Chimpanzee Trekking in Uganda: Dispatches from the Forest Front Line
- Rand Blimes
- May 24
- 4 min read
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to make contact with the chimpanzees of Kibale Forest
Mission Directive
Operation Pan Troglodyte
Objective: Establish non-intrusive contact with Pan troglodytes schweinfurthii (Eastern chimpanzee) troop within Kibale Forest.
Parameters: Observe behaviors. Assess threat levels. Avoid provocation. Maintain distance.
Note: Subject species is known to exhibit sudden intra- and intergroup aggression. Human safety is contingent on non-engagement. Proceed accordingly.
Status: Active. Deep field infiltration authorized. No extraction protocol unless explicitly triggered by local authority or primate directive.
Field Report: Operation Pan Troglodyte
Location: Kibale Forest, Uganda
Agent ID: 001-K
Mission Day: 1
Local Time: 06:11
Dawn. The sky cracked open with a heavy orange glow, as if the continent itself were exhaling. We moved early, as instructed—before the forest woke fully. En route to the rendezvous point, the road was lined with sentinels: baboons, dozens of them. Watching. Not moving. Just… watching.
I’ve read that in Gombe, across the border in Tanzania, chimps and baboons collaborate—alliances of convenience, or perhaps something deeper. Here in Uganda, their relationship is less clear. But the gaze of the baboons this morning felt coordinated. Calculated. I noted their positions. I moved on.
I cannot know how the baboons, or the chimpanzees will react to my mission, but I have my orders.
I will carry out my mission.
Local Time: 07:03
We arrived at the staging point. Our unit consisted of seven: myself, my wife, and five others, mostly Europeans. A man in camouflage—stone-faced, gravel-voiced—delivered the briefing. No shouting. No sudden moves. No mimicry of chimp vocalizations. A misplaced syllable could be mistaken for a threat, and threats, he reminded us, are answered swiftly in chimpanzee society.
He said this without humor. I believed him.
Local Time: 07:38
We entered the forest. Not jungle—forest. Tall trees, open space, clear sightlines. Visibility extended 30 meters or more. Light filtered down in wide shafts. It was strangely calm, deceptively so. The trail was dry. The foliage sparse. The air, expectant.
For the next 20 to 30 minutes, we will move in file. Silent. Listening.
Local Time: 08:12
Contact.
We heard them before we saw them: high-pitched shrieks echoing through the trees. Not laughter. Not fear. Something in between. Command? Warning? Play? The sound bounced unpredictably through the forest.
Then—movement. Shapes dropping from trees, scattering across the forest floor. Glimpses only. They kept their distance. Scouting maneuvers? Testing our limits? Reading us?
Local Time: 08:25
We saw a female. She carried a young one. Her posture suggested indifference, but it was practiced. Controlled. The infant was less discreet—eyes wide, curious. Watching us with an unblinking focus. No fear. No shame. Just observation.
A few chimps lingered at the edges—lounging, climbing, monitoring. One perched high, its brow furrowed. Its face unreadable, but far too human. It was calculating something. We were being measured.
Local Time: 08:32
We made eye contact.
Not briefly. Not in passing. Directly.
She was seated low among the undergrowth—partially obscured, yet perfectly framed in the gaps between the leaves. I raised the camera without thinking. She held my gaze. Did not blink. Her eyes were dark and unreadable, but something behind them stirred—a slow, deliberate awareness. Not curiosity. Not recognition. Something colder.
For a moment, I was sure she was assessing something about me. Not threat level. Not species. Intent.
I remembered the briefing: Avoid direct eye contact with dominant males. They had said nothing about females. But at that distance, with that stare, taxonomy felt irrelevant.
The others in the group whispered and shifted. I couldn't move. I did not breathe.
Eventually, she looked away. The moment passed. But the sense of being seen—truly seen, then dismissed—has not.
Local Time: 08:41
The breach.
One of the elders approached. Deliberately. Slowly. No fear. It sat down on the forest floor, ten feet away. We froze. Everyone froze. This wasn’t part of the script. Then, suddenly—a sound. A low grunt. Almost a bark. Followed by a hand gesture.
A dismissal.
A warning.
A test?
We got the message. Slowly, carefully, we backed away. No words were exchanged among the group. There was no need.
Local Time: 09:07
Extraction successful. We returned to headquarters without incident, though I suspect we were observed the entire way out. Chimps are known to follow at a distance. They seldom announce their departure. They just… stop showing themselves.
Preliminary Assessment:
This forest is not ours. These beings are not here for our entertainment. Their silence is not ignorance. It is choice. They watched us enter. They chose to allow it. They decided when it was time for us to leave.
Mission ongoing.
Postscript: Logistics of Chimpanzee Trekking in Uganda
We visited the chimpanzees as part of our week-long safari in Uganda.
Chimpanzee trekking in Uganda in Kibale Forest National Park is one of Uganda’s most rewarding wildlife experiences—and also one of the most accessible. The town of Fort Portal makes a convenient base, or you can stay closer to the park itself at one of the many forest lodges that offer early access to the park headquarters.
Trekking permits are required and should be booked in advance through the Uganda Wildlife Authority (UWA) or a trusted tour operator. As of now, permits cost $200 USD per person, which includes a guided trek lasting 2–4 hours (though actual time spent near the chimps is limited to one hour once contact is made). Morning and afternoon treks are available, but morning gives you better odds of seeing active chimps.
The terrain is easier than Bwindi—more open, with gentler slopes—but it’s still wild forest, and you’ll need decent boots, long pants, and rain gear. Bring water. Bring patience. And whatever you do, don’t mimic the calls. This is their forest, and you are a guest.
Comments