its maximum of eight people when a French couple, Jean-Francois and Caroline, joined us. Francois informed us we would be tracking Group No. 13, a gorilla family with nine members. A new silverback had recently taken over leadership due to the natural death of the prior family head.

We advanced our expedition toward the base of the Virungas into the untarnished air of a gorgeous daybreak. The morning sun radiated through my long-sleeved shirt and pants, worn to protect against thorns and insects in the approaching bamboo forest. My backpack held only the necessities -- a 1.5 liter water bottle, my camera and a lightweight jacket.

In addition to Francois, who carried a machete at his belt, two soldiers armed with AK-47s and two local villagers also equipped with machetes accompanied us. To my disappointment, Francois revealed there is never a guarantee of spotting gorillas because they frequently change locations.

Bordering Rwanda, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, the Virunga volcanoes are islands of precious rain forest that ascend from the earth. At their base, an impoverished community with a high rate of population growth survives by intensely farming the fertile soil produced from the mountains.

After hiking through two miles of concentrated agricultural fields sprinkled with shambas (Rwandan huts), we reached the point of entrance into the rain forest. As our party progressed into the dense bamboo woodland, the contrast from daylight to the blanket of darkness surrounding us was striking.

Uncertain as to the use of the machetes beforehand, I soon realized that without them we would not have made it up that mountain. The villagers consistently hacked away the brush with their machetes, making a rough path of sorts for us to follow. Francois trailed behind them and stopped every five minutes or so to communicate on walkie-talkies with trackers. Trackers are designated a gorilla group and leave early each morning to seek out the family's whereabouts. When the guides trek in later with their visitors they have an approximate destination to venture toward.

Two hours of gradually inching our way up the steep mountainside brought us to the trackers. We were told to be exceedingly quiet because the gorillas were in close proximity. Our goal was not to harm or scare them. We were also directed not to stand tall in their presence, and to fall backward if one of them decided to charge. To reduce the aggravation brought on by gorillas when they feel their personal space is dominated, only one hour of viewing time was permitted.

Francois instructed us to grab our cameras and leave our backpacks with the local villagers. In the company of two trackers he took us down into an entirely new world. The first thing I glimpsed was a bundle of black fur moving beyond a cluster of dense brush. Excitement boiled inside of me; this feral land had no fence to keep the animals apart from us.

I advanced forward with the trackers until the young gorilla hunkering down in the brush became visible. Contentedly, it chewed on twigs and plant stalks and then proceeded to somersault across the dense forest floor. My camera went into double time.

One of the trackers made incredible low and throaty noises that closely imitated the guttural voice of a gorilla. Not more than 10 seconds later, out came the silverback, bounding toward him. He was charging and appeared angry, but the tracker simply sat down and purposely fell backwards. The gorilla menacingly touched his right shoulder and then immediately backed off. Gorillas have the most incredible facial expressions; they can speak sentences with the movement of their eyes and the wrinkling of their brows.

At one point the silverback was hunkered down in a cave of brush he had bent around his body. I was the minimum distance of seven meters away, madly shooting photographs. Out of the blue he started advancing toward me. Unfortunately, a colossal heap of stinging nettles was directly behind me. Upon trying to fall back I got coated in nettles that felt similar to dozens of sharp wasp stings. The huge male came nearer and nearer until the fur of his side was not more than six inches from my face. I was so taken by his 600-pound, 6-foot frame that I didn't even notice the tears of pain trickling down my face.

Obviously a very inquisitive fellow, the great brute had decided to come daringly close, gracing me with his intimidating, yet wonderful presence. His superiority and power reverberated throughout the rain forest and the look in his eyes filled my mind with a calm, protective emotion.

We parted with the gorillas and trackers when the machete-bearing men, carrying our backpacks, informed us our time had run out. We padded out as quietly as we had arrived so as not be perceived as any kind of threat. My 60 minutes of gorilla contact had ended far too soon.

During our trek back to headquarters, I was glowing with a sense of triumph. I hiked directly behind Francois and asked if he would machete off a piece of thick bamboo from the forest that I could keep as a souvenir. He ended up constructing a four-foot bamboo walking stick, one half carved down and smoothed to perfection by his skilled machete work.

Meza, one of the machete-wielding trail blazers, and Magula, a soldier armed with an AK-47, befriended me on the hike out by laughing at my inability to whistle. Magula attempted to communicate with me despite our immense language barrier. I learned that the AK-47 is not carried so much to harm the gorillas if they become violent, which rarely occurs, but to protect from the occasional savage beast, such as the rowdy African Buffalo or forest elephant, which can unexpectedly turn up from time to time.

The rarest species of gorilla in the world, the mountain gorillas of eastern Africa, are on the verge of extinction. The world total population of 600 is split fairly evenly between Parc National Des Volcans and Bwindi Impenetrable National Park in Uganda. The gorillas provide Rwanda with a unique gift to travelers abroad. The money raked in from tourism supports the local village school and medical clinic, as well as helps to pay the guides' salaries and hunt down poachers, ultimately assisting in the preservation and survival of the gorillas.

After the genocide of 1994, Rwanda's gorilla visitation completely shut down which discontinued the third-largest source of income to the country. It was economically devastating, so tourist visitation was soon reopened. Ever since then the mountain gorilla population has been slowly but steadily increasing.

Hiking into the Virunga volcanoes and coming within inches of a 600 pound silverback is a memory that I will cherish all my life.

The wild land of Africa is nothing like the zoo; the undomesticated animals are all within reach, which makes the trek and experience all the more exhilarating.

The faces of Rwanda's mountain gorillas will be etched into my mind forever.