Ranthambhore

Ranthambhore

Sawai Madhopur is the town about five miles from a national wildlife preserve called Ranthambhore.  That became our next destination, so that in lieu of more temples and forts, we could possibly see some of the few tigers in the wild.  The park boasts 53 of them. Or 40 of them, depending on which of our two guides you ask.  Both are quite assured in their answers.

The train to Sawai Madhopur was at a great hour in terms of the lighting.  It was just a two hour jaunt, but even for a short distance it underlined the need for second or first class seating only.  Anything less is quite rough.  The only other thing of note was the sighting of an odd animal.  Belinda saw one on her side of the train about the same time I saw one out my window.  It kind of took me aback.  Walking along the tracks was an animal that looked like a horse head had been placed on a shallow-bodied cow.   Turns out it was a nilgai, a large antelope.  Yet another animal I can add to my list of new sights.  Odd looking critter.  A brief internet search led to a description of them on the King Ranch in south Texas, where you can even go hunt them.  Brilliant.  Judging by what I saw, it would be a lot like hunting cattle, a real reach.

The city can’t be described as a one-horse town, since there are a few of them.  In terms of camels, it is much bigger.  The population is apparently several thousand, but little seems to go on, except the market area.  Arriving there at night, we seemed privileged to be on the edge of town in sturdy structures.  In fact within there was a respectable courtyard with a swimming pool in the center of the four buildings.  Timing was also good, as there was a wedding reception going on across the street.  The ceremony had reportedly been in the morning, but from about 8 to 11 p.m., there were fireworks, a well-lit field, cars coming and going.  The field was well groomed (intended), and lights were strung throughout the fenceline and walls, as well as on the adjacent buildings. Photo flashes were sporadic, nice television-quality video cameras were roaming.  It was an all-out affair.

The next morning I went for a 10k run, out and back on the road out of town, taking me toward the northwest corner of the wildlife sanctuary.  The folks weren’t as cheerful and vocal and smiling as they had been in Udaipur, but a few guys called out.  Some smiled.  A couple, including the guy on the camel-pulled cart, were taken aback by a namaste.  But for the most part, after the first kilometer, it was semi-rural, with occasional driveways into other hotels, a little neighborhood, or a trail into an empty field.  Traffic was much less consistent than on the edge of Udaipur.  The roadside was lined with paths blazed by those without other means than ambulation, as well as by the javelinas and cattle.  It was actually ideal for running, as it paralleled the road but was more interesting, with weaving and undulations.  I was happy, as I had brought my recently purchased trail running shoes (tip of the hat to David Hsu).  The running went more slowly.  All the same, I am thinking that I have Strava’s the King of the Mountain for those segments nailed.

The thoughts that come to mind when the single task of running is present:

• ·         Just how tall is the fencing along this sanctuary that is known to harbor tigers?
• ·         What are these hogs like away from masses of people?  Reckon they hold any resentment for their treatment?
• ·         Numerous monkeys sitting along the wall.  Any chance a runner sparks their interest enough to harass me?  All the same I stayed on the side of the road opposite them.  Turns out they couldn’t have cared less.  Of course, I didn’t have any gastronomic temptations with me either.

There were no problems to report in the end, and a good time was had by all participants.

The same afternoon and the following morning were spent in vehicles bumping along the unpaved, frequently cobblestoned double-track of the Ranthambhore National Park.  The holy grail is the tiger, of course, but to spoil the ending, I will tell you that it was not attained.  Reportedly one was seen the morning of my run by one jeep.  It was still worthwhile, though I enjoyed the jeep that seats six kibitzers in addition to the driver and the guide over the canter, an open-topped vehicle on a van or pickup chassis, which seats about 22, depending on how tightly you pack everyone.  I can assure you, it would take one dense tiger to come within eyesight of the canter as it squeaks over every rock, a sound left to compete with the chatterings of the classic guys who continuously throw out one-liners and negative remarks.  On our trip it was a Brit: “We might as well give up looking for tigers and start looking for dragons.”  It was a line that I think tickled him greatly, as it was reiterated to various audiences.

After two trips, the pattern was clear, that the guests should be driven around for about an hour and a half, then several vehicles could meet up in a clearing where everyone could stretch their legs and entertain themselves with conversation and the gregarious birds for a half hour, followed by another hour of attempts at sightings along similar routes.  The result was sightings of various interesting animals, bolstered by a flurry of sightings on the way out of the park.  Zamba and spotted deer, a sawscale viper (a wee one), a crocodile, a couple of brown owls, parrots, and plenty of blackfooted monkeys.  Several types of birds were pointed out, having names I can’t recall.  But the great coup was after we had left the park, as the sun was dropping, the air cooling, the light more golden.  On the road back to town, we crested a hill to see several jeeps stopped below.  Rather than ease up on the gas, our driver of the canter gassed it to reach them.  They gestured to a hilltop a couple hundred yards away, where a hollow building frame was present.  Atop it was a mass.  With binoculars or a good camera, as Belinda had, it could be discerned as a regally posed leopard.  Points scored by the guy that noticed that one.  We were all excited by it.

Doubling down on our bet, we decided on a second tour, requesting a jeep.  It was even nicer, with the early morning crisp air, the tour of a different zone of the park, the smaller group, and some different animals.  While no big cat was to be found, we did see chinkara and numerous nilgai, both antelope that apparently didn’t frequent the more densely wooded ravine we had seen the day before, preferring the hills and thicker grass. 

The guide of the second trip was some entertainment.  His English was rather poor, unfortunate for a guide, so after a few early attempts to explain things, he became more silent.  A couple of times we posed questions to him, but the answers were tremendously skewed, without any pertinence to the questions.

“The park has nine zones: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, nine zones.”

“When was this park started?”
“The deer eats things off the ground.  The tiger eats meat of deer.”

We are now en route to the last stop, Agra.  The train is rumbling along in midafternoon, though you would not know it by the number of people stretched out and napping. 

An added note, as we learned from the tour of hotels when picking up and letting off passengers from the canter: there are actually several very nice hotels hidden behind treelines and walls between town and the park. 

Industry of the day: installation of rear windows in tuk-tuks.  As Belinda pointed out, most passengers are tourists and while the driver may have no interest in anything behind his front axle, the passengers would like to see sights and take photos.  You get the feeling you are being transported in a little two-stroke box.