As a walk in the woods goes, the Bwindi experience is five-star, writes Elizabeth O'Neill, who comes face to face with a silverback and his family on a gorilla trek in Uganda
"This is as far as we go. Drop your bags, take your cameras and follow the trackers. And remember, no sudden movements and no flash photography. You have one hour," warns the ranger. The group has become quieter. The anticipation is now palpable, punctuated with furtive glances and muttered jokes about chest-pounding and snapped torsos. This is the last leg of the journey.
We follow the trackers along the soft path, descending further down the basin of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. And just moments later there he is, sitting royally, quietly, in the hallucinogenic green canopy. All 190kg of him.
He chooses to ignore our approach at first, then climbs down and gives a cursory glance before walking away. But so what? He is massive and magnificent. The arduous three-hour trek has been worth it. I am face to face with a silverback gorilla in his very own Ugandan back yard.
I'd left Dublin with a friend just four days previously to spend a month working with A-Z Children's Charity on a healthcare programme in a suburb west of Kampala.
We figured we couldn't travel that distance without making some time for the endemic and rare mountain gorillas championed by Dian Fossey. It would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, an appendix to the volunteer work. The charity put us in touch with Pearlafric Travel Bureau and the three-day trek was arranged.
However, given that demand for the obligatory gorilla trekking permits far outweighs supply - for conservation purposes just eight are issued daily - you have to take whatever dates you can get. So, this particular adventure is the preface to an eye-opening and wholly absorbing month in East Africa.
It is a guilty pleasure. We haven't yet lifted a finger to help anyone and here we are, up to our privileged Muzungu (western) armpits in beauty and relative luxury.
When it comes to Uganda's topological grandeur, the cliches are as obvious and dense as the forestry. Perhaps Winston Churchill defined it best when he wrote, "Uganda is a fairy tale". Bwindi Impenetrable Forest lies in the Kigezi region, 580km from Kampala. Taking in a pit-stop at the Equator, the journey south to Kigezi, known as the Switzerland of Africa, is jaw-dropping. For once, words failed me.
In the intervening weeks I've endeavoured to paint the scene in a few scratched-out cliches of my own: the Kigezi earth is red, erupting lush green from the volcanic soil. The hills roll toward the blue mountains of mist-shrouded Bwindi, and the undulating landscape is hewn into a patchwork of agriculture, top to toe.
Everywhere is planted. Contrary to the typical view of arid Africa, the land is hyperactive in its fertility and the subsistence farmers cling athletically to their steep, tilled plots. This is the home of half the world's population of mountain gorillas (roughly 320). And if I was an endangered animal, this is exactly where I'd want to live, too.
AFTER 10 HOURS of exhausting beauty and twisting dirt roads (deftly negotiated by our driver Musa), we reach the hilltop town of Kisoro, where we spend the night at the Travellers Rest Lodge. Owned by the Bishop of Uganda, the recently renovated lodge is managed by friendly and efficient Dutch couple, Cecile and Baks.
I am unexpectedly put in the expansive presidential Virunga suite, named after the volcanic chain responsible for all the lush topography.
The emphasis here is on "rest" and the bar closes early. The food, Mediterranean in influence, is excellent and inclusive, and a packed lunch is provided for the trek, as is an early call in time to catch the gorillas.
We set off at 6am to arrive in Bwindi for an 8am briefing with fellow trekkers, rangers, soldiers and porters who will take us into the forest. The head ranger, Benson, is friendly and encouraging. He tells us a little about the habituated family we will be tracking and signs - such as ripped branches, noises and a particular smell - to watch out for.
We are warned that the gorillas are not always found and that as the trek can take anywhere from two to seven hours, a certain level of fitness is required. Not everyone makes it. Should this happen, 75 per cent of the cost of the $250 permit is returned.
Briefing over, we set off with the sun rising in the equatorial sky forewarning of the heat to come. As a walk in the woods goes, the Bwindi experience, regardless of gorillas, is five-star.
The rainforest is more than 25,000 years old and offers 120 mammal species, 350 bird species and hundreds of butterflies in clusters like falling petals.
The pace starts gently enough for the first hour or so, until we reach the edge of the forest proper and then comes a slow, slippery descent into its very heart.
At this point the scenery is forgotten as I watch one foot fall in front of the other, an assurance against landing on my ass. It's tough going even for the fittest hill walker, which I am not. The slowest trekker goes in front as the pacemaker and I'm ashamed to say I was marched to the top of the line.
FINALLY, WE CATCH up with the trackers who had gone ahead to find signs of gorilla activity. The bags and walking sticks are swapped for cameras and we are ready to meet the lugubrious, and more reassuringly, vegetarian forest dwellers.
It is the smell that hits me first, acrid and faintly sweet and undoubtedly animal. It is accompanied by the buzz of clouds of small flies. Having encountered the younger silverback among the branches, we are ushered further along the path, the trackers making soft guttural sounds in imitation of the gorillas, as if to say, "it's okay, we're cool".
The forest echoes with serene sounds that seem almost submerged. Nestled in a cocoon of trees, the alpha male is lying on his back being groomed by two of the females in the group. Four younger gorillas play nearby; one is just a baby.
They fight, swing, tumble and beat their childish chests in parody of their fathers just a few feet from us. If they come too near, we are asked to "extend backwards" so as not to provoke the ire of the group leader. Cameras furiously clicking, we still haven't had a proper view of him.
As Benson fills in some paper work on the group, he counts down our precious hour, 30 minutes, 12 minutes, five. The limited time is to protect the primates from human diseases.
Time being relative, this particular hour seemed to be compacted into 10 minutes. When it runs out, the silverback doesn't disappoint.
He rears up and faces us, just for a moment, perhaps for the cameras or merely to show who is boss here. He is glorious. And so we leave for the long up-hill trek back through the Impenetrable Forest. We are even quieter now, humbled by the privilege of time spent with the endangered gorillas, our minds busily digesting such a rare experience.