Getting to see the mountain gorillas was the last mission Damo and I had to take on before he heads home and I start to make my way to the north and the deserts. We had been convinced by all those we met who had forked out the ridiculously large amount of cash that the experience was that once in a lifetime must do thing that quickly extinguished the angst of paying. However, when we ran in to a Dutch guy in southern Uganda who told us that it was possible to get bargain or cancellation permits, our mission became a double, actually triple mission - to secure permits, at the last minute (of course we hadn't arranged anything beforehand) and at less than the full price - all this despite warning by all and sundry that permits were hard to come by, and a complete silence on the net, by tour companies and from other travellers about discount permits. We felt as though we were in an information black hole which as time progressed started to shed a little light on how the whole thing works but at the end left us more in the dark than ever.
Our ringing around in Uganda didn't prove to be too successful, one company had two spare permits but failed to get back to us, and nobody else want to play dice. We decided to throw caution to the wind, head down to Rwanda and the town nearest the gorilla tracking HQ and see what happened. We got in to town early in the evening, and on our way home from dinner saw a guide for a local tour company. We chatted to him, and he explained that there was a possibility of cancellations, which required us to negotiate with the guide on the particular day. We left our phone number with him, and started the waiting game. We also saw another tour company car on our walk back to the hotel, but we couldn't find the driver, so we didn't chase that one up - which turned out to be a little frustrating the next day.
We didn't receive any calls that morning, so we went to visit a guy who a Ugandan we met on a share taxi recommended. He treated us to an office breakfast, the full spread with some spicy and milky African tea, whilst telling us about how he was born in a refugee camp in Uganda, and only returned to Rwanda in the late 1990's. He confirmed that the cancellation permits did exist but were hard to find. He took our details and said he would ring around, but if worst came to worst he could find us a full priced permit in a day or two.
That day we wandered around town, and Damo met two Americans on his way to the Parks Authority HQ. The workers there turned out to be less than helpful, but on his way back Damo met a tour guide who told him that he had 5 cancellation permits that very morning - and if he had known we wanted them he would have sold them to us for $300. It turned out that it was his car that we had seen parked in the street the night before and he was the driver we had been unable to locate. Of course this discovery led to a fair bit of swearing under the breath, and a few statements starting with "If only..."
The guide recommended that we head out to the park HQ in the morning and wait around to see if there was a cancellation. He explained that some groups book multiple days with the gorillas and after the first or second day they don't want to go back, but that they only cancel at 6 in the morning when the guide goes to their hotel to collect them. How anyone could throw away the incredibly rare experience of seeing gorillas (whether for the first or twenty first time) and $500 was beyond me, but if that let me get in on the cheap, then so be it.
The next morning we set off with the two Americans, Greg and Jonathan, at just after six, there was a chill in the air but the sun was out and was slowly starting to warm the day. On the way our driver told us that he had 4 permits at full price, and I started to feel as though we were gently being corralled in to paying full price - but when we objected, he said that we would need to speak to the tour company guides when we got there. Damo and I decided that he would be the lead negotiator and that we would hang back and be the bad cop - giving him a chance to blame us for not being able to agree to a higher price.
We arrived at the park HQ and there were only two other cars there. Damo immediately got on the prowl and started asking anybody who looked like a guide about cancellation permits. More cars started arriving, and Damo stuck to the task but wasn't having much luck. A few of the guides we had previously met showed up and gave us hearty greetings. By about 7.45 there were around 20 cars in the parking lot but no sign of any cancellations.
We were starting to get a little nervous when a guy who worked for the park authority came and searched us out and asked if we were the four guys who called yesterday about cancellation permits - Yes, yes that's us we replied, as if he couldn't tell from the cut of our collective jibs that we were only people there who hadn't previously organised everything and paid out the big dollars. Ok he said, I think there has been some cancellations and I am waiting for a call to confirm this, so you can have some free tea and coffee over there and wait a little and we will see. Suddenly our stocks looked like they were on the rise, cancellation permit and a free coffee !!!
A little later a tall guide working for the biggest tour company arrived, greeted us all milling around the back of the car filled with nervous energy and told us that we might be lucky today. Damo who was very keen on seeing the biggest and farthest away group - Sussa - went off to see how we went about ensuring we got in to that group once we saw the rangers starting to sort people out in to groups. Damo made sure we had our name on the right list, despite the fact that we didn't have a permit. Out around 8.15 the tall guide returned and asked us if we had our permit. When we said no, he asked what were we waiting for, we should go in to the office and sort it out.
At this point I should explain what we understood of how the system worked. Groups visiting the gorilla are limited to 8 people per group, so with six gorillas families there is a limit of 48 permits a day. These permits are released by the park authorities and rapidly bought up by the tour companies, either as they get bookings or in reserve. The permits bought by tour companies may not be date specific, so it is possible that on some days there are empty spots, and walk in tourists like us can get these permits on the day and pay the fee directly to the park. Theoretically, therefore everybody ends up paying the full amount, unless a tourist who has paid for the permit cancels, which means that a permit that is valid for a specific day either goes unused or is sold a second time by the tour company to savvy tourists like us.
So Damo headed inside, and asked who he needed to talk to. When he was directed to the park authority staff, who indicated that he had to pay full price, he again had to go through the explanation of cancellation permits. He was then directed to the tall guy from the tour company and asked him to step outside. We saw them appear as we waited nervously behind the car, the caffeine rush quickly starting to kick in and we watched the bargaining process intently whilst trying to pretend we were disinterested. In the beginning they tried to hit Damo up for us to pay the full amount, and then as a special favour they cut $100 off, and then Damo pushed them town another 25 to $375. At this point, with all of the groups divided up and spread out across the lawn receiving their pre tracking briefing we were called over and filled in on the details. All three were inclined to accept the offer, but of course my inner tight arse was thinking - if this is the first day we have tried this, and they have exactly four spare permits and we are four, surely they will come down a little more - so I suggested $350. There was some further discussion but the guide appeared to be standing firm and getting a little angry as time ticked away. I tried to do a little bargaining myself, pointing out for him he was missing out on the chance of four permits being bought for a measly $25, and I showed him that I had the money in my wallet and was ready to go at $350. He didn't seem to be biting, and in fact was seemingly getting a little more pissed off.
The Americans agreed between themselves, and before we knew it the guide had slipped his hand in to Jonathon's and they were shaking on a deal. The guide then disappeared and we were left looking at each other wandering how we had been railroaded. My inner tight arse refused to accept that agreement had been reached, so Damo and I started to have an intense discussion, which mainly centred around me saying I would pay $350 maximum, and him telling me not to be an idiot to miss out on a once in a lifetime experience for 25 bucks, and being frustrated that the Americans had agreed to the price without us really having a chance to think about it. So we told the Americans that we weren't happy and that we were going to try and push the price down further, and they agreed that they would pay $375. We went in to the office where the guide was talking with the park staff, and he remained firm despite our request to split the payment to two at $375 and two at $350. Damo and I walked away and continued to argue between ourselves, him making all the salient points about how much sense it made to go that day and me sticking to my strongest suit - being a tightarse. After a brief discussion, and feeling very much as though time was running out and that we were missing out on an important briefing, I drew the line and went to tell the guide that only three people were going and that I wouldn't be joining them, again this didn't move him. As we walked out of the office Damo continued badgering me, and finally said he would pay the extra $25 for me, and then immediately realised that he would be paying $400 whilst everyone else paid less. The discussion continued, and when we returned to the office to tell of the changed circumstances, before we really had a chance to talk the guide agreed to $350 for us - and we were off to see the gorillas.
This is were things started to get really weird. The guide told us we should pay our driver (he was in no way related to any one we had spoken to) in front of the park staff, including the head honcho. The briefings had finished so we went back and stood around our car with the driver, rejoicing a little in our triumph. The guide appeared and was pissed off that we hadn't handed over our money yet to our driver. So we all paid the driver and that was the last we saw of our money or any discussion. We never received receipts, which is strange in a country obsessed by receipts, we never had to fill in our names or talk to the park staff again. As we headed out in the car to start the tracking, despite our elation, it all seemed a little strange.
A travel blog for the thinking clown who has drunk a little too much of the local tap water
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