Rhinos and root bridges: a quick dash through Assam and Meghalaya.
Because of the news of riots and the internet being cut off, we had only booked the first night’s guest house in Guwahati in Assam. Of course the place turned out to be peaceful, and so we quickly found a driver and booked places to stay. But all this spontaneity can be a bit stressful.
After being invited to our host’s New Year’s Eve party (bonfire, whisky, local politicians), and getting woken at 5.15am by deafening recorded calls to prayer at the mosque — apparently right outside our window — we walked down to the energetic fish market on the Brahmaputra. This cool guy with earrings, leather jacket and hipster glasses, looked like he was in the wrong continent.
We drove off to Kaziranga National Park, staying in the wonderfully named Nature Hunt Eco Camp (surely they could have got Green in there too?). Set in a quiet tea plantation (this is Assam, after all) and we paid a bit extra for a new hut with hot water rather than having to ask for a bucket. Excellent place, with bonfires which started early as, because India is all in one time zone, the sun sets at around 4.40pm in Assam.
Up at 4.45 for the ‘elephant safari’ in the early light, just the two of us and the driver on Bahamah, who was calm but not particularly responsive to the bare feet behind the ears used for steering. Loved feeling the huge body moving smoothly underneath the warm skin.
The one-horned Indian rhino is rare — in fact the Kaziranga park was set up after the Viceroy’s wife, Lady Curzon, went all the way there in 1906 and didn’t see a single one. Now there are over 2000 in the Park, and the risk of poachers has been reduced since they started shooting them.
But we still were very lucky, seeing 22 rhinos from our elephant, two with babies. Elephants are, it turns out, particularly good for seeing animals in elephant grass.
We also went on a ‘jeep safari’, which was great for birds — fine storks and sea eagles — but the wild elephants and rhinos were distant, and the park has tigers which are very rarely seen (although of course our guide had seen one the day before). Great fun bombing along on the back of a jeep, although not so sure about the safety of some road users.
The food was very good — some inspirational veg cooking - but alcohol is not served, and so we needed some personal supplies. We soon learned from our driver Das that Shop Open in front of a shabby bare metal shack indicates a booze shop. So we could stock up on excellent Kingfisher beer and the not-quite-so-excellent Blenders Pride whiskey: “A creation of reserve Scotch malts blended with select Indian spirits”. Not sure I would recommend it too strongly, but OK for an evening strengthener when it gets a bit chilly.
We drove nine hours into the south of Meghalaya, the state below Assam, ending around 20km from Bangladesh. The East Khasi hill region south of Shillong has extraordinary scenery, with deep valleys and waterfalls, and has recently got on the (mainly domestic Indian) tourist circuit. Which brings some very ugly hotels, but also means that foreign tourists are nothing very special, and don’t pay inflated prices. (Incidentally, I am always amazed that, after a Raj that systematically extracted India’s wealth for 200 years, encouraged religious conflict through ‘divide and rule’, and then abruptly left the country to tear itself apart, Brits are always treated with great respect.)
This chapel was built by Welsh Presbyterians, who arrived in 1841 after the British took over the region. The sign says Thomas Jones School of Mission, after the man who was responsible for translating the Gospels and Welsh texts into the Khasi language, although he was thrown out of the mission when he married a 15 year-old girl.
Now the Khasi Hills are very Christian, with all denominations — our host in Guwahati had done his O levels (Twelfth Night, Lord of the Flies etc) with the Irish Christian Brothers in Shillong. Apparently without ill effects.
We had come to this remote region primarily to see the ‘living root bridges’, and the classic examples are a good few hundred feet down in a valley, requiring what is said to be 3500 steps (although I reckon that is both ways). A long and very steep walk, helped by a 20 rupee bamboo stick.
This is supposed to be the rainiest place on earth, and although this is the ‘dry’ season, it still rains almost every day. But it cleared up as we descended, taking advantage of the chai stalls and watching our steps.
After around 2 hours we reached Nongriat, famous for having a double-decker bridge made by training the roots of a huge banyan tree for 50 years or so. I had read numerous articles, and so was prepared for disappointment, but it was truly amazing. The bridges were really alive, with verdant growth, and yet very strong (notices said only five people allowed on each at once, but this seemed precautionary).
The roots had not only been trained to directly bridge the gap, but also to form rails to protect those crossing. And these formed a stunning semi-natural geometry, like something out of the film of Lord of the Rings.
Fortunately we had had the sense to book into the Serene Homestay (1000 rupees — £10 — for a double room ) for the night, so we did not have to climb back up immediately, but could continue on another (tough) hour up the river to Rainbow Falls, crossing other extraordinary root bridges on the way.
Notices now prohibit swimming directly under the falls, as past backpackers have done with abandon, and being good notice-abiding tourists we found an excellent pool with magical clear water — a crowd of Indian tourists had just vacated it. Perhaps even better wild swimming than the East Dart, and also warmer.
We carried on swimming for a bit too long, and found that everyone else had left the area, including the locals selling snacks. So we cautiously clambered back over the rocks, even then tempted to plunge under the waterfall.
The next morning, after a very friendly backpacker experience (including inspirational bikers spending years going around the world), we plodded back up the hill in the inevitable rain, as the local Khasi people went to church. Sore muscles.
I had no idea that Meghalaya even existed — until I went there — and so the map below should help anyone with similar geographical limitations. I recommend a visit.
