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July 24, 2025Into the Mist: My Unforgettable Gorilla Trekking Experience in Uganda’s Rainy Season
Some of the most extraordinary adventures don’t unfold beneath a postcard-perfect sky. They unfold under stormy clouds, through relentless rain, with mud-caked boots and aching limbs and a heart that beats wildly, not just from the climb, but from awe. Awe at nature’s rawness. Awe at the sheer privilege of witnessing something truly untamed.
That was my experience gorilla trekking in Uganda’s rainy season. A journey that tested me, drenched me, and changed me in ways no dry-season safari ever could. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t easy. But it was real undeniably, powerfully real. And it’s an experience I wouldn’t trade for the clearest of skies.
While most travelers flock to Uganda during the drier months, eager for comfortable hikes and uninterrupted views, I found myself drawn to the mist and mystery of the wet season. I didn’t want perfect I wanted authentic. I wanted to feel the jungle breathing around me. And that’s exactly what I got.
A Land Cloaked in Clouds
The journey began in the heart of southwestern Uganda. I was traveling with Ngeye Uganda tours, a local tour operator known not just for their expertise, but for their deep love for their country’s wild places. Our journey from Kampala, the capital, took us southwest across lush countryside, through vibrant towns like Mbarara and Kabale, with a lunch stop near Lake Bunyonyi, often called “the Switzerland of Africa” for its emerald hills and misty inlets.
Somewhere between Kabale and Kanungu District, we stopped briefly at Lake Bunyonyi, a shimmering stretch of volcanic lake speckled with islands one of the deepest lakes in Africa. It felt like a prelude to the mystery of Bwindi. Here, we stretched our legs and watched as school children paddled dugout canoes between islands, laughter echoing across the water.
As our vehicle wound through the rolling highlands, past tea plantations and banana groves, the skies slowly began to darken. A fine mist settled over the hills like a veil, softening the landscape into a watercolor of greens and grays.
Children waved from the roadside, their laughter echoing through the valley. Life here didn’t seem slowed by the rain if anything, it was animated by it. The air was thick and earthy, filled with the scent of damp soil, wildflowers, and woodsmoke. I leaned out the window, letting the cool wind slap against my cheeks, and smiled. This was already a world apart.
Arriving at Bwindi Impenetrable National Park, specifically the Buhoma sector the oldest and most established trekking sector on the northern edge of the park felt like stepping into another realm. Aptly named, the forest loomed with a quiet majesty. The mist that clung to the treetops gave it an otherworldly aura ancient, secretive, eternal.
I checked into Mahogany Springs Lodge, one of the many eco-conscious lodges nestled along the forest edge. Others nearby, like Buhoma Lodge and Silverback Lodge, are equally enchanting, each offering sweeping views of the canopy and a front-row seat to the orchestra of forest sounds. From my window, I could see nothing but trees and clouds and the promise of adventure.
That night, the rain fell hard. It drummed on the roof like a war cry, then softened into a lullaby. I lay awake, listening, imagining the gorillas sleeping somewhere out there nestled in the same storm, under the same sky.
Into the Rain
Morning came shrouded in fog. I joined a small group of fellow trekkers at the Buhoma Visitor Centre a modest yet efficient hub for briefing, registration, and ranger introductions. Our group included travelers from Kenya, Germany, and the UK, each drawn here by the same whisper of the wild. Over cups of steaming Ugandan tea, we were briefed by our guides. The trackers had already gone ahead to locate our assigned gorilla family. Our job was simple: follow.
The trek began on a hopeful note. Spirits were high, despite the drizzle, as we stepped onto the trail. But it didn’t take long before we understood why this was considered the harder season. The trail was mud slick, deep, unrelenting. Each step felt like a gamble. We grabbed onto vines and branches to steady ourselves, our boots making a satisfying squelch with every move.
And yet, we kept going laughing when someone slipped, sharing snacks, offering hands to help one another over tangled roots or steep inclines. The rain didn’t dampen our enthusiasm. It bonded us.
The jungle was alive in a way I hadn’t expected. Rain doesn’t silence the forest it amplifies it. Birds called from the treetops, their cries echoing like flutes through the canopy. Insects hummed beneath the leaves. The trees glistened with dew, and everywhere I looked, life was blooming. Lush, wild, and defiant.
After nearly three hours of hiking through shifting terrain, our guide suddenly signaled for silence. The trackers had found them.
Eye to Eye with Giants
We left our bags and walking sticks behind and crept forward in near silence, every footstep cautious, hearts thudding in anticipation. The rain had grown steadier now, beading on our eyelashes, trickling down our necks. The mist thickened, curling like smoke through the undergrowth.
And then there he was.
A silverback.
Majestic doesn’t quite capture it. He was immense, powerful, yet oddly serene. He sat beneath a dripping tree, peeling leaves with a slow rhythm, his eyes scanning the forest as if he’d seen it all a hundred times over. Nothing about our presence seemed to faze him. He was king, and he knew it.
Soon, more shapes emerged. A mother gorilla cuddled a tiny infant against her chest, sheltering it from the rain with her body. Two juveniles tumbled across the forest floor in a playful wrestle. A teenage male lounged lazily, chewing on a vine with the nonchalance of a creature who’s never known fear.
And then, the moment that will stay with me forever: a young gorilla turned to look directly at me. For a brief second, our eyes locked. His gaze was not wild, not fearful. Just… aware. It was like being seen by something ancient and intelligent, something that understood more than it could say.
For the full hour we were allowed to observe, I was no longer aware of the rain. I wasn’t cold. I wasn’t wet. I was simply there present, connected, in awe. These creatures, so close to us in DNA, live lives that feel worlds away from our own. And yet, the bond I felt in that moment was undeniable.
When the Rain Teaches You
Leaving the gorillas was bittersweet. We trekked back in near silence, each lost in our thoughts, the forest still whispering around us. The rain had lightened to a mist, clinging to the moss-covered trunks like a memory refusing to fade.
Back at the lodge, I peeled off my soaked clothes and sat wrapped in a blanket, staring out at the jungle that had just changed me. There’s something the rainy season gives you that no guidebook can describe: humility.
You realize how small you are. How fragile. How dependent on the kindness of strangers and the strength of your own resolve. You understand that real beauty isn’t found in picture-perfect conditions, but in raw, unfiltered encounters with nature, with people, with yourself.
A Journey That Gives Back
One of the most meaningful parts of the experience was knowing that every step I took supported something larger. Gorilla trekking permits directly fund conservation and community efforts ensuring that these rare animals, and the people who live alongside them, thrive.
With Ngeye Tours Uganda, I saw this firsthand. Our guide spoke passionately about anti-poaching patrols, reforestation programs, and local schools funded by tourism. The porters who helped us navigate the trail weren’t just employees they were ambassadors of their communities, proud to share their home and grateful for the opportunity.
After the trek, I stopped by Ride 4 a Woman, a local women’s collective in Buhoma Village that empowers widows and single mothers through weaving, tailoring, and eco-tourism. I bought a hand-stitched bag there now a treasured reminder of the hands and hearts behind this journey.
Final Thoughts: Go Where the Wild Calls
When I look back on that trek, I don’t remember the mud in my boots or the ache in my legs. I remember the moment I stood inches away from a silverback and felt the world fall away. I remember the rain dripping from the canopy, the laughter of strangers-turned-friends, the fierce joy of being alive and part of something bigger.
The rainy season is not for the faint of heart. But for those willing to brave the elements, it offers something rare: intimacy. Solitude. Magic.
So if you’re considering gorilla trekking, don’t wait for sunshine. Step into the mist. Let the rain baptize you into the wild. Let Ngeye Tours Uganda guide you into a world where wonder hides behind every leaf.
Because some of the best stories are the ones we earn with muddy hands, open hearts, and a willingness to say yes—even when the skies say no.