Elephant Stampede
Date: March 21, 2003

My last update was cut short: India is famous for its bureaucracy. We were not allowed into the second half of Corbett Tiger Reserve because the rangers told us that we needed to ride around the park 90 kilometers -- rather than 40 km through the park -- to the opposite gate to buy permits and then come back. This took days and days and kilometers and kilometers of effort. So all we encountered were the paper tigers of India. So, we lost interest and headed for the parks in Nepal.

The military guarding Royal Bardia National Park from poachers let us enter on bicycle without any trouble. I was surprised because cars are timed to prevent them from either speeding or stopping. The highway burrowed a wide track through the dense jungle. It was a sal forest similar to Corbett Tiger Reserve except older and larger. It was difficult to see through the sun and haze on the west side of the road so I focused my attention on the east side where the sun penetrated underneath the trees. I was searching for wild elephants or rhinoceroses. There was a lot of elephant and rhino poo on the ground and tracks where the grass was trampled and trees snapped by passing animals. Our Lonely Planet book says, "Nothing infuriates a rhino more than a bicycle." Of course, I picture a rhino walking through the woods saying, "Gosh darn it! Who left this bicycle here." Several times my heart skipped when the trees shook but either it was a troop of common languars tumbling down to the ground or jumping 10 meters from one tree to the next or a herd of spotted deer.

I spotted a large gray shape among the trees. I circled the road peering into the east forest only to determine it was a fallen tree. I stopped and waited for Debbie thinking, "No self-respecting animal would traipse around the road." When my ears were relieved of the whirring of my wheels and the clanging of pans in my panniers, I noticed the rustling of leaves and snapping of tree branches on the west side of the jungle. The trees were swaying back and forth and I was about to go inside and see if it were people illegally harvesting fodder for their cattle when Debbie arrived and mouthed something. I look into the woods and glimpsed an elephant's rump. "I think I just saw an elephant."

" That's what I just said," Debbie said.

My sense of time became distorted. I starred breathlessly for minutes at the swaying trees. I thought I was imagining things so I crept backwards peering into the jungle. I spotted the backbone of an elephant glinting in the sun. I fumbled my camera into position. Even with the zoom it appeared little more than a gray patch among all the green leaves. Meanwhile, Debbie is pantomiming hysterically ® she was so frightened she lost her voice. Finally, she squeaks, "Behind you. There's an elephant on the road behind you." Less than 100 meters, back where I had stopped, an elephant lumbered onto the road through the tall grass with a baby, its trunk tucked in a curlicue, waddling close behind.

The endearing qualities of mother and child, the cute proportions of a miniature elephant, the miracle of life and thrill to see an endangered animal thriving: these thoughts were all but an instants thought. "Oh no. A baby," Debbie and I both said. Elephants will charge especially if their children are threatened.

"What is our strategy if the mother charges?" Debbie asked. "Should we run into the bushes or try riding away? I am going to try riding away."

I was reminded of the old joke: I don't need to outrun the elephant; I only need to outrun Debbie. "I don't know. Don't move. Don't make any aggressive gestures." I turned. Debbie was already riding away. "Stop. Don't move," I cried hoarsely as three more elephants crossed the road. Debbie was shaking. "Stay calm. They won't attack us for no reason."

I was both exhilarated and frightened. Fortunately, my instincts took over placing my emotions aside and preoccupying my mind with survival.

In no way was my experience like watching a nature show with a husky, low voice calmly narrating. I was spinning in circles. First, I was watching the elephants, then scanning the shaking trees, then looking behind me for more elephants. Can I hide in the grass? Crouch among the saplings? Run into the forest? Climb a tree? It seemed like the elephants were taking hours to cross the road. Five more emerged and I snapped several photos, half of them blurry from panic. Two of the elephants dwarfed the rest ® males. The most gigantic creatures I have ever seen. One male noticed us and turned towards us. Our eyes locked. Time stretched toward the infinite until the 5000 kilogram animal turned back and followed his comrades.

The elephants blocked our path. We waited for fifteen minutes, ages. Now elephants were crashing through the forest on both sides. The elephants on the east side were coming in our direction. A bus and one motorcycle pass. The drivers don't notice the elephants so I induce it is safe to pass. "C'mon," I said, "We should go. They are coming this way."

We rode forward. I was scanning the west for the remaining elephants hoping they aren't about to emerge. Suddenly, on the east, the grasses shook, rustled and parted. Five to six elephants are stumbling and crashing against each other. Our bicycles were too quiet. The females, their eyes wide with fright, trumpeted alarm. Debbie and I zoom away. I barely check my speed to keep pace with Debbie, the whole time my head craned backward watching the tall grasses sway with hurricane forces and expecting a mad bull elephant to charge. Luckily they didn't but imagination was so vivid that I remember this as if it really happened.

Later our guide said we were twice lucky. First, in seven years he has never seen so many elephants at once. There are only 60 wild elephants in Nepal and most of these range through India and so are counted twice. And, second, we were lucky to save our lives. For the record, the next time a wild elephant charges you should run zig-zagging through the forest. If a rhino attacks, climb a tree or hide behind it. If a tiger is stalking you, stare it in the eyes to intimidate it. By the way, three days later I encountered a royal Bengal tiger. But this is another story.