Tiger Hunting in Bardia National Park

Photo courtesy of Elliot Pelling

Arriving in Nepal, we had no idea seeing a tiger was even a possibility and a good one at that.  Whatever the reason for our lack of knowledge, we were pleasantly surprised to learn Nepal has a healthy and growing population of Royal Bengal Tigers.

Fast forward 25 days and a hellacious 15 hour overnight journey on a rickety local bus, we found ourselves at 4AM in muddy Ambasa, the gateway to Nepal’s Bardia National Park.  Lucky for us, our last minute hotel booking (made from previously mentioned rickety local bus) turned out to be the best we found in Nepal.  Mr. B’s Place took great care of us.  We were especially grateful that his son was in Ambasa to pick us up and take us the remaining 15km so early that morning.

In our haste to reach India in time for Holi, we could only afford two days at the park and intended to make the most of our time by heading straight out on a safari that morning.  Mother Nature had other plans.

As opening time for the park approached, a relentless rain flung itself onto the tin roof of our villa.  Mr. B informed us that although he would profit off taking us into the park, he didn’t think a safari in any form would be in our best interest.  There would be no tiger spotting in such heavy rain.  Unhappily, we retreated to our beds for the day, cursing our luck.

Photo courtesy of Elliot Pelling

As the next day dawned, the sky lightened and the sun shone.  Unfortunately, due to the constant overnight rain, the path was still too muddy to allow a jeep to pass.  Consequently, we abandoned our intended jeep safari and, on Mr. B’s advice, planned a full day walking instead.

Mr. B claims that in the right season and with good weather, there is a 90% chance of spotting tigers in Bardia National Park. However, it wouldn’t be so easy for us.  As soon as we stepped foot into the park, the thunder rumbled and we felt the first of thousands of rain drops.  Fifteen minutes later, the relentless downpour returned.

We trudged on, covered by our ponchos, but still soaking wet and losing hope.  We became even more disheartened when we realized the required river crossing would not be possible due to the high water level.  Our guides rerouted us to what they called a “bridge.” In reality, it was four tree trunks wired together with a few planks thrown across to walk on.  It tilted severely and was dangerously slick in the rain.

Photo courtesy of Elliot Pelling

At that point, we came very close to giving up.  Our bags full of expensive camera equipment weighed on our minds as we contemplated crossing and perhaps falling into the raging river below.  It was a lot to gamble for the very slim possibility that we would see a tiger.  But, our stubbornness won out.  After watching several other tourists crawl across on their hands and knees, we followed suit and successfully crossed the bridge.

As we neared the first area for spotting tigers, the rain stopped.  An hour later, blue skies appeared and the sun made a grand appearance.  We ate lunch and sat quietly for about three hours.  No signs of a tiger.

Itchy for some signs of wildlife, we proceeded to the second area known for tiger sightings.  This was the bank of a shallow river that runs through Bardia National Park.

Photo courtesy of Elliot Pelling

We concealed ourselves in the bushes and waited.  We were shortly rewarded with the bark of a deer, which according to our guide is the single most accurate warning of a nearby tiger.

Within minutes, we were rewarded yet again for our perseverance.  No, we didn’t see a tiger.  We heard one.  A loud, low rumble came from across the river.  A tiger’s roar is an unusual sound outside of mating season, claimed our very excited guides.  She wasn’t happy about something.

Intermittent tiger roars kept us on our toes from 2 until 5:30 at which point another guide pointed out the time.  The park would close at sun down and we still had an hour walk back to the entrance.  It was time to leave.  The other guide began to gather his guests and headed for the exit trail.  Our guide seemed to feel in his gut that leaving in that moment was the wrong decision.  “Just five more minutes.”  The tiger agreed with her first roar in the last hour.

Five minutes later, we still hadn’t seen our vocal friend.  Dejected, we gathered our things for our long walk back.

I stood up to leave, but before I could make it to my feet, the guides were pointing behind me and had, in their excitement, forgone whispering.

“Tiger….Up!”

Disbelievingly, I turned around to see the majestic tiger half way across the river, far upstream, but unmistakable.

Too mesmerized to bother with my camera, I stared in awe, as she stopped, looked our way, studied us for a second, and then, with the flick of her tail, disappeared into the tall grass.

We had finally seen our tiger.

Photo courtesy of Elliot Pelling