Grand Voyages, Great Lies

I was picked up from the hotel by a guy on a motor bike who I would soon find out was a park guide. Little did I know I was going to be thrown amazingly head first in to a demonstration by about 20 other park guides. Most of what i am going to tell you I learned from a flurry of guides I was hastily introduced to. Being far away and on the road I hadn’t heard much news from this small town.

Three tigers had been found dead in less then 3weeks. Park guides and conservationists and local people were calling for proper investigation into the deaths of the tigers. So far it ad been reported that all the tigers had died due to territorial fights, though they were also unofficial reports that 2/3 of the tigers didn’t have a scratch or drop of blood on them. So what was the cause of death? Maybe disease, maybe poison? Why wasn’t proper investigation being undertaken to project this animal whose official numbers had dropped from 40,000 to 1,400 since Indian independence.

I discussed this in broken English and was inquisitive yet appalled. l I was then told an interview was wanted as I was the only English speaking person present. oh dear talk about being put on the spot. I answered the questions best I could with a camera pointing at me and a microphone at chest level, not knowing whether to look at the interviewer or the camera….I was pretty pleased I stumbled through it ok, usually I’m fine with public speaking, provided I know a little about the subjet matter,(which thankfully I did) but when they started asking me about park authorities I dithered not wanting to say anything controversial that would get anyone in trouble. I knew the park authorities must be corrupt. Every hierarchical organization in India is in some way or other, and your naïve if you think otherwise.

Mouth dry but feeling ok I returned to my seat and begged fate never to let me come across the video clip. ( though 3weeks down the line id really like to see it) Next we started chanting for the cameras…save the tiger ‘bahg bachau! in Hindi, little did I know this first bit of Hindi would be the basis for a month of absorbing the language a best I could and sponging what communication I could of my fellow volunteer. The cameras flew about some more taking shots of this chanting Indian crowd with on white red headed girl….before moving on to interview Sumantha Ghosh himself. Head of the Mahseer Conservancy.

After the hectic first hour I finally got to chat with Sumantha, the man with whom I had been communicating for 18months. He explained what had been going on and answered my questions while we drove in his gypsy to the home stay. It was brilliant. and open top floor with blinds either side to keep out the wind, a cosy bedroom with several chairs, bedside table and even a locking wardrobe! One better then Kathmandu…sadly there was a second bed where Kate should have been sleeping…. Across the open plan dining and sitting area is a large and a VERY clean bathroom, with a geezer to provide hot water….theres a small cold office which houses the wi-fi system and which I’m told later a desktop computer,printer and scanner in order to become an office…..for some reason unknown to me the kettle in is this room rather then a dark kitchen complete with fridge,sink, a can of bacon, and some vinegar but no stove. Whats more Sumantha introduces me to Sakir Ali a young boy who runs the home stay (he probably older then me but you really cant tell) He brings me enough food for 2 people with hearty appetites 3 times a day…..though I’m dying to buy my own little stove so I can make porridge and also communicate better with Sakir so the food is less oily….but I don’t want to put him out…i don’t know weather the brilliant food he makes for me is the same as the family eat downstairs.

There is a room next door to mine which I’m told is Fred’s, the other volunteer who has been her 10months and by the sounds of it is popular with all the locals as she speaks Hindi. She is older than I so I feel a bit like the helpless younger sister. Not that she treats me like one…I’m more like her apprentice, though when it comes to formulating articles or invitations in English I’m in my element…well I’d better be…it is my mother tongue….and all so my messy drawing skills come in handy, as well as my computer literacy and years experience of typing English essays, plus my extra pair of clumsy hands…

Baagh Bachau!

3 tiger deaths in 21days had caused a demonstration to be organized on Sunday the 10th, 3days after I had arrived in Ramnagar. myself and Fred were going to take part and represent the Masheer Conservancy. I didn’t quite know what to expect, how big would it be? Would people take notice?…..Que me and Fred marching front of the troop, banner in hand shouting ‘Baagh bachouu!’, while walking though the streets of Ramnagar for 2hrs followed enthusiastically by supports and journalists. It was a big event….and part of an even bigger day… a few days later we found our picture in a local newspaper and were recognized for some time there after….while I was marching I saw the rare sight of another westerner atop a gypsy driving past….he looked at me cautioously smiling with a hint of disbelief…..in my mind I was like….yeah you better believe it….I AM HERE.

People stopped shopping to watch the march go past and shop keepers came into the street to watch. Good at least people were taking notice….I’d seen festival parades and marches for I don;t know what in Nepal and India and mostly people carried on bout their business. Young children rode atop the gypsys too holding home made signs and chanting down the microphone. Despite the support I knew only awarness can be raised and petitions signed by people such as us,…..decisions are made much higher up and don’t always succumb to public pressure.

After we had finished the march, and Fred had done her Hindi speech for the cameras, more interviews in front of cams and microphones followed for the both of us….we found ourselves repeating the same thing…..proper investigation is needed. (see my article for details)

That afternoon, Sumantha had a surprise for us. A previous long term volunteer of the conservancy, Kieth, had returned on a visit to the park with his wife. We had been to spot vultures in the village of Ringora the previous day, then walked along the Kosi so Sumantha, respected naturalist that he was, could help Kieth (wildlife fantic) to spot the ibespeil, a ver rare bird found only in these parts. (Kieth had been out some days again and failed to spot it…but Ghosh pulled through) Keith and Sumantha were good friends and drinks always came out when they got together and comments, teasing, joking and honoring always were passed between one another. I was glad to have some other Brits around. Anyway the big surprise was that we were to go into the park that very afternoon for a 2day guided safari….we were to surprise Kieth who had left with his wife and guest early that morning.

I’m told permits are hard to get at short notice but Sumantha’s success in obtaining them without trouble within a few hours gave me some clue to the sort of influence he had here.

The Tiger Hunt

So it was to be we were off to the reserve, we met after lunch at Tiger Camp (the hotel where Mahseer Conservancy has its office) to drive into the park gate. With our permits (which i never saw)  and lots of warm clothes we were ready to go. I’m assured its hot in summer but Ramnagar in winter reaches around 4 degrees and drops at night. If there’s sun the ground warms up, but for the last two days mist and cloud had covered the usually blue sky.

We drove to our designated gate and then on the road ways through the park to Dikala. On our journey to where we would be sleeping that evening we spied lots of wildlife. Wild boar, spotted deer and the rare tawny fish owl, which posed for us nicely, positioned in a tree near the road edge….in fact we had the chance for a good luck as our gypsy refused to restart after we’d taken our pictures…so we were broken down right underneath it….until we got out and gave the jeep a running start.

We even took a detour down samba road before we reached the guesthouse, and not surprisingly spotted some samba as well as some more wild dear and a lovely big bright male peacock. I learned some interesting things about the park that evening, though tired from my busy day, went to bed at a reasonable hour despite more whiskey being poured. it was an early start the next day.

We climbed into the gypsy at 7am, open top it was cold but I had wrapped myself in layers included my big yak wool jumper. We were on a mission today to spot several things…tiger included…though I didn’t get my hopes up, as the reserve says, this is not a zoo, wildlife roams free and so there is no guarantee an animal will be sighted….especially the elusive Corbett tiger, which is shy and scare in comparison to the abundant spotted deer.

The landscape is rewarding enough before you even take into consideration the wildlife. around Dikhla is a panorama of hills, forest and grass lands with the Ramganga cutting its way through. That day from one of the watch towers we climbed we spied otters playing in the river. Elephants were to be seen in the grass lands, and deer crossing the river. We had taken breakfast out with us but returned for lunch only to be told as we were driving in that a tiger had been sighted in some nearby grass lands…..We trundled faster along the paths to the location and were told by some park staff keeping an eye out that the tiger was lying in amongst the grass….quite where they didn’t know….we decided to skip lunch and wait on the road should the tiger decide to cross and head back into the forest….. it was not to be and we later discovered the tiger had sneaked past us and cross the road else where in the view of another lucky gypsy…damn. A gypsy I may add that contained the same European couple that had seen a tiger from elephant back the previous day…..have they been dragging meat behind them?

We continued with our safari, wrapped up warm with binoculars in hand. a mongoose scurried across our path and monkeys made noise in the trees. The undeveloped natural land obviously a haven for wildlife. The evening was looming and as all vehicles must be back inside the camps fences before 5.30when darkness falls we decided to take a last journey down Samba road. Listening and trying to interpret alarm calls from deer and birds we hoped to catch a glimpse of a tiger…

Our guide J.P. spotted some tiger pug marks….which are always exciting we you think one of the magnificent beasts has recently stepped on the ground before you. the we heard some alarm calls…and headed in their direction….there was a tiger about. we met another gypsy on the our path that told us the tiger had crossed in front of them a only a few minutes before but had now gone into the bushes…the had not seen it go over the edge of the hill however. there was a good chance he may cross the road again…..so we drove further down on J.P.s instruction, quietly and slowly we watched the bushes, pricking our ears at the sound of snapping twigs….adrenaline was rushing…..the tiger growled…it suddenly struck me that I was on an open gypsy with nothing but air separating me from the tigers claws….but then I trusted our excellent driver Divan one hundred per cent to keep us a safe distance from the tiger….

A flash of rusty orange emerged from the bushes not more then 10metres ahead….we had our tiger. ‘Tiger is coming, tiger is coming! ‘ J.P. hissed as the tiger weaved through the road side bushes then causally walking on to the path….he walked several paces, a large male, then turned causally to look at us….he held his glare for a second or two warningly then turned slowly and proceeded to cross the road ahead. several other gypsies hearing the alarms of surrounding animals and the bird call let out by J.P.

We trailed the moving creature down the road…weary as it made its mind up of which way to go. Thankfully this male decided to reward us by keeping to the road for a 20metres or so before disappearing into the bushes. With the head guide J.P. And best driver (ensured by Ghosh and Kieth) we were ahead of the line of gypsies cameras at the ready. After the tiger had disappeared into the shrubs on the opposite side of the road, the other drivers and guide were still wondering what to do, but J.P had directed Divan to drive several hundred meters up to a swamp visible from the road which he suspected the tiger to visit.

We waited their and just as the other gypsies had caught up the tiger came into view…the amount of time in which he had covered the distance we sped along gave me some idea of how far this animal can carry itself in a day….We got a good look at his beautiful winter coat before he decided to disappear from view into the grasslands. We waited a little further on to see if he would reappear but he did not….We cursed the car whose reversing alarms made a lot of noise, and cussed the guy who jumped out of his vehicle into another one in the vicinity of the tiger….and we laughed at the girl who almost fell backwards from on top of her gypsy as her driver sped away…she would have been on the ground within 20metres of the tiger if she hadn’t had her legs wrapped around the top bar she was sitting on…..most of all however we gazed in awe at the majestic tiger.

That night was celebrated with whiskey…though whiskey flows every night like water when Ghosh and Keith are reunited it seems. We drank and spent the night talking wildlife, wildlife issues and politics and environmental happenings…here I was talking nature and wildlife with the top naturalist in the area, the head park guide and his chosen driver and other wildlife fanatics and experts…I learned a lot despite the drink.

The next day we had only half a day in the park. Tired and cold we crept out in the gypsy early again binoculars at the ready. But we woke to the news that a forth tiger had been found dead in the night….bad news that really hit home having seen my first tiger only hours before…and in the same area…

So now, cold, tired and in mourning we soldered on. We spotted mongoose on the road plus mugger and gorihal crocodiles which thrive in the reservoir. We headed to Kieth’s lucky watch tower and expected to wait patiently for any signs of otters again….but this time we had hardly scanned the horizon with our binocs and put them down for a cigarette when Keith, bincos still raised…hissed…’Tiger, tiger!’….yeah right we though…but ‘No loook’ in an innocent tone caused us to look in the direction he had the glasses pointed. And indeed a tiger there was! Stepping out from the dry grassland in the the cold looking dark grey sheen of the river, like a gem tumbling on to the land that had been come the bed clothes of normality. Dipping his paws into the river we watched while fumbling for cameras….luckily Eduard, Keith’s Barcelonaean guest had his at the ready, as I had been caught off guard. Our second tiger stepped, all paws into the river….before deciding it must be to cold to cross, looked up at us even though we were at least 200m away and 15m up…then he retreated into the grasslands….it could have been his sharp hearing had picked up Keith’s hiss of ‘Eduard…..no…its really Its a tiger‘ as Eduard thought he was resisting one of Keith’s teases.

I thought that would be it, but Eduard and Kieth were determined to find the beast once more in the grasslands….my eyes aren’t accustomed to watching cleverly camouflaged animals or spotting ting birds in tree…but this was part of Keith’s chosen career with the Indian wildlife tour company he had set up back in the UK.

The tiger was soon spotted again wandering in and out of the tall grassed….fortunately the grasses by the river was in patches so the tiger conceal its red coat prowling through the bushes….by this time Ghosh and Fred who had been in the gypsy behind us, had caught up after spying a jungle cat…..though this couldn’t beat the tiger and soon they were up the watch tower with us joining the twenty minutes of hide and seek the tiger played with us. We got some awesome views across the grass lands though hoped the tiger would track back to the river to attempt another crossing….he reward us with such a luxury though, never the less this parade of his was enough to leave me feeling elated that this was a wild tiger in his natural habitat, the one on the road the previous evening had felt more like a hunt with gypsy’s in hot pursuit. Eduard with his expensive brilliant lens equipped camera got some great shots of the gleaming coat in the sun.

A reminder that all this had happened within the first four days of being on the project. And there was more to come….

Disheartened with my friends gone….it had been great having such good company over new years, but now I had to disconnect and carry on with the rest of my journey. It was the 3^rd and I was scheduled to arrive in Ramnager for the Mahseer Concservancy project on the 7th. I had scheduled a couple of days in Chitwan National park I thought….see some elephants. I caught the bus to the small town on the edge of the reserve where most of the expensive resorts are, but I wangled a cheap cottage for the night despite being hounded by hotel touts.

We were out of the mountains now and the green fields and country roads reminded me of the countryside back home, especially in the south in Oxfordshire where i would often visit family. Long green grasses and a misty sky. I had a hot meal in a cafe not knowing it would be my last in some time. The village seemed dead and a forest trek alone wasn’t apealing to me at this point..neither was the expense…I simply wanted to get to the tiger reserve and start the project. So I booked a bus out the next day.

I would head to Sonali. I almost felt like Chitwan had been an unnecessary detour, but it was good to see it, break up my journey and relax for the afternoon plus I now knew what was there was to return to. I had abandoned my ‘simple’ plan of going direct to Delhi and then to Ramnagar, I would over shoot the mark, spend unnecessary time on the road and spend more money. So Sonali it was, then a bus to the nearest train station Gorkapur, 4hrs away then overnight train to Lucknow and finally a train to Ramnagar. Passing through immigration wearily after an early morning start and4hrs on the bus, I was tired and hungry, and vulnerable. Inevitably (although I took as many precautions as I could) the travel agents took advantage.

I was led to these guys by an Indian man who had first wanted to bundle me into his already over filled landrover and drive me to Gorkapur for only 100 rupees…this might have saved me a lot of money but there was no point turning up at the train station without a ticket. I must book first. I was wary as the agent demanded money even before he;d made a phone call to confirm the ticket…I insisted i see the tickets first. I wanted two. One to Lucknow then to Ramnagar. He had me sit in a roadside Chai stall while he got the tickets then hurried me back to his office and took a considerable amount off me….but calculating it it worked out about right for 2 late notice confirmations….it was then he got me…

In a rush he thrust one ticket and a bit of paper into my hand and yelled ‘Quick! Quick! Bus bus…and practically pulled me on to a bus where him and his friend blocked me into a seat and demanded more money for extra false charges…when I argued they said if i wasn’t going to pay they would cancel the tickets …after protest and demanding explanation I realised they had me..I was on a bus heading to a train station and I could either have a ticket when I arrived or face a night at the statio… if they canceled the ticket I would lose the money already invested plus have no guarantee of a train…perhaps possibly for the next few days..who knows….In the end I gave them the extra they were scamming me for. The also over charged me for the government bus ticket, not letting me speak to the conductor, just demanding money then giving a small denomination of my fare to the driver….they then wanted a further 70 rupees for baggage!….’No no no!’, they knew they were pushing it and my outcries were drawing attention. They hastily jumped off the bus.

At least I was rid of them, even if I had paid 6 times too much for the journey….it should of cost me around maybe 5 pounds and sneakily in their small denominations and harassment they took 30…I turned to the rest of the bus in outrage, shocked and very pissed off….’Its not right’ an Indian voice said…I was glad some one sympathized….I sat writhing in anger for a long while trying to tell myself it was the first time I had been scammed..I was safe, I had all my belongings and atleast had one legitimate train ticket….it could have been a whole lot worse.

After swearing my trust in these local people was forever lost…ivery soon it was restored as a kind Nepali couple bought me chai and sympathsied with me at the next tea stop, also after seeing what the rouges had done the husband kindly walked me to the train station as we arrived in Gorkapur- knowing full well any rickshaw would take advantage in the falling night. He sat his wife at a chai stop and walked me into the station and made sure I found the inquiries office. There are kind people in the world after all….if I had the means to do anything for this couple at that moment in time I would of done. Though I couldn’t restore health and sadly they were on a journey to Lucknow for medical treatment. A long journey from their home town in Kathmandu. Saints.

I had worked out on the 4hr drive from Sunali to the rail head at Gorkapur that my first train ticket was authentic….dates times ect….as for the other scrap of paper…well, we would see. I had plenty of time to contemplate options of guest houses,buses,taxi’s as I waited the 4hrs for my train…which was then an hr late. I sat reading The God Delusion (which might account for my religions references) A controversial book to read in most places…and in India most travelers pick up some Buddist read or Guru teachings to guide them to enlightenment. I had picked out this well argued investigation in to the exsitance of god while ill in Kathmandu. It had been the conversation starter for the South African guys also, as one had read it and I had said it reflected my current mood….

The books and people watching entertained me, the usual packs of dogs hunting fun up and down the platform gave me a break from watching people watching me. the rats helped me to keep weary of my surroundings as exhaustion crept in. I found an omlete man as I hadn’t eaten anything but some digestives and a samosa all day. When I returned to the guards office to check my train hadn’t change platform (I failed to work out the announcements) I was told to ‘Sit!’ and relax….my train was late but two policemen getting on the same train would make sure I got to my bunk without any trouble….personal armed guards….nice.

Finally I could sleep…well after my ticket was checked and I had ignored a guard that tried to tell me Ramnagar would be 3 stops BEFORE Lucknow…..my trusty map told me otherwise.(I love maps..)…Ramnagar was a good 9hrs after Lucknow… which was where the train stopped.

I was vaguely aware of movement in the night, but being so tired dreams confused me….all my luggage was attached to some part of me….though when I woke up my scarf/blanket was gone…..I was pretty sure I had gone to sleep with it round either my head or my legs….scary to think someone had managed to make off with it….why MY scarf? There were plenty of other warmer blankets on warmer bodies knocking around…..oh yeah…because I’m a foreigner.

So I arrived in Gorkapur and pretty much as I expected the travel agents had fobbed me off with the scrap of paper…telling me I had a ticket for 8am.. TUH!…there wasn’t a booking made and the only train to Ramnagar was at 9pm….I didn’t fancy a day in the station or paying for a guest house, or trying to tour round Lucknow…I just wanted to get to Ramnagar…I was on a mission….or should we say a pilgrimage, to get to the project I’d been planning for a year or so..the promise of which had got me through college.

Buses were easier then trains, as no advanced booking or extra fees were needed. I headed to the bus station and inquired about Ramnagar….I was still a good 12hrs away by road. Quickly sent to the interstate bus station for 6ruppes I inquired again. Helpfully they told me I could catch a bus to Moradabad then a bus to Ramnagar….not bad I thought, Just another day on the bus.I was told to get to Moradabad it would take around 7-8hrs so I would arrive around 4pm. This seemed a reasonable hour for me to catch what couldn’t be more then a 3hr bus to Ramnager, in good time to get a hotel.

Though I hadn’t calculated in Indian inaccuracy, traffic and chai stops….So as we headed west to Moradabad, racing the setting sun I realised that I would be arriving in that place well after dark…..Moradabad…it doesn’t sound like an idyllic place to be in daylight never mind night time…Would there still be buses to ramnagar at 8/9pm? Would I have to find a guest house? (this transport centered town wasn’t in the lonely planet)…Who could I trust….Would I wait at the train station?…Ect ect…In a saner part of my head I had several options; stay the night -train stations are better for advice then the streets or I could always fork out for a 3hr taxi ride (equivalent in price to a 20min taxi ride back home)…atleast I would be safe….I had plans. Though luckily as I was thrown off the bus at the final destination my request for a ride to Ramnagar was rewarded with news that a bus was leaving soon….I had time to sit, thank which ever god I’d chosen that day;….fate…luck…my intelligence and persistence….smoke and buy some sort of food that resembled dough in batter. Urgh. But I’d had maybe a packet of crisp and some chai all day.

I would reach Ramnagar tonight and consulting the faithful lonely planet it looked like there would be a hotel, even a decent budget one which would provide me with a bed!…Finally!…..So after 39hrs on the road….6bus stops, 2 train stations, 2 immigration offices, countless chai stops and one rickshaw, I arrived in Ramnager, had a comfortable bed and the promise of porridge in the morning. Hats off to me.

I met some Irish bird watchers the next morning and set out with the aim of contacting the project manager, Sumantha.The first two attempts sent me back to the hotel without luck and in the need of coffee…the 3^rd later in the morning however; prevailed and I was to be picked up in half an hour. I had no idea what to expect of this project, it look all very well on the paper. Really interesting infact when I reminded myself about the things I would be doing…but how would the people be? What would the work be like? Other volunteers maybe?.Would i want to stay a whole month??? It was crunch time, D-day. As with Sadhana I was finally going to find out what this place was about.

So Christmas was but days away and things would be very different this year, alone ... [Continue reading this entry]