Go for the gorillas, sure. But then stay for more riches, culture and wonders in Uganda’s landscapes

I watch as nearly 80,000 gallons of water, the equivalent of around 300,000 liters, whooshes through a small chasm of six to seven meters across before plummeting down into the Nile. It’s hypnotic to watch and satisfying to listen to—Murchison Falls may not have the height of Angel or the width of Victoria, but it’s one of the most powerful falls in the world.

This is my third time to this literal force of nature—inside the national park of the same name, Uganda’s largest conservation area—and it never fails to inspire awe. But it’s more than awe. Growing up, I’d hear my family talk of weekends at Murchison, an escape from Uganda’s busy capital Kampala. Initially brought over from India by the British to help build and administrate their new protectorate, many Asian families followed for decades after for economic opportunities, including my grandparents in the 1930s, where they lived until the Ugandan Asian exile of 1972.

Some 50-plus years on, I now visit their, I suppose mine too, homeland as a traveler, lured by stories of the past and the country’s people, landscapes and wildlife now.

On the shore of Lake Albert in northwest Uganda, Murchison Falls National Park is home to elephants, buffalo, hippos, leopards (if you’re lucky) and Nile lions. You can also track chimpanzees in the park’s tropical mahogany forest of Kaniyo Pabidi and Lake Albert Delta offers birdwatchers the chance to see the rare shoebill stork. But this time, I’m here to visit a lesser-visited section, 16 miles (25 kilometers) upstream from the falls; a remote, newly created 75,000-hectare low-impact zone which encompasses the Kisangani Plains, where prides of lions that few humans have seen roam the grasslands.

Home, for a few nights, is on the banks of the Nile at the newly opened Kulu Ora lodge. Facing out onto a jungle island where the river splits—Kulu Ora itself means “river” in two local languages—it channels part-boutique hotel, part-safari lodge vibes. There’s eye-catching wildlife shots by Ugandan photographer Jonathan Benaiah by the pool bar, and thought-provoking paintings from self-taught Ugandan artist Daniel Atenyi in the bar and dining area—created after he spent time in the area.

A lion stretches out on one side, a lioness sits on the other, the remains of a kob between them. Deciding what to focus on is a challenge, our eyes darting about, as if watching multiple events on multiple screens. But suddenly, Kawamara’s eyes are diverted. He looks across the plains. “Poachers,” he says. “With spears.” They’re some distance away; I can only but envy his eyesight.

It’s the seventh property in the all-Ugandan portfolio of Wild Places Africa. Co-owner Jonathan Wright grew up in Uganda, leaving for Canada in 1972 during dictator Idi Amin’s rule, and returning in the 1990s with his wife Pamela when they set up the company, which they now run with their children, Fergus and Annabelle.

Constructed by local builders and carpenters, the land the lodge stands on was wild when the Wrights found it , moving through marsh and river to reach it. Now, there are 11 canvas-walled tented suites, with patios complete with a plunge pool and Nile view. It’s a far cry from how my parents vacationed here in the 50s and 60s, I think. But every new lodge in Uganda, when done well, is testament to the country’s ever-increasing profile in the safari—and beyond-safari—space.

The food served at such lodges is changing too; lighter, locally sourced, less food waste. Here, head chef Alex Tuhirirwe and his team put into practice the Afro-fusion cuisine devised by visiting consultant chef Ron Dutes, a Mexico-based New Yorker. His aim was to create imaginative dishes with local ingredients. There’s crispy fish with pineapple green chilli salsa, roasted carrot-coconut soup, green salad with passion fruit vinaigrette, and desserts like mango pannacotta, much of it picked from the lodge’s walled garden.

But the reason to come here is of course not to satisfy the stomach, but the wildlife eyes. Even on a Nile cruise, we see pied kingfishers on the hunt for fish, their black-and-white plumage reminiscent of newspaper cuttings, Nile crocodiles basking in the sun, and a savannah elephant standing on the riverbanks.

For Jonathan Wright, it’s the Nile lions, of which there are around 70 in this area across three main prides, who steal the show in this section of the park. With only two camps permitted to operate in this concession (Kulu Ora and its sister property Papa’s Camp), the aim of the low-impact zone is low visitor density and jeep traffic.

Judging by our game drives, it’s paying off. We see no-one else and our sightings are sublime, in no small part thanks to our guides David Kawamara and Fred Aduvuku. We see warthogs, antelopes, Rothschild giraffes and elephant herds. Then, as we round a corner, we hear a lioness roar. “She’s hunting,” Kawamara tells us. “This is kob breeding ground,” referring to the commonly sighted antelope species of Ugandan kob. Aduvuku spots something so we head in that direction. 

A lion stretches out on one side, a lioness sits on the other, the remains of a kob between them. Deciding what to focus on is a challenge, our eyes darting about, as if watching multiple events on multiple screens. But suddenly, Kawamara’s eyes are diverted. He looks across the plains. “Poachers,” he says. “With spears.” They’re some distance away; I can only but envy his eyesight.

While there have been great strides in reducing poaching and engaging local communities in tourism, poaching remains an issue. Part of Wild Places’ work includes supporting ranger outposts and initiatives that bring reformed poachers togethers—a USD$25 levy per guest automatically goes to their Wild Places’ Conservation Foundation to support such projects.

While most people head to Uganda purely for gorilla tracking—undoubtedly Uganda’s star wildlife attraction—lesser-visited and lesser-known has its own charms. While there’s no ‘Big Five’ national park in the country right now, that could change. In northern Uganda, rhino have recently been translocated to Kidepo Valley National Park, home to four of the Big Five, and the only park in the country to have cheetah. The introduction of rhino could be a gamechanger in years to come. For now, they remain in a safe, private enclosure.

At Apoka Lodge, the only lodge inside the national park and our base, I take in the views. Vast plains stretch out in front of us, antelope and zebra gather at the watering hole, and the pool glistens, tempting me in. I’m not sure much else beats a dip in a pool while wildlife-watching in near-silence.

Conservation has been at the heart of Wild Places’ agenda since 1997 when they opened their first lodge in Semliki National Park, further west on the DRC border. Now formalized through the foundation, initiatives at Apoka have centered on anti-poaching, animal relocation and installing community water pumps for the Karamoja people, a semi-nomadic cattle-herding community who live in the northeastern region, bordering Sudan and Kenya. The region is also home to the Indigenous Ik community, traditionally subsistence mountain farmers and hunter-gatherers, adept at growing crop such as maize, millet and tobacco.

We’re led by female ranger Judith Nyamihanda who is six years into her role. “There are eight to 10 female guides out of 25 guides,” she tells us as we begin our trek to meet our closest living relative—along with bonobos, chimpanzees share 98.8 percent of human DNA. Perhaps that’s why observing them is extra-fascinating.

Luxury safari always comes with conflicting feelings, linked to land rights, community engagement and empowerment, and local employment. What’s important is that safari lodges and companies improve and uplift the lives of those whose communities their properties reside, through work, meaningful cultural experiences, and giving agency and voice to local people.

Over in western Uganda is the primate capital of the world—Uganda is home to 20 different primate species, including our closest living relative, the chimpanzee. Uganda has multiple forests for chimpanzee tracking, but we’re headed to Kyambura Gorge in the northwestern region of Queen Elizabeth National Park.

Home for the night is Honey Bear Bush Camp, comfortable, en-suite tented camps on the southern bank of the Kazinga Channel, which connects Lakes Albert and Edward, inside a low-impact area of Kyambura Game Reserve, bordering the northeastern section of Queen Elizabeth National Park. Wildlife-viewing is mostly on-demand as elephants and hippos bathe in the channel.

Led by field guide Togara Joseph Charingira, better known as TJ, on a boat trip along the channel, it’s golden hour and the light plays tricks on us. “Some lions look like logs,” TJ says. “Some logs like lions.” He also has thoughts on the buffalo: “They always look like you owe them some money!” We spot pygmy kingfishers, its metallic blue reminiscent of the equally striking blue malachite kingfishers.

Kyambura Gorge is a 328-foot (100-meter) gorge. Slightly sunken, this underground forest is home to a unique, isolated population of 32 chimps—they’re often called the ‘lost chimps of Kyambura’—who live in eight families. We’re led by female ranger Judith Nyamihanda who is six years into her role. “There are eight to 10 female guides out of 25 guides,” she tells us as we begin our trek to meet our closest living relative—along with bonobos, they share 98.8 percent of human DNA. Perhaps that’s why observing them is extra-fascinating. “The oldest is a grandmother chimp called Kaka,” says Nyamihanda. “She’s 54 years old.”

The first chimp we spot is dangling off a tree before swinging from branch to branch. Their deftness and agility is remarkable. As we pad through the forest, another chimp walks towards us, on all fours, with authority. It’s the alpha, chosen by the group in what could be broadly considered a democratic process. Ex-alphas often end up in a deputy or bodyguard position to the new alpha, especially if they step down amicably. It’s reminiscent of human politics in so many ways.

Almost as genetically close to us as chimpanzees are the mountain gorillas. In the early 1980s, it’s estimated there were around 400 in existence; now there are over a thousand. While a move from critically endangered to endangered in 2018 doesn’t mean the mountain gorillas population is thriving, it is of course a huge achievement by primatologists, local communities and tourism—fees for gorilla-tracking go towards gorilla conservation. From our cozy base at Clouds Mountain Gorilla Lodge, the high-altitude Nkuringo Sector in southwestern Bwindi Impenetrable National Park, one of our four trailheads in this park, will be our start point.

Treks vary in length, difficulty, and duration. Led by our ranger Owen Murungi and accompanied by two armed rangers (for scare-shooting only—no gorillas harmed in the making of this story), we descend into the forest, through community tea plantations and dense foliage. We walk, and walk, and walk, until our rangers receive notice from the trackers. We’re close. Then suddenly, we’re there. Face masks on, we follow them to meet the 17-member Posho gorilla family—so-called after the cornmeal porridge eaten in Uganda.

Our group is immediately drawn to the silverback, surrounded by the rest of the family. They’re a calm group, Murungi says, and they live up to their reputation, resting, playing and chomping on bamboo shoots, leaves and wild fruit during our time with them. When it starts to rain, they take shelter under the leaves. A mother cuddles her baby, while two juvenile males play-fight. Before you know it, the hour is up.

Bwindi isn’t only about gorilla tracking. When the national park was created in 1991, the Batwa, nomadic hunter-gatherers who lived inside the forest, were forcibly evicted. Frequently ostracized and marginalized from life outside, and with no formal program for education, housing or employment, the onus often fell on individual organizations and private lodges to create them.

Over time, the Batwa have integrated, and reports of discrimination reduced too. But more than that, their knowledge of the forest is celebrated and respected. A short walk from the lodge is a Batwa heritage experience, one of many around the national park, where the community both preserves and shares their skills in fire-making, setting up snares and hunting, and their deep knowledge of medicinal plants.

While managed by Wild Places, Clouds itself is owned by the local community via the Nkuringo Conservation Development Foundation which raises funds for community and conservation initiatives. There’s much to discuss as we enjoy drinks on the patio. This evening, the mist is so dense, it’s as if someone activated a fog machine, but in the distance, we see the active stratovolcano of Mount Nyiragongo, geographically in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) but inside Virunga National Park near the Rwandan border—a reminder we’re at the confluence of the three countries the mountain gorillas call home. I consider just how much is packed into this lesser-known landlocked nation, a land with both familial and travel memories for me. But perhaps that’s a good thing, and flying ever so slightly under the radar is also its ace card.

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The writer’s trip was supported by World Odyssey and WildPlaces Africa who offer a fully inclusive experience including safari activities, domestic light aircraft flights and permits. For UK travelers, Uganda Airlines flies direct between London Gatwick and Entebbe, Uganda’s international airport. Travelers can also connect to Entebbe directly via several airlines through hubs in Africa, the Middle East and Europe.

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