July 28, 2008 (MUSANZE, Rwanda) — "They are here," says Anaclet, our Rwandan gorilla guide. We are muttering excitedly to each other, when suddenly in the background we can hear the unmistakable grunts.
"It’s them," Julia squeaks, trying to obey the conservation guidelines we had been given just 20 minutes earlier about speaking quietly before entering the Virunga National Park, home to 280 of the world’s 730 or so remaining mountain gorillas.
I can feel her heart pounding behind me.
A few more steps — and there, five feet away are two female gorillas with their backs to us.
Anaclet motions for us to keep coming. We balk, not wanting to give up what we have come upon deep in the bamboo-choked jungle.
"It’s better down here," he murmurs. Our tracker, Safari, is there ready to assist us in getting down the wet, slippery slope.
These two know what they're doing. Born on an island in Lake Kivu, Anaclet has been guiding people to the gorillas for nine years. Safari has been tracking them for 11.
We slide a few more feet down the slick mountainside, grabbing bamboo trunks and tree branches to keep from falling, and there he is: a 500-pound male silverback gorilla, the leader of the pack.
The group of 25 gorillas of the family known as Number 13 – there were 13 of them at the time, found on the 13th of some distant month — are strewn around the impressive hulk performing for us, the five-month-olds chasing each other in a game of roll and tumble. An older gorilla chomps on a piece of bamboo, while another suddenly flips onto his back with his head toward us and rolls it back, looking at us in what can only be described as a coy gesture.
"This is their siesta time," Anaclet explains, warning that soon they may disappear into the misty mountains behind them to eat and "do their business." Groups visiting the gorillas are given one hour only, and that only if the gorillas "accept them" for that long.
Denzel and Chelsea are below, looking up at the gentle giant surrounded by his family and frenziedly snapping photographs. Anaclet helps Rene make her way to a spot on the hill above them a safe distance from the family, but close enough to get Rene and the grouping in the shot. Rene and each of the kids takes a turn getting their picture taken with all seven cameras.
Anaclet and Safari are patient.
Chelsea gets the photo du jour of a five-month-old gorilla, full face, just as it turns back into the jungle to follow the gigantic silverback, who has decided it’s chow time.
Anaclet and Safari try to let us down gently. This may be our last sighting.
"Say goodbye," Anaclet directs.
We wait, silently praying they will indeed accept us again after having time to munch on the eucalyptus and bamboo that provides brunch for these endangered beasts.
We wait some more. Finally, Anaclet gestures for us to follow him deeper into the place where the gorillas had disappeared.
Minutes later we are surrounded by our furry friends again. They have accepted us!
They swing through the trees, roll down the hill and chase each other all around us. We don’t know where to look. Up the hill, I spy Karlen gazing lovingly at a one-year-old just a few feet away.
It isn’t supposed to happen for fear that disease would be passed between homo sapiens and these beautiful mammals that are struggling for survival, but it did.
A lively female swung through the trees behind me, grabbing my shoulder, asking me to play with her. I have just a moment to relish the thrill before Anaclet tells me kindly to move away.
I do.
On the way back to town in Freddy’s Range Rover, the group decision is made not to show any of the photos to their friends, who are slated to make the same trek on Sunday, until they have had the chance to have this once-in-a-lifetime experience themselves.
To be continued …
Editor's note: For more about the trip, read first lady Cecile deJongh's Travel Journal.
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