A Bengal tiger in Ranthambore National Park, Rajasthan, India. Photo / 123RF
"Tiger sightings are a matter of chance and luck," our safari guide tried to tell us, midway through our first attempt to find a Bengal tiger in India.
Chance and luck are helped, however, by sharp ears, a fast driver and roadside gossip.
Our tour group is at Ranthambore National Park in southeastern Rajasthan and we want a tiger.
It is a vast 1334sq km area, which became a tiger reserve in 1971 and a national park in 1980 after tiger numbers dropped to critical levels – a result of hunting, poaching and habitat loss.
The last acknowledged tiger hunt in this park was in 1961 when Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip visited.
Our hotel – the Nahargarh Ranthambhore – is the converted summer palace of maharajahs and the walls boast photos of the royal couple standing over the kill.
It looks shocking today but tiger hunts were part of the life of the maharajahs.
We are here to see a live specimen. Our Luxury Escapes' tour includes two drives into the part of the park open to tourists on guided tours.
The drives are early morning and late afternoon – the times the diurnal tigers are not napping.
There are about 70 tigers in the park, well spread out given each commands a vast territory.
It is sunrise when we head out, a magnificent sunrise in the chill of the morning.
A hullabaloo from a peacock halts our truck as the guide listens for warning calls. Then we see deer – the spotted deer and the sambar. If the deer are at peace, the presence of a tiger is unlikely.
By the lake, a crocodile is starting to make its way to the shore to warm itself in the sun. We see it a few hours later, a 2.5m-long shape lying on the bank with a smaller friend nearby.
The guide keeps a vigilant eye open for tiger prints and an ear open for the warning calls from monkeys, deer and peacocks.
Every time there is a warning call, the truck pelts off toward it.
Radio communication between drivers is forbidden, but drivers compare notes when they pass.
After one such exchange, the driver hurtles off. Within minutes the smaller, nimbler jeeps are overtaking us. We arrive at the magic point and peer where others are peering.
A male tiger, apparently, lying to the left and above a white blob. Some, including myself, cannot see it so decide it does not count.
By the sunset drive of the day, we have become somewhat single-minded in our pursuit.
There is some entertainment in watching a buck putting on his aftershave ready for mating season. This comes in the form of urinating in a pool of mud and then rolling in it repeatedly. It is apparently irresistible. It prompts some of the couples in our group to warn their husbands against it.
But otherwise, we no long coo at the deer or marvel at the crocodile.
We are indifferent to the banyan tree.
We are tiger or bust.
"This is wildlife," the guide says, and wildlife does not always oblige the whims of tourists.
Driving forlornly back to the front gates, a yelp comes from the Australian in the back seat, "A TIGER!"
We drive closer. "It's a leopard," the guide says.
"But leopards are very shy. You are very lucky to see one," he adds.
Lucky maybe, but it is not the big cat we were hoping for.
So we come up with a cunning plan to go again the next morning instead of visiting the nearby fort. This time just six of us.
We board the nimble, swift jeep.
Ursula, a Northern Irish woman from Australia, has worked out our strategy.
She delivers the brief to the guide.
She has quickly picked up the Indian word "chalo", which means "let's go" and she is not afraid to use it.
"Do not stop for the banyan tree. Do not stop for the deer. Do not stop for the monkeys or the peacocks. We only want the tiger. Chalo!"
It is the zone which houses the maharajah's former hunting lodge on the shore of a stunning lake, and is now inhabited by the tigers that were once hunted.
The grasslands and a glut of the animals the guide is not allowed to stop for (tiger meals of deer and boar) make it perfect tiger territory. It is also stunningly beautiful in its own right.
Things do not start well. The moment we enter the park, it starts hosing down. The poor guide – terrified after Ursula's repeated "chalo" – has to gird the courage to explain the tigers will probably stay undercover.
We cross our fingers as the rain soaks in, thunder booms and lightning flashes. We later learn that the jeep directly after us had been stopped at the gate because of the weather.
After about 90 minutes of fruitless, wet searching the rain stops and luck and chance come in.
There is a warning call and a conversation between two jeeps about where the tigers had been seen the night before. "Chalo," the guide says to the driver.
We zoom off, stopping at a likely place and turn off the engine to wait.
Other jeeps bucket in behind us.
Then the word comes: "tigers."
The guide points to the distant shapes of two tigers emerging through a misty thicket of trees and heading straight towards us. We hold our breath and wait.
One is walking ahead and stops at the brow of a mound about 10 metres in front of the jeep to inspect us before turning back to check on its sibling.
They are the cubs of Arrowhead, the granddaughter of the park's most famous resident, the late Machli.
They are technically still cubs at 11 months old, but they are massive. In due course, one will likely challenge the other – and maybe even Arrowhead to try to claim the prime real estate they were born in.
But for now, they are just a couple of kids out for an adventure.
It is quite, quite exhilarating.
They walk on into the bushes on the other side leaving behind them a sodden and elated bunch of travellers.
"Chalo," Ursula says, and our jeep heads back to the hotel, admiring on the way some boars, a few spotted deer and a particularly intriguing banyan tree.
Luxury Escapes runs the 12-day Indian Opulence tour, including excursions, most meals and guides.
luxuryescapes.com
Note: There is currently a temporary suspension on Indian tourist visas due to the Covid-19 outbreak. For information on future bookings, call a Luxury Escapes consultant on 0800 510 028
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