with nature
Uganda’s chimps and mountain gorillas might be thriving, but a visit to the parks in the south-west are a reminder of how fragile conservation can be, and why local communities need to be involved for it to work
Words Lyn Hughes Photographs Simon Chubb
Our eyes met. He held my gaze for a few heart-fluttering moments and then looked away. He scratched his side. I flicked a fly. We caught each other’s eyes once more, before both swiftly looking elsewhere and then coyly back.
The spell was broken by the excited chatter of a small group of fellow tourists approaching from behind. Bahoire, a 32-year-old male chimpanzee, jumped out of a low fork in the tree on which he’d been sitting, grabbed a loose branch and ran screeching past the startled tourists.
Kibale National Park is dubbed the ‘Primate Capital of the World’ thanks to its 13 species of primate, including a flourishing population of around 1,450 chimpanzees. Chimp-tracking experiences are run twice daily from the Kanyanchu Visitor Centre, and I was already on my second day here. Each had been special in its own way.
I was travelling with Volcanoes Safaris, a pioneer in gorilla and chimpanzee tourism, staying at three different locations along Uganda’s section of the Albertine Rift, a vast geological phenomenon that runs through the DRC, Burundi, Rwanda and Tanzania.
Because the programme was immersive, it meant that guests could also meet with conservationists working on the frontline. On the eve of my first chimpanzee trek, Emily Otali, field director of the Kibale Chimpanzee Project and the first African woman to gain a PhD in primatology, came to Kibale Lodge and gave a presentation on chimpanzees. She held me spellbound as she talked through chimpanzee society and culture, showing photos and footage of the community that she was currently researching.
The chimpanzee group that we were visiting the following day wasn’t the one that Emily was following, but she explained that their culture was very similar. My curiosity was piqued by the idea, and I quickly asked her about the many variations.
“Chimp culture is different in different places,” she said. “For instance, take the use of tools. They don’t do nut-cracking [here] but they do use tools to ‘fish’ for termites and honey. Grooming is something else where we see a cultural difference. Here, some practice hand-clasp grooming, where they hold each other with one hand while grooming with the other. How they clasp each other seems to come through the matriarchal line.”
Emily went on to explain that social organisation tends to be similar everywhere. Chimpanzees are male philopatric – in other words, the males remain in the community they are born into for life while the females usually disperse. There are 30 to 200 individuals in each community, but not all members are together all the time.
“Some are more social, some not so much – much like humans,” Emily explained, reminding us that chimpanzees share 98.7% of their DNA with us. “But males are generally more social than the females, determined by the distribution of available food and the presence of estrus females.”
Emily stressed that research was always ongoing. She also mused on how certain females sometimes drape themselves in “adornments” from the forest that serve no practical reason. One conundrum was that although alpha males have more opportunities to mate, the offspring are not necessarily those of the alpha. She showed a photo of a rather louche-looking chap.
“Females know when they are fertile and who they want. And so a charming chimpanzee like Johnny here, who was never an alpha male, has sired at least 13 babies. But if a female dies and leaves an orphan, males will look after the baby, rather than other females. So, do they all think they are the father?”


Chimpanzees are very vocal, and it is common to hear them long before you see them
The viewpoint overlooking Kibale Forest reveals a misty, untouched jungle that makes the perfect setting for the national park’s 13 primate species
The next morning, with my trousers tucked into my socks, and gaiters covering my shoes and ankles to guard against vicious safari ants, I reported to the Kanyanchu Visitor Center where a couple of dozen travellers waited expectantly. After an introduction to the park, we were given a pre-briefing on the chimpanzee trek and told that we were going to look for the Kanyantale chimp community, whose territory is spread over 25 sq km. There are more than 120 members in this community, but they split into smaller groups to avoid competition for food.
We were divided into groups of six and assigned to a guide and a pair of rangers. Each drove to their starting points and headed off in different directions. Our guide, Florence, stressed that sightings were likely but could never be guaranteed. She solemnly crossed her fingers and, as if on cue, a chimpanzee hooted in the background. Florence smiled.
We set off in the direction of the hoot but were still astonished to have our first sighting within ten minutes. Florence and the rangers pointed to a mother and baby chimpanzee high in a fig tree that was heavy with fruit. We donned face masks and moved closer as a couple more adult chimpanzees appeared. After a few minutes here, another visitor group arrived, so we headed off elsewhere, grinning at each other with joy.
The morning was warming up and clouds of butterflies danced in the beams of sunlight as we followed a trail in single file. I was in a deep reverie when I suddenly noticed a chimpanzee walking ahead of us. We followed him for a hundred metres and into a clearing. We kept a respectful distance while he sat and looked around, as if contemplating what to do next, before heading up a tree where a female and baby already sat. Florence explained that this chimpanzee was a seven-year-old who had not yet reached puberty and that the female was his mother.
Two more encounters lit up the following hour. Each time, Florence explained who the chimps were and how they were related.
“Do they know you?” I asked her.
“Yes, definitely,” she nodded.
“Sightings of chimpanzees in Kibale National Park are likely but can’t be guaranteed”
The following day proved that Florence had been right all along: sightings were not always so magically easy. I was booked onto an experience tracking a community that was not yet fully habituated. The bad news was that the trackers were having difficulty finding the chimps.
We set out in the pre-dawn underneath a steady rain. After 45 minutes, news came through that the community were heading into a swamp and still moving. Our guide, Gordon, gave us a choice: if we carried on, it would be difficult and wet underfoot when we got to the swamp, and we might not catch them before we would have to turn around.
We decided to drive back to where we had been the previous day to look for the members of the Kanyantale community again. We re-entered the forest at the same point as we had before and headed for the fig tree. It was then that we had to stop.
“There are three elephants under the tree,” warned Gordon. The rangers arrived to divert us away.
It was still gently raining and the temperature was cool. We spotted various chimps but they were little more than black blobs high in the trees, sometimes making nests. Then we heard some angry screeching.
“I don’t know what they are shouting at,” said Gordon, peering at the adjoining trees where two chimpanzees were having a face-off. All became clear when we saw a female on heat (estrus), her hindquarters bright pink.
“See her swollen bottom?” asked Gordon. “Chimps within a community only fight over three things: food, medicine and sex!”
We returned a few minutes later to find that one of the noisy males was now mating with her. Then Gordon whispered in my ear that the trackers had spotted a chimpanzee on the ground a few minutes away, so we left the couple to it and headed to where a large male called Bahoire was sitting.
On seeing us, he moved into a tree, sitting calmly on the low fork. Gordon instructed me to put down my walking pole and I crept forward slowly to a suitable spot nearby. As we looked at each other, it was one of those rare moments in life when one is oblivious to everything else around.
Although chimps do come down to the ground, most of the time you will be viewing them in trees
Chimpanzees eat a wide range of fruits and plants, with figs being a particular favourite
The drumming reverberated through the forest, making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
“That’s the alpha male doing that!” explained my guide, Judith. “He’s calling others in the group.”
We swiftly and quietly followed a narrow trail splattered with fresh elephant dung and emerged in a riverside clearing where a large male chimp glanced our way before drumming his feet again on a buttress tree.
“His name is Mweya,” hissed Judith as her fellow guide, Emmanuel, pointed to a chimpanzee approaching on the forest floor from behind. “That’s his brother,” she said. “And those are his friends. And look in that tree: there’s a female and baby coming down.”
Mweya had moved out of sight, but we heard his drumming again just as the sound of a loud exhalation came from the river, signalling the presence of hippos. It was almost as if they were joining in on this tropical symphony. I had to pinch myself.
It was less than an hour since six of us had gathered on the forested rim of Kyambura Gorge with Judith and Emmanuel.
“You’ll see a hidden treasure today!” they had announced. The gorge, which lies adjacent to Queen Elizabeth National Park, is 16km long and its width varies between 500m and a kilometre. “It means that Kyambura is an underground forest,” said Judith.
With its luxuriant greenery and running water, the ravine is rich in wildlife. Elephants, giant river hogs, buffalo and a variety of monkey species live here, while the river hosts hippos and crocodiles. But what draws most visitors is its community of chimpanzees.
“Journalists often call them the ‘lost chimps’,” said Judith, staring at me as I scribbled in my notebook.
While the gorge appears as an Eden, the trees which once connected it to other primate-rich forests have been cleared, leaving behind an island of greenery. The number of chimpanzees here was down to 15 in 2006, but this has since steadily increased to 32 individuals split across two groups.
“We have sent a tracker down from the local community, and with his help, we should find some chimpanzees,” said Emmanuel. We slid our way down a steep, muddy path before pulling up as Judith got news of a sighting. Along the way, she talked us through their diet.
“They are 98% vegetarian; they eat a lot of mushrooms and honey. Around 2% of their diet is meat, which they need for protein.”
Judith assured me there was little sign yet of inbreeding. To prevent it, females need to leave the gorge’s community and new ones need to come in. The good news was that one outside female had already somehow found her way to the gorge, helping to widen the gene pool. There is now talk of introducing more females, and the ideal solution would be to create a corridor to another nearby forest. However, according to local conservationists, the price of the land has shot up. While the situation is complex, there does seem to be agreement that an answer must be found.
The Kazinga Channel has one of the largest concentrations of hippo in Africa, with more than 2,000 said to dwell in its waters
One of the females of the Rushegura group of mountain gorillas, which was habituated in 2000 and began receiving visitors just a couple of years later. The group is commonly found roaming a wide area within the Buhoma sector of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest National Park
I was staying at another Volcanoes Safaris property, Kyambura Gorge Lodge, which has been instrumental in buying land and creating a buffer zone between the Queen Elizabeth National Park (QENP), the gorge and the local community. I took a guided walk to look at some of the work being done, including a deep trench that has been dug to prevent elephants from raiding the crops of the village. Of course, elephants are smart and there was evidence of them moving earth to find a way into the trench, but it has at least stopped whole herds from coming through.
The QENP is the most biodiverse national park in Uganda, with savannah, wetlands and woodland. On the main highway from Kasese, my guide/driver Francis pointed out the new electric fence that keeps the wildlife in the park – and cattle and goats out of it.
When the park was first gazetted, there were several small fishing villages here that were allowed to stay in place on the basis that cultivation and grazing would never be introduced. However, those settlements have grown in number and size since then, and other communities have sprouted along the park’s boundaries, leading to inevitable conflicts between wildlife and people.
Much of the wildlife in the park was decimated during the reign of Idi Amin. So, it was a joy to see large numbers of elephants looking healthy and with their tusks intact. Groups of Uganda kob, a kind of antelope, and herds of buffalo with calves at their feet grazed the lush grass.
Despite the plentiful game, one species that isn’t prospering is the lion, with numbers having gone down in recent years. An information board at the lodge’s Discovery Centre said that numbers had dropped by 90%.
“The people don’t like the lions, yet 20% of the entrance fee goes to the communities,” said James Kalyewa of the Uganda Carnivore Program, who accompanied my game drive into the park to monitor the big cats. “A pride of lions was poisoned in 2018, and more lions in 2020. There are so many challenges. And that’s why the lions are collared.”
As we drove, James was listening through headphones for a signal from one of the collared lions, but the first that we received was from a different cat altogether. We drove up to a candelabra (euphorbia) tree where a beautiful and rather sleepy female leopard was draped along a branch. “That’s Shan,” said James. “Her mother was collared in 2010, and if we’re lucky, we’ll see her too.”
We drove around for another 30 minutes before James straightened and pointed to a large, low bush. “Over there.” As we got closer, we could make out two large male lions sprawled on the tawny-coloured earth.
“They have eaten well,” said James, observing their bulging stomachs. “Note the pattern of their whiskers; they are unique to every lion. That’s how we tell them apart.”
The lions are part of a coalition of males that dominate this section of the park.
But, as someone from the Kyambura Lion Monitoring Project told me, the previous poisonings have left huge gaps in other areas. “The park is large enough to have many more lions but the balance has been disturbed.”
Shan is one of Queen Elizabeth National Park’s collared leopards
Buffalo are found in large numbers in Queen Elizabeth National Park
The next day, en route to Bwindi Impenetrable Forest National Park, we passed through the Ishasha Sector, world-famous for its tree-climbing lions. There are just two left now – both mature females. We were lucky to spot a mother and cub in a tree, but it was a wake-up call as to how fragile conservation can be and why communities need to be onboard for it to work.
The lions might still be vulnerable but there was better news in Bwindi, home to more than 45% of the world’s mountain gorilla population. Numbers of these primates had been down to an estimated 242 at one point; now there are more than 1,000, with Bwindi’s population accounting for around 460.
A census had just started – the first since 2015 – but it is expected to be very positive. Dr Ricky Okhelo of the Gorilla Doctors, veterinarians dedicated to treating the mountain gorillas, came to the lodge for a chat.
“We think that numbers are going up by 4% a year,” said Dr Ricky. “One reason is veterinary interventions. We treat gorillas if the cause is human-created, such as snares or a human-transmitted disease, or if it’s life-threatening.”
While numbers of other sub-species of gorilla are plummeting, Dr Ricky was optimistic about the future of the mountain gorillas. “Covid was a wake-up call for the communities as to how much they depended on the income from gorilla trekking,” he said.
I was staying at Volcanoes Bwindi Lodge in Buhoma and could see for myself the range of lodges, shops, activities and community projects that are here because of the lure of the gorillas to the world.
Reporting for gorilla trekking the next day, it became clear how involved the community was. A women’s group put on a dance performance for us, with a couple of the visitors joining in. After the obligatory briefing, there was a quick rundown of some of the other activities that visitors can undertake in the park, such as birdwatching and nature walks. We were advised that we could hire porters from the local community to carry our bags and help us up the steep slopes if necessary.
A nurse from the community hospital spoke, welcoming visitors, volunteers and funds, and then Dr Gladys Kalema-Zikusoka, a renowned wildlife veterinarian (Uganda’s first), spoke about her NGO, Conservation through Public Health, and the work it does to help communities as well as gorillas.
Eventually, we were split into groups of eight people, mine designated to the well-known Rushegura family. Guide Omax greeted us with shining eyes, revealing that he still gets excited despite being 13 years in this job. He explained that trackers had gone off a couple of hours earlier to look for the gorillas.
“We can guarantee finding them for you,” he said. “But gorillas do move, so we never guarantee that you see them.”
We drove to a trailhead and started off on foot, but Omax stopped after a hundred metres or so and took a call.
“Good news,” he said. “They were up that hill yesterday but have come down since and aren’t too far away.”
I asked him how far.
“Well it would take me ten minutes but you two hours,” he laughed. It was half an hour before Omax raised his hand for us to stop.
“Have some water but then leave your bags and walking poles here. Just bring your face masks and cameras.”
We walked down a hillside, our feet sinking into a deep mulch of leaves, and then we spotted the large black shapes in the trees in front of us.
“Oh, I didn’t know they went in trees,” said one of the group in surprise. “I thought they’d be too big.”
Omax explained how they made nests, although silverbacks and other dominant males might sleep on the ground. A young male descended from a tree and made his way along the forest floor.
“That’s Kanyindo,” said Omax.” He’s 13 years old and still a blackback. He’ll soon turn into a silverback.”
Kanyindo pulled a fireball lily from the ground and started munching it.
“That’s one of their favourites. Plants make up 99% of their diet, and they eat a wide variety. The rest is fruit, ants and soil.”
Next, a mother and baby came down a tree. The baby was as playful as any toddler. He kept jumping on Kanyinda. (“He wants to play with his big brother!” said Omax.) A few more of the group appeared and passed us by, completely oblivious to our presence. The gorillas targeted a giant yellow mulberry tree, chomping on its leaves; the rest of my group followed them to get photos. But, on hearing a rustle nearby, I stood still and watched as the alpha silverback, Kabukojo, emerged into view, his brother not far beyond him.
Kabukujo coolly contemplated the scene for a while and then settled down. I stayed frozen to the spot, privileged to be in his realm. For a few minutes, he simply sat. And then he turned his head towards me and our eyes met.
Chimpanzees are generally more exuberant, noisy and active than gorillas but may be high in the trees. On the plus side, they offer a wider range of behaviour.
Long trousers, waterproof walking boots, a lightweight raincoat or poncho and a surgical face mask. Wooden walking poles are often available for trekkers.
At Bwindi, they try to group people according to fitness and age, with the least fit designated the closest group of gorillas. The slopes are steep, but you can hire a porter (or two!) to help you.
At Kibale, the terrain is relatively flat. The amount of walking you need to do will depend on where the chimps are and whether they are on the move. At Kyambura Gorge, there is a steep slope but even this varies by where in the gorge you are. Once inside, the going is relatively flat.
The length of time to find the gorillas varies a lot depending on the group to which you are assigned and where they are on the day. Trackers go to find them in advance. Once found, you have a maximum of an hour with them.
With the chimpanzees at Kibale, the experience is three hours in total, which includes an hour with the chimpanzees; the rest of the time is spent looking for them and moving between groups. At Kyambura Gorge, the experience is two to three hours. Experiences in which you track groups not yet fully habituated are available at Kibale and Bwindi. These allow up to four hours with primates.
No closer than seven metres to the gorillas at Bwindi; eight metres to the chimpanzees. But primates don’t always read the rules.
Opposite: A baby gorilla munches on a fireball lily, one of the mountain gorillas’ favourite treats in a diet that is primarily made up of 99% plants and supplemented by fruit, ants and – to regulate digestion – soil
The burden of leadership doesn’t seem to weigh too heavy on the shoulders of Kabukojo, the current alpha silverback of the Rushegura group in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest National Park, where numbers of mountain gorillas are said to be rising by around 4% every year, despite the park already being home to the largest concentration of these primates in the world
This 32km-long natural channel links lakes Edward and George and is home to hippos, crocodiles, waterbirds and fish eagles. Elephants and buffalo also come to drink at the water’s edge. The Uganda Wildlife Authority runs two-hour cruises on the channel, or take a more exclusive tour via Mweya Safari Lodge. mweyalodge.com
The national parks offer both day and night walks to see species other than the apes. At the Bigodi Wetland Sanctuary in Kibale, you can go for a guided walk in search of the great blue turaco (known as the lipstick bird) as well as several species of primate, including the red colobus, black-and-white colobus and L’Hoest’s monkey. bigoditourism.com
From coffee-growing to tree-planting, guided village walks to cafés offering hospitality training, there is a wide range of projects that can be visited and supported while discovering more about local culture. Volcanoes Safaris supports a wide number of projects, and you will find many advertised in Buhoma.
Undertake a cultural visit to the Indigenous Batwa people (formerly known as Pygmies), who were made to leave their traditional forest home when Bwindi and Mgahinga Gorilla national parks were created. batwaexperience.org; volcanoessafaris.com
Opposite: Hippos in the Kazinga Channel
There is a healthy and growing number of elephants in QENP, although efforts to stop the herds from raiding farmland outside the park boundaries are being undertaken to prevent conflict with local villagers
Need to know
When to go
High season coincides with the dry seasons (Jun–Sep; Dec–Feb); however, prices are higher and permits are harder to get. March to May is the long rainy season but it usually only rains in the late afternoon.
Getting there & around
Uganda Airlines has direct flights four times weekly between London Gatwick and Entebbe as of May 2025. Ethiopian Airlines flies to Entebbe via Addis Ababa from £620 return. Most visitors fly in via Entebbe but gorillas and chimps live in the west, requiring an internal flight or a long drive.
The trip
The author joined Volcanoes Safaris on a tailor-made, nine-night trip with a one-night stay in Entebbe, three nights at Kibale Lodge and Kyambura Gorge Lodge and two nights at Bwindi Lodge. The price includes a gorilla permit, three chimpanzee experiences, a game drive with the lion-monitoring team, meetings with conservationists, a cruise on the Kazinga Channel, meals and drinks, domestic flights and transfers. Volcanoes also offer a ten-night Primates of the Great Rift Valley itinerary, with gorilla tracking in Mgahinga Gorilla NP.
Opposite: lions are one of the biggest victims of human-wildlife conflict in QENP, with their numbers having drastically fallen over the years, although the Kyambura Lion Monitoring Project is trying to find solutions
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