A Congo Christmas Part 5

This is the final installment of a five-part past African holiday adventure authored by Spokane resident Andrea Shearer.

We were allowed one hour to watch the family. More than this can agitate the gorillas and over time put them off their lifestyle — they may start travelling further distances to get away from humans, and their immune systems, already frail, might weaken further from the stress of continuous human contact. However, if limited to one hour per day, the gorillas don’t seem to mind human visitors.

Eating is the gorillas’ primary activity, and while watching animals strip leaves off plants doesn’t sound too exciting, it was fascinating. Not the actual leaf-stripping, but seeing the interaction of the family members, watching the younger ones play, and being in such close proximity to these magnificent creatures filled me with a feeling that to this day I cannot describe. The closest I can come is a mixture of elation, awe, and gratitude. And while I can’t completely describe it, it’s a feeling I’ll never forget.

We were so euphoric after our hour with the gorillas that we hardly noticed the four-hour hike back to the road. During our time with the family, they had moved around some, with us following ever so quietly. I didn’t realize at the time how much we had moved. We were so far from the trail we took up the mountain that our guide took us on a completely different trail to get down. While the hike up had been on a nice, clear path, the trail we were on now made the Jumanji jungle look tame. We tripped over roots, banged our heads on low branches, and fell through rotten vine coverings that buckled under our weight (yes, this was me, and yes, the guide had a snide comment waiting for me when I finally pulled myself back up).

The hike down was physically more demanding than the hike up had been. The ‘path’ was covered in loose rocks. They were unavoidable, and we suffered several turned ankles and one serious sprain. Additionally, the severe angle of the downward slope put constant pressure on the front of our feet. I lost a toenail due to the constant pressure and rubbing of my toes against the front of my shoes. Everyone was blistered, bruised and limping by the time we reached the car.

But no one cared.

We weren’t even aware of the extent of the damage until the next day. We woke up sore, swollen, and covered in bruises and scratches. We referred to them as our war wounds, and they were well earned. We found out that our grueling hike was a near-record, and we were given the proper respect from our truck mates. Not really, but we attempted to demand it. The other two groups were with their families and back again before we had finished our uphill hike.

The feeling in camp as we packed up for the day’s drive was one of revelry. We joked about the pain and embarrassing tumbles, and my group shared stories of my humiliation. On this side of the gorillas, even I started to find the guide’s snarky comments more amusing than irritating. Not even the thought of our week-long return to Nairobi could dampen our spirits.

After everything we had been through, so different from our daily, cushy lives — the inconveniences, the physical pain, the expense, even the insulting guide- I would do it all over again, without changing a thing, for just one more hour with my incredible mountain gorilla family.

Over the last decade, Andrea Shearer has lived worked, vacationed and volunteered abroad. International travel is a passion that she hopes to pass on to other Americans. Now a resident of Spokane, she splits her time between Spokane, Seattle and the Midwest where she attends graduate school.