...and a stroke of pure luck (a sign from Ganesh?)
Posted by John Roberts at Tue, 21 Nov 2006 09:28:00 GMT and is filed under uncategorized 
...and so, with the show being over, elephants for sale inspected, the hard luck stories of the potential rescuees heard but not verified and not rationalised it was time to turn our cars toward home.
Surin is in a huge, flat plain which must have been endless grassland in the elephant days but is now a rice bowl about 50m above sea level, hot and dusty. After a few days enjoying their wonderful hospitality my heart begins to ache for mountains or even a small hill to break up the view.
So when it was suggested we make an early break from the excitement of all those elephants and the surrounding fair ground atmosphere (the previous night we had applauded in the House of Horrors, been horrified by a reptile show, laughed out loud at the fake freak show and fired M-16's at the army's recruitment booth) I was torn but not entirely unhappy.
Like most East/West routes in Thailand the Surin to Chiang Rai drive passes through several major watersheds, separated by ranges of forested hills. The roads on the rice plain are long and straight, through the hills they snake up streams, winding and climbing to a wooded passes guarded by shrines, spirit houses and Lord Buddha himself; with a fertile imagination and that peculiar form of alert boredom created by a long drive it is not difficult to imagine the warring city states and guarded passes, epic journeys on elephant and horseback, armies marching against fortified city states, challenging the allegiances of minor kings.
One of my favourite pieces of road is the un-mentioned Nam Nao National Park, beautiful in its own right but more so because it is the first climb out of the Isaan plain with it's long straight roads and unwavering overheated policemen.
The early departure meant that we would be passing through these hills at sunset, I had driven through the park on several occasions but the chance to be in allegedly good jungle at dusk always gives me a thrill, I had seen the "Danger Animals Crossing" signs but had really paid them no heed - no chance of animals close to this quick road - but it would be nice to stop in a clear lay by, listen to the dusk birds and hope for an alarm call or too. Unlikely, but the authorities claim predators and prey so why not?
Well, we stopped and we listened to the crickets and a nesting bird or two, we stopped again in the pine forest some 800 metres above the plain of half an hour ago and refreshed but not truly satisfied in the true darkness of the forest we began our descent into Lomsak.
One of the frustrations, one of the joys, of driving in convoy is that you drive at the speed of the slowest member - in this case Khun Wee, the Elephant Coordinator from Four Seasons, and so instead of winding the windows up putting the stereo on and the hammer down. Instead of heading for the night's meal and bed Khun Lord and I had the windows down to enjoy the forest's cool damp smells and sounds; leading the way and keeping Wee's headlights in the mirror.
We rounded a blind corner on a steep descent (clutch in, riding the breaks, engine merely idling) when an unnaturally white rock caught my eye in the right hand forest. Hazards on, wheels locked, credit to Wee that he missed us, stopped and got out cursing, assuming I had a joke to tell or a useless anecdote on this blind night-time steep hill corner.
It was a noise from the white rock that quieted us all, a distinctive flapping of the ear sound that we all hear every day, followed by the tearing of some grass and it being beaten against a mammoth foot - again a sound familiar to us all but oddly unfamiliar in these surroundings.
We edged up the road to get a better view of this lone wild elephant, big (aren't they all?) and presumably a bull as he was on his own. We watched each other for a while, he completely unafraid, me very nervous so that when he walked noisily into the undergrowth I was the first to run back and shelter behind my poor car.
Well, you never know, do you?
We decided that as a mixed group of people whose lives have been bought together by elephants, a group that started the day by watching three hundred domestic elephants gathered in one place, that finished the day with a chance sighting of a majestic wild bull on the side of the highway, we decided that we must be the luckiest elephant people in the world for that day at least. A sign from Ganesh?
Surin is in a huge, flat plain which must have been endless grassland in the elephant days but is now a rice bowl about 50m above sea level, hot and dusty. After a few days enjoying their wonderful hospitality my heart begins to ache for mountains or even a small hill to break up the view.
So when it was suggested we make an early break from the excitement of all those elephants and the surrounding fair ground atmosphere (the previous night we had applauded in the House of Horrors, been horrified by a reptile show, laughed out loud at the fake freak show and fired M-16's at the army's recruitment booth) I was torn but not entirely unhappy.
Like most East/West routes in Thailand the Surin to Chiang Rai drive passes through several major watersheds, separated by ranges of forested hills. The roads on the rice plain are long and straight, through the hills they snake up streams, winding and climbing to a wooded passes guarded by shrines, spirit houses and Lord Buddha himself; with a fertile imagination and that peculiar form of alert boredom created by a long drive it is not difficult to imagine the warring city states and guarded passes, epic journeys on elephant and horseback, armies marching against fortified city states, challenging the allegiances of minor kings.
One of my favourite pieces of road is the un-mentioned Nam Nao National Park, beautiful in its own right but more so because it is the first climb out of the Isaan plain with it's long straight roads and unwavering overheated policemen.
The early departure meant that we would be passing through these hills at sunset, I had driven through the park on several occasions but the chance to be in allegedly good jungle at dusk always gives me a thrill, I had seen the "Danger Animals Crossing" signs but had really paid them no heed - no chance of animals close to this quick road - but it would be nice to stop in a clear lay by, listen to the dusk birds and hope for an alarm call or too. Unlikely, but the authorities claim predators and prey so why not?
Well, we stopped and we listened to the crickets and a nesting bird or two, we stopped again in the pine forest some 800 metres above the plain of half an hour ago and refreshed but not truly satisfied in the true darkness of the forest we began our descent into Lomsak.
One of the frustrations, one of the joys, of driving in convoy is that you drive at the speed of the slowest member - in this case Khun Wee, the Elephant Coordinator from Four Seasons, and so instead of winding the windows up putting the stereo on and the hammer down. Instead of heading for the night's meal and bed Khun Lord and I had the windows down to enjoy the forest's cool damp smells and sounds; leading the way and keeping Wee's headlights in the mirror.
We rounded a blind corner on a steep descent (clutch in, riding the breaks, engine merely idling) when an unnaturally white rock caught my eye in the right hand forest. Hazards on, wheels locked, credit to Wee that he missed us, stopped and got out cursing, assuming I had a joke to tell or a useless anecdote on this blind night-time steep hill corner.
It was a noise from the white rock that quieted us all, a distinctive flapping of the ear sound that we all hear every day, followed by the tearing of some grass and it being beaten against a mammoth foot - again a sound familiar to us all but oddly unfamiliar in these surroundings.
We edged up the road to get a better view of this lone wild elephant, big (aren't they all?) and presumably a bull as he was on his own. We watched each other for a while, he completely unafraid, me very nervous so that when he walked noisily into the undergrowth I was the first to run back and shelter behind my poor car.
Well, you never know, do you?
We decided that as a mixed group of people whose lives have been bought together by elephants, a group that started the day by watching three hundred domestic elephants gathered in one place, that finished the day with a chance sighting of a majestic wild bull on the side of the highway, we decided that we must be the luckiest elephant people in the world for that day at least. A sign from Ganesh?
Comments