Small but Perfectly Formed

First a late result from last night. Rosena nil, chillies won but she is OK now.

We have had quite a sensational few days! Tigers and wild elephants on Wednesday,  great hornbills and really cross elephants on Thursday, forktail-creeper-dipping things on Friday, a Shatabdi  on Saturday but today tops them all. We are going to bag the elusive Kalka-Shimla Railmotor which runs on the 96 km long 2 foot 6 inch gauge railway from Kalka to Shimla. We had this on last years plan but the connecting train from rat infested Tundla Junction was so late that we missed it and had to get a car to make up the lost time. This is why we have spent an afternoon and night in Kalka. This is why D got up at 2.15 a.m. in Scotland on the day before we left to travel to India in order to book tickets for this particular train. If you are left cold by utterly magical rail trip stories skip the next 8 paragraphs.

Our alarms go off at 4 am and we quickly prepare ourselves. The bill was paid last night so no delays in checking out and we make good time through the darkness on our walk to the station. R skips across the mainline like a veteran and we stroll along the platform. There is hardly anybody stirring but a couple of trains are in at the NG platforms.  We find a bench and park the luggage. Yesterday we saw a notice that told us that only one small case per person could be accommodated on the Railmotor.  This is India. Nobody travels with one small case. D's plan is designed to cope with this possible problem. By 4.50 people are beginning to arrive and the tea stall is open. The proprietor should be shot. He has installed one of the ghastly vending machines that dispenses disgusting sweet froth. D finds a railway employee to ask which platform we should be at.

Platform 7 at Kalka station may well be the shortest platform in India and it doesn't even qualify for a hanging number but D notes that the points are set for it. In a few minutes a shape reverses out of the gloom and can be clearly identified as a 'Galloping Goose' style rail car, resplendent in red and cream livery. We make best speed to platform 7 and are first aboard. We quickly deposit our enormous rucksacks in a space at the back of the cabin and look for our seat numbers. There are no numbers and the man with the charts appears to indicate that it is free seating. D grabs the seat inside the door that has a great view forward through the windscreen beside the driver. R sits in the pair over the aisle and we dump our hats etc on the seat between us. There are three rows of seats behind us and a pair in front of R occupied by the man with the charts.  There is just time to grab a proper chai from a man with a barrow on one of the platforms. The afore mentioned connecting train, the Kalka Mail, has made it into the mainline station and bleary eyed crowds are flocking onto the narrow gauge platforms. 

Departure time for the Railmotor is 5.10. It leads a procession up into the mountains.  The Shivalik Deluxe Express, which we took 4 years ago, leaves at 5.30 and then an all stops passenger at 6.00 a.m. The Railmotor cannot be delayed as it needs to stay a full section ahead of the SDL. At 5.09 two young Indian families board, apparently travelling together, and with two toddlers in tow. They occupy seats behind us and have their ticket checked. So that's what happened to the four tickets D was unable to book. His conscience is appeased by the fact that there were unallocated seats on the charts pasted on some of the SDL coaches so nobody is getting stranded in Kalka. A later look at the Railmotor chart shows that there were no Wait List passengers for that either. For the vast sum of almost £16 we have a virtual private train for the next five hours.

Only a couple of minutes late the driver appears,  fires up the engine and switches on the headlight. A quick toot of the rather weedy hooter and we are off. Kalka is quite literally the place where the North Indian Plain ends and the foothills of the Himalayas begin. The railway starts climbing immediately and twists and turns across the face of the slope to gain height without exceeding the designed maximum gradient of 1 in 33. The suburbs of Kalka have spread up the slopes and at times the track is running through a mere narrow passage between high rise buildings. It is still dark but the headlamp is pretty powerful and illuminates the route ahead. As well as a driver there is a second crew member who starts the trip sitting on the padded bench in front of the windscreen.  He sees D filming out of the window and most considerately squeezes into the corner so as not to obstruct the view. His main duty appears to be pouring cups of chai for the driver out of a thermos flask. 

The KS is a properly run railway with signals, block sections and tokens. There is none of the Keystone Kops train chasing that the DHR goes in for here. As we approach the first station the driver opens his window and holds out the metal hoop with the token attached to it. On the platform a man stands with a similar metal hoop in one hand and a flaming torch in the other. The Railmotor slows but does not stop and a seamless swop of metal hoops is achieved,  apparently without anybody getting burned in the process. The driver checks that he has received the correct token for the section ahead then accelerates back to the steady cruising speed of 40 kph. At the next station D is ready with his camera to catch the action, flaming torch and all, but the movement, low light and relection from the glass mean that the photo is a dud. It starts to get light and the next station is a scheduled stop so there are no more flaming torches. Behind us in the cabin the other passengers are all spark out asleep.  Don't they realise what they are missing?

It gets steadily lighter but is definitely a two fleece morning.  Last time, when we rode the SDL, R was extremely grumpy on the train but even she is enjoying this as the views start to unfold. The fact that nobody is singing or screaming as we go through the tunnels probably helps her mood. There are 103 tunnels on this line and it can get a bit wearing. It is fascinating to see the inside of the tunnels lit up by the headlight. In some of them there are birds flying about. The longest tunnel brings us out at Barog Station where the train halts for ten minutes. We make use of the facilities and get very welcome bread omelets (omelet between two slices of toast) which are just as good as we remember them. They even do us black tea without sugar. 

Soon we are under way again, with all but one passengers awake. The second man has retired to the seat in front of R and D moves forward to get a better view. The driver invites him to sit on the bench. This is OK but an awkward angle for filming. At the next stop D returns to his seat and one of the Indian dads takes the place with his young son. Start them young. Dad number 2 still stretched out comatose across the seats at the back of the cabin. The other child is an inquisitive little girl who is soon exploring the cabin and making friends. Nobody seems to have any English but we get along by passing round our bag of boiled sweets. Everybody has one except the driver. R's copy of Good Housekeeping is a big hit. Even the second man spends a while flicking through it. 

At one station we cross a downhill train and at a couple of others we seem to have lengthy halts for no good reason. At one D asks the driver if we are waiting to cross another train and he explains that we have closed up behind the 4.00 passenger out of Kalka and need to wait for it to clear the section ahead. He thinks that this might need explaining but D tells him that he is a trainee signalman on a steam heritage railway at home and understands what he means. At this the driver shakes D's hand and tells him that if he has time he can see the steam loco at Shimla. The worldwide brotherhood of railwaymen at work. We wind through the pine forests in hazy sunshine and climb the last few feet into Shimla where we arrive only 40 minutes late. The Railmotor is beseiged by porters offering to carry our bags for only 100 rupees before they even know where we want to go. We have a pretty strict policy of carrying our own bags as we have had several rows with porters who change the price part way through a job. R is deposited in a seat with the bags, D waves cheerio to his buddy the driver and walks along the track for a hundred yards to the steam shed. Not only is the elusive steam loco, number 520, sitting there in the sun. It is coaled up and is in fairly regular use on charter trains on the upper section of the line. One of the staff tells D it was steaming and in use yesterday. Damn! We will just have to come back again.

That's the train bit over. We find a taxi at the entrance to the station who quotes a reasonable price and takes us straight to the Hotel Kapil. There is an air of competence about this place and we know that we are going to like it as soon we walk in. Check in is efficient and we are soon in a nicely furnished room with the kettle on. There are some nice touches such as the electric blanket with separate zone controls and a very nice bathroom. After a cup of tea we head out to attend to a couple of chores. As we pass reception we are asked if we want a complimentary lift up the hill to the bottom of the bazaar steps. A really nice touch but we have been doing too much sitting lately and the walk will do us good. It is brutal, up a steep hill and then up stairs at over 6,000 feet. We need an EPO shop. To facilitate recovery we head to the Indian Coffee House for a late second breakfast of coffee and toast. Last time we were in Shimla was mid February.  Today it seems to be much busier than it was then, mainly Indian tourists but a handful of  Westerners on the Mall. There are hawkers selling hats, wigs, candyfloss, selfie sticks and more. There are even people buying them.

We find the ATM that suits us at Scandal Point, one of the best addresses we know of, and then look for a top up for D's SIM card. In India they call top ups recharging which is a bit confusing to start with. The first place we try says that he has no Idea credit, the second seems to be a goer until D mentions that it is a Kolkata number. The guy immediately looks terrified and cannot get rid of us quickly enough. At the third place a young Sikh guy with excellent English sorts things out. He needs to see the text from the last top up which contains some information that allows him to process the transaction.  One gig of data for Rs 251 and it seems to work perfectly well up here. In between recharge merchants we sort out our transport for tomorrow in a relatively painless fashion.

By now our early start regime is catching up with us and we return to the Hotel Kapil for an hour's snooze. When we wake up three hours later it is starting to get dark. The hotel does food but only on a room service basis so we decide to brave the climb back into town for supper. It is easier this time and we are soon seated in a booth at the Goofa Bar & Restaurant,  a Himachal Pradesh State gaff that we remember from our previous visit. We order beer and papads while we peruse the menu and then order thalis. When they arrive they are vast and whilst we enjoy we cannot finish them. It is a struggle to squeeze in the Gulab Jamun that comes as part of the Thali menu but somehow we manage it.  A perfect end to a really brilliant day.

Dilli En Passant

The time has come to move on from the Sparrow Nest.  We enjoy an excellent supper of chicken biryani with extra chicken  and splendid chapattis. We thank Mrs Ramesh for the cooking and all round hospitality and say goodbye to the children.  Kailash is waiting with the gypsy and deposits us at the station. Information is scanty and nearly all notices are in Hindi alone.  We find seats in the waiting room and D goes for a wander. As he is now a trainee signalman back home he is fascinated to see the Ramnagar box, a concrete blockhouse on the platform with six levers for points and signals. A train from Delhi arrives but this is not going to be ours.

At about 9.40 pm the waiting room suddenly empties. There has been no announcement but people must know something. D goes out to investigate and finds that a short train has been surreptitiously shunted into the platform ahead of the one that arrived. A quick number check confirms that this is our train. We walk towards the AC coaches looking for AB1, a combination 2AC/3AC coach. Away from the buldings it is dark but the coach attendant confirms we have the right coach. Our berths are 2AC 11& 12, a pair of side berths, and we quickly stow our luggage and make up the beds. The bay opposite us is empty but due to fill up at later stops. Scheduled departure is 10.00 pm but this comes and goes.  Next thing D knows the train is under way and the TTE is after our ticket. This done we can switch out the lights and crash.

We are awoken at a subsequent stop (Kashipur or maybe Moradabad) when two groups both claim possession of the berths opposite. They go at it hammer and tongs for several minutes, and while some of the nuances are wasted on us, it is clear that they are arguing about whether this is 2AC or 3AC. C'mon guys, this is not rocket science. Just count the freakin' beds. Double bunks = 2AC, triples = 3AC. Duh!. Eventually they shut up and we get back to fitful sleep. This train leaves Ramnagar as 25014 Corbett Park Link Express but arrives at Old Delhi as 15014 Ranikhet Express having merged with another train at Moradabad. The combined effort will travel through to Jaisalmer but according to the charts all except one of the AC2 passengers will deboard at Old Delhi, where arrival is scheduled at 4.00 am. We have learned a little about punctuality on trains like this and set our alarms for 4.00. This gives us enough time to get ourselves sorted out with five minutes to spare before we roll into DLI, variously known as Delhi Main, Delhi Junction and Old Delhi.

We need to transfer to New Delhi Station which means a short drive. As we exit the station a young man says "Taxi, sir". D should have known better but asks the fare to NDLS. "Meter sir" comes the reply. He leads us quickly to one of the black minibuses that are commonly used as cabs in Delhi. We load the luggage and hop in. Then he says "Fixed price 500". D insists on the meter. "But sir 40% night charge" D has no idea if this is correct but decides even if it is meter is going to be better and continues to insist. "Sir, it is a long trip, 8 kilometres. Fixed price 400 final" . It is not 8km. We walked it once, admittedly without luggage, and D deploys Google Maps to make the point.At last we set off with the meter running and D carefully monitoring the route taken. When we arrive the meter says 140 so plus 40% makes 196. The driver asks again for 400 and D says "Let's find a policeman" which brings the price down to 300. D capitulates. It is probably still over the odds but after all what is a visit to Delhi without a row about a taxi or auto fare and this is the only chance that we will get on this brief visit.

The executive lounge is located without problem and we pay our admission fee. We used it three years ago and it is much as we remember,  although a little more worn. Advantage is taken of the free tea facility and we give the wifi a workout. There are a few people asleep on sofas and groups of chairs but it is not busy at all. The staff are getting breakfast ready so we pay Rs 200 each and dive in as it opens. To say that the breakfast buffet was unimaginative does a disservice to the word unimaginative. The pooris are tough, the bread slightly past its best, the gravy moves but doesn't taste of much and only the hard boiled eggs come up to scratch. One hundred and fifty rupees gets you two hours in the Lounge and we feel no urge to linger. 

Our train leaves from platform 2 and we are 14 platforms away so there is a bit of a route march across one of the station foot bridges. One of D's arch enemies,  a porter or coolie as they are still known, confirms that we are in the right place. Soon the boards light up with the train number and the coach positions.  We are pretty much in the right place and do not have long to wait. A shunting engine brings in the distinctive pale blue liveried coaches of the Kalka Shatabdi, one of India's crack daytime expresses. We are riding executive class today and take up residence in coach E1 at the forward facing seats of a table for four in the middle of the coach. There are a fair few pink people in this coach, and two of them take the other seats at the table. They are a couple from Kent visiting India for the first time, having arrived yesterday after an overnight flight. They had a guided tour of Delhi yesterday and are now on their way to Shimla via the narrow gauge railway. 

They have lots of questions about India and are so new that they have not yet had chai. They are quite taken with the Shatabdi and we have to explain that this is not really typical. Most of their travel will be by car and they have guides organised to meet them wherever they go. We had guides at times on our first trip and were with a tour group for two weeks but we couldn't really imagine going back to that, even if it does get us into arguments with taxi wallas. This trip lasts for four hours and the coach is full as far as Chandigarh where three quarters of those on board get off. For the remaining 30 minutes to Kalka nearly all of the remainder are Westerners. As D was taking our luggage down off the rack he falls into conversation with a man who is going to Shimla by train but has sent his suitcase up in a hired car. We are gobsmacked.

The majority of the people on the platform at Kalka are pink and heading to the adjacent Narrow Gauge station where the midday train to Shimla, the Himalayan Queen, awaits them. We head for the station exit and take an auto to our Kalka hotel - Modi's. We don't ask which Modi it is named for. The hotel appears well maintained and our room is spacious and quite nicely fitted out. There are one or two quirks such as banks of switches which don't seem to do anything, the shower mixer being plumbed in the wrong way round and there being a full height window between the bedroom and the shower area. We have seen this in two or three Indian hotels, usually quite smart ones, and never anywhere else. There is a blind that can be lowered inside the shower. Business must be good as there is a huge extension out back which is being fitted out by people who like hammering a lot.

We get showered and changed (with the blind down) and head out to explore. The sunshine is hazy and it is not too hot. First task is to find out how long it will take to walk to the station as we have a very early train tomorrow. We find a route much shorter than the one used by the auto that brings us to a foot crossing of the line which gives access to the mainline platforms and via them the narrow gauge station. D then spends  half an hour checking out the engine sheds and sidings beyond the station. At one point a policeman strides over but all he wants to do is shake hands and say thank you. His English is on a par with D's Hindi so quite what lay behind this show of gratitude goes unexplained. D had hoped to spot the steam loco that he caught a fleeting glance of four years ago but a chap at the shed says it is no longer there.

The fun part over we walk up the main street to find an internet cafe or similar. Judging by the reactions we get from the locals very few tourists actually leave the railway station. We certainly didn't see any others in the auto scrum outside the station. There are shouts of Hi, Hello and Welcome and quite a lot of stares. We smile, wave and say hi back. There is no hassle or sales talk, it is all friendly and good humoured.  At the top of the main street from the station we turn down the other main street which is the highway to Shimla and has constant traffic. We suspect that there are people who were born on one side of this road who have never managed to cross it. We find an internet place and print out tomorrow's hotel voucher which has only just been emailed to us. Chores complete we return to Modi's to be idle until the restaurant opens for supper. When it does open we dine a deux, having requested that the band be blindfolded. 

Nice and Kosi

We might not need to get up before six but every noise generator within a mile is up and running soon after five so that extra hour in bed goes down the Swanee. We have learned since the first morning's safari that we need to wrap up for early gypsy rides. We each have two fleeces on and R has two shawls,  one round her head to keep her ears warm and one round her shoulders. D's woolly shawl is draped across our knees.  The snow on the day that we left Scotland means that we have gloves with us, not normally part of our Indian kit, but very useful up here. This morning is birdwatching with Ramesh as our guide and Kailash driving. Just as we leave the Swallow Nest two groups of Grey Hornbills fly over our heads and land in a couple trees a field away. We head out on the usual route through Ramnagar towards the first park gate. All of the shops, including at least a dozen ladoo and sweet shops are open and there are fruit sellers' barrows all along both sides of the street. We have noticed how busy the town is, even before sunrise, and ask Ramesh the reason for this. He explains that people arrive here by bus or train in the early morning en route to homes far away up into the mountains. Sweets are a traditional homecoming gift and travellers buy plenty of them here.

We drive on past the National Park entrance and the place where we went elephant riding and carry on along the highway to a place called Garjia Mandir, where a temple has been built on a rocky outcrop in the river. A substantial bridge has been built to carry worshippers across to the temple and amplified devotional music plays. The birds seem unconcerned by the noise and are down on the river bed in great numbers. There is a flock of Great Cormorants,  colourful Redstarts, River Lapwings and more. After spell spotting from the bridge we head down to the river bed. The water only occupies about a fifth of this at this time of year and various businesses catering to temple visitors have set up on the river bed. They move out in June before the monsoon arrives and the river claims its bed back.

From here we see a pair of black and white Crested Kingfishers watching the river from a perch on the bridge piers. Every now and again one will dive into the river before returning to base. Something (maybe us) has disturbed the Lapwings and they give voice to their alarm call which freaks out the cormorants who fly away rapidly as a dense black mass. The kingfishers have moved downriver with us and are now using a cable across the river as a perch. There is a calmer stretch of water down here which contains a number of brightly decorated religious statues. Ramesh tells us that there will soon be a festival and these statues are used in the worship.

He now leads us upstream, under the bridge and further away from the noise. He is seeking the Ibisbill, a bird a bit like a curlew but grey and white with a long, curved orange bill. He finds one but to start with we have great difficulty in seeing it as it has perfect camouflage when its head is down searching for food. He tells us that this bird is very elusive and sometimes he has spent half a day looking for it without success. We feel privileged. Ramesh thinks that we have probably seen what there is to see on this stretch of river and he leads us back to the gypsy.

We follow the highway up the valley of the Kosi River. It is mainly well surfaced although it gets narrower as we go on,  not a problem as traffic is light. At one point we stop and Ramesh points out a tree where leopards have stowed the remains of a spotted deer out of reach of tigers and jackals. At about 40km from base we turn off the road and follow a track down to the river bed. Here he hopes to find Forktails, Wall Creepers and Brown Dippers but warns us that it may take time. First comes our picnic breakfast which as well as eggs includes parathas and curd (unsweetened) and more divine black tea. Refreshed, we set out walking upstream along the stoney dried up river bed. There is nobody else about and a refreshing near absence of litter, the sun is now quite high in the sky which is hazier than the last two days,  and there is a stiff north east breeze which means that the fleeces stay on.

After about ten minutes Ramesh stops and lifts his binoculars to examine a rocky cleft on the far side of the river. He finds a Little Forktail and manages to direct us to it. It flies a little higher up the bank where it is joined by another as they feed by a small stream. We had a very fleeting glimpse of a Forktail outside Darjeeling but this was a very good view indeed. Ramesh then spots a Wallcreeper but it flits away almost immediately. We approach the spot and wait, with other small birds providing false alarms from time to time. Ramesh has to take a call on his phone and while he is otherwise engaged D sees a rusty brown bird skimming the water with a jerky sort of flight. Surely it is a dipper but it has flown away downstream without the chance of a photo. Ramesh rejoins us and soon spots a Wallcreeper flying low over the rocks. It lands on a rock face and obligingly waits for us to get a bit closer.

We head back towards the gypsy still hunting the elusive Brown Dipper. There are a couple of enthusiastic but misguided sightings by us before the pro spots one on a rock over the river. This time there is lots of posing for photos and quite a feeling of achievement.  It has suddenly warmed up and the second fleeces come off when we get back to the gypsy. On the road back we take a detour in search of the long billed thrush but draw a blank. Driving down the valley nearly everybody shouts a greeting or waves to Ramesh. He seems to know everyone. Back at the Sparrow Nest Mrs Ramesh has cooked a lunch of rice and some kind of lentil or small bean, served with curd and pickled chillies - very tasty. We take the chance of hottish water to shower and then vegetate for a while. 

Around four we set out for a walk around the local area. Most Western tourists seem to stay at smart resorts outside the town and just pass through Ramnagar in their gypsies or Boleros.  They are missing a treat. Nearly everybody is really friendly and the ones that weren't are shy. One man tries to talk us into going to the market but otherwise nobody tries to sell us anything.  We head for the level crossing which sees plenty of action and is a major social hub when the gates are down. The local course authorities have decided to spice up the regular head to head Le Mans style start by dumping sand to form a chicane immediately on the north side of the crossing.  This really confounds northbound competitors as they come over the crossing two or three abreast. The signalling here is all old fashioned semaphore stuff and the gates are lifted by a lad who turns a handle on some kind of geared capstan. The resulting melee never fails to disappoint.

We continue over the railway when the crossing is clear and watch a game of chase the goat. From what we see the goat looks odds on to win even when one unsporting chap starts throwing stones at it. We come to a main road and decide it is time to retrace our steps. It takes twice as long to get back as nearly everybody wants their photo taking. One youth even in a truck even gets the driver to stop so he can get out and have a photo taken. As we approach the level crossing the gates descend and we shoulder our way through to the front in order to get a good view of the mayhem. One chap in a hurry slides his motorbike under the barrier, rides across the two tracks and does the same at the other barrier. The crossing keeper does not stir from his seat. On the correct side of the barrier people are getting out of their cars and doing the rounds of their neighbours.  

A group of young men approach wanting to take a photo with us. As usual we ask why. No response. A selfie stick appears so they can all be with us. "What are you going to do with the photo now you have it?"  "Facebook!" comes the reply in a tone that suggests that only a real idiot would not have known that. We are tracking the Celebrities in Ramnagar FB group with trepidation. About 250 digital photos later we are back at the Sparrow Nest. Ramesh has just got back from his office and all of his family are there so we get a picture of them in front of the house. His children are alert, polite and help with chores, a great credit to their parents. There is time to show him some photos from the last few days and he is keen to find out more about D's camera which he has used a few times today so we find it on line. He has a wedding to go to tonight so we thank him and bid farewell.  After supper we will head for the station and a whole new post.

Great Hornbills!

Before you ask there are no tigers today but we still had a very rewarding morning safari and something rather different for the afternoon.  We woke before the alarm went off and quickly got ready. There was another cup of the wonderful tea and then it was time to board the gypsy. The Indian couple staying are Gujaratis from Mumbai on a holiday tour and they join us for a lift up to the gate where they transfer to another vehicle. The Londoners are leaving for Rishikesh later and have a lie in. Ramesh himself is our guide this morning and he quickly sorts out the paperwork. He knows of R's interest in birds and says that he hopes to get us something special today.

The 8km track seems shorter today and we are soon in the park proper. The moon is still high in the sky as daylight creeps in. There is a distant sighting of a female elephant and calf before Ramesh spots tiger tracks and heads for a likely spot. Through the trees we identify a bull elephant and as the gypsy moves forward we suddenly see a group of several females with at least one calf gathered just off the track. One of the females objects to our presence and breaks out of the forest at a lively trot. There is no hanging about as Kailash, our driver,  puts his foot down and gets us to a safe distance. A gypsy tears past in the opposite direction and we watch as the driver slams the brakes on then reverses rapidly with Ma Elephant in hot pursuit. Ramesh and Kailash think that this is hilarious but make sure that we put some distance between us and the elephant.

We come across a group of gypsies parked along the track as it curves around a shallow grassland bowl. Somebody thinks that they saw a tiger but Ramesh thinks that they were watching the grass. He moves us on to an area we have not visited before. At ground level see wild pigs, plenty of deer and many small birds, higher up there is a Crested Serpent Eagle posing on a branch as well as a couple of smaller raptors. We stop for breakfast - more of the delicious tea, hard boiled eggs and bread and butter. While we eat Ramesh spots a large hornbill fly in and disappear behind a large tree. He thinks that we can find it and we quickly pack up and get mobile. Quite soon he calls a halt and we have a good view of two magnificent Great Hornbills eating fruit on a large tree. Ramesh confides that these are his favourites and he wishes that he could see them every day. So do we. Time is up for the morning session and we drive home in glorious sunshine. On our way back to the gate we get a great sighting of a black stork and as we are about to move away Ramesh spots a Stork-Billed Kingfisher,  the first time that we have seen one. Further on we have to pull over to allow a man doing wheelies in his tractor to pass us.

At the Sparrow Nest we hijack the shower bucket and do a spot of washing. Hung out on the roof, it is dry in less than two hours. It might have been even less but we were asleep and only woke when called for lunch. The nameless Indian couple did not see a tiger today but enjoyed seeing wild elephants. He tells us over lunch that the problems involving the Jats are resolved and all of the trains are running on time. Let's see. D sits down with Ramesh to settle our debts. We owe exactly what was agreed by email a few months ago. No extras and we can even keep our room until we leave on Friday evening and have dinner before we leave. Over and above the tariff all we have spent is tips which were not solicited and in our view, well earned. We still have a day and a half to go but this has already been our best Indian Wildlife experience and has by no means been the most expensive. 

At three we set out for our Elephant Safari, at a location a few miles further on from the park gate. Ramesh himself drives as he is going to do a few errands before returning to collect us. We walk down from the main road to the river bank where the flood defences are at a convenient height for boarding an elephant. We sit back to back on a howdah facing sideways, a bit more comfortable than last time we had an elephant ride. Our mount today is Kalinda and in charge is Mabon (?) who steers the elephant by tapping it with a short bamboo stick with rounded ends and uses his bare feet as a kind of accelerator. 

Progress across the river is a bit bumpy but once we are up on the far bank Kalinda provides a fairly smooth ride. This area is not part of the park but is a stretch of scrubby forest with very little litter or evidence of human beings.  We have to watch out for branches but Mabon helps to deflect these with his stick. On an elephant you get much closer to the other wild life such as deer and birds. The movement does not help photography but Mabon stops her whenever there is something interesting. From time to time Kalinda spots a choice morsel and rips a branch off a tree or tears up a clump of grass to eat. Elephants have a lot of fibre in their diet and elephant droppings make a very definite thud as they hit the ground. Following the overgrown tracks in the scrub makes it feel like real wilderness and we are surprised to hear a car horn close by. In reality the wilderness is a strip along the river that is about 200 metres wide but it has three types of deer, two types of monkey, wild pigs and innumerable birds. Just right for an hour or so. 

As we return over the river we spot a hovering bird that dives into the water. A Pied Kingfisher, another old friend, is seeking supper. Kalinda climbs the bank and then walks a narrow elephant path between the fields before returning us to our starting point along the main road. Ramesh awaits us with the jeep. On the way back to base we stop so that we can buy Mrs Ramesh a box of sweets as a thank you for her cooking. She seems pleased as we get a bonus cup of tea tonight. We are ready for supper when it comes. The Gujaratis are leaving in the morning but after we depart for our day dedicated to birdwatching. We say goodbye after supper.

Mrs Shere Khan and Colonel Hathi

Up at 5 for a quick wipe down and a cup of tea flavoured with ginger and honey. At five thirty prompt we board a gypsy outside the front door. A gypsy is a jeep with a raised open rear seating platform that is used hereabouts for safaris. It is quite cool here before dawn and sitting on one of these things as it is being driven makes it even chillier. Ramesh takes the co-pilots seat and we drive for about 15 minutes through Ramnagar to one of the Jim Corbett National Park gates where a few other gypsies carrying tourists are congregating. Ramesh takes our passports into the small office building as we have to be registered.  When he returns he introduces our guide for the morning whose name we utterly fail to catch. There is a bit of a hiatus and then the gate is opened shortly after 6 am.

Some of the gypsies race off at high speed while we take it more steadily.  The guide explains that for 8km we will drive through a periferal zone until entering the park proper where there is a network of vehicle tracks. Only 15 vehicles are allowed in at any one gate for a session (6 to 9.30 and 2.30 to 6) which explains the need to get there early. The track is quite rough and crosses a few riverbeds that are not much more than streams presently but which become raging torrents in the monsoon. The park closes in June until October or November as it is not possible to get around. Every visiting party must have a guide and hiking is not permitted. At the end of the 8km there is an inner gate where there are loos and a further document check. 

Once in the park proper we start to see spotted deer, a regular tiger lunch. Our guide points out tiger footprints on the track and fresh elephant dung. We see a large bird in a tall dead tree which is identified as a Changeable Hawk Eagle though there is no explanation as to what the changes are. Later we check the bird book which has no explanation either. There are lots more deer, a few monkeys, but no tiger. We try a different area, higher up and see quite a few interesting birds. Some we cannot identify but get photos to check against the bird book later. Still no tiger so we head back to the lower level where we meet one of the other gypsies whose occupants had seen a tiger not too far away. We head there watch for a while but see nothing. 

Our driver breaks out breakfast - hard boiled eggs, bread and jam and a flask of the tea with honey and ginger. We are just finishing off when there is a plaintive shriek from quite nearby. The guide identifies it as the alarm call of the spotted deer which has probably detected a tiger on the move. We get mobile PDQ and head back along the track. The guide  tells the driver to stop and points. A magnificent beast pads silently out of the forest, across the track and back into cover. It was no more than ten metres away and absolutely breathtaking. It is identified as a female. As if by magic other gypsies converge on the spot, some in time to see the big cat, while others have to make do with looking at photos.

We are thrilled and it is a cheerful trip back to base. R spots a large bird on a distant tree and when we get closer we see that it is a red headed vulture. There is the inevitable documentation as we leave the park and then we head back to Ramesh's Swallow Nest homestay. India Mike forum members might be interested to know that the Swallow Nest is named in honour of the late Fugly, who helped Ramesh to work up his business idea of putting together complete packages for visitors wishing to visit Corbett. The house has been specially built with 3 pleasant en-suite guest rooms, a central dining hall and an open kitchen.

We are invited to sit at a table on the roof and stay there until it gets too warm. Our co-residents have not been as lucky as us but have enjoyed their morning.

At lunch we are joined by an older Indian couple who have just arrived. It is soon time for the day's second safari and we are teamed with a different guide, Mukesh, who has excellent English. Entrance formalities complete we head back along the 8km track and before long spot a jackal ahead of us. It cuts off into the undergrowth but Mukesh correctly predicts where it will reappear thus allowing photos to be taken. Turning off the route taken by most of the gypsies we suddenly hear crashing in the undergrowth.  Through the trees we see one young elephant and at least two adults. Our guide quickly directs the driver to move us on to safe distance away from where we watch to see what happens.  The young one appears on the track for a while and then back into the vegetation. There are a lot more crashing noises, getting nearer, and we retreat further up the track. Further back in the forest we see quite a large tree being rocked violently. "Oh my god" says Mukesh. An adult male elephant steps out into full view and we move again to get a safe distance away. After a while a couple of gypsies come up behind the tusker. He seems to spend time considering what to do before retiring and leaving the track clear.

We set off again in search of tigers and do a large circuit crossing the dried up river a couple of times. Eventually we come back round to a T junction near where the elephant had been. By now a few other gypsies are following us as we turn down a side track. Rounding a corner we find a gypsy jam in front of us, with some trying to turn round and others reversing. Beyond them the same elephant is advancing up the track. All around us are shouts of "Hathi! Hathi" Some of the gypsy passengers seem to be rather alarmed and shout at us to get out of the way, easier said than done, as there are half a dozen more gypsies behind us. There follows twenty minutes or so of absolute slapstick as the elephant herds us all  back up the track. Eventually he gets bored and disappears into the bushes, allowing the tiger hunt to resume.

We try a few places and D spots a large elephant just off the track. His tusks are much bigger than the herder's but he won't stand still for a photo.  A little further on there is another blockage as three elephants have a stand off with more gypsies.   Two of the pachiderms step off the road but the third moves forward quite aggressively.  It is our old friend again. During the mating season adult males secrete a kind of musk oil and we can clearly smell this. Very reminiscent of Edinburgh zoo. Again discretion is the better part of valour but this time he soon tires and leaves the way open for us. Mukesh says that we will have one last try for a tiger.

As we head along a track another gypsy comes speeding the other way. Their guide shouts something and we quickly turn around and set off in pursuit. There are gypsies ahead and everyone is on their feet watching. A female tiger, maybe the same one is approaching along the track. She turns off into the vegetation and the gypsies are shuffled forward. The tiger moves stealthily through the dead long grass, its stripes providing superb camouflage. Beyond it a solitary spotted deer is grazing. The tiger pounces, an alarm call goes up. Too late.  Mrs Shere Khan has her supper. All that is missing is a breathless commentary by David Attenborough.  Wow!

A shout goes up from the guides. "Chalo! Jildi!"*. Everybody has to hurry to be out of the inner gate by the deadline. We get back to the Sparrow Nest just as it is getting dark and are introduced to Ramesh's three children who are doing their homework.  The Londoners have seen loads of elephants but again drawn a blank with tigers. They are philosophical, saying that it gives them a reason to come back. We enjoy supper, even the paneer in sauce. Then it's time for bed, another 5 a.m. start tomorrow. 

* Let's go. Hurry up.