10 Reasons Why I'm Returning to Uganda in 2026

Our 10 day safari in Uganda in June 2025 was our seventh safari overall - but it was an entirely new country and environment which we were unfamiliar with. I like to do a little reading before I visit somewhere, but not too much such that I become overburdened with information and superfluous prep material. I knew that there was going to be some walking involved, some of which would be done at elevation. A glance at our itinerary told me that we'd be enjoying several boat trips, and that our journey would take us all the way to the western border shared with the Democratic Republic of the Congo. That was about it. There was no prior indication that this country would win my heart and soul over in such an emphatic manner that I would promise to return before my feet left its soil.

Our adventure to Uganda began with a delayed flight caused by an engine that refused to start. Better to figure this out on the ground than in the sky, I mused. We graciously de-planed and returned to the gate, much to the surprise of those who had taken our places forty minutes earlier. Darkness fell and a storm howled as the engineers and technicians peered into the innards of the turbine, gesticulating urgently. Not the most reassuring situation, but in such moments lie lessons of relinquishing control. Eventually, the engine panel was shut and we were re-invited to board. As we ascended over the brooding clouds, the last glimmers of light in the atmosphere allowed us to perceive the vast Lake Victoria - the largest tropical lake on the planet. What a treat!

Barnabas, our guide, was patiently waiting (all afternoon!) for us to walk through the arrival hallway - when we finally did we were greeted with his trademark warm smile. From that point onward, we three, along with our friends Preeti and Malhar who were already waiting at the hotel, became a close-knit family of five. Over the next week and a half we explored some of Uganda's finest attractions. Understandably it is impossible to experience everything in such a short time; perhaps the most notable omission on this trip was Murchison Falls National Park.

When a place speaks to you, it does so in the language of the heart. Most of this is concealed and neatly wrapped in quiet moments where something unspoken takes your breath away. Uganda was brimming with these.

Birds!

Naturally, I must start with the birds! Throughout our journey, I clutched my copy of Birds of East Africa, flipping through its pages with varying degrees of hope and associated success. Uganda is home to over one thousand species of birds, and while some were vaguely familiar, most were birds I had never seen before. The habitats were different from what I had grown accustomed to in neighbouring Kenya as well - extensive papyrus swamps and unending swathes of dense jungle. There is something magical about the ability of a bird to hide in plain sight, and it takes some absolute wizardry to locate (and point out) any of these creatures among thick vegetation. It always amazes me how birds that have some of the brightest colours blend in seamlessly with their environment. I bow in reverence to our local guides as well who were able to positively identify several species of greenbuls in the canopy. That cast of greyish olive (maybe pale yellow if you're lucky) birds is still a tough nut to crack for me.

In all fairness, there were more larks, weavers, and cisticolas than some of us were prepared for. But there were also bee-eaters, rollers, and a vast selection of brilliantly iridescent sunbirds on show. Giant, prehistoric-looking hornbills and the largest member of the enigmatic turaco family - Great Blue Turaco - were prominent throughout the trip as well. It is impossible to choose a single species or experience that stood out as there were so many: the fairy-like African Blue Flycatcher chasing insects at dusk, a pair of Double-toothed Barbets that paid us a visit in a tree next to our room in Kibale, or even the countless Lizard Buzzards that decorated utility poles along the road - just a few off the top of my head!

What really stuck with me though, was how birds would seemingly materialise from the shadows between massive trunks in the forest. I wrote about encountering a mixed flock in Bwindi Impenetrable National Park here, and this fleeting phenomenon of experiencing a wave of multiple species at once gives you a special rush of adrenaline.

Shoebill

Of all Uganda's birds, one stands head and shoulders above the rest. Literally. The Shoebill is a creature so incredulous you can be forgiven for thinking it's not a real bird. This bill-clattering dinosaur stands about five feet tall and only barely registers as a bird. We spent a little over half an hour with one individual that didn't do much during that time except preen a bit and yawn. Every movement this bird made, from its slow blinks to its deliberate steps had our undivided attention. They are known to have immense patience, sometimes standing motionless for hours at a time waiting for prey to venture within striking distance.

The swamp itself where we went looking for the Shoebill is expansive with a plethora of ways to get lost. Fortunately, our boat captain knew where he was going, and even better for us, the locals track the movements of the resident Shoebills.

Gorillas in the Mist

Mountain Gorillas are undoubtedly the pride and joy of the Pearl of Africa. Intelligent, peaceful, and highly social, I imagined these great apes would profoundly affect me. Visits to the various gorilla groups are highly regulated, and with good reason. For an ecotourism product that is so desirable, it is imperative to have some level of control on the level of traffic to ensure the ecosystem does not exceed its carrying capacity. Trails and other sensitive aspects of the environment can quickly suffer irreparable harm, should there ever be a free-for-all. Further to this, our incredibly close genetic proximity to great apes means that human diseases can easily be transferred to the apes, and vice versa. As such, any person who wishes to see the gorillas must be in good health, and must not be exhibiting any symptoms of sickness that may be contagious.

Each trek involves a group of eager tourists who are led by an armed ranger. Bwindi Impenetrable Forest is home to a wide variety of animals including forest elephants. Although slightly smaller than their savannah cousins, forest elephants are still behemoths and can be temperamental. Close calls are rare as the elephants themselves would be well aware of any humanoid presence long before we enter their personal space. While walking in the forest there, we crossed several areas where the elephants had recently passed, their dinner-plate sized footprints recalling those left by sauropods millions of years ago. Swooping woody vines and bromeliad-laden branches dominated the landscape, all liberally festooned with moss and lichen. Birds were sparse - to be fair I was advised to forget birds on the gorilla trek, a methodology that allowed me to travel lightly. A team of porters accompanied us as well, helping us over difficult passages where needed. After a little more than ninety minutes, we were instructed to don our masks, as we had arrived.

Trekking for gorillas has been made into an efficient operation due to the tireless work put in by multiple teams of trackers, who follow the various groups of gorillas as they forage through the forest. Our ranger had been in contact with the trackers, so she knew exactly where to lead us.

With the near midday sun filtering through the canopy, the first indications of the apes were large black mounds - for my uninitiated eyes it took me some blinking to begin processing what was before me. Closer than I realised was a female with a young - and very inquisitive - baby. Before I could decide what to focus on, or which camera to use, a silverback barrelled towards us. Never have I ever been so close to something that powerful and intimidating. I wasn't in the best angle to get the photo that I wanted, nor was I inclined to look directly at him, as we were strongly advised prior to our trek to avoid eye contact.

That being said, gorillas don't look at you anywhere but your eyes. From the babies to the adults, each time a gorilla decides to look at you, they'll be looking at you directly in your eyes. We spent an hour with this family, quietly observing them as they relaxed, rolled around, nibbled leaves, and scaled vines. The single baby in the group jumped on its sleeping relatives, pulled their fingers and toes, until its mother reigned it in, cradling it tightly to her bosom. It was truly a joy to witness, albeit tinged with the tragic spectre of our historic ill-treatment of their species.

Reptilian specialties

We don't usually see many reptiles on safari as they are typically masters of disguise, nor do we deliberately go looking for them. Even the largest and most fearsome - the mighty Nile Crocodile - is often encountered as a pair of eyes and nostrils. Safari is about the unexpected, and nowhere was this more apparent when we encountered a beast of an African Rock Python that had taken down a gazelle during the night. Having subdued its prey by generously wrapping its muscular body around the antelope in a deathly embrace, it was resting among the dew-covered grasses in the morning when we found it. Our uneducated and inexperienced guess was that the serpent had bitten off more than it could chew, and it seems that this may have ultimately been the case as later in the day we saw a young Bateleur in a tree with the leg of a gazelle - and no sign of the python whatsoever. Other sightings were distinctly tamer, such as finding a pair of Uganda Blue-headed Tree Agamas in a market. As people sorted through currents of batik prints blowing in the wind, we were hunched under a table, trying to photograph this cosmic looking and near-endemic lizard.

Is Uganda an island in disguise?

The first lake we got eyes on was Lake Victoria as we were approaching Entebbe, but it seemed as though nearly everywhere we went was near some body of water. Despite being a landlocked country, the prevalence of expansive lakes and rivers oftentimes made me feel as though we were on an island. Coming from the Caribbean, there were so many parallels I noticed while moving through some of the villages - more than a few of them resembled coastal fishing villages on some of our tiny islands.

As an islander, I have been very cognisant of the scale of the land throughout my travels. My eyes naturally fall on the horizon, searching for what the landscape is doing in every direction. In my native Trinidad, I use the proximity to the ocean as a means of keeping my bearings, and grounding the awareness of my guests in terms of where we are on the planet. The four sides of the approximately boot-shaped island I grew up on border four distinct bodies of salt water, while in Uganda I found it difficult to perceive these lakes as fresh water - especially if it was impossible to see the other side! Along the entire west coast of Trinidad we can see the mountain ranges of Venezuela's Paria Peninsula as an opposite border, at some points the South American mainland is close enough for the viewer to discern individual trees.

It was therefore an exercise in bending my mind to fully fathom that over the horizon on this body of fresh water lay a shore so distant that the water itself had all the trappings of the sea: currents, waves, no sharks - but crocodiles and hippos. Nevertheless, I absolutely loved and greatly appreciated the constant connection to water in a landlocked country.

Endless Jungle

As I made mention of gazing at the horizon, there were times - in all fairness - where the water was replaced by a sea of greenery. This was most apparent when we traversed the border with the DRC. Heading west after leaving Bwindi, we approached the border town of Ishasha, turned north at a roundabout that belonged to the DRC, and began skirting the border as we journeyed northward. The eastern side of the road gave us some of our first looks at the demure-looking Uganda Kob, as well as glimpses of Palm-nut Vulture, Grey Kestrel, and even a distant Olive Bee-eater. I found difficulty tearing my gaze from the western horizon, however. Rows upon rows of verdant ridges, unbroken jungle as far as the eye could see. I found a great sense of awe building within me as I soaked in this vista, memories of reading about mokele-mbembe in the Congo river basin as a child flowing liberally among the sheer amazement at being able to perceive such a vast jungle with my own eyes.

As we continued on this road, we noticed several elephants in the distance. Here, they are safe, Barnabas assured us - but next door it's a different story. Poaching remains an unfortunate byproduct of the Anthropocene, and it is a never-ending battle to quell this blaze. Shadows began to lengthen but we were only marginally closer to our lodge for the next two nights. We were reckoning with this when a bull elephant waltzed into the road. It is unnecessary to attempt to describe exactly how large a bull elephant is. A full grown male savannah elephant is the largest animal walking the earth at this point, and it seems excessively superlative when it's blocking the road. With some clever manoeuvres we managed to persuade the pachyderm to let us pass. The vehicle that was some distance behind was not that fortunate; we left in clouds of dust as they were forced to stop and reverse. In this land, the elephant truly is king.

Spectacular vistas

The views were oftentimes fleeting, but they remained etched in my psyche. I am never in the frame of mind to photograph landscapes, nor do I know how to properly do the task. Fortunately Joanne typically has her wits about her and makes some lovely landscape frames. The following two images are hers, the view from our lodge at Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, followed by the view from our room in Kibale.

On the other hand, what I invariably end up doing is staring wide-eyed at the unfolding scene, such as as we were skirting Lake Edward en route to Queen Elizabeth National Park. The interplay of jagged, forested hills and the meandering Kazinga Channel with a smattering of salt lakes here and there - all under a rapidly changing sky one afternoon remains one of my most treasured magic moments. Each landscape had its own allure, whether the light filtering through the papyrus or clouds gathering in the valley from our mountain lodge at Bwindi.

The Chimpanzee Revelation

I feel ashamed to know that we have diminished chimpanzees to being a mere species. One that we've subjected to immense trauma and persecution over the years. There is so little that separates humans from these apes that our place could easily be theirs. Once the gorilla trek was over, I thought that we had crested the journey - that that was the zenith of experience. I couldn't have been more incorrect in my assumption. I was smitten, awestruck, and wholly altered by our time spent with a small group of chimpanzees.

By the time I got near to the chimps, I was properly tired. To be fair, we had spent the better part of the morning trudging through a nearby patch of forest in the hunt for a view of a Green-breasted Pitta. After three hours seeking the pitta, there was a view - but nothing more. Pittas are astoundingly beautiful but notoriously difficult to see. I drank from its neon-azure rump-patch through my binoculars, a shade of blue I had never previously seen in nature. By the time I raised my camera, however, the bird hopped off the carefully braided vine into nothingness. Eventually, we shuffled out of that forest and into another, this time with the primates in mind.

The first chimps we saw were high in the canopy, a stark distinction from the ground-loving gorillas of Bwindi. Our guide was keen to transport us to a more intimate viewing, and when she heard of a small group that was relaxing a short distance away she quickly whipped us into shape and whisked us over a few small hills to a secluded valley. Here, a large male, a couple smaller individuals, and a very young chimp were lolling off among some soft-leafed shrubbery. I never expected to be in such close proximity to these apes - I knew very well how volatile and dangerous they could be.

But these animals were not in the slightest bit interested in, intimidated by, or otherwise concerned with our existence. I mentioned earlier that gorillas look at you directly in your eyes; chimps look through you. It is difficult to properly elucidate, but it felt as though chimpanzees were deeply connected to a world we ourselves could barely perceive, to a level that we are yet to fathom. I instantly knew that they knew. I have never experienced an animal that was so plainly aware as a chimpanzee - surely our many similarities made this observation much easier. This group of chimps were habituated, as in they were accustomed to people following them around, and so they ignored us.

There was a different communication that permeated the forest where the chimpanzees were. It didn't matter if there were obstacles in the way, they all seemed to know exactly what the others were up to, and whether all was well in the world or not. I trust that their news is hopefully not half as depressing as ours. On our way out, we came upon the alpha male of the group. Grizzled and powerful with a demeanour as calm as a gentle breeze, he lay sprawled out at the base of a large tree. Much like a model that was posed by a photographer, he relaxed with his head propped up on one hand, and one leg folded over the other. We looked at him as he gazed into the treetops, as he carefully stroked his greying goatee, as he rolled over. Suddenly, the screeching of another chimp echoed in the distance - and without hesitation our alpha was up on his feet and already on his way toward the source of the sound. He moved with unhurried quickness and single-minded intent. As he disappeared into the jungle, I pondered the responsibility that comes with a social role, and how we as humans have used social advancement to shirk responsibility instead.

Chimps clearly know the things that have to be known while we wither away behind a screen. On our final morning driving back to the city under a slight drizzle, Barnabas calmly said "there is a chimp on the road". Sure enough, directly in front of us, on our lane, sitting on the wet tarmac, was a chimpanzee. I did not photograph it as I was so profoundly moved by the scene. On one side of the road was forest, on the other side was another patch of forest that was rapidly disappearing. The land belonged to a developer who was keen on bulldozing the forest to create room for housing. The chimp had likely emerged from one end and discovered much less forest than it remembered. Was it ancestral knowledge? Was this individual pushed out from its group and on the search for another place to live? We don't know. All I can say is that this chimpanzee sat drenched on an unnatural surface, staring at where once was forest with a grimace I cannot forget.

We slowly pulled alongside the chimp in order to pass by it; we were now behind the chimp with it looking off into the distance. Someone on a motorbike whizzed past between us and the chimp. At that moment, the chimp was now facing us. None of us - despite having eyes on the chimp all along - had actually seen the chimp turn around. That grimace was still present. Silently, we continued on.

So many primates!

The presence of appropriate forest habitat in Uganda means that there are many more primate species there than what I was used to in Kenya. Even though I mainly photograph birds, I very much enjoy photographing primates. Non-human primates, to be explicitly clear. In addition to the great apes, there are many smaller species that share the forest. Some of them are occasionally targeted by chimpanzees for meat, we did not bear witness to any of this unfolding thankfully, as it is properly chaotic from what I understand.

Kazinga Channel

The passage of water between Lake George and Lake Edward known as the Kazinga Channel is famous for its density of hippos, claimed to be the highest in the world. Organised boat tours operate on the channel daily, catering for foreigners as well as locals. The boats offer light refreshments as they drift among huge floats of hippos, while herds of Cape Buffalo look on from the shore. I don't know how I didn't expect it, but while heading out on the channel I remember being surprised at a distant shape turning out to be an elephant. By this time, I felt incapable of using my camera to properly depict the scene before us as there was simply too many things going on! From swallows and sawwings swooping and swerving in pursuit of insects over the water, to hundreds of cormorants and pelicans on the shore immediately next to several buffalo who themselves were completely dwarfed by the elephants - I was in a constant state of having to catch my breath. By the time the elephants took to the water I was truly beyond a stage of being surprised. It was immediately cemented as the best boat ride of my entire life, and you can see many more images made during that cruise in this photo essay.

The funny thing about perspective is that once you visit a place, it will speak to you in a different way, but what I can guarantee is that once you visit, you'll find your own 10 reasons why you will return to Uganda.

Our upcoming safari to Uganda traverses the same path and is currently full - please keep your eyes out for 2027 dates! Spaces have already been reserved so you'll have to be quick!