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John Hoar travelled on our 'Brahmaputra Cruise' holiday and submitted this entry to our writing competition.
Bengal Tiger
The setting sun cast a golden path across the still waters, from the distant river bank to our viewpoint on the upper deck of the river steamer. The only movement was that of a small boat, with high, pointed prow and stern, its owner standing amidships, which passed in black silhouette across the trail of illumination. This was the Brahmaputra River, our highway for 11 days as we sailed westward in short stages aboard the Charaidew. Our third day, and already we had experienced many magic moments: the Peregrine streaking out of a clear sky in pursuit of a Cattle Egret which was desperately trying to reach the sanctuary of the boat, eventually making it to the safety of the ship’s rail; the bee-eaters congregated on the sandy ground next to our mooring, rising in twisting and turning flight, flashing their plumage of green and blue in the early morning sun; the butterflies with wings of gorgeous hues fluttering about a forest path; Hoolock Gibbons and Capped Langur monkeys busy in the jungle treetops; the occasional glimpse of a Gangetic River Dolphin cavorting in the silt-laden waters about us.
Our journey down the river was a leisurely one. The Brahmaputra flows over a gently sloping flood plain, the current flowing in numerous shallow, interlacing channels between high banks of fine sand – the silt deposited in the wet season. These silt deposits stretch on either hand to a distant line of trees, with sparse stretches of grass and occasional clumps of scrub or bamboo, but mostly bare ground. Human inhabitants are few, though occasionally we would sight a small village or pass a narrow, open-decked fishing boat. The scene was not lacking in interest, however, as the river presented a continual array of birdlife: flotillas of Ruddy Shelduck and Gadwall; storks, herons and egrets; waders of many kinds; fish eagles and other raptors, pratincoles, and kingfishers.
Nights were spent moored by the sandy banks of the river, with daylight hours divided between sailing and exploring the surrounding country. These explorations took us to such fascinating places as a Mishing tribal village, where we were greeted with warmth and not a little curiosity, visitors being a rarity. Life there was simple, but hard, with the only water accessible from the communal pumps. The village houses were set on stilts to raise them above the monsoon floodwaters, the walls being of woven bamboo, the roofs of thatch. Pigs and goats wandered between the well-spaced buildings.
There were many highlights to our days on the river, but none greater than the four days we spent exploring the Kaziranga National Park. This is a land of open grassland, dense stands of elephant grass, expanses of open water, and belts of woodland. Scattered over this terrain were herds of Swamp and Hog Deer, Water Buffalo, Asian Elephant and the globally-rare Single-horned Rhinoceros. Water Monitor, Smooth-coated Otter, Rhesus Monkey and birds ranging from Griffon Vultures via Jungle Fowl to Velvet-fronted Nuthatch, added to the variety.
It was on our third day in the Park that our sharp-eyed driver brought his vehicle to a halt and, in an excited voice, called, ‘Tiger! Tiger!’ A tawny shape had just emerged from the screen of shrubs onto a distant stretch of grass, where rhino and Swamp Deer were grazing. It dropped to a lying position, with paws crossed, but presently rose to its feet and began to make its way in our direction. It was a large, male Tiger, evidently pacing the boundary of its territory. It came closer and closer to where we were watching, and then was lost to view. We waited with bated breath, expecting it to cross the road to our rear. Minutes ticked by, and then suddenly there was a snarling growl, and shouting from the vehicle in front of ours. I swung around just in time to see a swirl of dust, backlit by the sun, with the Tiger in silhouette, the image of a heraldic beast on a coat of arms. A split second later it was gone and the stillness restored. Evidently the Tiger had rushed the jeep, which was near to its marker tree, but thought better of it at the last moment. We moved on a short distance to a watch tower which commanded a view down the road. I thought we would see no more that day, but the leader of our party, wiser in the ways of the Tiger, said it would wish to cross the road to continue its patrolling, and so we waited. Of a sudden, there it was, pacing along the margin of the road, and then, with a glance towards the tower, it crossed the road, a mere football pitch from where we stood, and was gone.
Holiday memories to cherish indeed!
Read more about our 'Brahmaputra Cruise' holiday.