First jungle walk – seven km through the darkness

by Ravi Samarasinha

During the last decade I have had the good fortune to enjoy numerous days at Yala, the premier wildlife park after the unfortunate closure of Wilpattu and Yala East. One of the many unforgettable trips, and many years later, an unusual experience with leopard and bear at Yala are worthy of recall.

First jungle walk

The dry season was at its peak at Yala in October 1993 as Lal Anthonis, tracker Premasiri and I made our way to Heenwewa. Clouds of dust billowed behind the car and the monotony of the bare brown thorn scrub was broken here and there by the bright green of palu, weera and malithan (mustard) trees.

Wildlife photographer Lal and I had come together a few years earlier, and I soon accompanied him on his frequent journeys to the jungles. These visits with Lal were a wonderful learning experience. At that time I was a medical student and my textbooks often accompanied me on these journeys. This October trip was special for two reasons. I had just completed my final medical examination after intense study, and was looking forward to relaxing in the jungles. The second reason was the recent sighting of a rare albino elephant calf in a herd known to frequent Heenwewa tank. We were hoping to see the albino and possibly photograph it.

Heenwewa

Heenwewa tank, which is a perennial source of water, attracts many herds of elephants in the dry months. Many of these herds forage outside the park in abandoned chena lands, but come to Heenwewa during the dry season, as it is often the only source of water in the area.

We reached Heenwewa bungalow shortly after noon, and Sumanadasa, its keeper, quickly prepared lunch for us as we unpacked. We set off on our first drive to see wildlife after an early tea. Lal’s station wagon handled the rough gravel roads with ease, its quiet petrol engine enabling us to view wildlife with minimal disturbance. Due to the parched conditions animals were scarce and, to make matters worse, repair work on the culverts and causeways along the main road was underway with muddy detours around them. The evening ended early as heavy clouds gathered overhead, an indication that the onset of the north-east monsoon was imminent. That night as we relaxed after dinner, frogs began a cacophony of croaking in anticipation of rain. As we turned in for the night, we fervently hoped it would not rain just yet.

Drought ends

Early next morning, as I was awakened by the persistent beeping of the alarm clock, I heard the patter of rain on the roof. Disappointed, I went back to sleep.

The morning remained overcast with a thin drizzle. Shortly after noon the sun suddenly broke through the clouds and shone brightly. After a hurriedly consumed lunch we set off around 2 pm. As we came near Gonagala tank, I noted with concern the rapid build-up of dark clouds to the north threatening to obscure the sun.

Gonagala tank, which was completely dry, had recently been restored by the Department of Wildlife Conservation and now needed the monsoon rains to fill up. This tank is fed by an ara (rivulet) originating in the vicinity of Situlpauwa, and is known to carry a huge volume of water during the monsoon. The old Heenwewa road on which we travelled passed through the now dry tank bed. Raindrops were beginning to fall, and by the time we reached the main road at Buttuwa it was literally pouring. Brown, foamy water gushing past swept leaves and twigs in its wake to form streams loaded with debris, which flowed along roads and eventually filled parched water-holes.

Floods

Our tracker informed us that the old Buttuwa bungalow was unoccupied that day, and so we made our way there, as it was pointless driving around in the rain. Dharmadasa, the bungalow keeper, served us hot tea while we chatted and waited patiently for the rain to cease. For three hours it rained incessantly, and finally it eased into a thin drizzle around 5.30 pm. Although it was relatively early in the evening it was already quite dark as we thanked Dharmadasa and set off on our return journey to Heenwewa. All the water-holes we passed by were overflowing. In many places the roads were inundated with water. The dry dusty roads had turned muddy and treacherous, forcing Lal to drive cautiously, fully aware that the smallest mistake could get us hopelessly stuck in the mud.

The thin drizzle continued as we drove past an overflowing Buttuwa tank. Our progress was painfully slow, the tracker getting off frequently to clear fallen branches and other debris. The station wagon’s rear wheels were often spinning while trying to grip in the muddy conditions. Just before Gonagala tank the gravel road ahead disappeared into a sheet of water. Unwilling to take a risk at that time we turned around and headed back to the main road hoping to take the longer route via the park office and the Situlpauwa road. We soon realized that this was not possible as the detours around the culverts under repair were muddy and even a jeep with four-wheel drive may have got stuck.

It was now close to 6.30 pm and getting dark as we turned round, and headed back to Gonagala, the headlamps brightly lighting the way. Lal kept the car headlights on as Premasiri and I waded into the water flowing across the road near Gonagala, checking the depth and feeling for hidden obstacles. The water lapped around our knees, then briefly became shallower, as the road curved to the left and out of the water. After returning to the car to brief Lal, Premasiri and I walked ahead to guide Lal through the water. As I walked I listened anxiously for sounds, which would indicate whether the car was getting bogged down. At that time luck favoured us, for the gravel road under the water had little mud, and Lal made his way across the inundated stretch without much difficulty. Much relieved, we continued our journey confident of getting to Heenwewa soon.

Stuck in the mud

Ahead of us the road dipped gradually as it passed through the Gonagala tank bed. We descended into the tank bed and drove on it till we came to a little stream of water running across the road. This stream was only about ten feet wide and the road sloped gently into the water before rising on the other side. We drove into this stream confidently, but just as we thought we were safely across, the rear wheels began to spin, the engine roared ineffectively, and the car came to a halt. Lal then attempted to reverse and when that failed we realized we were in trouble. It was dark outside with only an occasional glimmer of light provided by the fireflies. Lal kept the engine running and the headlamps on as we got off to assess our predicament.

The stream was only a few inches deep. A hidden bank of soft sand in which the front wheels lay embedded had brought about our downfall. We dug around the tyres using our bare hands and placed branches and stones around the wheels hoping the tyres would grip. Premasiri and I pushed while Lal tried again but our efforts were fruitless and after a half hour of effort we gave up. After a quick discussion we decided that the best option was to walk to Heenwewa bungalow, seven km away!

Walk at night

Using the hydraulic jack we raised the rear of the car until the exhaust was clear of the water and switched off the engine. This manoeuvre prevented water being sucked into the sump in case the engine stopped with the exhaust opening submerged. Lal opened a large wooden box, which contained many useful items and produced to our relief three small torches. Without these walking in Yala at night would have been difficult and probably dangerous.

We set off around 8 pm, the light from the torches illuminating the muddy road ahead. The initial excitement and novelty of the night walk soon wore off. We were now quite wet and my shirt clung to my body as we trudged along. I was forced to walk barefooted as my slippers kept getting stuck and coming off in the mud. Stones and thorns now made walking painful.

Premasiri then reminded us to keep a look out for the huge buffalo we had passed by on our way out. As I glanced around nervously I realized that in the night everything looked very different, and the once familiar roadside was now totally alien to me. By now I was wishing for the end of this nightmarish journey. Suddenly, there came a rustling of leaves and a loud blowing sound from the dark jungle to our right. Instantaneously, the three of us ran, thoughts of the big buffalo uppermost in our minds. Finally, exhausted, we stopped running and stood together panting and listening nervously for any more sounds. However, all was quiet except for the sound of the rain, crickets and frogs.

Feeling a little foolish, but greatly relieved, we continued walking. Due to the overcast conditions, it was pitch black all around us, and as our torches were now fading, we were forced to use them intermittently. Finally, as we came around a bend we saw a faint glimmer of light in the distance, and relief flowed through my weary body as the bungalow came into view, with an anxious Sumanadasa waiting for us.

Sumanadasa suggested going back immediately to retrieve the vehicle, but having just completed a difficult seven km walk, we were both mentally and physically too tired to do so. Furthermore, tracker Premasiri assured us that the vehicle was quite safe, and that it would be best to go the following day. We were forced to have our dinner in darkness, as the lights attracted many smelly bean-shaped bugs, which were numerous after the rain. Around us the frogs celebrated the onset of the rains with a symphony of croaking.

Retrieving the vehicle

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and after the rains everything looked fresh and clean. We set off early with Sumanadasa and a few others from the Heenwewa beat accompanying us. This time the walk was extremely enjoyable and there was much to see and hear around us. Shrikes chattered and doves cooed around us as we neared Gonagala. Game-guard Abeysinghe, known for his humour, strode ahead leading the way. When he turned around at Gonagala and shouted, “the car is floating,” we just laughed! When we came up to him, we stood still in stunned silence.

Ahead of us lay the newly filled Gonagala tank, with part of its waters covering the old Heenwewa road where we had abandoned the car. Imagine our horror on seeing that only the olive-green roof of the car was visible! The sunlight glistened in the oil pool which floated around the roof. We waded up to the car and peered in. Plastic water bottles, a can of brake oil. and in the far corner, Lal’s 1000 mm lens in its wooden box bobbed around in the water inside!

It did not take us long to get the car back on to dry land. Water gushed out from beneath the doors. Inside, the car was an absolute mess, with mud. soaked boxes. and an overpowering stale smell. After sending a radio message, we had to wait for the tractor to arrive. Once it came the car was towed along to the office, and later to a garage in Tissamaharama. There the rest of the day was spent washing the car, changing all the oils. and drying the electrical system. That evening we all held our breath as Lal turned on the engine. To our surprise and delight it started, and we made our way back slowly to Colombo escorted by my father’s jeep, which had been sent as a back-up vehicle.

(To be continued next week)