Safari at Corbett National Park, Uttarakhand

Deceptively cool morning air tricks the mind into wearing heavy clothing. Within an hour, direct sun shining on an open-top jeep and increased heart rates warm the body both inside and out. We’ve come on a mission. Forget the introductory speeches about the slim chances of hitting the safari jackpot. Like all tourists to the national parks of India, hopes remain high that we will be the fortunate ones to see the iconic orange, black and white stripes.

Red tape. Jokes aside, without help, the line for required entry permits may be endless. Hotels are relentless in their pursuit for safari rupees. Thankfully we were tipped off the evening before. Arrangements were made in the back of a tiny restaurant in Ramnagar. The following day, we would be in good hands with a guide, driver and vehicle. Suspicions be damned…everything would fall into place the next morning.

A good sign. Driver, vehicle and guide were waiting for us as scheduled. Quickly we were hustled into the permit office where long lines were already forming. Funny, the foreign tourists we just cut off in queue could have been me, but I would have said something. It’s nice to move to the front of the line.

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His hair caught my attention immediately. Henna color added for fashion, perfectly cut into a taper in the back. He was wearing a British military sweater which had eluded my searches in markets for weeks now. Little English could be exchanged. Pointing would have to suffice as the language with our driver. Of course the tag along guide spoke so we could understand. “Shhh, do you hear that?”, quietly the guide says. Jeep comes to a standstill. It was just a bird. We have those in Amreeka.

Dusty, bumpy, thirsty…the land before us was just as imagined. My mind wonders is that good or bad? Of course it’s good. Right? There is nothing but brush covered hills, a winding rock barren river bed, scattered trees with roots that must be digging deep for water, and two worn tracks running parallel into the distance. Mid-morning sun has drenched everything in a warm blanket, causing the heavy layers we were wearing to come off.

Wildlife is upon us. They aren’t tame, yet the various creatures don’t scamper away in total fear as the jeeps rumbles through their home. “And if we see a tiger, will it attack us?”, a question I’m embarrassed to have asked as soon as the words leave my lips. “Not to worry”, he quietly states. Ugh, tourists.

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Our morning scorecard doesn’t read well. Lunchtime on the patio at the hotel. Two hours to stretch the legs that just minutes ago were shoved into my chest, knees facing my chin. Jeeps are not built for comfort. Liquids, a light meal, breeze and shade are just what was needed before commencing the afternoon session.

A different path is taken as the sun begins to hit it’s peak. Sunscreen should be standard issue at the entry gate. Slowly the safari experience rolls along the marks worn in the ground from countless tourists before us. Less flat, this part of the park sparks my interest. Surely there must be at least one big cat out there. Can they hear us? Maybe it’s my lunch, they can smell me and it’s turned them off. Am I really thinking this? This sun is awfully hot.

Two hours of birds, deer, boar and lizards rearing their heads. Noises were heard by the guide. Tracks were seen. This is a game, one in which the cats and guides silently spar back and forth. I believe you know who wins most of the time.

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It’s November. Nightfall is coming rather early these days. Soon the cool air, which made sleeping that much easier the night before, will return. And feasting time will begin within the jungle. What poor creature spotted in the fresh hours of this day will not have the luxury of waking tomorrow? Their entire life is a game, a struggle for survival. If it’s not the other inhabitants of Corbett National Park, it’s a lack of water threatening to disrupt a chance for a future.

Surreal. Yes, that it is. A dream, a very bizarre dream. Wondering how we all fit into the box of our lives, a safari can evoke more than just good photos. It’s a cleansing of our mental palette. India was continuing to inspire, frustrate, captivate.

With a setting sun on the horizon, speed had been asked of the jeep. The park would be closing soon. We were meant to meet-up with our friend on the other side of the gate, waiting on our return. He would hear all about our adventure over eggs bhurji, daal and veg biryani tucked back in the same corner where we had made arrangements just 24 hours earlier. A report card of sorts. The tigers took home an A+ this time.

But I’ll be returning.

© 2010 FullStopIndia.com India Travel Blog

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