Gorilla Trek in Uganda

“I’m sorry?” David asks, eyeing me like I might not be all there. He’s just finished explaining the protocol for if a Silverback gorilla charges on the mountain. My voice drops because, despite my compulsion to ask, I realize this question must rank as one of his least impressive ever. “But will there be spiders? Big spiders?” David is deciding whether or not I am joking. He stands up straight, looking me in the eye. “We are in the jungle.” His hand gestures back into the thick brush.
It has just been confirmed that there are indeed large spiders in this particular jungle. The real trek starts tomorrow; I can still get out of this thing. A combination of thriftiness (I’ve already paid for the trip, after all) and knowing I’d never forgive myself for leaving snap me out of momentary madness. Of course I’m going.
I should explain: I am not afraid of much. Rats, the dark, moving to new countries alone. These are all things that do not scare me. For reasons largely unknown, I am terrified of spiders and have been since I was too young to be rightfully frightened of anything. So when I planned to go gorilla trekking in Bwindi National Forest with my colleague as a reward for having organized a conference of HIV workers in Kampala, naturally spiders became a paramount concern.
So here I am, gum boots on, asking poor David about big spiders. “Look,” I whisper to him as our group makes it way to the camp site, “If you see a big spider, just don’t tell me about it.”
David nods. “No mention of big spiders.”
The next morning we start after sunrise. It’s a four hour trek up the mountain to the gorilla family; we’ve all sweated through our clothes within an hour. When I feel something unknown brush my neck I look at David’s back as he walks. No big spiders.
When we come to a clearing David quietly points out the gorillas. There’s at least four females and one Silverback. A baby gorilla appears, then its mother following close behind. She brushes my leg as she passes on all fours. When one of the male trekkers trips, he falls in the direction of the baby; the Silverback rushes between them with his back towards the man.
We are allowed to spend one hour in total with the gorillas. When we leave, I look behind me. One of the females is staring at me. She sees me seeing her. She looks down and strokes the baby clinging to her stomach.
At the bottom of the mountain David says, “Quite a few spiders on the trail. One as big as your head. But you didn't see.” He smiles.