i had a run at Sundarbans
that mangrove treasure trove
watched a croc a slithering
swam where dolphins dove
i walked among the halophytes
whose misguided roots abound
froze amidst the fertile calm
absorbing every sound
i stood beside the fishermen…
Read MoreI arrived in Dhaka a week before meeting my safari pal, Alex. I had but one mission: find a boat and book passage to and throughout the Sundarbans with an emphasis on tiger tracking. There were obstacles. The first was a lack of robust tourist infrastructure. I mentioned previously a poster in the embassy in Kathmandu that read, “Come to Bangladesh before the tourists do.” Well, I beat them there. Now what?
The archetypical outing for tourists and ex-pats alike was a 12-40 person/4-day boat excursion with a set itinerary…
Read MoreThe Bangladesh Forest Department has neither the will nor the ability to thwart operations. As they are understaffed, underpaid, and ill-equipped, they find themselves at the mercy of Raju and his band of misfits. The group is too big to nail, and if Mr. Forid was correct, members sought refuge at ranger stations throughout the park. If you can’t beat ‘em or join ‘em, accept the “supplemental” salary.
He spoke of a tacit agreement between pirates and government. Keep it reasonable, don’t get greedy, and avoid extreme behavior…
Read MoreFor the second night in a row, we slept on the top platform of the watchtower near the Katka forest station. The results were much the same, though we saw an unidentifiable shape move through the full-moon twilight. Tiger? Maybe. It could’ve been a unicorn for all we knew (probably easier to find one). Had it shown itself again, we would’ve illuminated the area. One more night all along the watchtower with only a blissful night’s sleep in our favor. There are worse tragedies.
We awoke to discover yet another large group of Bengali men making their way along the trail…
Read MoreThe boatman's oar lapping at the water was the only constant. Heeeeere, kitty, kitty, kitty. Nice kitty, kitty. We ducked beneath protruding vegetation. The channel narrowed. The tension accrued. Animal tracks decorated the mud banks, especially those of spotted deer and wild boar. Game trails crisscrossed the swamp, weaving between trees and through the underbrush. Every time we rounded a bend, the brush cleared, or the grass parted, I held my breath.
Heeeeere, kitty, kitty, kitty. Nice kitty, kitty. Five tigers were reputed to live on the small island, including a mother and three cubs. Yes, we wanted to see the family, but how close…
Read MoreI wandered inside only to be greeted with ‘what the hell do you want’ expressions by Forest Guy One and Forest Guy Two. Confusion reigned. Motorcycle Guy tried to help but fostered, albeit unintentionally, a comedy of errors. When they did grasp my intent, I was asked for a copy of my passport, which I did not have with me. Forest Guy One and Forest Guy Two were not amused. It appeared I’d have to return to the hotel to retrieve it. But then, as if to brush this aside, I was given a price quote—$17 for permit, camera fee, and some other vague tax. Super duper. But then, Forest Guy Two changed his mind. I would have to go to Khulna (two hours away) to get permission…
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