August 20, 2024
Volcanoes National Park, Rwanda
November 2021 & 2022
It would paint the dense bushes and the whimsically contorted trees that seem to be grafted from Dr. Seuss’ creations; the fields of crops tended by callused hands; the leaves and branches flattened into nests and the bamboo forests that provide sustenance by the great apes who have no other region on the planet to call home.
On many mornings during my first visit to the country, I felt as though I was in a picture book. The glow of light emerging from the horizon, layers of mist brushing against the mountains, lenticular clouds hovering over volcano peaks like UFOs. It’s not an in-your-face kind of beauty—it feels softer and more subdued. It’s captivating but comforting all at once. But as the day progresses, the vibrancy of the colors intensifies, and that sense of soft comfort begins to fade as you embark the journey you came here for.
The Virunga Mountains are a chain of eight volcanoes spanning Rwanda, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). This small region is home to the endangered mountain gorilla and would be the setting for my close encounters with these animals over the next few days. My treks during this visit would vary significantly as I sought the best approach for capturing the photograph I envisioned—a powerful silverback set against the formidable landscape in which it lives.
Initially, I expressed a preference for the Igisha family to my guide, as it was one of the largest, with 35 members and several silverbacks. I hadn’t given thought to where in the mountains the family might be located. A two-hour ride over rocky dirt “roads” took us towards the border with the DRC, where my guide, ranger, porter and I began our trek. The trackers had found the gorillas lower in the mountains, so it was a shorter hike, but it still required a fair amount of ducking and dodging to avoid tree branches and bamboo.
Moving deeper through the humid, dense rainforest, the experience felt like stepping into different chapters of a fantasy novel. Each area presented a unique scene, and with a family this large, there were plenty of characters playing different roles. While I focused on the animals in front, branches would be cracking behind me. Your head is on a swivel as more unfolds. While it’s impossible to catch every moment, you’re graced with so many that surpass anything you imagined.
Swinging, grunting, screeching, mating, eating, napping—just about every possible action lived out within a few feet, or in some cases, with no separation at all. At one point, a silverback must have thought I was too close to his female, so he walked directly at me to deliver a shoulder barge before continuing on his way.
It was a memorable first experience, but a challenging one from an image standpoint. This initial trek reminded me of the old real estate adage about the importance of location. The entire area was enveloped by thick foliage, making the whole scene darker than I would have hoped for. I came away with a few keepers, but more than anything, it was a valuable test run.
The following morning, I felt better prepared to articulate what I was looking for. I spoke with the park warden and shared my vision for the image. He nodded and just said “Umubano.” With that, we set off.
This trek began across flat farmland at the base of the volcano, but the terrain quickly turned from solid ground to deep mud as we crossed the small rock wall at the edge of the jungle. It took just five minutes before the zipper on my camera bag ripped apart, forcing the incredible porter accompanying me to carry the gear like an overgrown infant the remainder of the way. At one point, we reached the top of a deep ravine, where we paused to rest and try to make contact with the trackers ahead of us. Out of breath, I quietly prayed for another path. But with impeccable comedic timing, we heard a call from the trackers directly across the ravine. I cursed under my breath before we continued our crossing.
If you told me this hike took four hours, I would have believed it. Realistically, it was probably half that time, but my legs were on fire. My clothes felt like I had just jumped into a pool, and DEET was running down my face into my eyes and mouth. I removed my jacket to help with the heat and humidity, sacrificing any protection against the plants. Large swaths of my skin began to go numb from seemingly endless stinging nettles piercing through my pants and shirt. We made one final push through a tangle of branches, where my guide used a machete to clear the way before we finally reached the gorillas.
Umubano was a smaller family—around 13 members at the time—with five silverbacks, a handful of blackbacks (think teenage boys) and females, and one small infant. While there were fewer gorillas today, the setting was exactly what I had in mind. When we emerged from beneath the canopy, we found the gorillas on the hill below, completely unobstructed, with a view of the mountains behind. The blackbacks were playing and tumbling down the hill. One summersaulted in front of me, rested on his back for a moment, before getting up to push my arm and continue his rolling quest. Some of the silverbacks were sitting in their nests, while others wrestled with smaller trees, ripping them out of the ground for a snack. The females roamed around, quietly watching and eating.
One of the silverbacks wandered a short distance from the group before settling into his nest. He was positioned perfectly in front of one of the volcanoes, with another peak off to the right in the distance. I glanced at my guide, who motioned for me to get closer. The silverback appeared relaxed and unbothered by my presence. I laid down on the bed of raised branches and leaves—hardly comfortable, but comfort was the last thing on my mind. As the silverback looked downward, I was waiting for the right moment.
Suddenly, I felt a tap on my right shoulder. Knowing my guide was up the hill to my left, I turned to see what it was. I could only laugh quietly as I found one of the females sitting next to me, gently petting me. You couldn’t write this.
Any other time, I would have turned my camera to capture the moment, but I knew the shot I was here for was in front of me. I turned towards the silverback, my eye glued to the viewfinder. Waiting. Waiting.
More petting on my shoulder.
Eyes and head down. Waiting
Still petting.
Eyes closed. Waiting.
Sweating.
Head up.
Eye contact.
Finger down on shutter.
It all happened in an instant. Immediately afterwards, the silverback shifted to his side and settled down in the leaves for his morning nap. I looked over to my guide, who smiled and laughed. “You’re comfortable with animals aren’t you?”
My final trek the following day was similar to the first, with thick foliage but more sunlight to work with. The lone silverback was mostly uncooperative, but I managed to capture some moments of the juveniles climbing and riding on their mothers’ backs. As the light filtered through the canopy, those wild greens illuminated the scene. It was a beautiful morning, with Rwanda’s vibrance on full display. Which all begs the question—In a country of immense color, why look to create an image in black and white?
For my answer, you need to travel back—way back—to the late 1950s. To the fifth dimension—The Twilight Zone. A black-and-white sci-fi anthology series that, despite lacking modern-day special effects, has stood the test of time, and it quickly became a favorite of mine. As time goes on, you begin wonder why you were drawn to such an archaic series, one that could easily be mistaken as a high schooler’s film project today. You watch a spaceship that looks like someone’s kitchenware dangling from a string or an “alien” with a third eye so clearly glued to his forehead. Yet it still resonates.
This, I believe, comes from the show’s most powerful quality. When you strip away the distractions of elaborate costumes and special effects, you are left with one thing—the story. And this is what I found so compelling. Rod Serling’s opening and closing monologues deliver messages and lessons that stick. The writing is succinct and is pertinent, even today.
I’m certainly not opposed to color and I do believe that some photographs are better suited for it. But at times, I think that color can act as a crutch. So, even in the most vibrant of settings, I challenge myself to try and deliver a feeling using just the subject, composition, and tone.
-EK
7/29/24
