Cheating Death at Chitwan National Park

Although the heat and humidity stifled my senses, I could just about make out the voice of our short, slightly-built guide. “If we are chased by a rhino, you must run away in zig zags”. A little unnerving, but probably more practical than his next piece of advice: “If we see a tiger you must stand completely still, and stare straight into its eyes”. Was this khaki-clad Nepali serious? And how on earth had I ended up here in this terrifying and potentially life-threatening situation? Actually, the story isn’t too difficult to recount…

I had taken some time out from my unfocused life in the UK to volunteer as a teacher in a school in Kathmandu. I was 26 years of age and filled with an appetite to both see and save the world. Having taught my second full week at Annal Jyoti School I had boarded a bus with sixteen other volunteers and endured the increasingly sticky seven hour ride south into the Terai region, towards one of Nepal’s greatest tourist attractions: Chitwan National Park. Chitwan, Nepal’s first National Park, was established in 1973 and provides visitors the opportunity to bathe with elephants as well as the possibility of spotting a rare Royal Bengal Tiger.

So here we stood on the edge of the jungle, seventeen volunteers and four diminutive Nepali guides, each armed with a slim stick. Following some more rather disconcerting instructions, we headed into the foliage. My heart on the verge of exploding in my chest. After another two minutes of walking we found ourselves spread out in single file, fighting our way through ten foot high grass, with our stick-wielding Nepalis leading from the front and leaving me at the back of our formation in what appeared to be perfect tiger ambush territory! A disabling panic spread over my body and I was convinced that I would be forced ferociously to the floor at any moment…

We walked this way for two long, sweat-drenched hours, my ears and eyes playing cruel tricks on me, my short life seemingly taken out of my hands…Somehow, someway, we made it out of the long grass with little incident and were guided to the bank of a river. From here we were ushered into long, wooden canoes - vessels of a bygone era. When fully loaded, the top of our canoes sat uncomfortably close to the water and tipped violently the moment anybody on board shifted their bodyweight. Having finally found our balance we set off slowly downstream, watched only by the cunning, green eyes of Chitwan’s hungry crocodiles…