And the award for best picture goes to . . . . . .

     We all tentatively stepped out onto the road, bewildered as we could be.  It was shocking, after all the trekking we had done, to so suddenly find signs of "civilization."  The gorilla trackers were all sitting around, and they looked suspiciously like they were laughing at the frightful, exhausted mess we all were.  "Over there,"  they pointed out,    

and sure enough, just  a few steps down the 
road, just a few feet off the road, were 
various gorillas, including this handsome silverback.
I am literally standing on the road looking at him, and he is perhaps 10 feet off the road looking at me.  And no, I had not been swimming.  My head was literally drenched in sweat.
     In this group were several silverbacks (which are simply male gorillas over the age of 12, when they develop the grey hair on their backs) and a couple of mothers with very small babies, less than a couple of months old.  Again, I was not able to get a decent photo of the babies, because the mothers kept them well hidden.  We were only able to get brief glimpses of them.
     We were looking at one big silverback on one side of the road who suddenly decided he wanted to check out the OTHER side of the road.  We were all standing there in a line, and he walked straight for us;  we quietly parted, and he brushed past us.  It was SO thrilling!  And I was rather proud of us oldsters.  Not only had we withstood the most demanding hike I've ever experienced (I think), but every one of us followed directions exactly and did NOT run or scream or act in any way frantic when that really big guy walked right by us.
     And then I was lucky enough to get my favorite photo of the entire trip.  I hope you agree.  I have even given this picture a name.  I call it "Beatific Gorilla."  He looks sort of "Joan of Arc"-ish to me, though I suspect he was simply looking for the tenderest shoot or the tastiest leaf.

     It must have been at least 2:30 by then, so when our hour was up, we ate our sandwiches and fruit and felt restored enough to exchange email addresses and share vital information.   It occurred to me that this was a great opportunity to find out about just how Hebrew a name Eshelman is, so I asked Gidon.  He talked it over with his wife and friends, and one of the friends said he knew of a town by that name in Israel.  He suggested I come over and collect rent!  Gidon and his wife travel frequently to the U.S., and even have a friend in Madison, so I think we might actually meet up again, And I am intrigued to have a more-or-less open invitation to their home in Israel, especially since Gidon is a dedicated gardener and orchardist.  Here I am regaling him with shocking stories about the shortness of northern Wisconsin growing seasons.
      Suddenly we were joined by Moses, Jackie, and Emma, who had driven to pick me up!  I had not even begun to wonder how we were getting back to our starting point.  Emma was very impressed: he said he had looked at a map, and we had trekked about 12 kilometers, which I think is more than seven miles even not counting the hills.
     So that was that.  We four climbed into the car and drove away with only memories of the Impenetrable Forest.