Travel blog: Tiger hunt in Nepal

A combination of too many years in London, a lack of proper responsibilities and an unhealthy admiration for Michael Palin have led Nick Claxton to spend a year travelling the globe. A terminally-disorganised 24-year-old taking on the world - solo. He will be sharing his experiences from India and Nepal, south-east Asia, New Zealand and South America. This month he is reporting from India and Nepal. Here is his eighth blog entry:




I loved Rishikesh. The whole vibe just fit me. Plus I could start most mornings by making the world disappear. A short run down the sand and a jump into the Ganges was all it took.

As you plunge into cold water, your senses are overwhelmed and recoil in panic. For a second there is no sound, no light - the world is blacked out by the pure sensation of cold and you are left alone inside your own empty head - at least until you break the surface again.

Sometimes in these fractions of a second, you can think the most clearly. And so I trusted my thoughts when they told me one morning under the murky water that as much as I loved Rishikesh, it was time to move on. I had seen all I was going to here and Nepal promised something new.

So that night, I was on the bus from nearby Haridwar to the Indian border at Banbaasa (180 rupees or £2.12).

Long night bus rides have become less of a novelty for me now and sleep was easier, so I was pretty fresh-faced when we arrived at Banbaasa at around 05:30 after nine hours on the road.

Wary of the potential for delays at the border, I quickly grabbed a cycle rickshaw (50 rupees or 60p) and joined the hordes streaming across the flood control dam that spans the Mahakali River.

It was a beautiful yet surreal sight seeing all these overloaded horse-drawn carts and rickshaws fighting to be first across as the deep red sun rose ahead of us.

I walked straight past the tiny Nepali immigration shack, but I soon doubled-back to fill out my immigration forms, change my Indian rupees to Nepali ones for free and pay the $30 (£15) visa fee.

Then I was squeezed into an auto-rickshaw already carrying fourteen other people (at least!) to make the six km drive to Mahendra Nagar (50 Nepali rupees or 37p).

My introduction to Nepal was therefore 20 minutes of crushing strangers as we swerved and bumped along. But each apology I made was greeted with friendly smiles and curious questions which made me feel welcomed.

Mahendra Nagar offered little excitement, so I jumped on the bus heading east along the highway.

I threw my rucksack onto the roof and settled into my seat to try and doze most of another eight hour drive to Ambaasa (1,300 Nepali rupees or £9.70).

I was shaken awake by the grinding sound of the bus leaving the highway. After a minutes' confusion, I realised this was my first encounter with the infamous Maoists.

The bus driver was taking evasive action to skip their checkpoint as some tourists had alcohol on board. I had been aware of the delicate political situation in Nepal but I had not expected it to affect me within a few hours of crossing the border!

The rest of the drive to Ambaasa was uneventful. I was the only one getting off at this entry point for Bardia National Park.

From there it was a short jeep ride to where I had decided to stay - the Bardia Village Wildlife Camp (300 rupees per night or £2.25) for a two-bed detached hut).

I had been swayed by the guidebook's description of the resort's owner as 'knowledgeable'.

As the next few days would see me trekking through the jungle on the search for the highly endangered one-horned rhino and the elusive Bengal tiger, I wanted as much knowledge on my side as I could get!

Some local kids took me under their wing and gave me a guided tour of the village and the park's crocodile breeding centre.

I paid them off with Coke and a game of cricket before meeting Rajen, the resort owner and a highly experienced naturalist.

With only seven other tourists in the whole park, there was no problem sorting out an elephant ride for the next day - the best way to see tigers as your scent is smothered by the elephant's.

However, rather than settle for a ride from the edge of the park on a government elephant, Rajen advised me to pay double the money (2,000 rupees/hour or £15) for one owned by the private trekking firm Tiger Tops.

The advantage of this was that they could meet us deep in the jungle and so we would have more chance of catching a glimpse of a tiger.

We entered the park by foot the next morning and spent six hours trekking through the undergrowth and climbing trees to get a close-up view of the wild rhino.

Our closest encounter with these Mesolithic-looking beasts was as they bathed in a pool of water into escape the heat of the afternoon.

Taking advantage of their poor eyesight, we stayed low and managed to get within 20 metres before one started to get agitated - perking up its ears and squaring up to us. I snapped a picture and then ran, following Rajen into the trees - waiting for the clatter of a charging rhino behind us that never came.

Unfortunately, that was the most exhilarating part of the day as we saw no tigers, even from elephant-back. Still, I enjoyed the ride and the jungle looked even more incredible from 11 feet up.

I was disappointed, sure, but I was also secretly glad that the Bengal tiger remained elusive. A glimpse would have been special, but now their mystical aura remains intact.

Nick Claxton