Wednesday 9th April 2025

Like in the military, days begin early on tiger tours.

Our flight was at five to seven, therefore to get up, meet up, travel to the (correct) terminal, check in, go through security, find the gate and board before quarter past seven, we had meet in the lobby at four, and up an hour earlier.

Which we managed.

We climbed on the bus with our luggage, drive 15 minutes to the wrong terminal and five more to the right one, then find which of the shiny new desks we had to check in at. And all before the first coffee of the day!

We got in line and handed over our bags, one by one, then made our way to security, where India has its own strict rules.

That took another half hour, then a ten minute walk to the gate, which had just started to board.

I grabbed a Coke to sup, to heal ease my achey back and legs, though in truth I was doing OK.

We all got on, for the 90 minute flight to Nagpur, through most of it I slept. Which was the best way.

The landing was dramatic and sideways, or felt like it, and if it were a test the pilot would have failed. But we were safe.

We went into the terminal, got our cases, and went outside to arrivals where our fixer was here, and lead us out into the morning sun and heat to a fleet of landcruisers to take us to our lodges outside the reserve.

Nagpur seemed a small city, though has a metro, and also has the usual mix of houses, rich and poor to barely standing.

Then out into the countryside, where the harvest had just been gathered, and the land is being ploughed, though some fields of cotton were still standing.

The journey had less horn tooting, but to make it more interesting, short stretches of motorway ended at towns, where there were junctions with no give way lines, no obvious priority, so was a tootin free for all.

Someone left their wallet at the service station: the call came over the drivers’ mobiles. It was Jools’s.

So we had to turn round and go back five miles to meet the manager, who after Jools described it, returned it, and took no reward.

That act saved our holiday.

Suddenly we turned off, down an Indian six foot sixer, which I can tell you is a scary thing. Across farmland, bridges barely standing, and dirt-poor villages whose inhabitants hardly marked our passing.

Passing traffic did so by playing a game of chicken as to who would drive off the pavement. It made for an interesting drive.

And then we swung off the road, though a gate and into a collection of buildings: our lodges.

We were met by the owner, made to feel welcome, then offered dinner. More buffet curry.

And then onto the main event, or the first of 17 main events, as that’s how many safaris there is going to be.

A fleet of converted jeeps arrives, with two rows of elevated seating behind the driver: Jools and I get in, and a guide gets in behind us.

We drive at breakneck speed, through a sometimes quiet village, to the gates of Tadoba National Park, where our credentials had been presented, and one of the limited slots given to us.

Our passports checked, we enter the park.

It is jungle, but not as we think of it. Dryer, but primitive, with access roads to parts, but others eft alone so not to disturb all the 91 tigers that live here.

We see two species of deer: barking and spotted, as well as birds. Though those you mostly hear.

It is blindingly hot, and with the heat and bouncing around on red dusty tracks, Jools soon felt ill, but soldiered on, as there was little choice.

We came across a troop of monkeys, who looked at us with the distain we deserved. I took shots.

We then joined about a dozen other vehicles at a watering hole, as this is where the tigers and cubs came to drink, Most animals come here to drink.

A pack of wild dogs arrived, but were soon alarmed, a deer was barking out warnings that became more frequent, until a majestic male tiger was seen through the undergrowth.

Even tigers need a drink.

He came along a bank and out of the grass, right in front of me, paused, then walked on paw at a time into the water, and out the other side to see what the wild dog was barking about.

The dog yelped, and the tiger made two or three quick paces, and the dog fled, so the tiger relaxed. But clearly wasn’t happy with the fleet of jeeps and cameras recording his every move.

In time he crossed the road and went into the dense vegetation, so after a few minutes, we made to move off.

The back of a tiger’s ears look like huge eyes, and our guide spotted him laying down, so we stopped.

The tiger yawned, then got up and walked back to the pond before slowly moving off.

Most other jeeps moved off, but we stayed, as our guide had heard more warnings by the deers.

And sure enough, a lone female appeared, walked over the track and along the edge of the pond nearest us. She laid down, yawned, and surveyed her options.

They walked on, then backed into the water and lay down, taking the edge off the day’s heat.

We moved off. In truth the weather had changed No longer forty degrees and hot with it, clouds were building, and flashes of lightning were seen. A keen breeze appeared, knocking dried leaves from the trees above the track as we sped back to the entrance falling on us like snow.

Dust devils danced in front of us, and we thought we would get soaked.

The journey back took over an hour, with the weather getting worse minute by minute, but staying dry.

We reached the gate, dropped off our park guide who hadn’t guided us at all, and we sped back through the village to the camp.

WE all went back to our cabins for showers, and even after a good soaking, the white towels showed large amounts of orange dust still came out of our hair and pores.

Tired, but happy, we met at eight for supper of, you guessed it, buffet curry and salad. And beer.