More pictures from Malawi

As promised, another selection of pictures - this time nothing but creatures, arranged from biggest to tiniest:

I was in a boat, and this elephant was on the bank, so I wasn't as alarmingly close as this looks!

We were also in a boat when we saw these hippos, running into the water. What a splash! And a cry from Everlasting, 'Don't tread on the baby!' (It's very close to its mum, at the front - in case you can't see it.)

The buffalo, taken just before we decided to turn tail!

Do crocodiles really smile? This chap looks absurdly pleased with himself!

A zebra crossing. It's not my best pic of the zebras, but I couldn't resist the corny joke. Sorry.

This is a fish eagle. Isn't it lovely?? Well, I think it's magnificent - they are huge, and fly low across the water, and I thought they were one of the most exciting things I saw!

At the other end of the bird-size scale, this is a tiny kingfisher.

Brownie points to anyone who knows what this is. It's about an inch or so long (I do know the answer - and never thought I'd actually see one, let alone take its picture!)

Me and the elephant, I'll never forget ...

After almost a week of rural Laos, Luang Prebang is a surprise. It is an old French colonial town – so remote that it took longer to reach here up the Mekong from Saigon than the journey from Paris to Vietnam. The climate is kind; the rivers are gentle; and there are plenty of temples for the pious.

There are few French expats here how – though there is a small, thriving community of Australians and New Zealanders running restaurants and hotels. The backpackers pass through, spending their days in a kayak or caving, and their evenings in the bars. And there are tour groups with suitcases who wander into the night market and barter for woven pashminas.

And me – well, I rode an elephant. Well, I would, wouldn’t I? I did my homework – I could have spent a day learning how to be a mahout, but was warned that some of those elephants work all day, every day. Elephants doing the shorter rides can rest from the afternoon heat. (I should add that I’ve met people who enjoyed the mahout training and felt the elephants were well cared-for.)

My guide arrived to take me – on a motorbike. Which was, um, interesting, and a little bumpy in places. I hadn’t expected a boat along the river to the elephant sanctuary, but – that was fine, too. The elephants wander through the jungle close to a waterfall. I lingered, taking in the music of the waterfall, and the astonishing milky-blue colour of the water. The air was sweet; butterflies hovered; the occasional bird twittered.

And so to the elephant. I clambered (there is no elegant way to get on an elephant) into the wooden seat on its back, and off we lumbered into the jungle. We’d not gone far when the mahout asked, ‘Would you like to sit on the neck?’ Well, wouldn’t you?

Elephant hide is rough, the consistency of wrinkled feet of octogenarians. And covered with tiny black hairs which are not-quite bristles. Where a horse’s head perks upwards, an elephant’s dips down – and so the line of sight is automatically down towards the ground beyond. I sat firmly upright. (There is nothing to hold on to but a loose bit of rope around her neck.) She flapped her ears, and for a wonderful moment I thought that was to hold me on – no, she was ascertaining that this was a complete novice on her neck and turned for home. The mahout shouted a bit and she trundled on her way.

Elephant shoulders are bony things. With each stride her shoulder blades swung from side to side, and her huge muscles rippled. Not being over-padded in the bottom department I felt every stride. When she veered to the side I thought I’d fall into jungle mud. When we went down the riverbank into the water I thought I’d topple over her head.

And when it came to getting off – that involved throwing myself onto the platform. (Though I did better than the lass behind me, who needed two men to lever her off!).

It was time to go home – I felt every throb of the diesel engine in the canoe, and don’t even think about the potholes on the motorbike.

But when can I do it again …

Tis done, and to celebrate ...

Yes, as promised, HIDDEN TIGER RAGING MOUNTAIN is now a little ebook on Amazon. You can buy it here if you are in the UK, and here from the US. Go on, you know you want to.

And to celebrate, I'm going to post some more pictures from Nepal, and tell you a little about the stories that go with them. 

I couldn't resist an elephant ride - well, you wouldn't expect me to. I was in Bardia, a remote National Park in the south-west of Nepal, and we were wandering through the jungle in a gentle, lilting way when the elephant turned sharp right and walked into the river. The mahout was totally unconcerned - this was evidently planned. And we waited for a while until the elephant had stopped drinking before plodding on out way. I had wondered if she was going to take the opportunity to wash her back and give us all a soaking, but not this time!

Long before making it to Bardia, I spent a few days pottering about the shores of Fewa Lake, taking a boat trip across to the little temple, sitting in cafes, and generally taking in the sights and smells of Lakeside. The streets behind me are chaotic, but somehow the water buffalo and little boats in the water bring and air of stillness to the place.

It might seem odd to include a picture of a Tata lorry in a blogpost about Nepal - but for those of you who have read HIDDEN TIGER and wonder how big the lorries are I encountered on That Trip down the mountain - well, this is what they looked like. They look even more precarious in the dark!

Having made it down the mountain, I went to Lumbini - the birthplace of Buddha. It is a huge site, with Buddhist temples built by communities from all over the world. When I was there I spent some of the time with a group of Nepali women on a day out - and together we turned this gigantic prayer wheel. I didn't realise that sacred rituals could be such fun!

Finally, a market picture, because I just love markets. This particular market is in Nepalganj, close to the border with India. Markets in the mountains are far less well-supplied.

So - a few pictures to help bring my little book alive.

Sigh. When I can I go back ...

Where do you long to go back to?

While I'm away.

I'm off again - for a month, this time. To the mountains of Nepal.

I could have written blogs to cover my absence, organised them to come out regularly, so you'd barely notice I was away. Twice a week you could read my passing thoughts on writing, and reading, and general observations about plumbers.

But I haven't. Why - because it seems a bit disingenuous to be blogging as if I were here when I fact I'm up a mountain somewhere. The reality is - I will not here. I will not even pretend to be here. I've gone walkabout, because that's what I want to do.

Plus - I hope to connect from time to time. Tell you what I'm up to. Remind you how beautiful Nepal is, how wonderful her people. After all, blogging is my way of keeping in touch with everyone at home.

So there will be unreliable posts, from expected places. I understand from my Lonely Planet that wi-fi is easily available in Kathmandu and Pokhara now, but I suspect I shall still be at the mercy of power cuts. And I might just creep off the beaten track occasionally and be out of wi-fi range.

So - I'll blog when I can. Though probably without photographs - those will wait until I get home and I can organise them on the website. So you'll have to take my word for it that the Himalayas are huge - and stunningly beautiful. With snow on the top that turns purple at sunset. That the lake in Pokhara shimmers in the slightest breeze. That the temples of Lumbini are mysteriously peaceful. And the elephants ...

My head is already there. It's time for my body to follow.

A few thoughts about elephants.

I've had so many comments about the elephant on the cover of my book, it seemed like a good idea to blog about them.

I'm talking Indian elephants here. The African variety are bigger, and wilder, and generally best seen from the safety of a safari truck.

But Indian elephants are different altogether. I know there are those who frown at seeing them put to work - in the forests, transporting tourists, even racing! They are so majestic, is there indignity in making them 'work'?

I can see both sides. They are, indeed, magnificent - gentle, trusting creatures. They gather in families which seem as affectionate as our own (well, among the females. The males fend for themselves.) They play with their young and they care for their dying.

Yet an elephant is able to form as close a relationship with a mahout as and shepherd does with his or her dog. I know, just because we can make those relationships doesn't mean we should, but in a country with difficult terrain it is surely understandable to utilise the strength of elephants in the same way that those of us in the West use horses and dogs.

It is also misleading to think that elephants have no choice in behaving as compliantly as they do. Do you really think that an animal as big as that would haul tree-trunks if it didn't want to? If there weren't a reward - free food, affection - at the end of it. And yes - they even race, and appear to do so willingly.  I was in Chitwan, in Nepal, just after their elephant races. We were heading back from a trek through the jungle when two elephants shuffled beside each other, appeared to exchange glances, and then run back to their shelters with tourists clinging on for dear life and the mahouts cheering. (Sorry, I don't have a photo; I was too busy hanging on.)

Having said all that, I know there are places where elephants are used to carry tourists around and not given the care they need. They need not only food and water, but also frequent hosing down to keep their skin clean. As you'll have gathered, I'll take any opportunity to ride one - but not if they work all day in the Indian heat traipsing round forts and palaces with tourists on their backs (though maybe things have improved since I was in Agra).

So, what animals press your buttons? And can you, too, admit to mixed feelings about the way we live, or don't live, alongside them?