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Published: March 19th 2008
We have been promised so many wake up calls in India (none of which ever materialised) that when Gopal, our Nepali guide and resident looker-afterer, says he'll wake us up at 7am, we are sceptical about how successful he'll be. I set the alarm on my mobile and sleep. The next morning my alarm rings out loud, echoed almost immediately by a knock at the door. Gopal is calling us up to breakfast. We shower and oblige, and when we sit down we're presented with omelette and coffee, toast and jam. Paradise.
Gopal is a small, slim, wiry Nepali guy, probably in his mid 30s. He is shy but very friendly, and almost immediately we find a common ground in birdwatching. The things I learned on long walks when a boy with my father (who is hopelessly addicted to 'twitching' as he calls it) stand me in good stead and we discuss the breeding habits of the four kinds of kingfisher found across the park. Gopal has a comprehensive knowledge of more than 600 species of bird found in the park, and also obviously revels in the pure passion of birdwatching - he smiles as he talks about his favourite
species - and I make a mental note that he and my father would get on famously.
This morning we are booked in for an elephant jungle safari. We're driven in the pick up truck to the elephant stables and are ushered up onto a platform. An enormous elephant called Lakshmi Kali reverses up to the platform, obeying shouted instructions and nudges with the stick from her mahout, and we climb aboard, waving goodbye to a grinning Gopal. Once out on the road we are passing the villagers who are washing their hair and preparing breakfast by the roadside. They smile up at us and we smile back. The warmth of the locals is almost unbelievable, they are so friendly and welcoming. The gait of the elephant is something like being on a small boat in big waves - one can feel each foot hit the floor and the corresponding body roll that follows. Our mahout, although awful at communicating in English, exercises a connection with the elephant that almost transcends the usual trained animal vs human scenario - they link cerebrally, and only a gentle push with the toes behind either ear keeps Lakshmi Kali on track and
lumbering onwards towards the deep, green forest.
We change elephants at the entrance to the reserve and jump up on the younger elephant with an American, Michael, and a girl from Devon, Alice. It's fairly obvious that whilst being polite, they had their hearts set on a romantic jungle safari on their own. Ha! Michael is filming for a documentary on the plight of wild rhinos in Chitwan, whilst Alice is a student. Michael's small talk is of big lenses and near-death experiences with jungle wildlife, and Alice swoons and flutters her eyelashes accordingly and at the appropriate times. We snigger, quietly, to ourselves.
As we enter the jungle the sunlight, previously so intense and warm, becomes dappled and scattered around the forest floor like the reflections from a disco ball. The humid smell of wet leaves and hot, moist air teases our senses. Butterflies of all shapes and sizes flutter by. Crickets, cicadas and birds sing. It's like the hot house at Kew Gardens, but without the glass cage keeping the environment in and without the Richmond rush hour traffic queueing up the road outside. Michael and Alice babble sweet flirtations to each other but Maya and
Wild rhino...
... very close up. Luckily they're afraid of elephants.I are silent, soaking up the atmosphere. Eventually even the happy couple are quiet, and the only sounds are the most intimate whisperings of the forest fauna, the regular padding of the elephant and the odd thump as an elephant turd makes the eight foot drop to the floor behind us.
We come across a clearing, a hotspot for wild rhino, our mahout reckons. There's a small watering hole in one corner and on approaching, we are amazed to see two rhinos in the water bathing. They're both large, maybe two females, and they eye us curiously. Apparently, if we were in a jeep they'd charge, and if we were on foot we'd already be dead, but rhinos respect the larger Asian elephant and back off. We are safe to snipe photos and eyeball the rhinos as they stare back, part inquisitive, part defensive. Their ears twitch irritably as we intrude on their bathtime. A wild peacock rises into the air from the long grass nearby, like a shimmering aerobatic belly dancer dressed in azure blue and oil green, cawing comically, and disappears. After winding the rhinos up enough, we thud slowly on into the forest. Monkeys crowd the
trees above, screeching with some agitation and shepherding the younger ones up the branches. Maya remarks on the size of the ears of a certain male macaque, and compares them to mine. I am deeply wounded.
Parrots flit across the branches above, and the seemingly endless butterflies alight on trees, flowers, leaves and watch us pass. This is magical. Eventually the humidity starts to fade and we emerge into a patch of drier grassland, our elephant needing the odd tap on the head from the mahout as she tries to pick grass to eat. Dragonflies abound, and we approach the river. The mahout points out crocodiles basking on the bank with jaws agape, soaking up the morning sun, and we wade into the water to cross the river. At one point our elephant shows signs of faltering, and the mahout starts hitting her rather hard across the flanks. We hate seeing this beautiful animal treated like this, but when Michael explains that she was showing signs of rolling over in the water to cool down and that this would have surely flattened us all, we are less worried. Apparently an elephant has skin an inch thick, and the hardest,
most brutal thwack with a stick a mahout could give one is roughly equivalent to flicking the tip of a human's nose with the middle finger. I try this on Maya, curious about how a human would react, and instantly regret it.
Eventually we arrive back at the village and we all dismount. Bidding our goodbyes to the lovebirds, we wander to the riverside to do the elephant bath. Our elephant comes wading into the river, and shows every sign of thoroughly enjoying herself as she splashes around and squirts mud over her dry, warm flanks. Maya is called up for the bath, I have opted out for two reasons - one, I want to get good shots of Maya on the elephant, one of her favourite animals, and two - I have no spare clothes!
With the seat off, Maya jumps up onto the elephant's bare back with the mahout and they enter the water. On vocal commands from the mahout the elephant sucks water up its trunk and jets it directly backwards, over its head and right into Maya's face. After a few minutes of this, the elephant rolls slowly over and Maya keeps amazing balance,
running around the torso as it revolves so that the elephant is lying on its side and Maya is still standing on top! A quick shout from the mahout has the elephant quaking and Maya is unceremoniously deposited into the river. Hilariously, it is this precise moment that the elephant chooses to take a shit, so Maya surfaces from the river, gasping for air, only to see a brown turd the size of a football float past the end of her nose. I can't stop laughing.
Later on, after Maya's changed clothes and showered, we're back with Gopal again. He leads us back to the river and we get into a dug out canoe. These are hewn in one piece from the trunks of local trees, and Gopal says "Velly good, velly good, never sink!". I hope that the little pool of river water collecting on the floor is just my imagination, especially when we find ourselves, mid-river, only 10ft from a four-metre-long gharial freshwater crocodile. We can only see its eyes, projected above the surface, and the vague shape of its body and tail. It stares back, and the boatman takes us closer. Closer, closer still, and I
Me as mahout...
... with adoring entourage... am snapping photos. Suddenly there's a splash and the gharial disappears. Gharials aren't by nature aggressive towards humans, despite their bulk, but being so close to a three foot long mouth full of sharp teeth is enough to unsettle anybody. I exhale for the first time in minutes.
We head on downriver and Gopal points out the birdlife. We see 'Lovebirds', a kind of goose that winters in Nepal and then migrates to Siberia for the summer to breed. They stay in couples for life, and the old wives' tale goes that if one is killed, the other will starve itself to death, out of grief. We pass more crocs (including the dangerous river crocodiles as well as the harmless gharials) and also egrets, kingfishers, cormorants, eagles, lovebirds, ducks and others. It's idyllic. We are dropped off on the bank and walk, with Gopal, through dense brush. We're acutely aware that this area is alive with wild tigers, leopards, bears and rhinos, all dangerous, not to mention king cobras, crocs and other murderous reptiles. We place great faith in the skinny 5'4" form of Gopal, with his three foot bamboo stick and blue flip flops, that he will defend
Maya joins the mahout on top...
In preparation for the elephant bath. us from any and every risk this hostile environment presents.
We pass into the forest and after walking for 20 mins, Gopal holds up his hand and crouches down.
"Shh! Rhino!"
We crane our necks for a view of the beast in the direction he's pointing, but see nothing.
"It is a male. Very big, very dangerous!" Gopal says.
Still we see nothing.
"Look, look there!" and finally we see it, not even 40 metres away. I freeze, and so does Maya. We have heard enough stories about rhinos goring guides and tourists alike to be wary about going further, but the fearless Gopal, brandishing his stick which suddenly seems very puny in comparison to the bulk of the rhino, urges us on. I keep eye contact with the rhino, and suddenly it rears its head angrily, making it obvious that this encounter is one that it would like to end, one way or another. Maya is really scared now, and I'm not so happy either. We convince Gopal to take us via another route, and he reluctantly obliges, laughing at our lack of confidence in him. We are embarrassed and feel like pussies,
but at least we're alive!
We arrive at the elephant breeding centre, a haven for Asian elephants set up by the government as a breeding project to directly counter the dwindling wild population. Deforestation and poaching all took their toll on the elephant civilisation in the park, but the amazingly turned-on Nepali government now funds mahouts to train and breed elephants, and also provides army troops specifically posted in the park to protect against poachers. We see many bunkers and M16-carrying soldiers around the park, and we think this is excellent. In an ideal civilisation, the people should work for the environment, not the other way around as most of the world seem to operate, and many Nepalis agree with us.
In the breeding centre there are many elephants of all ages, including two calfs who are only 3 weeks old! The size of a large dog, they have wonderfully expressive eyes and totter around almost like human toddlers in baggy trousers who haven't fully mastered their limbs yet! Some older calfs, of maybe 3 or 4 years old, come right up to us (no cages or barriers here, they roam as freely as we do) and proceed
to search our pockets, with all the thoroughness of a Dover customs official, for food. We vow to come back to this place, firstly with elephant biscuits and secondly with batteries in my camera (doh!).
We eventually get back to the hotel, via a canoe and a jeep. We eat a delicious dinner and get started on the beer. Imanou, a Spanish backpacker staying at the same place, joins us for drinks, while a few tables away Michael and Alice stare passionately into each others' eyes. Before long, the staff at the hotel have joined us and we are all drinking together. Beer and home-brewed rice wine (70% proof!) flows freely and we have a fantastic night! The conversation is stretched when we are left with Imanou (who speaks no English) and a deaf, mute Nepali guy who works at the hotel. We muddle through with sign language and smiles, and Imanou and I even find a common ground in the form of MotoGP! He tells me Lorenzo scored a second place in the first round of the year last weekend! I haven't been able to get to a TV and so congratulate him on his countryman's success. Drunk
as monkeys, Maya and I hit the spotlessly-clean bed and hot showers (with REAL hot water!) in our beautiful Nepali hotel and wonder "Just why the hell did we bother with India anyway?"...
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kate
non-member comment
thanks guys
this post really cheered me up when i was feelin v blue about things...beautiful experiences with elephants! Sounds wonderful, wish i was there! Take care, keep having fun! xxx