We are staying in Nagarhole National Park part of the vast Nilgiri Biosphere Reserve that covers 5000 square miles across the states of Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Kerala in southwest India. To me it is wonder of human achievement that this park exists in the second most populous country on earth. It is habitat for over 100 different mammals including the majestic Bengal Tiger, Asiatic Elephant and Leopard. It is late in the afternoon and we’re taking a water safari on Kabini Lake. It is calm, quiet and beautiful; the boatman cuts the motor often to stop and listen to the forest. Our guide, a certified parks naturalist, assures us that the animals go into the forest during the hot daytime hours but now that it’s cooler we have a chance to see some when they it come out to the lake to drink. We see hundreds of gentle, sweet-looking spotted deer, several huge gaur, wild pigs, lots of langurs (a large Old World Monkey with a very long tail) capering in the bamboo, a few elephants and a crocodile basking in the late afternoon sun. But wait a minute. Do you hear that? That is an alarm call. The monkeys are warning that danger is near. Now the forest is silent. A tiger peeks out of the bamboo, takes a few steps into the river to drink. Then her eyes meet ours. And she slinks back into the forest. It’s thrilling for me to see a tiger in her natural setting but it is even more exciting to know and understand the natural environment she thrives in so that we can work toward preserving her natural space. We return to our lodge full of awe. The sun is setting. The barista in the reading room overlooking the lake is very happy that we have been able to see a tiger. He shares his enthusiasm for conservation in Nagarhole National Park and makes us an unforgettable cappuccino to celebrate an unforgettable day.
Where have you been Nancy?
Well now, I’ve been weaving between promoting “Weaving Threads: Travels on the Silk Road” and travelling along other roads.
This time we drove back roads in a little black sports car, with the top down most of the way. It was an 8,500km loop west from Calgary to Sechelt B.C. (where we went to the Sunshine Coast Festival of the Written Arts) before heading south toward San Francisco, and then west to Yosemite, Bryce, Zion, and the North Rim of the Grand Canyon before going home, north to Alberta.
When I was writing “Weaving Threads: Travels on the Silk Road” I could refer to dozens of letters I had written our family. It was fun to read the old letters but there was also a lot I didn’t tell my parents. And my paltry beaten up journal was very boring. I wished I had been more thoughtful about what I wanted to record. It is hard to remember what it was like fifty years later and I’m learning from my “journaling” mistakes. I vowed to record my thoughts differently.
My journal is my heart these days. I don’t repeat my itinerary and I have thousands of photos for back up descriptions. I use Moleskine notebooks (with the fine top quality paper) that easily fit into a small handbag I carry. I have a good pen (that doesn’t leak) and, for emergency, a supply of freshly sharpened pencils. The pencils are important especially when my paper gets wet in the rain or gets soup spilled on it. I also carry a headlamp with me, to use when it’s dark.
You see I write (if you can call it that, I make notes) on the spot – in taxis (oh those stories the drivers tell,) in parks (ideal activity for initiating conversation,) in restaurants (to copy out menus and future to do’s in the kitchen.) I ask other people to write in my notebook–directions, names, and addresses, more maps. In other words I store fuel for stories–what I hear, what it tastes like, what’s that smell, what did she say–in my notebooks.
My journals aren’t pretty but I like the mess. They give me a comfy cosy feeling that inspire my travel musings and brings me back to the places we’ve been weaving around.
I’d love to read your thoughts on travel journaling. Please click on leave A Reply to comment and post.
I’m in “no time.” What I mean is that time doesn’t matter much here for me by the beach in Northern Kerela –– today, soon, later, its ready, or tomorrow –– it’s all the same. I like it that way. It gives me time to think and write a little. My time will change and Neeleshwar is a good place to stay before our long flights back to Canada.
I’m sitting on the veranda of our cottage, “Sama.” Like the meaning of its name, equanimity, mental calmness, is all around. In front of me are three bands. The blue Arabian Sea, the golden beach, and the rich green coast. They all depend on each other.
I listen to the quiet crackle of coconut palms swaying. Beyond a small lagoon, waves whoosh and slap up on the beach. A man in a pale orange lungi walks the line between the beach and the sea, dragging a fishing net. A couple of crows come out of their roost in the coconut trees to caw at him and perhaps wait for a treat.
A young white-bellied sea eagle that nests with its family in some large trees a few hundred metres down the coast, soars high, directly into the sun, catching the thermals. The magnificent raptor is careful not to cast its shadow on its prey, the fish below. Earlier this morning a family of dolphins played and feasted on a school of fish while we walked the beach after our morning yoga session.
This is the Malabar Coast, a 845 km strip between the Arabian Sea and the Western Ghats in South India. From 3000 BC in between long stretches of beach are trading centres for fish and spices. Major cities like Kannur, Calicut and Cochin with a few exceptional villages like Tellicherry, delight both visitors and locals.