Welcome to the Jungle
We push through the dense foliage of the Nepalese jungle. Our path lies in the dark shadows of towering trees – ancient giants locked in a slow, deadly battle for supremacy overhead. The thorny undergrowth clutches at us as we force our way through, and the monsoon mud sucks at our feet with every step. Each time we pull our feet from the sucking slime, we discover foul, black leaches clinging to our flesh, draining the sweet, red blood from our bodies.
We drip sweat. Our clothing, soaked through, clings tightly to our skin. The heavy, humid air carries with it distant birdcall, along with the constant, incessant buzzing of mosquitoes. In this wild, steamy jungle we are unwelcome intruders. Glover and myself rely completely on the expertise of our two Nepalese guides, our lives are in their hands. At any moment a rhino may charge, or a Bengal tiger, concealed by the long reeds, may pounce.
Of course, this is what we want. Why else would we be trekking through the wild jungle of the Chitwan Nature Reserve? Obviously we would prefer to just see the rhino or tiger and not actually be gored or eaten, but either way we would end up with some pretty top photos.
We have two guides - standard practice for this dangerous region. The jungle is loaded with animals that place surprisingly less value on human life than humans tend to, and there’s better odds that someone else will get eaten when there’s more of you. In the “safety drill” before the trek starts, our guides explain how we are to deal with each type of animal should one turn nasty.
The solution to the rhino charge is to “run in a zigzag and find a tree to climb”. If possible we should also “throw away a piece of clothing to confuse it”. Ok, so we get naked, run around like we’re on acid and then hang out in a tree. No problem – just like a Friday night out really.
With the leopard you can attempt a barehanded wrestling match - Tarzan style. One of the guides we met explained how he avoided having his jugular ripped out by a leopard. He stuck his hand in the cat’s mouth instead. Luckily the other guide with him managed to drive the leopard away before the guy lost too much flesh, but he had some impressive looking scars.
For the tiger there is no real solution. Basically the best course of action is to just get eaten as quickly as possible. No point in making things messy. Luckily tigers don’t really like eating humans (much) so this threat is minimal.
The greatest danger however. The most feared creature in the entire park is the dreaded sloth bear. This name fails to fill us with the horror that this creature should inspire. Since the bear is an animal that hibernates for half the year, and the sloth is an animal that hibernates for the entire year, we have trouble picturing this fluffy little teddy-bear as a threat. Our guides are adamant however and it’s for this reason that they carry sturdy bamboo staves. Should the bear attack, Glover and myself are to leg it as fast as possible, while the guides engage the bear in a ninja-like duel with their staves.
Once fully prepared for all these risks, we begin our trip with the crossing of the wide, crocodile-infested river that marks the boundary of the Reserve. The crossing is made in a long, unstable dugout canoe and the recent monsoon rains have created a few rapids. They are only small, but big enough that water fills the bottom of the canoe before we reach the far shore.
Once on solid ground we push into the jungle proper, leaving all sign of the river and human habitation well behind. Occasionally we hear the heavy thumping of large animals going about their business in the jungle, but whatever is causing the noise it is too wily for us to track it down.
As we sneak quietly along the muddy paths we hear hoof beats in the distance. We drop low and stay still. A few moments later a herd of small, red deer skitters along the path in front of us before disappearing once more into the tangle of undergrowth.
Only a few hundred meters further on, our guides locate a group of monkeys causing havoc in the trees high above. These curious creatures gaze down on us, black faces poking out from furry, white bodies, with long white tails dangling casually from the high branches. We sneak in quietly for a photo but we are spotted. One monkey squats overhead and starts pissing – a stream of yellow urine misses us by only a few meters. A second monkey joins in the fun and we are forced to beat a hasty retreat. This style of defense is clear sign to me that these truly are the genetic ancestors of mankind.
Our trek takes us deep into the jungle, and we see more deer, as well as many birds, frogs and insects of various shapes and sizes. Our main prey however, the thick skinned rhino avoids us however. We end the trek at lunchtime without a result and head back to town.
It’s not really a town. It’s more like a small village, composed entirely of guesthouses and restaurants. It lies on the edge of the massive nature reserve, and it is a place almost as wild. As we sit and eat our lunch, water buffalo are herded through the main streets of the village. Elephants, with riders aboard, wander past as well, carrying either passengers or goods. The local baby rhino, a fixture for the town, lounges lazily in the sun, enjoying the free food from the locals, and the constant attention from the tourists.
After lunch we decide to get serious. If we’re going to find these damn rhinos it’s time to pull out the big guns. We hire ourselves an elephant. Glover and myself ride in a comfortable basket tied to the creatures back, while the "driver" straddles the neck, steering with nudges to the back of the leathery ears, and the occasional whack across the head with a bamboo cane.
Our driver doesn't speak English but I try asking the name of our elephant anyway. He replies with a string of Nepalese, of which the only word I make out is "God". For all I know the guy said something along the lines of "For God's sake mate, shut up! In case you haven't noticed I'm trying to drive a bloody big elephant here." Still, I take it to mean that the name of our elephant is God and looking at the huge, powerful beast it seems an appropriate name indeed.
So carried on the back of God, we set off on our quest. God powers forward with long, rhythmic steps and our small basket rocks from side to side with a smooth but firm motion. We approach the river at a bend where the water is low. Still it is a good twenty meters to the far shore and I am uncertain that we will make it. In God we trust however, and the huge creature strides casually into the flowing current. He wades through the muddy river as if it were but a puddle, and before I know it we are on the far side.
We enter the jungle, and God pushes through the tall grass, that parts before us like the sea before Moses. Trees close in around us and we are forced to duck often to avoid being knocked from our high perch, some ten feet off the ground.
Occasionally the thick tangle of undergrowth blocks our way completely, but nothing stands in the way of God. At a special command from the driver, God reaches out with his great trunk and encricles the branches in our way. He then pulls back, and miraculously a wide path now exists where none did before.
Again we spot herds of wild deer, though this time it is the larger brown deer sporting curved antlers. When we were on foot the deer scattered quickly at our approach. Now, on the back of God, the deer barely take notice of us. It seems that man is a far greater fear than this huge beast with its giant tusks could ever be.
We press into the depths of the jungle for nearly an hour before we have to head back. We are still without sign of a rhino but we feel satisfied with our trip. Just as we turn back however, God pulls to a halt and shivers. The driver leans low, whispering questions to the creature. God then turns and heads into the underbrush, ploughing through bristled branches.
We come upon a clearing and there in front of us are rhinos: a mother and its baby. They are like two overgrown pigs, coated with a thick armor of leather. Once again they are quite calm in the presence of God, moving away nervously only after they catch the sound of our whispered voices. We manage to get within meters of them, before the mother decides that's enough and the two dissapear back into the wilderness. Our quest complete, God takes us home.
We drip sweat. Our clothing, soaked through, clings tightly to our skin. The heavy, humid air carries with it distant birdcall, along with the constant, incessant buzzing of mosquitoes. In this wild, steamy jungle we are unwelcome intruders. Glover and myself rely completely on the expertise of our two Nepalese guides, our lives are in their hands. At any moment a rhino may charge, or a Bengal tiger, concealed by the long reeds, may pounce.
Of course, this is what we want. Why else would we be trekking through the wild jungle of the Chitwan Nature Reserve? Obviously we would prefer to just see the rhino or tiger and not actually be gored or eaten, but either way we would end up with some pretty top photos.
We have two guides - standard practice for this dangerous region. The jungle is loaded with animals that place surprisingly less value on human life than humans tend to, and there’s better odds that someone else will get eaten when there’s more of you. In the “safety drill” before the trek starts, our guides explain how we are to deal with each type of animal should one turn nasty.
The solution to the rhino charge is to “run in a zigzag and find a tree to climb”. If possible we should also “throw away a piece of clothing to confuse it”. Ok, so we get naked, run around like we’re on acid and then hang out in a tree. No problem – just like a Friday night out really.
With the leopard you can attempt a barehanded wrestling match - Tarzan style. One of the guides we met explained how he avoided having his jugular ripped out by a leopard. He stuck his hand in the cat’s mouth instead. Luckily the other guide with him managed to drive the leopard away before the guy lost too much flesh, but he had some impressive looking scars.
For the tiger there is no real solution. Basically the best course of action is to just get eaten as quickly as possible. No point in making things messy. Luckily tigers don’t really like eating humans (much) so this threat is minimal.
The greatest danger however. The most feared creature in the entire park is the dreaded sloth bear. This name fails to fill us with the horror that this creature should inspire. Since the bear is an animal that hibernates for half the year, and the sloth is an animal that hibernates for the entire year, we have trouble picturing this fluffy little teddy-bear as a threat. Our guides are adamant however and it’s for this reason that they carry sturdy bamboo staves. Should the bear attack, Glover and myself are to leg it as fast as possible, while the guides engage the bear in a ninja-like duel with their staves.
Once fully prepared for all these risks, we begin our trip with the crossing of the wide, crocodile-infested river that marks the boundary of the Reserve. The crossing is made in a long, unstable dugout canoe and the recent monsoon rains have created a few rapids. They are only small, but big enough that water fills the bottom of the canoe before we reach the far shore.
Once on solid ground we push into the jungle proper, leaving all sign of the river and human habitation well behind. Occasionally we hear the heavy thumping of large animals going about their business in the jungle, but whatever is causing the noise it is too wily for us to track it down.
As we sneak quietly along the muddy paths we hear hoof beats in the distance. We drop low and stay still. A few moments later a herd of small, red deer skitters along the path in front of us before disappearing once more into the tangle of undergrowth.
Only a few hundred meters further on, our guides locate a group of monkeys causing havoc in the trees high above. These curious creatures gaze down on us, black faces poking out from furry, white bodies, with long white tails dangling casually from the high branches. We sneak in quietly for a photo but we are spotted. One monkey squats overhead and starts pissing – a stream of yellow urine misses us by only a few meters. A second monkey joins in the fun and we are forced to beat a hasty retreat. This style of defense is clear sign to me that these truly are the genetic ancestors of mankind.
Our trek takes us deep into the jungle, and we see more deer, as well as many birds, frogs and insects of various shapes and sizes. Our main prey however, the thick skinned rhino avoids us however. We end the trek at lunchtime without a result and head back to town.
It’s not really a town. It’s more like a small village, composed entirely of guesthouses and restaurants. It lies on the edge of the massive nature reserve, and it is a place almost as wild. As we sit and eat our lunch, water buffalo are herded through the main streets of the village. Elephants, with riders aboard, wander past as well, carrying either passengers or goods. The local baby rhino, a fixture for the town, lounges lazily in the sun, enjoying the free food from the locals, and the constant attention from the tourists.
After lunch we decide to get serious. If we’re going to find these damn rhinos it’s time to pull out the big guns. We hire ourselves an elephant. Glover and myself ride in a comfortable basket tied to the creatures back, while the "driver" straddles the neck, steering with nudges to the back of the leathery ears, and the occasional whack across the head with a bamboo cane.
Our driver doesn't speak English but I try asking the name of our elephant anyway. He replies with a string of Nepalese, of which the only word I make out is "God". For all I know the guy said something along the lines of "For God's sake mate, shut up! In case you haven't noticed I'm trying to drive a bloody big elephant here." Still, I take it to mean that the name of our elephant is God and looking at the huge, powerful beast it seems an appropriate name indeed.
So carried on the back of God, we set off on our quest. God powers forward with long, rhythmic steps and our small basket rocks from side to side with a smooth but firm motion. We approach the river at a bend where the water is low. Still it is a good twenty meters to the far shore and I am uncertain that we will make it. In God we trust however, and the huge creature strides casually into the flowing current. He wades through the muddy river as if it were but a puddle, and before I know it we are on the far side.
We enter the jungle, and God pushes through the tall grass, that parts before us like the sea before Moses. Trees close in around us and we are forced to duck often to avoid being knocked from our high perch, some ten feet off the ground.
Occasionally the thick tangle of undergrowth blocks our way completely, but nothing stands in the way of God. At a special command from the driver, God reaches out with his great trunk and encricles the branches in our way. He then pulls back, and miraculously a wide path now exists where none did before.
Again we spot herds of wild deer, though this time it is the larger brown deer sporting curved antlers. When we were on foot the deer scattered quickly at our approach. Now, on the back of God, the deer barely take notice of us. It seems that man is a far greater fear than this huge beast with its giant tusks could ever be.
We press into the depths of the jungle for nearly an hour before we have to head back. We are still without sign of a rhino but we feel satisfied with our trip. Just as we turn back however, God pulls to a halt and shivers. The driver leans low, whispering questions to the creature. God then turns and heads into the underbrush, ploughing through bristled branches.
We come upon a clearing and there in front of us are rhinos: a mother and its baby. They are like two overgrown pigs, coated with a thick armor of leather. Once again they are quite calm in the presence of God, moving away nervously only after they catch the sound of our whispered voices. We manage to get within meters of them, before the mother decides that's enough and the two dissapear back into the wilderness. Our quest complete, God takes us home.
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