Chillin at Chilika Lake

Chilika Lake turned out to be an absolute gem. We took a bus down to Satapada, at the end of the northern peninsula that forms the mouth of the lake. This is the jumping off point for dolphin trips. We were planning on spending a couple nights there, but the town is set up mostly for day-trippers from Puri. The government hotel, the Yatri Nivas, is the only place to stay, and it looks pretty rough on the outside, but has huge, clean rooms with amazing views from the balcony. The restaurants all close early, around 5:00, after the tour boats have returned, so we had to eat at the hotel. We wanted to go on a short boat trip, as sightings of the rare Irrawaddy dolphins are pretty much guaranteed. We agreed on a price for a 1 1/2 hour trip, skipping the detour to see some red crabs, and jumped aboard the Thai-style long tail boat. Our boat driver got a great deal, because we hadn't gone 3 minutes off the dock when we spotted our first dolphin. We doubled back, shut the motor off, and spent the entire time anchored, watching these strange looking, snub-nosed dolphins hunt and frolic. They don't have a 'beak' like the bottle-nosed dolphin, just a bulbous head, adapted to feeding in murky lagoons and rivers. Quick and easy, our boat trip was over in plenty of time to catch the ferry across the lake. By chance, we'd read in a newspaper that the annual Olive Ridley sea turtle nesting was finally happening. We were hoping to be here for the hatching phase, so we could help return the hatchlings to the sea, but the turtles are very late this year. If conditions aren't right, the females will reabsorb their eggs and return to the deep ocean off Sri Lanka. Even when everything goes well, they only come ashore during a 7-10 day period, so our window to witness this natural spectacle would be a small one. The information on this area is very sparse, so you really have to be adventurous and confident in your ability to safely and enjoyably explore on your own here. Right after the dolphin spotting trip, we picked up our bags from the hotel and went to the rusty steel ferry dock, ready for the three hour trip across the lake to Barkul. On the western shore of the 1100 square kilometer lake, Barkul is a short bus ride north of Rambha, the closest place to stay for turtle watching, which is about 20 kilometers from the nesting site.

It was going to be one of those days where you have no idea how things will turn out. Things could be straightforward, and you might find a beautiful, cheap hotel with an excellent restaurant, after an easy transit on a roomy bus that happened by just as you finished a tasty roadside chai. Or something else might happen. While waiting for the ferry to leave, loaded with one large truck, one small truck, about 10 motorcycles and a crowd of people, Irish (real name: Kollum) showed up, all smiles. We’d met him at our hotel in Puri, but he had gone up to Konark for a few days. Irish was heading to Barkul too, so after confirming that that’s where the ferry was going, we settled in to chat and catch up. We spotted some more dolphins on the way, took some pictures of Indian tourists, and after around 45 minutes we arrived.

 

 

 

 

There was one auto-rickshaw waiting, but it was jammed full and on it’s way by the time we got to it. Then things looked really quiet. Most people from the ferry had rides, or had walked away to the local village. We started asking about how to get a bus to Rambha, but everyone was saying it’s not possible. They said it would take 3 hours by taxi, which didn’t make sense. As the wheels started turning, Kollum was getting louder and more animated. Suddenly it clicked, and I pulled out my phone, with a detailed map of the area. Sure enough, we were no-where near Barkul, which should have taken three hours by ferry. Instead, we had crossed the mouth of the lake and were now on the tip of the southern peninsula! There was in fact a bus that would run out to the highway, where we could catch a bus to Rambha, but it didn’t come until 5 PM. Waiting on the side of the highway in the dark isn’t much fun, so we started walking towards the village, hoping to find a rickshaw that would take us…somewhere. After inspecting a derelict rickshaw in someone’s yard, and talking to yet another helpful pedestrian (like the 5 others that had assured us of where the ferry was heading!), a shared jeep came by. They stopped, and we managed to get a ride to a town 30 kms away, nearly half way to the highway. It was a beautiful trip, very rural, with nothing but agricultural based villages and their humble temples, stunning vistas, and a variety of birds, from storks to kingfishers. Everyone stared, open-mouthed, as we passed through. After getting dropped off in tiny Madhu, the jeep driver offered to take us all the way for 1000 rupees, which we would have none of, since it only cost us 30 each to go half way. If he had offered a reasonable price, we would have taken it, but the people seem so short sighted, or just greedy. As foreigners, we always pay more, and how much more depends strictly on how much they think you will pay, not how much something is worth. It can get very frustrating over time, and sometimes makes the haggling process a bitter battle of wills. If they think you’re stuck, they will ask outrageous amounts, often losing business because of it. We ended up sitting around waiting on the side of the road for a bus or another shared jeep for about an hour and a half. Raven and I wandered into town for some delicious and very cheap chow mein, and by the time we got back, the crowd was starting to gather. Obviously not many white folks come through Madhu, because before long we had over 30 people standing around us, just staring. We couldn’t even see the road to tell if a bus was coming or not. Irish was losing it, but the staring really doesn’t bother me, it’s just a cultural thing. Indians stare. That’s the way it is, especially if you’re sitting on the side of the road in a very small town. Hardly anyone spoke English, so there wasn’t much conversation, just a lot of staring. Eventually a shared rickshaw came by, and we managed to let him know we wanted to go to the junction on the main highway. We crammed all our stuff in, plus the four of us, plus the two people already in. While driving through the last village before the highway, we spotted a five legged cow! It had an extra leg growing out of it's back! In Konark, we'd seen a cow with a weird flap of skin growing in the same place, but this was a fully developed leg, growing out of the shoulder and dangling down, hoof and all.

Once we finally reached the main highway, we haggled with another rickshaw driver for a price up to Rambha. Just as it was getting dark, we checked into the Parthanivas, the government hotel, and the only hotel in town. They had no rooms, but let us all stay in the dorm room, which has 12 beds. It was expensive by our standards, but was a really nice place, and very quiet. We had a private balcony overlooking the rose garden and the lake, a big screen TV, and two bathrooms. We stayed up late drinking beer and exchanging travel tales on the balcony with Kollam, while Raven settled into some serious television time.

After a 'rest day' of lounging around the whole day, except for one foray into town to shop and feed the local cows some greens, we were excited to finally see the turtles nesting. We all walked to the highway, but there was a two day bus strike, to protest the rising cost of fuel, so we waited for another shared rickshaw. It didn't take long to get to the river where the turtles come to nest, so we jumped out and started looking for a way down to the beach. Below the bridge, we could see some men hanging around a few boats, and assumed they were fishermen who might take us downstream for a few rupees. After walking down to introduce ourselves, they turned out to be office managers with an impromptu day off because of the strike, hanging out drinking whiskey by the river. They spoke very good English, so we sat and chatted, had some whiskey and figured out where we needed to go. They called another rickshaw to take us to the beach, and by the time we said goodbye, I had a pretty good glow on, especially considering that it was only 10:30 AM. We ended up going back to where the first driver had tried to take us, before we told him to keep going! There is a turtle interpretation center, a small village, and then a sweltering, desolate beach. The driver had picked up two young guys on the way through the village, and they were saying something about paying for a boat to go see the turtle breeding area. We assumed they just wanted money for 'guiding' us to the beach, and told them that we could find our own way. They looked confused, calling out to us and following along as we trudged across the sand towards the ocean, but we just ignored them and followed the faint trail leading east. The geography was completely surreal, flowering cactus and strange prickly vines stretching out across the dunes as far as we could see, no people or buildings anywhere. Eventually, we came to the bank of what must have been the river mouth, maybe 200 meters across, and flowing parallel with the shore. The nesting grounds are on the other side, and it all became clear. The two boatmen showed up just then, smiling in anticipation of the money they were about to make. They started asking for 500 rupees, but we refused and started walking away along the river, hoping to find some turtles on this side, or a way across. They lowered the price and so we started haggling again, finally getting them down to 100 rupees each way. There were several small wooden fishing boats on the shore, but none had paddles or oars. One of the guys ran off and returned with a long bamboo pole, then we piled in, and he started poling us across. The water was only 10-15 feet deep, but the boat was sitting pretty low in the water with all of us in it, and water was splashing in between the upper planks. My feet were soaked in no time, but we were making good time with the pole, so I was pretty sure we'd make it across before we took on too much water.

 

The turquoise blue ocean against the dull, shimmering expanse of sand was stunning. As we beached the boat and walked over the long, thin sandy spit, we spotted our first turtle in the distance. One of the boat guys ran ahead, possibly to hold it until we got there, but we didn't want to disturb these creatures in their vulnerable state, so we hurried after him. Along the way, we started noticing all the empty holes, and then the shards of broken shell that were littering the beach. Many different predators raid the nests, scavenging the eggs for food, or worse. The boatmen offered to sell us eggs for 160 rupees each! We caught up to the turtle, chastising the guy for handling it, trying to explain the importance of not interfering with the nesting turtles. This one had already laid it's eggs, and was nearly back in the water, so it wasn't too invasive.

 

 We started taking pictures when we noticed it had lost both left flippers, only little pink stubs remaining. It's amazing it had been able to survive,never mind return to the beach to lay eggs! We watched it slowly crawl into the surf zone, and then a large wave broke onshore, and it was gone. We walked for quite a while, careful not to step on any freshly covered nests, obvious by the loose sand and the unmistakable turtle tracks leading back to the ocean. W didn't see any more live turtles, just a recently deceased one being scavenged by gulls. We wanted to swim while we were here, the lack of pollution and remote location being so very rare in India, but the boat guys, always looking for a way to cash in, wanted more money to wait. We decided to just go back across, pay them, and then swim after they had left, so we could have the place to ourselves. We made it back without incident, but then the guys started asking for more money. Our Irish friend has no problem with confrontation, and quickly settled things by telling them to “F*ck right off!”

The rest of the afternoon was sublime! We had the beach to ourselves, except for a few turtles who would pop their heads up to look at who was doing all the splashing. While swimming and eating lunch, we saw another turtle across the way, and lots of birds riding the thermals, scanning for prey. We were a little disappointed that we didn't see more turtles, but it was the tail end of this years nesting cycle. A few days earlier, and there would have been thousands of turtles. Also, there are usually many more that come ashore during the night than in the day. Apart from the tide coming up so we had to wade through a tidal creek on the way back, it was a perfect day.After returning to the hotel, we met a Spanish couple that had taken a taxi down to see the turtles the night before, and they convinced us to go again at night. The taxi was the same price we had paid for all the rickshaw rides, and would be much easier, and more comfortable.

                                                    This is the river we had to pole across



After a late dinner, the taxi picked us up at 10 PM sharp. We were at the trailhead in no time, even though Irish had yelled at the driver to slow down after swerving around a goat while going 80 km/h. We saw some other taxis and rickshaws on the one lane road out to the interpretation center, so I rushed everyone down the trail, hoping to avoid a wait at the boat crossing. I, of course, had assumed that the boat guys would be waiting for the 'turtles watchers' to show up, which, as it turns out, they weren't. All the other people had gone somewhere else; the shore was deserted, but there was still some fish boats beached where we had crossed in the afternoon. We weighed our options, then I went hunting for a pole. I was sure there would be at least one somewhere nearby. I had returned triumphantly with the longer of two poles I'd found, and we were dragging one of the heavy wooden boats into the water, when off in the distance we heard a motorboat getting closer and closer. We got the boat back where it was just as the spotlights from the boat lit us up. They pulled up to the beach as the other turtle tourists came down to the beach. They weren't very friendly, but eventually the driver asked if we wanted to go across. Of course, how much? 1000 rupees. 1000 RUPEES! We paid 200 this afternoon! No way! We stepped back and let the rest of the people load into the boat. We tried to haggle, but he was smug looking, and wouldn't budge. Another example of the opportunistic profiteering that is so frustrating in India. He was already going across, so why not take the extra 200? We let him drive away, then pulled the fish boat back into the water, and despite Raven's protests, climbed in, slid the bamboo pole aboard, and pushed off. Now, I've never poled a boat through the water before, but it looked easy, and the principle is simple. Push the pole to the bottom, where there is resistance, and then use the pole to drive the boat forward. No problem. Except the pole weighed about 25 pounds, is 15 feet long, and provides considerable resistance when moving though the water. Before long, I was sweating like a pig, my arms were burning and I was cursing and struggling for balance. I must have been doing a pretty piss poor job of it, because Su volunteered to try, but she couldn't even lift the pole. I figured it out eventually, instead of fighting pressure of the water against the pole, I would drive the pole forward of the boat, so that by the time it hit the bottom, it was vertical, then I could push the boat for 5-6 hand-over-hands before letting buoyancy lift it out and up, then I would swing it around and start again. Going straight forward was another story. I had to switch sides as the bow swung around wildly, being careful not to lose my balance in the rocking boat and fall overboard, or drop the pole. We eventually made it across, but now I was in skipper mode, worried about the tide, and whether the wind might pick up. We started exploring the massive sand spit, glad we'd already been here, so we were on familiar ground. We stayed away from the flashlights up the beach, where the other boat had landed. There were a lot more turtles, and many fresh drag marks leading back into the water, but we had to imagine what it might have been like covered in thousands of nesting turtles. We didn't stay too long, since it was already after midnight, but it was a fantastic adventure. The stars, surf and sand, cooling breeze and warm air, the solitude and silence only broken by the crashing of waves, the togetherness, these are the moments we treasure forever. The challenges of travel are rewarded with memories like these, stories that will be told and retold, gifts that cannot be lost.

The boat trip back was much shorter, and less tiring, and there were turtles everywhere! I got into a good rhythm, changing sides as Su called out directions. The sea was full of phosphorescence, lit up by the wake, the pole and the turtles splashing nearby. I was so focused on poling that I only saw the ones that came really close to the boat, their sharp beaks and curious eyes sinking out of view as we moved closer, but Raven saw at least 20 in the water. We were about half way back when I heard the motorboat fire up it's engine, so I tried to go even faster, wanting to make a clean get-away and avoid any possible confrontation. They returned their passengers, and then turned towards us. I was poling furiously, sweating buckets, and was only a boat length from the beach when the spotlight hit us. After a few seconds of silence, the guys on the boat broke out laughing. They came over again, and two guys jumped off as we were re-anchoring the boat back where we'd found it. I put the pole back and we were on our way. The two boatmen said a few things to us in Hindi, but we were just like 'What?! See ya...'

Sleepy but spent, we fell asleep as soon as we got back to the hotel around 1:30 AM. We had planned to leave the next day, but because of the nation-wide bus strike, we decided to stay another two days bird watching, wandering through town, chatting with Kollom,and reading in the shade. We had an overnight train booked down to Chennai, about 1200 kms south, but still wanted to visit the old British beach town of Gopalpur-on-Sea. But that's another story.