Sivananda Ashram

Our stay at the Sivananda Ashram finished a few days ago and we have been downing papaya lassis on Varkala beach ever since. Clare has just read these blog entries and is promising an entry of her own. I asked what it would be titled and she said 'THE TRUTH' ! What can she mean? I am not sure. Mangos are just coming into season here, and avocados - how exciting!

 I have to say RIGHT HERE IN PUBLIC that Clare has changed shape quite remarkably at the Ashram. I saw her from behind in a swimming costume our first day here on the beach and was quite taken aback by the tight butt and hips - not only this svelte sillouette but also a rather shimmering aura too! She seems altogether rejuvinated by her two weeks of yoga, chanting and brief moments of meditation. We have both allowed our minds and bodies to lengthen, stretch, bend and fold to places they haven't been for quite a while, if ever. It was ouzingly sweaty, constantly sweltering, never peaceful, a bloody racket going on everywhere around us - amplified ohms, chants, prayers, either from the Ashrams own speaker system or from temples on the surrounding hills (these start at 5am and extend through the day till at least 10pm) - but always a magical and mysterious tour of the senses, both physical and beyond.

Lakshmi - goddess of wealth

Most of stay here at the Ashram was a trial of self discipline - getting to the Yoga classes twice a day, for 2.5hours twice a day - plus prayers and chanting at every sitting. Then, rather more than I feel is really necessary- relaxation. A lot of lying in corpse pose! - this is flat on your back legs and arms spread eagled.

Afternoon reading - took place instead of afternoon lecture with Mr Scary

The setting was beautiful, cool green palms, bamboo, papaya, jack fruit trees and rubber trees all around. We were in the Western Ghats - quite a high band of mountains that run the length of Kerala in southern India. Because of these it rained almost every other day too. Tropical cloud drops. Seemed as if the cloud trap door was opened. The water dropped out and the trap door then closed back up. One night we had a couple of hours of torrential rain that woke me in the early hours - the electricity went off bringing the fans to an abrupt halt and the dripping air closed in around the mosquito nets. For a while it sounded as if the trees were being uprooted by the winds and the rain was washing away the stepped terraces around us. The temperature dropped as the rain fell, the stifling air felt lighter.  The dark bodies in the womens dorm beds around me all tossed and turned in the shady light, shifting with the restless air as we lay waiting for dawn and the brash sound of the morning bell calling us to Satsang - meditation and prayers at 5.30am. The rain had stopped before we had to traipse up to our meditation hall pictured below.

Our Swami sat on a stage in front of us with some other dignitaries - a director, a teacher and visiting swamis, and the directors wife - a mysterious character to start with, who actually sat below the stage at the bottom of the steps - I assumed she had been put in a position of lower status until we discovered she had been suffering a bad bout of arthritis and was unable to climb the steps to the stage. She wore white robes and had tightly slicked back blond hair. With her pale complexion and rather pinched, serious face it took us all by surprise when she first led a hauntingly beautiful chant in a strikingly sonorous voice. Lesson one - things are never as they seems - mind jumps to conclusions easily.

Beautiful garden

The Ashram was more beautiful in hidden away parts, these murals were quite stunning, there was a small temple at one far end - daily puja went on here - hours of chanting for peace - every day, part of Swami Vishnudevananda's legacy. He was the founder and a follower of Swami Sivananda. There was a small meditation hall and some other rooms with epic murals on ceilings and walls. The quietest places at the Ashram but by no means peaceful. This is India and you get used to people being everywhere, always sweeping, always chatting, always in groups.

Krishna and his cow Nandi. This was a lovely garden and pond - nearby was a plant nursery - flowers of all colours and fragrances - jasmine, mimosa, hibiscus, thick leaved varieties to stop rapid dehydration in the heat.

Lord Krishna with his curd pot 

Some pretty wooden looking chaps down by the lake - showing off their asanas


Our main cause for concern and moaning at the Ashram was the weird manner in which we were 'encouraged' to attend all of the program and follow the many Ashram rules. The first few days were tough - we had expected to have to attend all chanting sessions, all yoga classes and all meditations. Gemma had warned us there would be a lot of chanting. What took me by surprise was the inconsistency - and somehow an atmosphere of fear built up, with people taking to hiding in the showers when they didn't want to go to morning satsang. Some mornings and some afternoons the yellow T shirted STAFF would call into the dorm to clear the beds of dissenters. At meal times a gorgeous chap would chant us to our places "HARI OM" tunefully repeated over and over as we trailed into the dining hall - as we sat down crossed legged on the mats over our - now cold - pre served tali dishes he would end his chant with a soft  'WE EAT IN SILENCE'. At which point we sat and started to quietly eat and chat away. 10minutes or so into eating a yellow T shirted STAFF member would come and authoritatively remind us to eat in silence, mentioning the bad example the serving staff were showing by talking to us - we would let him have his say and leave the hall - then proceed chatting away as before. Quite fun really but a little odd?
Lesson number two
Listen to and take note of the rules then proceed as you like.


There was one chap who was more scary than most staff members. He found me meditating in the meditation hall when yoga class was on, day four - when our bodies were starting to complain about the unaccustomed exercise and floor sitting. I had needed a break, my knee was sore from all the sitting cross legged and endless yoga classes had decided to miss ONE class to rest.  He interrupted my sit to 'encourage' me to go to Yoga class. I looked at him with tears in my eyes and said that I needed a break, he was persistent  but reasonable and finally left me to get back to my sitting! The living on edge started to build after this, and the tendency to plan escapes and naughtiness. We nicked 'out passes' from reception, learned of low walls we could bound over to get a swim in the lake, found ways to supplement our tea intake by foxing the very vigilant tea monitors and hid to avoid satsang. Well just like school! I haven't found myself behaving in such a strange manner since then anyway.
Despite this I missed only 2 yoga classes and three satsangs in the 14 days we were at the ashram in. I stopped going to the afternoon lectures because Mr Scary from New York took them and I was not keen on his style of teaching, I read about Yoga instead. He also started to teach the beginners yoga class towards the end of our 14 days so I switched to the intermediate class and wished I had earlier. His first class with us had left me feeling bullied and irritated as well as freaked out by his hideous manner of facilitating a breathing exercise called Pavalabharti - this involved him making panting noises with build up and crescendos - more than I could bare.

A few of the multinational crowd taking tea after morning satsang

I have just deleted a large chunk of writing attached to photo! So annoying - all about the amazing people we met at the Ashram - men and women from all over the world, of all ages, all slowly getting to know each other over the two weeks and all slowly opening up with the daily practice too. It was a real delight - the best thing about the Ashram. It helped alot that English was the teaching language for us - most people there were fluent English speakers and it was the language everyone spoke to each other in. Many long discussions over our juicy fruit salads and lemon ginger teas in the health hut snack shack

Kanyakumari India feb 2013

Clare and Wanda at the palace on route to the Kanyakumali

Fridays are the day off at Sivananda Ashrams throughout the world. In Kerala this gave us the opportunity to explore down into the furthest most southerly point of this continent. India’s cape is known as Kanyakumari after the virgin Goddess. Legends tell of this princess that fell in love with Siva who was too deep in meditation to notice her. She performed many austerities in attempts to attract his attention eventually doing so. He was overwhelmed by her strength of character and personality and agreed to a marriage but told her they would have to wait until a later incarnation. Furious the princess hurled the pre-prepared wedding feast into the sea – leaving the sand multicoloured as it washed ashore. These days the local temple is devoted to the virgin goddess Kumari.

It was to Kanyakumari that Swami Vivekananda came in 1892 before leaving India to address the World Congress on Religion in Chicago and Mahatma Gandi’s cremated ashes were brought here immediately after his assassination in 1948, the ashes were then scattered in the sea – on Gandis birthday each year, October 2^nd, the sun shines directly onto a black marble square on which his ash urn had stood.

The Sivananda gang stop for breakfast Idlis and tea

So although Kanyakumari has no harbour or port, there are many pretty hideous monuments at various points as well as sun-rise and sun-set viewing points that look remarkably like concrete multi-story car parks. The Gandi memorial building is a pink fluff of a building, is in sad decay but taking pride of place almost at the very tip. There is no information about Gandi apart from an extremely brief few lines about his life. From the top are magnificient views all around or the sea below and a birds eye view of the tourist market below.

Gandi memorial building and many shells for sale

 I have to say I was itching to get down there in amongst the wheelers and dealers, tiffin and chai stalls, the large groups of neatly uniformed school children and the saffron robed sadhus.

View from Gandi memorial

First though we had to get to the sea. Luckily it is possible to get to the mutli-coloured sandy beach and the rocks beyond to look out at the confluence of three oceans – The Arabian sea to the right, the Indian Ocean to the left and the Bay of Bengal in front. 

We went down here about an hour before sunset as the air started to cool from a very heavy and humid day with a light warm breeze that did little to relieve our soaring body temperatures. The ecstatic atmosphere on the beach took me by surprise as I descended the steps onto the sand. From the steps I could see and hear a mass of people, many young men, women, school girls and boys and families all screaming, splashing and running into the water exuberantly. I stood amongst them absorbing this feeling for a few minutes and it was quite exhilarating! It was a small quite packed beach with a line of floats to prevent people swimming out to far onto the rocks beyond but these did nothing to prevent packs of teenage lads with more energy and enthusiasm than I have seen in a while from running and diving head long under and over the waves and bouys out onto the rocks – every now and then a huge cheer would go up, those on the rocks all raising their arms in a cheer, all faces wide with laughter. It was so exciting! I can still feel the electricity buzzing though me as I watched, I have carried away the very moving exuberance.

I went to stand on the rocks beyond the beach to look out to sea and was moved to tears by the sense of expansion, openness and seeming eternity in front of me – a incomprehensible feeling and totally unexpected. The end of a land mass so huge, down which we had just journeyed and a sea so lively, wild and open. The air was fresh and clean and everyone was affected by it, every person there high on this amazing experience. I had to climb into the water, over rocks and through unpredictable waves, everyone had all their clothes on – this is India- so did I, my wet trousers clung to my legs as the waves swelled around me. The family on the rock behind gasped into life a a wave rather larger than expected tried to topple me – I was rock solid though and had a grin on my face that spread from ear to ear! I looked back and saw Clare and Satveer equally grinned to extreme as we had a lasting fill of the extraordinary countrys Southern most tip.

Thats it -  the tip and beyond nothing

As with all things in India, other people travelling to Indias bottom with us, saw a different Kanyakumari. It is possible to just see the beggars, it is extremely distressing, there are many people whos lives appear so challenged by physical deformity that you wonder how anything is possible for them. You can only give them money, I can’t understand this, just have to respond to their requests for a few rupees.

Then there are the huge amounts of shell ornaments, piles of shells strung together to make curtains, hangings, key rings and all manner of other decorative objects – some people are distressed at the stripping of these enormous quantities of shells from the beaches. Oh and the aquarium .. well we turned the other way as we walked past.

Clares Birthday -Turtle Beach and Dolphins!!!

Yesterday was Clare's birthday, and we had planned a boat trip - first thing on this beautiful cool Goan morning, the boat man appears below our balcony sorrowfully looking up, with his long black eye lashes and long white goofy teeth - saying that he won't be able to take us out as he has a puja day!
We have now adopted the Indian way. So we let the boat trip go stupendously quickly - absolutely no boats left the beach that day - we visited the local Mallikarjun Temple ourselves and saw the same boat man doing his puja. It was a special festival day at the temple and quite by chance we cycled past on route to the nearby wildlife sanctuary.

Flowered hair on Hindu women at temple

Clares bike had no brakes, she tells me! Luckily enough cows to prevent traffic going too fast anyway

A bunch of cockerels at the local fish market

detail above temple door - this temple is a GOD temple - tend to be either a God or Goddess temple. Can be a specific manifestation of God or Godess but main thing is the its one or the other - go to a God temple if you want earthing and to a Goddess temple of you need some dynamism. You can feel the difference usually - some one at some point before the temple came into being, is likely to have sat and contemplated the energy to decide the type of temple.

The wildlife sanctuary was quite a bike ride away and in the hot sun my birthday woman companion, Clare wilted quite quickly - and as it was her birthday - she forked out for a lift home and purloined a small truck for us, with remarkable ease. I think she wafted some notes under a chaps nose and within minutes another chap appeared from the deserted bush to rescue us and our rather dishevelled bikes. Clare's brakes had not worked for the whole trip, (first thing to check usually? - not for Clare actually - she has to check that her legs reach the peddles and as long as they do she gets terribly excited and forgets all else!) and her bike was rather clapped out.

The end of a not very long cycle ride!

We had fun in our restaurant that evening. It started with a large cocktail, god knows what was in them but they were delicious. Sanju had forgotten to get the fresh tuna I had ordered (special request from Clare) but, as only an Indian can, he blagged his way into getting us a far better fish dish - he would give us no further information and said to trust him. Well we were too pissed to go anywhere else so I guess we trusted him and as happens when you give up on needs and desires you get plentifulness of all good things. We got fish, for sure - we shall never know what sort - but it was cooked in the tandoor and was delicious - we also got tandoori roti and best ever steamed veg.

After eating we launched ourselves onto the floor cushions and sat looking out to sea with Sanju, Bobby and Cookie playing jenga, we were joined by an Austrian couple looking for jenga action. By this time we had moved onto the more exciting Temple Jenga ( an indian version with, typically, less health and safety), which is stressful to say the least and impossible to believe that your turn will come round again, then again you will have to go through the crippling angst of being responsible for keeping the tower upright for yet another turn.

Not too late in the evening Clare was starting to find all the birthday action was forcing her eye lids closed and I was having trouble finding the pre-ordered birthday cake. It was, as it turned out, hidden in the fridge - this had not been forgotten but somehow things had become too busy or hectic or drunk - so we had it the following evening!

I hope my friend enjoyed her birthday and will forgive me for dragging her too far in the tropical heat, up too big hills on too clapped out a bike!


We got to turtle beach the next day too, which was a real treat and anyone going to Goa MUST go there to spend the night under the cedar trees which form a canopy along the sand. There are hammocks up and the air is cool, the beach deserted and turtles come from out of the sea at about 2am to lay their eggs in the beach edge vegetation. See next blog for pictures of this delightful place. Sea was clean too - not so in Palolem - a couple of turds slipped by rather too close to my cheek yesterday as I did my morning swim. I didn't go back in!

Palolem beach Goa Jan 2013

Goa Goa – I didn’t expect to love it as much as I did. The days just got better and better – we found quieter places to go, we got to know people, we found our feet and started to feel more relaxed as the sun and the sea worked their magic on our rather tawdry and frankly, ill - white bodies.

Walking from one end of Palolem beach to the other gave us a clearer picture of its characters as the resplendant red orb of the rising sun slowly climbed up from behind the forested hills at the eastern end of the beach, the full moon still glimmering in the powder blue cloudless western sky.

Sunrise on the beach

 This early in the morning it’s the feral dogs that have the beach. Their life looks as mellow as a Goan coconut cream fish korma. They playfully tumble and speed about with each other in large packs, like playful, untroubled, teenagers. With freedom to roam and plentiful food they appear to own the place. I think the dogs adopt a shack or a place on the beach, a territory. They are welcomed, people give them scraps and they sleep outside a particular restaurant each night. We had three sleeping on our beach each night, curled into little soft balls, occasionally barking an alarm at drunken late night passers by. Some more nervous tourists carry sticks as they walk the beach, but the dogs were as peaceful as the humans. We saw one dog fight during the 6 days we spent on the beach and one man fight – both ending as abruptly as they started.

Early morning wake up swim - Indian style

As the dogs woke, so did the beach crew – sleeping curled up in colourful grubby sheets behind their bars or on flat charpoys behind their restaurants – mostly under the stars. Sleepily climbing out from their cocoons they start the sweeping. First thing it’s the sound of this sweeping that alerts us to day breaking – our balcony is swept free of sand as we wake, the sand is  swept free of leaves and coconuts husks.

The litter pickers comb the beach with large sacks before most people lift their heads from their pillows, so litter is no big problem here – they must be alerted to western sensibilities – off the beach the litter is shocking. The papers full of stories of plastic bag bans, litter awareness campaigns and local dignitaries assuring big plans afoot. Somehow, as with most things in India – the sexual inequality, sewage, corruption – there is a lot of talking and little action. I remind myself to accept India with all its irritations, as the whole is a remarkable hot pot of ingenuity, diversity, contradictions and always will be incomprehensible.

The beach football starts early – the young workers, having swept and tidied, grab some time before the punters wake to play some serious football – usually there is a serious cricket match going on in pretty much the same spot, despite there being acres of flat beach.

These boys display some serious muscles and serious ball skills, a multicultural mix too – some Goan, some Malaysian, some northern Indian, some from nearby Karnataka, no European faces up yet though.

At this time of day the only other people active on the beach are the exercisers – in which category Clare and I fit on this particular morning.

There are yogis, runners, walkers, weight lifters, general stretchers, swimmers and combinations of all these. As we crossed onto the long Palolem beach from our little off shoot bay, we walk down a wooden causeway. Below us a mans leg is thrust upwards and is resting above his head just by our feet in an impressive stretch. As we look on in awe he gathers himself together and runs off down the beach with his trim looking companion. We see the two of them again at the far end of the beach saluting the rising sun. A woman sits every morning cross legged under a shawl contemplating deeply, in the same position every day. Others stretch and bend to the sound of the lapping water, in the cool morning air. This morning there was a haze of slightly acrid wood smoke hanging over the beach, which I hadn’t notice before – maybe blown from the breakfast cooking fires of the workers hinterland nestled behind the shacks on the beach.

I am walking Clare to the far end of the beach to show her the spectacular sun rise. Its about a mile long and I have been running two or three lengths most mornings. Once we see the sun rise Clare walks home alone and I run back to the cool end of the beach. I sit and meditate in the shade of a fishing boat for a while too and am shooed gently away by its fisherman owner, as he has to go to work and I am in the way.

before the yoga retreat at far end of Palolem beach Sun rise about to happen over that hill in the background

Its not long before the beach is filling up. Many Indians from Mumbai for long holiday weekends, American workers from Bangalore, a short flight away, Russian tourists shyly struggle to communicate in English, the English, mostly from Essex swear loudly, even first thing. As the sun warms up the foreign bodies are uncovered - most would be look better without their swimming costumes on or totally covered up, most white bodies have turned brown and wrinkled, most lithe and attractive brown bodies are well covered. Its necessary to have a strong coffee to really get in the mood for this.

 ‘Wi Fi  for Free’ is advertised in all bars but, after day 2, doesn’t work any more. Someone has a monopoly and no-one is really telling us who. I have been enjoying writing in a beach bar watching the world pass by and drinking coffee from Kerala. Now I have to go to a small air conditioned hut to book train tickets or upload photos to our blog. I loose interest very quickly and start a book – White Tiger – again.

Travels from Palolem – a short history.
Turtle Beach

Turtle beach today has been an exquisite highlight. What a gem of a beach and thanks to turtles – it is preserved as such. No development to happen so turtles can lay their eggs as they have done for millennia here on the beach. They come at night at about 3am, scurry up the beach – leave their eggs and scurry back to the water. We found hammocks in the Cyprus crested sand dunes behind the beach – what a lovely place this would have been to spend the night – checking out the turtles in the night and sleeping under the bright full moon. The beach is long, tropical, pure and clean, the warm sea crashes onto the gentle slope of the silvery beach and hundreds of small crabs dart sideways in and out of their deep round holes in the rippled sand.

Clare on her birthday on Turtle Beach

It struck me that I had possibly had the best ocean dip in my life here on Turtle beach. The water was clear and blue, the Arabian sea always feels deceptively gentle. The sea temperature is just a little cooler than body temperature so it feels welcoming and soothing on skin that enters it hot from the burning tropical sun. I say deceptively because I know many lives are lost here in the under currents that pull legs from under those that are not cautious enough, especially those that have been drinking. My son and ex-partner found, shockingly,  a floating body themselves one year in Calangute. A stark reminder of the dangers.

our boat from Palolem

On our way back to Palolem

Back to Palolem far too soon BUT we did catch some amazing dolphins on the way home. WE shot out to sea and our skipper started to get really excited and then screaming DOLPHINS DOLPHINS DOLPHINS _ well they were pretty cool but we think he may have  secreted some noxious substances whilst we were taking in the Turtle Beach vibe. As we motored back to our beach he sang wildly and, actually quite soulfully - just the energy seemed a little out of kilter so we wondered???

Our little home beach and huts.

Hoorah Goa! and train tales too

We have found ourselves a lovely beach hut and are taking a few days off in the sunshine - a little holiday from the long holiday! It feels like heaven on our beach. The sun is warm, the sea gentle and the splashing of waves on the clean sandy beach is all we can hear. It smells of sweet jasmine and  oleander and high above our heads hang ripe coconuts. Our little restaurant serves coconut lassi and fruit pancakes by day and tandoori prawns, king fish, tuna, red snapper or other succulent looking fish hooked fresh from the Arabian sea each evening.
Sanju our host is from Uttarakhand so if thrilled that we have come from there. He says people come to Goa and take away a very unreal picture of Indian people - these people are here for business, their intention is solely to make money from tourists and they work very hard at it, no-one lets you walk past their stall with out trying to get you to look. They do this to very resistant tourists all day long, they are relentless and perfectly charming with it mostly.
Sanju tells us the best train to get back up to Delhi - which is very useful information - there is a fast one, that takes only 2 night - fast when you consider the distance. So we don't need to fly back, his is very good news for us.
He and his mates return home on this same train from Goa at the seasons end. They splash out on this expensive train because they have worked so hard. They buy a bottle of whisky, and hole up with a lap top and films in a/c carriages with sheets, blankets and all meals provided! WE liked the sound of this!

Breakfast on arrival, fruit from Mumbai, clothes came straight off

Our Hut

Our view

We found a small little bay just over the rocks from Palolem beach and set up home here for a few days. We have some Indians some English, some German and some Austrian other staying on same beach and we play Jenga together in the evenings - a new version called TEMPLE JENGA - is a bit wilder - you set the blocks up on edge in offset squares - its much more fun and much faster turn over. If you loose you get to write your name on a looser brick.

Clare with Sanju, Cookie and Bobby - why won't Indians smile in photos?

slightly more of a smile?

Clare and her 'friend' Sanju....

Our train from Mumbai to Goa was an adventure!
...... We went to the station to get the train out to Goa at 10.15 pm - a night train - only find the ticket I thought I had brought on-line was a waiting list ticket. I was aware that these existed so thought I had been careful to avoid them but it had slipped my notice. I was also unfamiliar with what to do about it. Our names were on any list normally pinned up on train doors before departure and its lovely and reassuring, to see your name upon the list - but rather unnerving when your name is not on the list too, I find and does not bode well. I looked everywhere for CHIEF TC. I had been told he would sort us out. Eventually the train leaving time came so we found ourselves a spot between carriages and sat on our bags waiting for the CHIEF TC to come and help us out - he didnt come - so I searched the very full train for him. Turns out the tickets had been cancelled and my money refunded, according to his list. He shooed me out of 2nd class air conditioned carriage where I had found him - very nice, and told me we could stay on train but - no seats. Very nice that we werent thrown off but you wouldn't believe where we had to spend the night! You know those loos people talk about on trains in India? They smell and are covered in stains and normally you would wear wellies and rubber gloves to go anywhere near? Well we slept on the floor right outside two of these along with 5 classy looking chaps, who were much better prepared for their night in hell. They had brought newspaper to sit on, one had some cardboard, another removed a cream coloured cotton sleeping bag into which he climbed and settled on his newspaper, another a very slinky shiny blanket - he wrapped himself

 in this and passed out. Clare and I looked at each other and part of me died inside at the thought of the night spent in this place - we had no choice at this stage though! The train really was full, overfull in fact - it was a holiday and everyone was off to the beach for the weekend. 

The night was long and filthy, we did end up lying on the floor - which I would have normally had had a problem walking on, let alone sleeping on! But I had sat considering this situation early on in the night and I had a feeling as tiredness came over me that my resolve to sit upright on my ruck sack all night may weaken! But morning I was rolling all over the stinking place with a chap snoring rather too close to my left ear. Clare listened hopefully to Dharma talks from Gaia House for a while, hoping to Zen out but she too had collapsed by 3am and was snoring peacefully almost in the urinal. 

I have now put all clothing, blankets, shoes and body though a serious wash - we have survived to tell the tale! TB or Hepatitis may develop at a later stage I suppose. 

I was being a bit of a princess about this, I can see that! Why could I not buy myself a seat for the night?! Why didn't anyone realise this was too much for me - coudn't they tell I was an old woman from a different culture?! And my friend too - much older and really not up for a night in filth down on the floor with the limbless beggars! Why didn't they give up their sleeper for me?! Anyway by the end of the night I had come off my high horse and felt at home on the floor with the chaps on newspaper, sort of. Lots of people slept on the floor of that train and it looks like lots of people travelled free for over a 1000 miles like we did too! 

Keoladeo National Park - Bird Sanctuary

Pair of Sarus Cranes and thats the baby on the left.

Wow what a place! So many birds and other creatures too. Quiet too and very beautiful. A conservation project, like many created in England - for shooting of ducks, by the very rich. 4035 or there abouts bagged by some chap from Chelmsford. (Earl of Chelmsford or Lord Chelmsford or something in 1876) That was a few years back. There were problems with keeping the water levels up to provide a year on year sanctuary for migrating birds so very recently water is piped in. Some birds were put off in the dry years - they no longer see Siberian Cranes which is a great disappointment to them but they do see very rare Sarus Cranes. I was lucky enough to see two pairs of these too.

Sarus cranes mate for life and if one of a pair dies so does the other I am reliably told. So this  picture is of a lone crane but be sure its mate is just off camera

I can't tell you how many ducks we saw after a little encouragement I quite got into them! They have quite sensible names like spotted bill duck if they have spotted bills and comb ducks if they have combs on their bills (strange place to carry one I know but thats ducks for you).  Thats a comb duck below, lump on its bill is a comb. A shoveller duck has a bill like a shovel and whistler ducks whistle like traffic police! All amazingly beautiful and in huge numbers on the red algae covered low waters amongst the acacia trees.

 These little fellows are so cute! Little grey owls I believe. My favourite picture!

And then there was the python we saw, above is the first sighting - that day Clare was feeling poorly so I went out by myself into the wilderness. And this is what happens I find a huge python! It was tucked away in a bunch of logs. I returned the following day to the same spot to see if I could see more of the snake in the mid day sunshine and I did. This time Clare was there too. We saw another later that day too, by the road side next to its hole just taking the noon day sun in. We were told that until they had warmed up they were very slow moving, once hot though they could move very fast so we slunk away to find some more ducks.

Check out the size of this baby! Hard to tell from a photo but he was a good 12 ft long. This was taken on day 2 at 11am. Our rickshaw driver had predicted that this would be the best time to see him in his full glory and he was right. He lived in the logs and had been seen a few times by locals. Very exciting to see this beautiful reptile in the wild

The other python - tiny by comparison about an inch across its body, the one above was about 3inches across its body

And then there were the Kingfishers - we saw three types - this one the black and white, obviously

Black and white woodpecker

This one not a wood pecker but our rather lovely Rickshaw driver/guide - who taught himself english - enough to tell us the names of all the ducks anyway and to make sure we saw the pythons.

This one the white breasted woodpecker for reasons obvious from the front

And the common woodpecker which everyone has seen at home so no pictures and it was vewry small and shifty so difficult to photograph.

A trutle about to kill a cormorant apparently according to our guide - I doubt this somehow, it wasn't moving very fast and the cormorants looked quite nonchalant too.

These are storks and are only here for 6 months to breed, they cover the acacia trees  with nests  and I have much better pictures somewhere

More adult storks