Ranthambore ups and downs

March 24 and 25

View from our comfortable tent's front stoop at Khem Villas.

We only back-tracked once on the 7-hour drive from Udaipur to town of Sawai Madhopur in Ranthambore. Yash was smart enough to stop and ask directions, not a normal guy practice, in my experience, until it is way too late. Khem Villas' gate evokes a cheer from all three of us. Yash went off to stay at a guest house, and we were invited to have lunch even though it was 4pm. All vegetarian and mostly organic and grown on premises - I felt that the next 3 days would serve as a much-needed detox for my inner world. 

My outer world needed cleansing by the end of the next day, however. Two safari jeep rides: first one started with a wake-up tea call at 5:30 and pick-up by guide Sutta in a sturdy  jeep. Little did we realize how strong that jeep needed to be. Little did we realize how strong we needed to be.

How can I even describe this safari? extreme, bone-jarring, grit-in-teeth - none of this mentioned  in its marketing which sounds idyllic. I didn't need idyllic, just pleasurable. I quote: the tigers can be easily spotted during the day. Now, I never counted on seeing a tiger - this was not a quest, I merely wanted an all-round wildlife habitat viewing experience.

The national park covers almost 400 square kilometers and is divided into 10 sectors. The Indian government, probably a division like Park Services, controls the number of vehicles allowed into each sector. Good - they are trying to save the Bengal tiger. 

The entrance to sector 1 is adjacent to Khem Villas, the next 9 incrementally farther away, meaning that sector 8 is a 45 minute drive through the big town and horn-blowing traffic consisting of the ubiquitous motorbikes, packed mini buses, trucks, camel-drawn carts loaded with everything from bales of straw to gravel and goats, along with cows and dogs and pigs (that look very much like their ugly wild boar cousins) wandering haphazardly while pedestrians try to cross the road. it's one big crap shoot.

So - here's the deal. Whether you have a private jeep or a shared one with six people squished into 2 bench seats or a big jeepsy which holds anywhere from 12 to 18 hot bodies, your destination is chosen by lottery. Well, I doubt that Bill and Chelsea Clinton''s safari was left to chance, or any other VIP's.

Our draw the first morning was sector 8 - I loved our drive through the sleepy morning town and smaller villages. Women in orange and red saris, embroidery shining in the sun, walked in groups - Sutta explained it was a women's holy day, a special day for women. I said, good, because every day is special for men - they laughed, surprised, and I was happy I made a good joke. even a point, maybe.

We picked up a park ranger (in training) at the check-in gate so there were 5 of us. Sambar and spotted deer, antelope with black and white striped feet, ostriches, a couple of langur monkeys, and land birds like pheasant, and flying birds which I will try to list later, (best being the plum-headed parakeet. A mongoose, squirrels which are striped like our chipmunks, and two jackals on the way home in a field.

The landscape looked like Out Of Africa, dry but flashes of color with the spring greening of the acacia trees and bougainvillea. Lots of dry water holes and stream beds. A good time to see aniimals without full foliage. The park fills concrete rounds with water for the wildlife. Monsoon rains start in June and the park closes for 3 months.

Suffice it to say, our three hour safari was a big long bounce up hill and then down but it was not terrible - we viewed some animals and smelled some different scents- the vista stunning from the top of the mountain we roamed.

Back at our encampment by 10:30. The staff had sent us off on our journey with bottles of water and a sandwich so we weren't famished but ready to eat the breakfast that waited for us. Yoghurt, papaya, baguette and toast, lection of cheese, omelets made to order, masala tea or coffee. Happy. 

Sutta said he would pick us up at 2:30 for our afternoon safari. We told him that if number 8 comes up again for our lottery pick, we weren't going. He was slightly shocked.

A plunge in the the cold plunge pool restored my equanimity and my body temperature to almost optimum. 

At 2:30, sun blazing, Sutta delivered his news; sector number 10. We looked at each other. 

We should have said "no." 

The hour drive to sector 10's gate did take us through some new villages and bountiful-looking files of wheat. Kids waved and yelled "tata" the word for goodbye. What did they know that we didn't?

In the park, the road which had been rough turned to pure jags of rock and loose small boulders which we mostly missed. Sutta would yell to hang on every once in a while. I understood we needed to get somewhere and this was part of the deal; I didn't think it was the whole deal with only minuscule moments of respite. I cajoled my self into thinking about the great abdominal workout I was getting, clenching my core, trying to stay upright in my seat. The next day my hands were sore from gripping, and my leg muscles tired. I never walked anywhere.

No tiger, no pleasure at all. Dennis insisted we stop after 3 hours, and asked if there was another way home - the thought of having to go back the same way was too much. Sutta said yes, we could go out another way and find a tar road but it would be farther. Fine. 

Relieved, we agreed to sit in one spot for oh about 30 to 45 minutes to see if a tiger might happen to walk by. He didn't.

We set off with the sun setting in the distance. We smiled for photo Sutta wanted to take.

Sutta told us when we commented on the driving and traffic that in India you need three things for surviving the traffic; a good back, a good horn, and good luck. Our good luck finally kicked in on the drive home which we did in the dark. Not all vehicles have lights on. Probably the most dangerous thing I have ever done - well, almost. I was young once.

I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about the dead baby monkey we saw in the road - his mother sat on the side of the tarmac, watching, mourning perhaps, waiting, not ready to move on.