You always hope for close encounters. You just can’t be sure what “close” will mean.

Sometimes, it's a shoulder check from a silverback.

You can read all you want about mountain gorillas, but there's still the anticipation—the unknown—as you set out.

‍How big are they in person?
How do they behave?
How close will you really get?

‍A 90-minute ride over rocky dirt roads gives you time to wonder.

My first hike in Rwanda began near the border with the Democratic Republic of the Congo. We passed through farmland before entering the jungle, and within minutes, radio static broke the quiet. The trackers had found the family.

I'd expected a long trek. Finding them so early was like being told your tooth would be pulled on three—only for the dentist to yank on two. Unsettling a first, but you're grateful later.

Moments later, I was following my guide into the thicket. We reached the Igisha family: mothers feeding infants, juveniles swinging from branches, even a silverback mating just a few feet in front of me. Vignettes—some more family-friendly than others—unfolded all around.

Under the jungle canopy, I looked for subjects in scattered pockets of light. One was a female, lounging in the leaves—relaxed, then playful, then posing like an experienced model. She knew exactly where the camera was, trying a few different poses.

One of silverbacks didn't seem to appreciate the photo shoot. I heard branches snap behind me and turned to see him barreling forward. He gave me a shoulder check and sat between me and the female. I crab-shuffled aside, just in case he felt the need to elaborate.

With wild encounters, take your cue from the guides. Mine broke into laughter. It was clear there was no real threat, so this burly silverback became my next subject.

His size, his posture, his piercing gaze, and the fresh wound across his hand—all spoke to his role.

He was the enforcer.