The Further Adventures of an Idiot Abroad (33 page)

Its walking was similar to that of a pissed-up old fella stumbling home from a Sunday afternoon drink. The vet who had administered the drugs was guiding it towards the truck but first he wanted
to take some blood samples. He managed to walk it into a tree trunk that was perfect for it to rest against without lying down. The rhino’s head perched perfectly between the branches of the
tree. He then covered its eyes with a scarf to stop it stressing out. This was a chance for me to get up close. They’re weird-looking animals. Its skin looked too big for its bones.

Lots of people were there to help, which was just as well, as it took fifteen people to steer it over to the truck. They eventually got it in and drove it to a new area. When it was released it
seemed a bit annoyed and groggy, like a kid who’s just been to the dentist and been given gas. Finally, it was time to go in search of the mountain gorillas. The journey to the impenetrable
forest took twelve hours on rough bumpy roads. I spent my time sleeping and watching the film
Gorillas in the Mist
to get myself in the mood. Sigourney Weaver plays the part of Dian
Fossey, a woman who dedicated most of her life to saving gorillas from poachers and showed the world that they weren’t as aggressive as people thought.

I was looking forward to seeing them but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit worried about wandering through the woods and coming face to face with a big gorilla. These
things are massive and could rip me face off. It’s not a way I want to go, to be honest. It wouldn’t be good for Suzanne having to tell people.

‘Oh. Sorry to hear that. How did he die?’

‘A gorilla battered him.’

We had been walking for forty or so minutes when David, our guide, pointed out some gorilla poo. He knew it was the poo of a silverback, as it’s always six to eight centimetres long.

It wasn’t long before I was out of breath. The path soon disappeared. We were clambering through bushes and we had to cross rivers. The enthusiasm that was there at the start soon started
to wear off. No wonder gorillas didn’t evolve to walk upright. They couldn’t in these conditions. I was on all fours half the time, and on my arse for the other half.

It started to rain, too. My feet were wet through, I was getting bitten by insects, and I had a headache coming on. Dave said he did this walk three to four times a week. Thinking back, I should
have asked why the path wasn’t more flattened if that was the case.

About three hours in and Dave kept saying that some trackers up ahead had spotted some gorillas and that we were getting close. I wanted to stop for just a few moments to have some food, but he
said we had to keep going as the gorillas were constantly on the move. I couldn’t argue with his logic except on a few occasions when he stopped to show me more fresh gorilla shite. He kept
saying, ‘We’re just five minutes away,’ and then five minutes later he would then announce, ‘We’re just seven minutes away’. It was like when you order a cab and
call the firm when it hasn’t turned up. They always say, ‘Yeah, it’s just coming down your road now.’ It never is.

Twenty minutes later we were still trekking. It wasn’t getting any easier, as the rain was now bouncing down. In the film I watched, Sigourney Weaver only had to deal with mist. I’d
like to see if Dian Fossey would have been as keen to save the gorillas if it had been pissing it down like this. There’s no way my mam would like to do this. If there were charity shops to
nip in and out of along the way, maybe, but she isn’t a fan of walking. She even leaves it to me dad to put the bins out.

I suppose this is the problem when going on a search for an endangered species. They’re not going to be easy to find, are they? It’s like trying to win a Willy Wonka golden
ticket.

We’d hear Dave up ahead of us sounding excited and shouting something, only to find it was just more gorilla shit. Even Ben the director was worried. He was concerned about the daylight
and having to make our way back in total darkness. I suppose that was one good thing about all the gorilla shit. We could use it to find our way back like Hansel and Gretel.

In the end, we did turn around. Dave announced that somehow we had gone past them. I wasn’t happy. We’re meant to be more evolved. Yet here we were being outdone by a group of
gorillas. We would have been better off just staying still somewhere and waiting for them to come to us.

Just under five hours in and Dave told us to sssh. We had finally caught up with them. Suddenly everything was a bit of a rush. Ben didn’t want to miss the chance to film, so he pushed me
into shot. Dave said that we’d be lucky if we got 25 minutes with them before they started moving again. Ben told me to speak and give a quote, but I had nothing. Nothing was springing to
mind. My feet were throbbing, and so was my head, and the thought of having to do that return trip was getting in the way of me enjoying the moment. I’ve never been that good at quotes. The
only ones I remember are ‘It’s not the cough that carries you off, it’s the coffin they carry you off in’ and ‘The cat crept into the Kremlin, crapped and crept out
again’, but these were more tongue-twisters than useful quotes.

The director told me I had had five hours to think of something to say.

Neil Armstrong had time to come up with his ‘One small step’ quote as he was sat on his arse on his way to the moon, whereas I’d been concentrating on not slipping on my arse
into rivers and avoiding wasp nests.

I looked at the gorillas. The mother was sat under a tree feeding its kid. The male silverback was sat on his own 40 feet away from the mother. Two others were high up in the trees. I watched as
the young gorilla ate grass using its feet.