Travel Magnetism "You go away for a long time and return a different person - you never come all the way back." - Paul Theroux

“Don’t worry, she’s just playing”. With a scowling gorilla barrelling towards me, tearing at plants for dramatic effect, I had a split second to take the guide’s word for it and stay put, or run wildly into the jungle.

I was on the edge of a misty clearing, high up in the Rwandan cloud forest. My heart was hammering, partly a result of three hours’ tough hiking, but mostly with the fear and exhilaration at coming face to face with a family of mountain gorillas. And then being charged by one.

Lucky for me, our guide wasn’t kidding, but my hands didn’t stop shaking for an hour.

Around half of the world’s 880 critically endangered mountain gorillas live in the Virunga Mountains, a verdant spine of volcanic peaks stretching along the borders of Rwanda, Uganda and Congo. Numbers are slowly rising, but with poaching, habitat loss and civil strife ever-present, their survival relies on conservation efforts and tourism.

There was an excited buzz among the trekkers mustering in the early hours. Just a small number of permits are granted each day for mountain gorilla visits and, as local dancers welcomed us with a pulsing drumbeat, our anticipation grew to fever pitch.

An hour later, bent over double and sucking in great lungfuls of air, my initial thrill at being assigned to one of the remote gorilla families started to wane as I realised we hadn’t even reached the forest line yet. This was going to be a challenge. Still, I was awed by the spectacular vista of vivid green hills, rich brown tilled earth, orderly wooden huts, and the shadowy flanks of volcanoes disappearing into low cloud.

It was another two hours of serious bush-bashing before a popping sound sent a shot of adrenaline racing through me. I emerged into a clearing opposite a giant silverback gorilla pounding his chest. Two juveniles rolled at his feet while several females glared at us, one of them cradling a squirmy baby with a glorious halo of fuzzy black hair.

Our trackers grunted soothing reassurance at the silverback who, all threat and bluster one minute, was the master of cool the next. Indifferent and yet keenly alert to the smallest movement.

Then he stared straight at me, and I felt he was taking the measure of my soul. As I pondered the great cost humans have demanded of this magnificent species, I was the first to look away. It’s a moment I’ll carry with me forever, a reminder that experiences like these deserve to be earned. Eye to eye, I’m quite sure he wasn’t just playing.