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.”
“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.