Day 26: Chimpan-A to Chimpanzee.

Nyungwe National Park, Rwanda – The alarm was shrill in the way anything is if it’s trying to wake you up at 2:30 a.m. The sun was nowhere near shattering the blackness.

Instead, we had a relatively clear skyline for our journey into Nyungwe National Park, where we were to track chimpanzees this morning. The blanket of stars reminded me of the sleep I could still be having. As we wove over the Park’s bumpy roads, tail lights bobbed like sinkers on fishing lines and remainders of the other day’s landslides jutted out like ribs.

After two hours of driving, we picked up our guide and two German tourists at 4:30 and made our way 12 more kilometres back into the rainforest. The wet, rutted roads were the worst I had ever encountered, so bad our journey took another 90 minutes.

As the sky lightened, we stood waiting for the trackers to locate the chimpanzee hoots that would set our direction. We knew the primates were nearby, but were keeping silent as their day was just breaking, too. Chimps are known to travel large distances and to not remain in one place long if food is not plentiful. A tracker fooled us with his call.

And suddenly, at 7:15, four large females thundered down the hill and across the road behind us. We stood, mouths agape, at how close we had been. We barrelled into the bush behind them (well, after giving them a bit of a lead), leaving no question of stealth with our heavy footfalls. The terrain was unforgiving and I cannot say I was always able to remain on my feet. Crashing down steep, muddy hills as vines and roots alike conspired to ensnare us, we didn’t see the chimps again for another hour.

A ruckus of calls erupted from deep in the valley, seemingly taunting us.

It felt like somewhat of a cross between Indiana Jones and Mantracker, Africa edition. Sharp thorn bushes snapped back into my face and dewy ferns found their way underfoot. All at once, it seemed, I’d be pulling myself up an incline, sliding back down a hill, climbing over a slippery rotten mahogany tree and jumping small streams. Chaffing from the walking stick left blood blisters speckled in my palm. But it was all worth it.

Finally, artillery fire of half-eaten figs hailed down upon us from high up in the trees, each hitting the soft ground with a resounding thud. The entire troupe was feeding above and littering the rainforest with its remains. Branches arched spectacularly as long hairy arms swung from them with ease. As the chimpanzees climbed down to feed elsewhere, we saw that two of the mothers had babies clinging to their stomachs. They were less than six months old.

Four hours and several vertical kilometres later – after tracking the family to yet another location – we emerged from the rainforest exhausted and completely filthy. And happy.

Over the years, I have been fortunate enough to have had many unique experiences, both good and bad, but I can think of few that were more exhilarating – or exhausting. Chimpanzees possess 94 per cent of human DNA and it was incredible to share space with our nearest relative in the animal kingdom.

But how would I love to be able to have a hot shower with water pressure.