Tag: SaltersTravels

We arrived at the Chambal Safari Lodge mid-afternoon. It had been a five hour drive from Lucknow. Apart from the Indian driving, it was uneventful. Our guide for the next couple of days introduced himself and then showed me some owls. Three of them, sat on a branch, having a snooze. Then we went to see an old village. I am not entirely sure why we went to see the old village. I think, a hundred years or so ago, the village was populated by some substantially wealthy people. They lived in big houses with gun slots. Slots that allowed you, or your servants, to shoot at the bandits when they came. Now the houses are all thoroughly dilapidated. Some of the smaller ones are still used by people that keep buffaloes.

Old village explored, we moved on to Bateshwar. Sometimes called the little Varanasi. Here, on the banks of the Yamuna River are over a hundred sandstone temples dedicated to Lord Shiva. This is quite an impressive site. The lodge own a small building at one of the temples. We could sit up on the roof and enjoy the scene as the sun set. Tea and biscuits were served.

While there was still a bit of light we had a wander round a market area at the back of the temples. I was seriously struck by how much rubbish there was. Occasionally, someone would brush up a little pile and then set fire to it. I am not sure this helped much. The burning plastic gives off noxious fumes which adds to the poor air quality. No body clears up the remains of the fire.

Coming back to the river at the end of the temples, we made our way along the water’s edge. More rubbish. This is a holy, sacred place. Apparently, the lord Shiva once sat under a Banyan tree here. So, very sacred. But they cannot keep it tidy. Even the river is filthy. Bits of paper and plastic. Used bags. Packaging. Food. Food containers. Used flowers. Bits of wire. Many, many unidentifiable pieces. It is an eyesore. To me, it shows a disrespect for the place. It is unequivocally unsanitary. It is just not nice but Indians appear to just not see it. Certainly they are not bothered about it.

Arrived back at the lodge well after dark. Then the naturalist guide collared me again and suggested we go looking for civet. This is a cat-like animal famous for eating coffee cherries. They then excrete the coffee beans which can be collected and roasted. Hopefully they get washed somewhere along the way as well. The beans are partially fermented in the gut of the civet and the resulting coffee, called kopi luwak, fetches the world’s highest price for coffee. This is not done commercially in India but there are intensive farms in Indonesia and the Philippines. Civets are kept in cruel conditions, packed into cages where they do not live for long. Capturing of wild civets is now starting to seriously threaten the natural population. All this is driven by money and the story, the fantasy, about being the very best tasting coffee. The reality is that kopi luwak is not an exceptional taste. Most coffee drinkers would not be able to recognise kopi luwak and the professional coffee tasters agree that the whole thing is just a gimmick. All we were going to do was try and take a photograph of a civet. The guide grabbed a light, I grabbed my camera and flashgun and we dived into the bushes that surround the lodge. Only took a few minutes and we found one. The guide shone his light and I brought my camera to bear. A simple photograph proved a bit tricky in the dense bushes and the civet was not going to sit still and wait for me. After about ten minutes I think the civet got a bit fed up of us interfering with its hunting, so it slipped away and vanished into the night.

Dinner was terrific. Vegetable biryani with an assortment of sauces. There was soup and a desert as well. Diane indulged in both. I had an extra portion of curry with some fantastic naan fresh out of a tandoor. Next day, we set off for the Chambal River. On the way, I tried to photograph a little more about village life in India. It is all too easy to focus on the special things, animals, buildings, temples and things like that but to miss the ordinary. Which is not ordinary in the greater context of the world. Uttar Pradesh is mostly Hindu. They regard cows as holy. The cow is traditionally identified as a caretaker and a maternal figure. Hindu society honours the cow as a symbol of unselfish giving, selfless sacrifice, gentleness and tolerance. Cattle and disrespect for slaughter is a part of their ethos and there is “no ahimsa without renunciation of meat consumption”. Ahimsa is the ancient Indian principle of nonviolence which applies to actions towards all living beings. It is a key virtue in Indian religions like Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism. This is why you see cows wandering around all over the place. Many households have buffalo. The milk is richer than cows. The pats are dried and used for fuel. The animals can pull a plough. Many households are small farmers. They grow most of their own food and sell the surplus on roadside stalls. Self-sufficiency is a fundamental of life.

We were dropped off at a very conventional Hyatt hotel. Nothing wrong with it but nothing very interesting either. We were met by a representative of the company dealing with our travel arrangements. He was very friendly. Sat us down. Took our passports to the check-in desk. Checked us in. Brought our passports back and said goodbye. This sort of thing happened a lot in India. It sometimes feels like they have an excess of people looking for something to do. In this case, it also took three porters to bring two cases up to our room. Two did the carrying and the other one just sort of organised things and explained our room to us. “Here is the bed. There is the bathroom”. In a way, it is all very nice and friendly but of course everyone is expecting a tip and it gets up my nose at times.

Nice morning I had an excellent masala cheese omelette with a dosa. This put me in a good mood for being dragged round some tourist sites. First stop was the La Martinière College, an elite educational institution established in 1845 by Major-General Claude Martin of the East India Company. Yes, he was French. Essentially, it was a vanity project. Martin was interred in a specially prepared vault in the basement of the house. Historian William Dalrymple described it as “The East India Company’s answer to the Taj Mahal”. The school is distinguished by being the only school in the world to have been awarded royal battle honours for its role in the defence of Lucknow and the Lucknow residency during the Indian Rebellion of 1857.

Next stop was the British Residency. The Rebellion of 1857 was a major uprising against the rule of the British East India Company, which functioned as a sovereign power on behalf of the British Crown. The flashpoint for the 1857 uprising is often associated with the introduction of the 1853 Enfield rifle-musket into the Bengal Army. These rifles used paper cartridges that were pre-greased to allow smooth loading. A soldier tore open the cartridge, traditionally with his teeth, before pouring the powder down the barrel. Rumours began circulating among the Indian soldiers, that the grease was derived from cow tallow, offensive to Hindus, and pig lard, offensive to Muslims. This caused deep alarm. Biting the cartridge became a violation of religious practice. The Rebellion was also called First War of Indian Independence. These things often depend on whose side you favour. The British Residency was the focus of the siege of Lucknow from June 1857 until the city was abandoned after the second relief in November. Many stories emerged from the incident including tales of bravery and the greatest number of Victoria Crosses ever awarded in a single day. What we could see of it were a series of old buildings in various states of disrepair and peppered with bullet and cannon shot damage.

We went down to the river. Here they dye material and make clothing for weddings and other ceremonies. Diane was strangely interested in this. The final stage is washing. This starts in a plastic lined hole in the riverbank and ends with rinsing and beating the fabric in the river water. How something so clean looking can come out of such a filthy river is slightly beyond me. A big area next to the river is reserved for hundreds of cloths lines where the fabric and clothing dry. The people that do all the washing live in a slum just behind this.  

Our guide took us to a large shopping area. We began the tour with a view from the rooftops. I found this rather interesting and amused myself by trying to take videos of the traffic on a roundabout. In just a few minutes you could spot just about every rule of the road being broken here. The great thing is that nobody seems to mind. They just smile and get on with it.

Back down in the crowded streets we saw the next stages in the clothing processes. Chowk, the city’s oldest market, is famous for its Chikan Embroidery (white on white) workshops. Wooden blocks are used to mark a pattern onto the material. The patterns are ancient. Some are handed down within a single family. Many of the wooden blocks are similarly ancient. Up to 500 years old we were told. After the pattern is marked with ink the material goes to the next shop where it is embroidered by hand. The process continues. Many shops all along the street which together form a production line. The street is like a big factory. It is messy, crowded, disorganised and noisy but nonetheless it works and has been working for generations.

After this we visited an area making perfumes. Came dangerously close to slipping into a carpet shop there. Diane was assured that not only could they make Channel No5 but that this was genuine product, much better and fantastic value for money. The only problem was that the proffered oil did not smell too nice. In another area people mostly appeared to be threading flowers to make necklaces and other arrangements. Our energy levels were dropping. There were several buildings with interesting architecture but their stories went in one ear and out of the other. Rather, I ended up wondering how anyone ever made any sense of all the wires and cables strung above the road. We passed another market for second hand clothing. By market, I mean a lot of people sitting on the side of the road. Finally we returned to the haven of our hotel. I was feeling much more appreciative of the cool, quiet and reassuringly dull hotel by then.

Our last morning in Dudwha began, as usual, very early. Not only was it chilly but also quite misty. First bird we spotted was a Jungle Owlet. I have seen a couple of these before, but this was the first time we saw one awake. That is how early in the morning it was. Very cute but just looks like a stuffed toy when snoozing. I also stalked a parakeet. There are a lot of these around, but they are small and hard to photograph. Tend to be a bit shy and fly off in groups if you get too close.

We pressed on deeper into the forest. There were very few other cars around. Nice and peaceful. Saw a stonechat, a snakebird, a heron and a racket tailed drongo. Another bird we had seen quite a few times but usually hiding deep inside the foliage of a tree. A spotted deer crossed our path looked very quiet and calm.

We came across a few wild boar and then spotted a tiger. Just like that. Again, it was down a track where were not allowed. We watched for a few moments and then it stepped into the jungle and disappeared. Our guide suggested we drive round to a water hole. It was heading roughly in that direction so might have been going for a drink. We got to the small man-made lake and she was already sitting in pond lapping at the water. As ever, she seemed quite unconcerned about our presence although she looked directly at us a few times. Then she calmly climbed out, had a last look around and vanished into the undergrowth. That was the end of our visit to Dudwha but a great note to finish on.

Katarniaghat Wildlife Sanctuary, Kishanpur Wildlife Sanctuary and Dudwha National Park together form the Dudwha Tiger Reserve. We were scheduled to drive to Kishanpur but first I had to do some cooking. Somehow, a message had arrived at Jaagir Manor that I wanted a cooking lesson. After a brief discussion, the owner offered to show me how to make stuffed paratha. I felt that I should not refuse. Straight after breakfast, everything was rolled outside for the lesson and a small audience assembled. The owner was not going to show me himself; he had chefs for that sort of thing. He was, however, going to video proceedings to use on his website. I smiled and hoped I would not drop things on the floor. They equipped me with an apron, plastic gloves and a hat. Paratha is an unleavened bread. The stuffing is a mix of potato and spices. Most of this was already prepared. My job was to wrap some dough around a spoonful of potato mix, roll it out and fry it. Two chefs showed me what to do and carefully scrutinised my cooking. Fortunately, nothing bad happened and we ended up with some nicely cooked stuffed paratha. I was quite pleased with the results.

We ate the parathas for a light lunch and then headed back to Dudwha. Kishanpur was cancelled because it was quite a long drive and no tigers had been seen there for many days. Not long after we arrived at Dudwha we spotted a tiger way off down one of the closed tracks. It soon vanished and we set off in a direction to try and head it off. Coming round a corner we saw one of the other cars. They had spotted the tiger. It was off to one side of the track but they were hoping it might come out. We stopped nearby and waited quietly. Then our guide saw some movement and pointed. I trained my camera on the bushes but could not see anything other than wood and foliage. For several minutes everyone held their breath and peered into the undergrowth. Then something very strange happened to me. The leaves, branches, patches of light and shadows just sort of assembled themselves into the visage of a tiger. It felt rather weird. A random pattern became a picture. I realised that not only could I see the face of the tiger but that it was quite close and looking straight at me. If I had not been safely in a vehicle the moment would have been quite terrifying revelation. There is a saying amongst the guides that for every time you spot a tiger, it has seen you a thousand times. I took a photograph and then it vanished again.

Next day was a short boat trip at Katarniaghat. The normal early morning start got us to the park entrance just after sunrise. The route down to the river took us past several ponds. We stopped to watch the snakebirds fishing. They do not have waterproof feathers and often look quite bedraggled after they have been in the water. A fish eagle flew past carrying a branch with some leaves. Possibly it was building a nest.

Further on, we got to the river and our boat. It was only quite small. Diane and I got in along with the helmsman, a deckhand, our driver, our local guide and a river guide. Bit of a party but that is how it tends to work in India. Even when one person is sufficient, at two will come along. There are a lot of people in India. Despite being classed as a sub-continent, a population of 1.4 billion is an awful lot of people. One in six of the world’s population are Indian. On the ground, it always feels like there are a lot of people around. A lot of people and a lot of rubbish. As we set, we could see a village across the far side of the river. There was rubbish. Plastic, paper, glass, food waste, clothing, all sorts. This right on the edge, or possibly inside, a national park. At times I wanted to will some of the many, many people that we saw just sitting around to go clear some of the rubbish up.

A little further upriver we came across crocodiles. This was mostly what we had come to see. Marsh crocodiles are also called Mugger crocodiles. I like this name. With a broad snout and a powerful shoulders, they squat low to the ground as if they are waiting to mug something. Along side the muggers were some Gharial crocodiles. Slightly odd-looking reptiles. A long, thin snout with a fine collection of distinct, spikey teeth for catching fish. Not as powerful looking as the muggers. Gharials used to be common across the whole of India. Unfortunately, they are sensitive to pollution and by 1976, its global range had decreased to only 2% of its historical range. Fewer than 200 gharials survived. They are now protected and work is underway to try and clean up some of the rivers. There are still only 1,000 gharials in the wild. These days they are considered a good indicator of the quality of the river water.

We turned into a small tributary with rich, dense vegetation on both sides. The leaves rustled and there was trumpeting. Elephants. We could hardly see them. Just the top of their heads above the green fronds. Then, briefly, there was a small parting in the leaves and a big head was looking down at us. This was all quite exciting. I was hoping we could stay and watch the rest of the herd for a while. Unfortunately, our skipper announced time was up and so we headed back.

Right next to the basic dock that the boat used was a small crocodile breeding facility. Here they are breeding Gharials, Muggers and  Spotted turtles. We had to peer through a metal mesh to see the animals and it was tricky to take photos. They were, however, extraordinarily cute. The smaller ones only 10 cm long. Hopefully they can look forward to a better future than their predecessors.

On the track back we spotted a few more interesting birds including a Crested Serpent Eagle. It just sat in a tree looking very aloof and stared at us.

A somewhat dilapidated observation tower gave us a last look across the wetlands.  

We left the Jungle Retreat next morning and drove to the Dudwha national park. Quite a long drive that took us most of the day. Evening was closing in when we arrived. Jaagir Manor is a similar setup to Jim’s. Accommodation is in several lodges spread around a site with a pool and restaurant complex at the centre. Our lodge was bigger than many houses I have lived in. As well as a large bedroom and bathroom there were also three other rooms. Each one a sort of lounge although we never worked what to do in them. One had a kettle which was nice for making tea. The other two we just looked at and walked through occasionally.

Dudhwa National Park is 490 km² of reserve in the Terai belt of marshy grasslands of northern Uttar Pradesh where it borders Nepal. Established in 1958 as a wildlife sanctuary for swamp deer it is now home to a wide range of creatures including tiger, leopard, sloth bear, elephant and rhino. Our introduction began, as was becoming normal, at 5:30am with a chilly drive down to the nearest park entrance. Our driver and guide was attached to Jaagir Manor but we still needed to take a local guide on board when we entered the park. Once in the park, our driver explained that we needed get to a certain place for the best chance to see tigers. We would have to hurry. With this he shot off at break-neck speed along the dusty, bumpy track.

You cannot hear very well when charging along a dirt road. We needed to stop regularly to listen for alarm calls. One stop was by a lake where we spotted a mugger crocodile. In the morning, they haul out onto land to warm up with the sun. Crocodiles are cold blooded. They need to warm up to be able to move and hunt effectively.

A little further on, our car crunched to halt by a seldom used and roped off track. There, in the far distance was a tiger. We could barely see it. Just then, two other vehicles arrived. The tiger looked around and then vanished into the forest.

The vehicles all split up and we continued the search. Following another vehicle is not nice because you get covered with dust and cannot see anything. Much of the reserve, possibly most of it, is not accessible. It is genuinely reserved for the animals. Only limited numbers of vehicle are allowed each day and only in specified areas.

Looking to the right, up a side track, we spotted two other safari vehicles. They were stopped and the occupants were standing up looking at something in roughly our direction. Our driver stopped the car and we waited quietly for a while. Then a full-grown Bengal Tiger simply stepped out of the undergrowth by the side of the road between us and the other vehicles. There was no rustling of bushes or squawking of birds. He was just there. Quiet and deadly. Apparently without a care, he turned and started walking down the road towards us. This was a magnificent thing to behold and I was torn between looking through my camera and just enjoying the experience. He only walked a short distance before stepping across to the other side of the road, strolling through some grass and vanishing into the bushes again. Then our driver explained that we were late for leaving the park in the morning so we would have to drive very fast. If we got to the gate after it had been closed there would be a fine.

After lunch, we set off in the hope of seeing rhinos. Rhinos are even older than crocodiles. 5 million years or more. There were rhinos when dinosaurs roamed the earth. They survived the asteroid and many cycles of glaciation and warming. Man has pushed them to them to the brink of extinction in a mere century. To see them we would need to access a smaller area within the main reserve. Our driver was very keen that we should be one of the first car into the park. We set off early and were, in fact, the first in the queue. When the gate was opened for the afternoon we then needed to rush to the second gate to get into the rhino area where only two cars were allowed. This was on a first come, first served basis. It was oddly reminiscent of a Bruce Springsteen concert I attended several years ago. Queue up early at the main gate and then dash across the arena to be one of the first into the mosh pit. This for a close-up view of an ancient animal doing the same thing it has done for endless years. Pole position at the gate and some furious off-road driving was rewarded with prime access to the rhino enclosure. Our driver waved at the unlucky latecomers with a distinct “eat my dust” expression on his face.

Inside the enclosure we still had to find the rhinos. This proved to be much easier than chasing tigers. Rhinos are bigger, and slower and much easier to spot. We found a mother with a youngster. They took no notice of us at all. We left after a few photographs and went to see what else we could find.

Late afternoon is a good time for spotting birds. Heading back to the main reserve, we spotted two more rhino in a lake but far in the distance. We stopped off to see some working elephants. It was feeding time.

Further along the road we climbed a watchtower to look at a herd of deer in some wetlands. The light was beginning to fade. This makes photography difficult. My camera is pretty good in low light but at a certain point the images start to become very grainy.

We set off for yet another section of the reserve. This one even further away. We needed to pass through a couple of villages on the way. Driving in India is like nothing I have ever experienced before. I can still recall the first time I drove round the Arc du Triumph in Paris. It felt like the wild west. In Marrakesh, we had traffic streaming on both sides of the truck and in both directions. In Lima I saw vehicles short-cutting a roundabout by going the wrong direction and using the pavement. None of this prepared me for India. Here is road life without rules. There are rules but nobody takes any notice of them. Just drive where you want. And use your horn. A lot. Every manoeuvre is a game of chicken. Never give way. Except possibly at the very last moment and then only by millimetres while sounding your horn. Pulling out across a highway with four lanes of traffic bearing down on you? – just go for it, most of them will give way. Motorbikes will always go through any gap even if you are driving into it.  Tuk-tuks will try. On roundabouts, priority goes to the bravest with the best horn. Use whichever direction has most space. Two vehicles confronting each other head on is not uncommon on roundabouts and elsewhere. We stopped at a level crossing. By the time the train had passed both sides of both roads were choked with traffic. Four lanes of vehicles all driving straight at each other. That took some serious sorting out and a lot of horn blowing. Driving is a full-body contact sport. All vehicles bear numerous scars and nobody stops for anything less than a serious injury. Don’t come whining about a dint in your front wing. You need to be a much better driver to survive here. Seriously. In the UK everyone follows the rules and pootles along in their own little world occasionally reacting to something that gets in the way. You would last mere seconds driving like that here. In India you need to be planning and watching, seriously watching, in all directions at once. Relying on anyone doing anything is to invite a collision. There is no right of way. Anyone can and will turn in front of anyone else at any time. Most drivers manage this while also using their mobile phone. Motorbikes typically carry three people. Can be up to six, in which case at least two will be infants. Tuk-tuks may contain eight or more grown adults. And there are cows. Cows are holy and must be avoided. They are allowed to wander however and wherever they want. Even on motorways and sometimes in big gangs.  Also, some of them are very big and have horns. The sharp, pointy kind of horn. Do not pick an argument. You will lose. There may also be monkeys, pedestrians, cyclists, men on donkeys, horse drawn carts, people pushing carts, people just having a chat and people trying to sell you stuff. All directions, all vehicles, all at once. To be a good driver you need three good things: a good horn, good brakes and good luck. It is terrific fun.

After a half hour transfer, the calm nature reserve with elephants, tigers and leopards was a place to relax. Today we focussed on tigers. None seen yesterday so this time our guide was more determined. As far as I can tell, and I am a serious novice at this, there is no way you can spot a tiger in the undergrowth or grass. They are just too well naturally disguised. There appear to be two basic techniques the guides use. The first is to listen for the alarm calls of deer and monkeys. The second is to go to where everyone else is parked up. If you are near a tiger, stop the vehicle and hope it will come onto the road.

First thing we saw was an elephant. A big old working elephant with two people riding it. I thought it must be rather grand riding on top of such a large beast. I think it was a female, no tusks. Hopefully it had a happy life. We also saw a barking deer, some spotted deer, some termite mounds and the elephant people heading home again. Then it was back to Jungle Jim’s for a late breakfast.  

In the afternoon our guide was determined to find a tiger. We were back in the closest section of the reserve but this did not help. We saw a jackal with some sort of skin problem. Looked to me like mange mites. We saw another tusker, some birds including a woodpecker, some deer and a vulture. No tigers to be seen anywhere. I cheered the tiger for being so elusive although a small glimpse would have been nice. Tigers or not, it was still lovely driving around the reserve and seeing the enormous range of flora and fauna.

In the evening, was another fire pit, and a documentary about Himalayan brown bears. Such a bear may well have been Kipling’s inspiration for Baloo in the Jungle Book. Note that the Jungle Book is a book. Not a cartoon by Disney. Get that out of your mind (although the music is pretty good). If you have not read the Jungle Book, then you should. Another terrific meal and then we retired for our last night at Jungle Jim’s.

Jim Corbett, an Anglo-Indian, was born in 1875. A second-generation descendant of Irish immigrants, he lived in Northern India where he worked for the railway companies. In his spare time, he hunted man-eating tigers. A fine hobby for a fit, young man. Across India, as many as a thousand people were killed by tigers and big cats each year. The Champawat tiger, which killed over 430 people in Nepal and India, was Jim’s first man-eater which he shot in 1907. He went on to shoot many more and wrote books about his exploits. As he got older, he became one of the first conservationists. He wrestled with the conflict between his love of the forest and killing forest animals. From 1920 onwards he became increasingly interested in photography. Corbett was fascinated by the work of his acquaintance Frederick Champion, who devised ways of recording tigers on cine film. Jim soon came to appreciate that unlike a trophy, which soon loses its colour and elegance, photographs lasted forever, did not result in an animal’s death, and required somewhat greater skill—because the early cameraman had to get much closer than the rifleman. In 1934 Corbett was instrumental in establishing India’s first national park. Over 300 square kilometres of forest in the Ramganga river valley. In 1957, it was renamed the Jim Corbett National Park.

Our residence was delightfully named Jim’s Jungle Retreat. The general area around here is what I would call a forest rather than a jungle. However, at the retreat, they have made a big effort to plant it up like a jungle. Gravel paths flanked by lush vegetation wind their way between the lodges and the pool/dining area. Gravel is used to ensure that nobody inadvertently sneaks up on any visiting animals. Leopards and tigers have been filmed by the lodge.

We arrived late afternoon. The resident naturalist introduced himself and then took us on a walk round the site. The kitchen gardens were extensive. We saw many things growing that were new to me. Okra, turmeric and others. I took a fresh lime from the small orchard of trees. Later, I squeezed the juice and mixed it with gin. This was remarkably satisfying and very tasty.

At Vanghat, we walked everywhere. Here it was all motorised. Much less effort but also felt nowhere near as close to nature. We still began early in the morning. It was cold and we had not had any breakfast. We sat in the back of an open-air Mahindra. An Indian AWD vehicle similar to a Jeep. With the wind in our face, it was very cold. For the first time in months, I needed a sweater and a jacket. A short drive took us to the park entrance. Here we needed to queue until the official opening time. A few vendors tried to sell us hats and t-shirts, but their heart was not in it. Still too early and chilly.

We finally got into the park, along with a handful of other visitors, all in regulation jeeps. The vehicles soon split up and went in different directions. The pattern for the next couple of days was soon established. Diane had the binoculars. I had my camera. The guide sat next to the driver. Occasionally the guide would spot something. The car would stop. I would attempt to photograph the thing that was spotted and Diane would observe it though the binoculars. We saw birds. An awful lot of birds. I do not know enough about birding to say whether they were rare or special. However, some of them were very cute, or colourful, or both. There are a lot of peafowl around. That is one I knew. The peacock is the national bird of India. We typically would see a group of one peacock with three or four peahens.

The sun came up and very quickly thawed us out. By 10am we were back at the lodge and very ready for breakfast. The food was great. Massala cheese omelette served on a stuffed paratha is becoming my new favourite breakfast. After breakfast, we went back to bed. We had been up since before 5am and had a second safari scheduled for the afternoon.

Early afternoon and we did the same thing again. This time it was warmer. We also visited a different area of the nature reserve. Tigers are the big draw of this nature reserve. All the guides assume that visitors mostly want to see tigers. Other animals and birds are incidental although their warning calls could help us find tigers. Hopes were high of a tiger sighting for the afternoon. We crossed a bridge and saw two Langur monkeys licking the wall. They like the salt that leaches out of the bricks.

Further on, we came across an elephant. A male elephant with large tusks. Locals call this a “tusker”. It was stood in the middle of the track throwing dust over its back. We stopped well back and watched. The tusker was picking up a shovelful of dust from the track and flicking it over its back. The layer of dust acts as a natural sunscreen, protecting their sensitive skin from sunburn in hot climates. It also creates a barrier that deters biting insects like mosquitoes and helps to get rid of parasites and other skin irritants.

While we were watching, a sloth bear slipped across the road in the distance. Sloth bears have nothing to do with sloths. They are a black bear, 100 kg, shaggy fur. Quite a rare sighting and I completely failed to get a photograph of it. We left the tusker to its dust bath and headed off in another direction. Many classic great vultures were flying along a riverbed. I managed to get a few pictures. A few spotted deer and a wild boar later, we came across a whole heard of elephants walking away from us.

Back at the lodge we found that it was film night by the pool. Several couples were sitting around, each with a personal fire pit. We took our seats and watched a documentary about Jim Corbett. We also watched some footage from trail cameras that are dotted around the lodges. The previous night, a leopard had walked past. Very exciting. Dinner, as usual in India, was excellent.  We made sure to crunch the gravel path loudly on the way back to our room.

It was a 5am start. Never my favourite. However, we were off to see some animals and it is often the case that dawn is the best time to spot stuff. Ranthambore National Park is 500 square miles of protected land to the SE of Rajasthan. We were collected from the train in open top small trucks. Sixteen people to a truck. We had a reasonable view and I was pleased that I did not have to try to photograph through a window. It had been raining overnight. Serious, heavy rain that I could hear bouncing off the roof of the train. Only just stopped by the time we set off. The roads were muddy with large puddles. The air felt cleaner and fresh. A blessed relief from the smog of Delhi and the people smells in the crowded train.

A short drive took us the park entrance. With very little discussion, by India standards, we were allowed in. Each of the trucks from the train headed off in different directions. The park is divided into sectors. Trucks are allocated a sector to visit. This is to prevent overcrowding in specific areas, I think. We bounced along for a kilometre or so and finally got clear of the rubbish. India is a big rubbish dump. I do not want to sound too rude about this but there is rubbish everywhere. Every street, every river, along the rail tracks. Absolutely all over the place. I guess the locals become so used to it that they stop seeing it anymore. Just seems like a part of life. Fortunately for the wildlife in the park things are a bit more controlled.

We passed a couple of small lakes and spotted some crocodiles. They lurked in the still water with only the tops of their heads and their eyes above the water. Crocodiles are an ancient species. Millions of years before a human ever used a club as a tool, they were prowling and waiting in rivers. Perfectly evolved for their environment. They float quietly until prey get too close. With an incredible burst of primal power, they grab the animal and drag it down to a dark, watery grave. Birds too. Marsh crocodiles have been observed using branches and leaves on their heads as lures. The bird come down to collect some nesting material. By the time the hapless heron realises its mistake the jaws of death are closing around it. Clever and patient the crocodile watches us.

Signs on the truck advise passengers not to get off within the park. Crocodiles might snack on a tourist. So would the Bengal Tigers that the park is famous for. We were told it was unlikely we would see a tiger. Naturally this does not put anyone off hoping to catch a glimpse. Also, monkeys can be a problem. They will not eat you but they might steal your sunglasses or a hat or your camera.

Birdlife is abundant. The Rufous Treepie is bright and colourful. It is a type of crow. Usually, we do not like crows and do not photograph them. This one however looked lovely and took a piece of cake out of Diane’s hand. Red-wattled Lapwings were common along the lakeshores. Nice snack size for a crocodile. We saw several small groups of Great Thick-knee Curlew. Quite a few Peacocks were running around and I spotted an Indian Darter (snakebird) showing off in a tree. I hope this all sounds like I know what I am talking about. The reality is more to do with Google.

There was also White-throated Kingfisher which I identified correctly as being the bird on the label of Kingfisher Beer. Later we spotted a White-breasted Waterhen with outrageously big feet. There was a heron of some sort and whole bunch of Yellow-footed Green Pigeons. Again, normally, no-one wants a pigeon photograph. These, however, were cheerful and cute. Very pretty. Monkeys as well. Grey Langurs were the only ones I could identify. Considered sacred in some areas.

Then our driver got a radio call and we were told to sit down and hang on. There was the possibility of a tiger. The calm, gentle pottering along tracks suddenly turned into a competitive off-road event. Frankly, this was not a great vehicle for muddy tracks. Two-wheel drive and balding tyres. Our driver was not put off however. He slammed the gearbox crunching through gears while we swung perilously round corners. Mud and water sprayed everywhere. We all tried to hold onto something. There were involuntary communal groans when we hit a bump. The suspension had given up trying many years before. But driving like a rally stage worked. We dropped down into a dip and came across a couple of other vehicles.

There, in the bushes to one side, was a Bengal Tiger. 250 kg of apex predator, a perfect killing machine, snoozing in the bushes with his legs in the air. The sheer size of the magnificent animal was impressive. Took no notice of us. No need to really. They know guns are banned and nobody was going to poke him with a stick. We were only there for mere moments. I tried really hard to get a clear photograph through the undergrowth. Then we were off again. Apparently, we were late now so we had to rush back. I think the driver just enjoyed channelling his inner Colin McRae. Almost made it back before the rain started again. The heavens opened. The truck had no canopy. At least the rain was warm. We arrived at the station utterly soaked but triumphant. We had been the only group from the train that saw a tiger.

All that before breakfast. I was hungry. As already mentioned, food on the train was good. Breakfast was a stuffed paratha to accompany a chilli, onion and cheese omelette. A glass of mango lassi, coffee, croissant and I was good to go. Where I actually went was back to bed for an hour. Meanwhile the train moved on down the line a few more miles. Here we all bundled off for a very ordinary drive in a coach to the deserted Mughal City of Fatehpur Sikri.  Built by Emperor Akbar in 1580, this was the capital of the Mughal Empire for a brief period before being abandoned, likely due to water scarcity. 20 years from new build to total abandonment. I am sure there should be more to this story but I have not found it yet.

My experience was dominated by the intricate carved sandstone and a man jumping into a water tank. We had a guide. There was quite a large group of people and anyhow I could not understand him. Wandering around on my own I peered over a wall to see a man, 30’ below, waving at me frantically. “I will jump into the water for you” he said, pointing into a large tank of bright green stagnant water. I honestly was not too sure what to make of this. It was a good guess that he would be wanting some money but diving into a lethal lake seemed a bit extreme. I looked around for mutual support. Soon there were a good dozen people looking over the wall. “Don’t worry, it’s my job” he shouted. Whipped his shirt off and leap a good 25’ down into the terrible tank. I was pleased to see him emerge without obvious damage. I imagine the pus oozing sores will erupt later. He was rewarded with a small shower of small notes that we dropped down to him. What a way to make a living.

Time for a train ride. We joined the Maharajas’ Express for a few days. This is a luxury train that does several circular routes from Delhi. It meant an early start. 7:30 am saw us arriving at the train station. The red carpet had been rolled out and we were greeted with garlands of flowers. The train arrived a few minutes later and we were shown to our cabin. This all seemed very promising. We found our way to the restaurant car and as the train set off for Jaipur, we settled down for a late breakfast.

By lunchtime we had unpacked and installed into our new room. I was enjoying watching the countryside roll past but there was a problem. I could not take any photographs. All the windows on the train are heavy and tinted so that people cannot see in from the outside. They are thick and distort the image. You do not notice this especially when looking through the window because your brain is remarkably good at compensating for this sort of thing. However, as soon as you look at a photograph taken through the window, you can immediately see how distorted it is. I searched the train. I could not find anywhere to get outside. There was not a single window that could be opened. I tried a few ways of taking pictures but the results were hopeless. For me, this was a big disappointment. I would have been very happy watching the world roll past and snapping a few images of it.

Second disappointment came just a few hours later when we failed to arrive in Jaipur. We did arrive eventually. I don’t know what caused the delay. It was dark when we finally arrived. We were given a tour of Amber Fort. In the dark. So, we could not see too much and photography was difficult.

Jaipur is the capital of Rajasthan. Amber Fort sits on top of a hill above the village of Amer and overlooking Jaipur. The views are probably spectacular. Back at the train, we were served an excellent dinner.

Next day started with a museum visit. We survived that and then got taken to the first carpet shop of the trip. This one was making jewellery. We sat in front of three craftsmen that were hand cutting stones. They looked very bored and were possibly keen to get back to their day jobs. An enthusiastic young man explained how their jewellery was the authentic item and how many hours it took an artisan to make. Each craftsman was descended from generations of craftsmen all passing on the secrets of stone cutting. We were eventually led into the showroom. Many of our group, especially those spending US dollars, embraced this with gusto. Diane looks at a few rings but then spotted the prices. I got a free cup of instant coffee.

After a few more hours train travel, we arrived at the Hotel Rambagh Palace. This is a very posh hotel. We were there for dinner. First, we got taken on a tour. I thought it was a bit of an odd tour. We were shown three dining rooms of increasing opulence. They were impressive and eating in any of them would have been a grand experience. We were taken outside and shown a parade of elephants, camels and horses. This was not for our benefit but for a wedding taking part in another part of the hotel.

Finally, we were shown to our tables set up outside, on a lawn. Bit of a letdown after the grandiose rooms we had strolled through. Shortly after I sat down, a man turned up and proceeded to wrap a turban on my head. I am not really one for dressing up, but Diane was impressed. The meal was very good. If, like me, you enjoy vegetarian curries then India is definitely the place. Also, turned out to be very pleasant sitting outside. Who needs a posh dining room?

At Manchester airport we spent ages in queues for security, passport control and the rest. Jordan was an epic security check. We had to wait for a phone call to ensure that our binoculars were allowed – this was as we were leaving the country which seemed a little late to me. Dubai by comparison, was wonderfully easy and quick. The airport is right in the middle of the city – so just a 5-minute transfer. No queues at all. Easy checks. The flight was great. Air India do not have a great reputation but it worked well for us. The food was excellent and a glass of champagne for breakfast made it feel like a celebration. Delhi airport was reasonably painless and just like that we were in India.

First thing that struck us was the pollution. On the day we arrived the Air Quality Index (AQI) was over 400. By comparison, 50 is the usual limit for clean air. You could see the misty pall of smog hanging everywhere. Since then, the smog has not cleared. The day after we arrived there was cloud seeding. Several aircraft flew over the city spraying silver iodide in an attempt to create rain to the clear the air. I thought this was quite exciting. Sadly, it did not work. There was not enough moisture in the clouds. Published opinions varied from “worth a try” to “waste of money”.

We had a day tour of Delhi. First stop was the Jama Masjid mosque in Old Delhi. Diane had to wear a grey robe despite being perfectly modestly dressed. She was not impressed by this. We both had to take our shoes off. This despite the dog and pigeon dropping all over the floor. We bought some lightweight slippers but mine were too small and kept falling off. The mosque was built in 1650 and is still the largest mosque in India. British rule began in 1803 when they repaired and renovated the building. However, British opinion changed, after the revolt of 1857, which was blamed on the Muslims. Many mosques in Delhi were razed. The Jama Masjid was spared but was pressed into use as barracks. The Masjid was returned to the Muslims in 1862. It was protected as a religious space but was used for political rallies right up until the Partition of India in 1947. Today it is Delhi’s primary mosque and has a largely congregational function.

Next was the Red Fort, also known as Lal Qila, an historic Mughal fort also located in Old Delhi. Unfortunately, I was having trouble understanding our guide. He spoke English but quickly and with a strong accent. Without extreme concentration, I could not follow him at all. So, I cannot say too much about the Red Fort. From here we clambered onto a rickshaw and set off to explore Old Delhi. This was fun and interesting. The place is a chaotic mix of colours, people, rickshaws and vendors. We were guided into a spice shop where we politely listened to the sales pitch and left.

We visited a Skih Temple. Diane had to wear a robe. I had to wear a head scarf and we both needed to take our socks and shoes off. What is it with religion and dressing up? The temple was very impressive in that there was a lot of gold. No photographs allowed. We walked round an altar where a holy man was sat cross legged in front of a book. Round the back I spotted a man counting a large quantity of cash. He also had a credit card machine. Business seems to be good for the Sikhs. Next up was Raj Ghat. The place where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated. It is marked by a plain marble box which is empty although an eternal flame burns at one end. I settled on taking a photograph at distance rather than taking my shoes off yet again. Then we were supposed to see a panoramic view of the government buildings along the Raj Path and the imposing India Gate. The smog put paid to this. In fact, we could barely see the India Gate at all.

Lunch was great. We are vegetarian and we like spicey food. India, at least so far, has proved very obliging in both these respects. Wonderful, tasty vegetarian food everywhere. Next stop the inevitable carpet shop. Original, handmade, artisan, unbelievable value. The pitch remains the same. This one was genuinely selling carpets. Very nice silk on silk with intricate patterns. No space for it in our 23 kg suitcases though.

Final stop was the Qutb Minar complex. Built in 1200, the Qutb Minar is the tallest minaret in the world built of bricks. The whole area is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and tells an ancient story of temples, vanity projects, changing religions and aliens. Beginning with the Qutb Minar tower, numerous emperors and rulers, including the British, have added their bit. The first mosque in Delhi was built here at the same time as the tower. Some years later the site had become a Hindu temple as seen by some remarkable carved pillars. Then there were Muslims again who defaced the pillars. Literally, images of faces are not allowed in mosques, so they cut the faces off the carvings. No way to treat a god. A summary of the history is beyond me because I find it confusing and couldn’t understand our guide. There is an iron column there weighing in at over 6 tons with origins going back 400 AD. Erich von Däniken (Chariot of the Gods, 1970) cited the absence of corrosion on the Delhi pillar as proof of aliens. Science has disproved this but it is still interesting.

We changed hotels in Delhi so that we could have a couple of days in the rather grand Leela Palace. The room was lovely and the bathroom borderline outrageous. It included a television that could be watched while you had a bath. Opposite our room was a large building site where they were working 24 hours a day. Bit noisy. But the real problem was the pollution. Put us right off going outside. I amused myself by taking photographs from the top floor. I tried to capture the pollution. And the Black Kites that wheeled around the building occasionally. There were also some pigeons but nobody is impressed by a picture of a pigeon. We had a couple of short walks and spotted some monkeys living by the road.