Not all wildlife experiences start at sunrise. Mine couldn’t, anyway. First, I had to get from my guest house, Silver Oaks, in Fort Portal, to Guereza Canopy Lodge, which is located just on the edge of Kibale forest. That meant a one-hour journey perched on the back of yet another Boda Boda. Covering a distance of approximately 24 miles.
The driver, Oman, arrived bang on time – at 8am, just as I’d polished off a fabulous breakfast — perfect timing. Travelling light helped; my medium-sized bag sat neatly on the handlebars of the bike. It was a cold morning, so I had layered up like an Arctic explorer in Uganda.
By 9am, we had arrived at the lodge after a fabulous journey through early morning Ugandan life. I checked in and, I won’t lie, felt a wave of relief at being off the bike — a quick nap seemed entirely justified.
At 1pm, Oman returned – to drive me to the chimp trekking reception office. Permits for the trek must be arranged well in advance — the bureaucracy is real, but necessary.
A large group of us (tourists) – maybe 24 people – gathered at Kanyanchu. We received our safety briefing and face masks before driving a short distance to the start of the trek.
Thankfully we split into three small groups, each with a lead guide and rear guard.
Then we stepped into the forest. Within minutes, the air thickened, the light dimmed, and civilisation vanished behind us.
This trekking isn’t a gentle woodland stroll. This is proper rainforest: dense, humid, alive.
And then we saw one of them. Just sitting there, completely oblivious to our presence. Up close and personal with a primate that shares 99% of our DNA — it’s hard to explain the mix of awe, disbelief, and tiny terror that hits you all at once.
A little further on, we stumbled upon a pair of adults grooming each other. It was intimate, mesmerising — the sort of moment that makes you forget to breathe.
Then the jungle erupted.
A sudden scream ripped through the trees. Not fear. Not panic. Pure chimpanzee drama.
Radios crackled, guides pointed, and we hurried forward. The hunt was on.
Chimpanzees. Everywhere
And then — chaos.
Branches shook. Leaves fell. Shapes launched through the canopy. Chimps appeared from nowhere, moving with speed, strength, and confidence that made us feel like awkward visitors in borrowed space.
Big males. Mothers with babies. Teenagers causing trouble. All of them watching us as much as we watched them.
One sat calmly on a branch, chewing fruit, staring straight at me with a look that clearly said:
“You paid for this, didn’t you?”
Nature’s Gymnastics Team
Chimpanzees don’t walk. They fly.
Swinging. Leaping. Launching. Dropping. Every movement was a National Geographic slow-motion highlight reel.
At one point, a juvenile sprinted across the forest floor directly in front of us — chest out, full confidence, zero fear — then vanished straight back into the trees. That safety advice about not standing underneath them suddenly made perfect sense.
That Quiet Moment
Then something strange happened.
The forest settled. The noise faded. The group fell silent.
For a moment, it wasn’t about photos, blogs, or travel plans. It was just humans standing quietly, watching one of our closest relatives live freely in the wild.
No fences. No cages. No performances. Just raw, living Africa.
Why Afternoon Treks Are Brilliant
Morning treks get all the attention, but afternoons offer something special:
• More relaxed chimp behaviour
• Feeding, grooming, and play
• Softer jungle light
• Fewer crowds
• Slower, calmer pacing
It feels less like an activity and more like an encounter.
Some travel moments fade. This one won’t.
