Sultanpur National Park
Our intermediate stops in Delhi have all been arranged with Fred’s long-time acquaintance and friend, Vinod. He takes a few minutes from his busy schedule to meet with us on the morning of our first full day. Plans have been made for us to make the most of our time and head just a few kilometres out of the city to visit the tiny Sultanpur National Park.
Here, in just a few hundred hectares lies a spectacular RAMSAR wetland habitat with great facilities and comfortable walking paths around the main wetland ponds. It already looks promising as we approach the gate, for a small herd of Nilgai can be seen in the strip of woodland between the main road and the water. The car park is clean and well-maintained and our organised guide is waiting for us when we arrive.
After just a few moments for paperwork and paying for the use of our cameras, we are shown through into the park proper. Here there’s a visitor centre and space for people to relax and eat their lunches with a few tables beneath the trees. This isn’t what we’re interested in, however, and we are quickly spotting birds as they are expertly called. Initially, away from the waterside, these are mostly parakeets and the more typical urban and suburban fare of central India.
I may have often complained that, on most of my trips to Africa over the years, ducks and geese have been few and far between. In the first half an hour at Sultanpur, this is all changed forever as we spot species after species in quick succession – sometimes three or four different ones in the same photo frame. Then there are the usual herons and egrets, storks and spoonbills, lapwings and smaller waders. It’s also not just about the waterbirds, as there are the parakeets, sunbirds, kingfishers and much more.
I’m far from being a natural birder, so it all becomes a little difficult for me to keep up with at times. Best to just take photographs of everything and try and figure it all out later. By the time we break for lunch, we all decide that we’ve probably had enough for our first day. The sun is now out with full force, having burned through the early-morning mists quickly. Going back out into that much heat after a good lunch would probably be a bit too much of a stretch.
We’re even lucky with the traffic on our return, as it is quite quiet by Delhi standards. We make it back to the hotel without incident with plenty of spare time to freshen up before dinner.
Sultanpur gets a nine out of ten from me. For anyone interested in birds with a day to spare in Delhi, it should be a no-brainer really. There’s unlikely to be a place where you can see so much, so well and in such a short space of time anywhere. Certainly not this close to the centre of a major city. There were enough species for us to decide to do our bird list as soon as we returned to the hotel, clocking in at 64 species for one day. First days are always good, as every bird is new for the trip, but this was, by any standards, exceptional.
The Long Drive to Agra
I’m not really sure that I can describe in words the early-morning traffic as we try to get out of Delhi. The first few miles of our journey seem to take forever. We’re assailed by vehicles from all sides, pushing and jostling for position, seemingly without anything resembling rules. Whether people are following some sort of code or not, however, the whole thing does seem to work. There might be some very close calls, but there isn’t anything more serious than grazing contacts. I’m not so keen on the incessant cacophony of blaring horns, but I can see that they serve a purpose.
Our medium-sized Toyota MPV is pretty crowded. We have Sunil driving and our main guide for the bulk of the trip, JP, leading us along. There are six seats, but this means we are using five of them and the sixth is folded to give us just enough room for our luggage. It’s comfortable enough, but a tight squeeze for a long journey.
Once we finally break out of the city and onto the motorway, the experience becomes much easier. Here we can cruise along at 120km/h for most of the time, only being interrupted by the regular toll gates and a brief stop to stretch our legs and have a quick drink. The hazy overcast persists, just enough to moderate the temperature a little and make the car very comfortable with the air conditioning turned on. Sunil still has to be watchful and wary, however, as lane discipline is pretty much non-existent, as is the appropriate use of the mirror.
Delhi to Agra is about 200km, but it ends up taking us about four hours to reach our destination. Our little home-stay hotel is just a few metres from one of the entrances to the Taj Mahal complex and that last couple of kilometres to get to it is total chaos. The sheer volume of people, tuk-tuks, cars, busses, motorbikes and scooters, is practically overwhelming and it’s every-man-for-himself. There are police on duty, but to say that they are ineffective would be a heroic understatement. Turning off the main road into our little side street is like turning off a blaring stereo. Well, it would be if it were not for the blaring stereo.
Check-in is straightforward and quick, allowing us to be shown to our rooms. Chris and myself are on the third floor, our rooms opening out onto an open patio roof. Off to one side is a staircase leading up onto the very roof of the house where, between other taller buildings we get our first view of the marble dome of the Taj Mahal. With much more still to see and do, our plans change to accommodate our schedule and the road conditions. This means our afternoon is going to be a busy one with a visit to Agra Fort and then on to the Taj Mahal in plenty of time for the sunset.
It is at times like this that I wish my ability to walk and stand was what it once was. Ten kilos have certainly taken their toll in the last few years, but it is the sciatica that is the real bane of my life. There’s nothing worse for me than walking up hill and, to see the inside of the Agra Fort, this is a necessary requirement.
So, despite the best efforts of our knowledgeable and helpful guide, my enjoyment of the place was thwarted by being in pain by the time we made it to the gardens and the inner audience area. Still, my friends were understanding and content to leave me sitting on a step to take photos while they went off to see the inside of some of the buildings.
I’ve intimated often enough that I just don’t really do culture, but it has to be accepted that this is a spectacular place built on a scale that the west at that time simply couldn’t contemplate. The walls go on for kilometres and once the two moats were filled with crocodiles and tigers. The offset gates and sharp corners defend against war elephants and the great sandstone ramparts have that sense of permanence and impregnability that only comes from tens of thousands of tons of rock.
Without any chance for a break, it’s on to the Taj Mahal and the main cultural event of the trip. Security is tight, with a quick search essential before we are allowed to enter. Armed with our little tokens, we make our way through the gate-line and through the magnificent architecture of the outer courtyard to the main gate. The glory of the view of the mausoleum is somewhat lessened by the teeming crowds, but nothing can truly distract from the full impact of that amazing white marble.
I’m well-known for my difficulties in dealing with crowds and this is one of those places where I spend the whole time on the border of being triggered. I spend a little time sitting right in the middle of the vast courtyard, on a marble bench overlooking one of the reflecting pools, watching as people take endless selfies and posed images with the Taj behind them without any desire to do the same for myself.
I take the decision to keep my distance from the actual monument, sensing that the crowding there is even worse than it already is slightly further back. My friends go on without me, leaving me to my own devices. When JP returns, he suggests I sit off to one side on a convenient bench where I can take the odd photo and just enjoy a little bit of quiet space. It’s an opportunity to observe, rather than having to participate. It ends up being a good spot for a little bird-watching.
Only as we make our way back to the main gate do we plunge back into the crowds to get right up to the railing and manage a few shots with the Taj Mahal reflected in the long pool. It’s a classic shot, spoiled little by the now thinning crowd and enhanced by the first hint of pink and orange as the sun sets. At least it’s my own permanent reminder of a visit to this remarkable building.
We sensibly take the electric bus back down from the exit, having to walk only about a hundred metres or so to be right back at the gate to our accommodation. There’s no escape from the noise of the streets, but there’s a cold beer and some good food, followed by a comfortable bed after a hot shower.
The Chambal River
There’s no need to rush to breakfast, as our boat-trip on the Chambal River is not due to start until ten and the drive should take less than two hours, even allowing for morning traffic on the way out of Agra.
The traffic is indeed very heavy, but Sunil does an excellent job of navigating us through the worst of it and out long the highway to the west. At last, we come to a huge concrete bridge over the gently flowing river. When the monsoon comes, this tranquil-looking stretch of water will turn into a vast muddy lake, twenty metres or more deeper than in winter. All the grassy banks we can see on either side will be inundated. Indeed, the bridge we crossed to get to our destination is a new one, built because of genuine fears that the old one, apart from nearing end-of-life, wasn’t going to be tall enough in the future.
As the hour of ten arrives, we are ushered to our boat and introduced to the driver and our local guide. With two spotters, the birds come thick and fast. greater thick-knees, river lapwings, bar-headed geese, cormorants, vultures, eagles, crakes and several ducks. There are dozens of Indian skimmers, but none are seen actually skimming. Still, I get closer and take better pictures than I have ever managed with the African ones.
As the day begins to warm, mugger crocodiles and gharial haul themselves out onto the sandbanks to bask, allowing us to take some spectacular photographs. muggers are ugly – there’s no way to sugar-coat the truth – but gharial have a certain elegance to their long, narrow snouts and seemingly endless teeth.
Neither species grow as big as some of the Nile crocodiles I have seen in Africa, but they are at least as deadly. Many people are attacked by mugger crocodiles in India each year and, like all of their kin, they can move very quickly when the need arises. Our sightings seemed to be a bit of a mixed bag – some were quite happy to just lie in the warm sun on the sand and chill out, but others were much less keen on human interaction, disappearing quickly into the river as we approached.
Our couple of hours on the water pass quickly and, as is usually the case, I have to admit to really enjoying myself out in a boat. As seems to be the norm, the birds all let you get really close, even if a below-their-level perspective is a less than ideal one.
As it is still only noon, our local guide directs us for a few miles back towards Agra where he leads us to a small roadside pond that is again teeming with birdlife. We quickly add even more ducks and waders to our growing list. He leaves us on the main road and we head back into the city at a steady pace, stopping on the highway for the Indian equivalent of fast food. Actually, my toasted sandwich filled with spicy Bombay potato is really delicious. Chris persuades us to try a lime soda – a local staple made with much more than lime and water – with decidedly worse results. It’s not a flavour I think I will ever get to like.
Fortunately, there’s a Kingfisher lager to go with dinner back at the home-stay and that, along with another excellent meal, wipes away the taste of the soda and the tiredness from the day on the road.