Elephants beside Chobe River, Chobe National Park (Shutterstock)
Botswana’s famous Chobe National Park has the largest population of elephants in the whole of Africa. With an estimated population of 50,000, a safari here is guaranteed to feature large numbers of these wonderful animals.
Sightings are best in the dry season (June-November), when the elephants line the banks of the river and regularly cross in search of fresh grazing. Probably the best way to view them is on a boating safari, as you can cruise from a safe distance.
But it’s not only elephants you’ll see here; large herds of buffalo are present, alongside other herbivores, such as zebra, wildebeest and giraffe. Predator sightings are also common, with lion, leopard and wild dogs spotted on the plains.
2. Elephant Nature Park, Thailand
Elephants roaming the greenery of Thailand’s Elephant Nature Park (Shutterstock)
The Elephant Nature Park in northern Thailand’s Chiang Mai Province offers and enriching wildlife experience for travellers.
This elephant rescue and rehabilitation centre can be found 60km from the city and operates as a a sanctuary for dozens of distressed elephants who have been rescued from circuses or camps from across the country. Here the elephants are free to interact and roam in their natural surroundings as they would in the wild.
The park’s mission is to promote sustainable elephant-friendly tourism, and a visit here means not only can you contribute to the rescue work it does but also the chance to ‘roll up your sleeves’ and take part in its volunteer programme too.
3. Nkhotakota Wildlife Reserve, Malawi
Elephants in Nkhotakota Wildlife Reserve, Malawi (Shutterstock_
Prince Harry famously lent his efforts to the ‘500 Elephants’ initiative undertaken by African Parks in Malawi, in what has proved to one of the largest and most significant elephant translocations in human history.
Once a near-empty forest, the Nkhotakota Wildlife Reserve has come back to life with more than 520 elephants and 2,000 other animals moved from Majete Wildlife Reserve and Liwonde National Park to the reserve in 2016, followed by further significant reintroductions in 2022. It’s an incredible story and one that you can be a part of too, for when you pay a visit here not only will get the chance to see these animals frolicking in the wild but you know they’re there as a result of a great conservation effort.
4. Sayaboury Elephant Conservation Centre, Laos
Elephant Conservation Centre in Sayaboury (Shutterstock)
Laos was once known as the ‘land of a million elephants.’ Sadly, that’s not the case today; deforestation, poaching and expanding urban areas means there’s now only an estimated 400 elephants left in the wild and 400 still in captivity. It’s thought, if the problems aren’t solved, Laos’ elephant population could disappear entirely in the coming decades.
Seeking to try and turn the tide is Sayaboury’s ElephantConservation Centre (ECC). The centre supports a handful of retired elephants that travellers can meet, as well as providing veterinary support and care for the animals and employment for the former Mahouts who worked with them.
5. Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe
Large Bull elephant at a watering hole in Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe (Shutterstock)
Hwange National Park is something of a happy oddity; while many places in Africa have seen elephant populations dwindling, the opposite is happening in Hwange, which now has 45,000 elephants.
Currently, this population is doing stable and doing well, with a good working relationship between conservationists, the camps and lodges in the park and the local San population, which means the chances are high that the population will continue to thrive.
Game viewing in the park is impressive, particularly during the dry season (July to October), with large numbers of buffalo. Lions are also commonly seen and the park also has one of the largest populations of wild dog in Africa. There are over 100 species of mammals and over 400 birds in total recorded here. The majestic Victoria Falls is only a short drive away too.
6. Periyar National Park, India
Elephants walking through Periyar National Park (Shutterstock)
Designated a tiger reserve in 1978, the Periyar National Park is one of South India’s most popular reserves and is, oddly enough, best known for its elephants. Visitors to the park also have the chance to view barking deer, wild dogs, bison, sambar, mouse deer and the elusive Bengal tiger, as well as extensive bird and butterfly life.
Located in the steamy southern region of Kerala and close to the plantation town of Kumily, Periyar is rich in biodiversity and scenic charm, encompassing lakes, forests and mountains. One of the highlights of the park is to enjoy a boat trip on Periyar Lake, which also provides fantastic wildlife watching opportunities.
7. Udawalawe Elephant Transit Home, Sri Lanka
Orphaned or injured baby elephants are nurtured at Udawalawe Elephant Transit Home (Shutterstock)
The Elephant Transit Home is an admirable initiative, sponsored by the Born Free Foundation, which sees baby elephants who are injured or orphaned in the wild brought into the centre, where they are cared for and rehabilitated in a natural setting. Once the elephants are old enough and strong enough, they are radio-collared and released into Udawalawe National Park in small groups.
You might also wish to take a jeep safari in Minneriya National Park – close to the famous Sigiriya Rock in central Sri Lanka – famous for its migratory herd of approximately 300 elephants, that ‘gather’ in the midst of the dry season (between August-September) around the Minneriya reservoir. Whilst exploring the park Sri Lankan junglefowl (the national bird of Sri Lanka) and small crocodiles can also be spotted.
8. Addo Elephant National Park, South Africa
Addo Elephant National Park (Shutterstock)
Set within the Sundays River region of South Africa’s Eastern Cape, around 70 kilometres from Port Elizabeth, the Addo Elephant National Park was set up to save the local elephants, whose populations were close to extinction. Only 11 were left in 1931, when the park was established. Today, there are more than 600 stomping in South Africa’s third largest national park, which covers a massive 1,640 square kilometres.
As well as elephants, the park is home to lions, leopards, black rhinos, spotted hyenas, buffaloes and zebras, which all can be spotted on jeep safaris, walking safaris and from horseback. It’s also possible to see ancient rock art in the surrounding area.
9. Kinabatangan River, Borneo
Pygmy elephants near Kinabatangan River (Shutterstock)
Malaysian Borneo has some of the world’s oldest rainforests, teeming with exotic flora and fauna, as well as canopy walkways and mysterious cave systems. But it’s the Kinabatangan River, Sabah’s longest river, you’ll want to make your way to for a chance to spot wild pygmy elephants.
This bio-diverse environment is one of the best places to see these little elephants in the wild, as they live along and around the river, alongside orangutans, proboscis monkeys, macaques and monitor lizards.
The Kinabatangan River is accessible on foot on jungle walks or by river cruise, and the animals can often be seen walking in open areas or traversing the river. Pygmy elephant families can number up to 70 animals, so spotting them should be relatively easy.
10. Katavi National Park, Tanzania
Katavi National Park (Shutterstock)
During the rainy season, Katavi National Park in remote western Tanzania is a mass of lush greenery and waterways, but it’s during the dry season, when the water retreats, that the park really comes into its own. The Katuma River forms one of the only drinking sources for miles around, attracting astonishing amounts of wildlife, particularly elephants, together with buffalo, zebra, giraffes and impala, which in turn attracts numerous prides of lions and hyenas.
Not only is this a great place to spot large numbers of wildlife, but the park’s remote and wild setting means a visit here is like stepping back in time. Bush walks are a great way to explore the area at the animals’ level, or opt for a guided excursion down the river for a chance to see colourful birds, hippos and crocs.
Recent years have seen a large-scale 20-day wildlife survey of Tanzania’s Katavi-Rukwa and Ruaha-Rungwa landscapes that counted almost 20,000 elephants. This encouraging number points to an elephant recovery across the area and helps to make these regions among some of the most important in Africa for elephants outside of Zimbabwe and Botswana.
Scattered across over 600km of ocean, rising from the seabed at the three-way meeting point of the North American, Eurasian and African tectonic plates, the nine volcanic islands of the Azores are pitted with ancient craters and collapsed cones, sculpted over many millennia by the wind and waves of the Atlantic. Incredibly, nature has adapted to thrive on the isolated islands of São Miguel, Terceira, São Jorge, Pico, Faial, Flores, Santa Maria, Graciosa and Corvo. Once-bleak lava flows are now lush with juniper and laurel forests, vineyards and rolling pastures, and studded with glimmering lagoons. Rugged bluffs and coves shelter thousands of plant and animal species, both above and below the waterline. Seabirds pause for much-needed refuelling stops on transoceanic migrations. Thriving reefs and seamounts host barracuda, grouper, rays, dolphins and whales. In fact, nearly one-third of the planet’s whale and dolphin species have been recorded in these waters.
Azoreans have progressed far on their journey to valuing and conserving nature. Whaling was big business in the early 19th century, when ‘Yankee Whalers’ sailed here to harvest the abundant cetaceans. Locals then began using oar-boats and spears to hunt resident sperm whales for the waxy ‘spermaceti’ found in their head cavity, used to make lamp oil and lubricants. The industry was finally banned here in 1986 – and just four years later, the islands’ first whalewatching tour launched. Today, various responsible operators offer memorable experiences that contribute significantly to the local economy. The vigias – lookout towers – formerly used to locate sperm whales offshore now enable visitors to spot breaching and fin-slapping whales from land.
Sustainable practices have become commonplace in other areas, too. Geoparks and reserves are widespread across the islands, and the designation of a network of marine protected areas helps preserve vital ecosystems. The Azores is the first archipelago in the world to receive EarthCheck Silver Level IV certification, recognising its focus on sustainable tourism. Last year, the islands were also awarded Whale Heritage Area status by the World Cetacean Alliance.
To best enjoy the Azores, pick two or three islands and take your time to absorb the delightfully fresh, straight-from-the-garden ingredients served with every meal, the birdsong that soundtracks each morning, and the joy of spotting a whale tail on the horizon.
What are the best islands in the Azores for wildlife?
Corvo
Watch for hoopoes on Corvo (Shutterstock)
The Azores’ birdwatching hub, this speck in the far north-west of the archipelago provides a haven for more than 50 bird species. Migratory shearwaters and terns shelter from the elements along the craggy north-west coast. Inland, an ancient caldera – along with its crater lakes and surrounding hills – hosts a variety of waders and ducks, along with other vagrants on migration, including many from North America, such as magnolia warblers; you might also spot bee-eaters or hoopoes. The Corvo Wild Birds Interpretation Centre provides updates on recent sightings.
Best for: Seabirds. Cory’s, Manx and barolo shearwaters and roseate terns breed along western cliffs and outcrops, while storm-petrels – including the endemic Monteiro’s storm-petrel – feed from the choppy waters.
Faial
Sei whales migrate past the islands (Shutterstock)
Local experts have recorded at least 28 species of whale and dolphin in Azorean waters, including resident bottlenose, common and Risso’s dolphins and sperm whales. Migratory ocean giants such as blue and sei whales pass close to the central islands, and orca have been spotted here. Other species seen in deeper waters include striped dolphins, loggerhead turtles, smooth hammerhead sharks and pilot whales. Small-group boat tours, led by marine experts trained in ethical wildlife encounters, depart from Faial’s Horta Marina. Boats are fitted with hydrophones, so guests can listen to the underwater clicks, whistles and songs of the cetaceans.
Best for: Whales. Watch for blue and sei in April and May, and sperm whales year round. It’s a great spot for seabird-watching, too.
Santa Maria
Smooth hammerhead sharks patrol reefs off Santa Maria (Alamy)
This island is popular for its white-sand beaches and sparse tourists, but its finest natural marvel lies about 5km offshore, where the Dollabarat and Ambrósio reefs host a myriad of underwater creatures. Hundred-strong schools of yellowmouth barracuda, jack, bluefish and hammerhead shark patrol these waters year round, while in the warmer months the reefs are busy feeding grounds for nomadic devil rays, giant manta rays and vast, graceful whale sharks. Scuba-diving tours leave daily (weather permitting) from Vila do Porto Marina.
Best for: Whale sharks. Sightings of the world’s largest fish, growing to over 10m long, aren’t guaranteed, so come ready to enjoy everything from giant mantas to barracuda – a whale shark encounter is a welcome bonus.
Where Else?
Lajes do Pico
Marine biologists have been leading boat tours to spot blue whales and other cetaceans from this port, birthplace of the Azores’ whalewatching industry, since 1990. Half-day tours sail from Lajes do Pico harbour; opt for a small boat departure to enjoy a more personal experience.
São Miguel
Diverse bird species inhabiting this island’s lush interior include the Azores bullfinch – one of Europe’s rarest birds, found in the laurisilva forests of the east – and Wilson’s snipe and snow bunting, in the Graminhais Plateau. The island’s endemic subspecies of goldcrest flits among azalia and camellia in Furnãs, while waders and ducks paddle the twin green-blue lakes of Sete Cidades.
Ilhéu da Praia
An accessible option if you don’t have time to reach Corvo, this tiny basalt islet is home to the Azores most important seabird colony. Cory’s and barolo shearwaters, roseate and common terns and the endemic Monteiro’s storm-petrel are seen during the spring and summer months. Boats for Ilhéu da Praia depart from Vila da Praia on Graciosa.
Need to know
When to go
With highs from 16°C to 25°C, the Azores are a year-round destination. Sperm whales and various dolphins can be spotted at any time. Blue, humpback and sei whales migrate past between March and June; spot other cetaceans June to September. July to October is best for whale sharks and manta rays.
Getting there & around
British Airways and Ryanair both fly direct to Ponta Delgada (São Miguel) weekly from Heathrow and Stansted, respectively, in a little over four hours. Azores Airlines flies from Lisbon to Ponta Delgada and Terceira, and between islands.
Island-hop on a luxury yacht with Sail Azores from Ponta Delgada or Horta (Faial), or take Atlântico Line ferries.
Whalewatching tours with Azores Experiences depart daily from Horta Marina on Faial, while Futurismo tours run from Pico and São Miguel. MantaMaria leads dives on Santa Maria’s reefs.
Carbon offset
A return flight from London to Ponta Delgada produces 305kg of carbon per passenger. Wanderlust encourages you to offset your travel footprint through a reputable provider. For advice on how to find one, see here.
Currency & visa
Currency: Euro (€), currently around €1.17 to the UK£. Visa: UK nationals can visit the EU visa-free for 90 days total within any 180-day period.
As India celebrates 50 years of its Project Tiger conservation scheme, we visit the reserves of Madhya Pradesh to see how its success has impacted a tiger population that once looked in danger of disappearing…
After India celebrated 50 years of its Project Tiger conservation scheme, we visit the reserves of Madhya Pradesh to see how its success has impacted a tiger population that once looked in danger of disappearing
Words James Draven
Item 1 of 3
Pench NP was only a sanctuary back when Project Tiger was launched in 1973 – it is now one of over 50 national parks in India taking part in the landmark conservation scheme (Alamy)
Pench NP was only a sanctuary back when Project Tiger was launched in 1973 – it is now one of over 50 national parks in India taking part in the landmark conservation scheme (Alamy)
The eagle eyes of the grey langur make a great early warning system when scouting for tigers (James Draven)
The eagle eyes of the grey langur make a great early warning system when scouting for tigers (James Draven)
The ruddy mongoose is a fearsome predator of snakes and even produces its own anti-venom (James Draven)
The ruddy mongoose is a fearsome predator of snakes and even produces its own anti-venom (James Draven)
Asambar deer sniffed the air in Madhya Pradesh’s Pench National Park. In unison, the surrounding members of its herd, each the colour of rusting iron, stopped grazing from the wind-rippled grasslands. Heads lifted, glistening nostrils flared and all eyes scrutinised the tree line. A languorous grey langur monkey – drunk on fermented mahua fruit and dozing on a fallen branch – opened one eye.
You can often see langurs and sambar together. They have a symbiotic relationship because sambar can detect a predator’s scent on the breeze from over a kilometre away; in return, the langurs are sharp-sighted when up in the treetops, and messy eaters too, sloppily dropping half-eaten fruit to the sambar below. Neither makes a conscious effort to help the other, but they are inextricably linked by an ecosystem.
Then the alarm call sounded. An unseen jungle babbler bird, invisible above a thick canopy of leaves, emitted the first signal. Through the bush telegraph the call was taken up by scores of other birds until the hitherto silent forest became a riot of panic and white noise. The sambar deer scattered, and then the langurs – all suddenly sober – zipped improbably up the smooth trunks of teak trees, some with their babies clutched to their chests.
Birds took flight, their maelstrom of beating wings a hailstorm of television interference against the sky. The jungle roared like radio static. Everything was in sudden motion but us; our driver slammed his brake pedal to the floor and our emerald-green Maruti-Suzuki Gypsy 4WD – ubiquitous and identical in India’s wildlife reserves – ground to a standstill on the mud-baked track.
“In the faded pastel hues of the gloaming, the tiger hogs the spotlight“
“That must be him,” whispered our guide, Vanan, who had previously remained silent. I’d nearly forgotten he was there; the wildlife does all the work for him. The alarm call is a guide’s best friend but, after several days spent in fruitless search of our quarry across three of India’s tiger reserves, I too was attuned to the signals that warned of approaching predators. We spent much of our time stationary: watching, listening, waiting.
The real king of the jungle (Alamy)
The real king of the jungle (Alamy)
It was the end of a long day searching Pench National Park for signs of a Royal Bengal tiger. With little tree cover compared to some of India’s more densely forested reserves, I had high hopes that this would be the place where I would finally spot one. About four hours earlier, we’d had a false alarm when we came across a fresh paw print, or pugmark, on the track that was the size of a saucer. Embossed into the dusty ground, on top of the fresh tyre treads of other 4WDs, the tiger must have been incredibly close, but the evanescent cat clearly hadn’t cared to stop for tea.
On this occasion, however, we had a bit more luck. From a tangle of undergrowth, which we’d already scrutinised with binoculars and telephoto zoom lenses without discovering anything, a hulking tiger languidly stepped out onto the track. Scowling, with its cover blown and its prey beyond reach, it plodded across the roadway in front of us. Regarding our idling 4WD with house-cat nonchalance, the tiger vanished into the undergrowth on the other side of the trail, leaving a vacuum in his wake. We exhaled as one. The whole experience had lasted less than ten seconds.
For just a moment, that dusty track was a stage. In the faded pastel hues of the gloaming, in a theatre encircled by packs of bill-print-grey langurs, flocks of grey hornbills and sounders of ash-coloured wild boar, the tiger hogged the spotlight, burning bright as if lit by sodium lamps. But once he exited, stage right, enveloped by the safety curtain of the jungle, my heart dropped from the gods to the foot of the orchestra pit. The wildlife chorus groaned into the distance. The greatest show on Earth was over – for now.
Item 1 of 2
A kingfisher in flight (Alamy)
A kingfisher in flight (Alamy)
The Indian peafowl leaves quite the impression (Alamy)
The Indian peafowl leaves quite the impression (Alamy)
The eye on the tiger
I have been besotted with tigers since infancy. So much so that despite being something of a night owl, this trip across India’s national parks and tiger reserves had seen me rising merrily each morning at 5am, when it was so cold that my camera lens – trained on dewdrop-bejewelled dawn landscapes and steam-shrouded waterholes – was clouded by my own hot breath.
But there was another reason for my enthusiasm. In 2023, India marked 50 years of Project Tiger, a conservation effort that has ensured now is the best time for sightings of these big cats in recent memory. Indeed, the number of wild Royal Bengal tigers in India has more than doubled in the 21st century alone.
Prior to this intervention, the situation had become desperate. Despite being the country’s national animal, an estimated 80,000 tigers fell victim to hunting in India between 1875 and 1925. Maharajas, monarchs, officials and trophy hunters slaughtered these creatures with guns, snares, poisons and spears. Their heads can still be found – stuffed, mounted and moth-eaten – on walls, while their skins continue to warm the floors of historical palaces.
This carnage continued well into the 20th century. Prince Philip and Queen Elizabeth were even photographed on safari with a dead tiger, which was reportedly shot by the Duke of Edinburgh in 1961 in what later became Ranthambore National Park – it was the same year he became president of the World Wildlife Fund. The widespread practice of killing tigers for profit and sport led to a sharp decline in their numbers, and by the late 1960s, they were on the brink of extinction in the wild, with some estimating there were fewer than 600 remaining in India.
In 1973, the government, led by Indira Gandhi, initiated Project Tiger, a conservation programme aimed at managing and safeguarding tiger habitats. Additionally, the Special Tiger Protection Force was established to combat the menace of poaching. By the time of India’s 2006 census, there were still just 1,411 tigers remaining in the wild; today things are looking far rosier. On 9 April 2023, in honour of Project Tiger’s 50th anniversary, Prime Minister Narendra Modi released the results of this year’s All India Tiger Estimation, revealing there are now 3,167 in India. That’s about 70% of the world’s wild tiger population.
A Maruti-Suzuki Gypsy 4WD trundles the rough tracks of Pench NP (Alamy)
A Maruti-Suzuki Gypsy 4WD trundles the rough tracks of Pench NP (Alamy)
Project Tiger’s conservation initiatives have involved educating village populations near to the parks on the benefits of conserving the species; remunerating locals who have lost livestock to tiger attacks; increasing the amount of protected land on which tigers can roam free; boosting the number of park rangers to combat poaching; and – most boldly of all – only allowing tourists access to 20% of any of India’s national parks and tiger reserves. This gives tigers the range and privacy to thrive, unseen, in the remaining 80%.
Yet life continues as normal in the parks. Each day at lunchtime, fleets of 4WDs would converge in the safety of numbers and wide-open terrain. Always glancing over our shoulders, it was here that we drank chai and ate packed lunches of pakoras and boiled eggs, prepared by our lodges and spread out on table cloths on the bonnets of our vehicles. Then we returned to the trails in the blazing heat and pointed our lenses at the long grasses, scanning for dips and depressions where a cat might make its bed to bask in the afternoon sun.
We also stalked the tiger’s favourite prey: sambar deer. When spooked, these animals can reach speeds of over 65kph, while a tiger can only sprint at 55kph. Since these big cats can’t outrun their prey, they need to get within 15m to strike, so the tiger has become a master of ambush hunting. It also has one big advantage: like many creatures the tiger hunts, sambar have just two types of colour receptors in their eyes, making them red-green colour blind. For them, a tiger’s orange fur is indistinguishable from the jungle greenery, which makes India’s legendary predator far more elusive. Even human eyes struggle: a tiger’s stripes look just like bamboo leaves when cloaked in the forest.
Tigers aren’t the only threat here. We also saw antelope and white-tailed deer being stalked by dholes – wild Indian dogs that hunt in packs and devour their prey alive.
“When there’s enough of them, they can even take a tiger down,” said Vanan, rousing himself as a lone dhole skipped past our wheel arch and glanced up at us with innocent eyes.
We clocked pompous peacocks parading their plumage, and I spotted, perched on high and near perfectly camouflaged against the bark of the tree hollows, diminutive collared scops owls watching me watching them. But I saw not another tiger at Pench.
Item 1 of 3
A scops owl takes it easy during the heat of the day (James Draven)
A scops owl takes it easy during the heat of the day (James Draven)
Spotted deer have become so successful in Pench NP that their 50,000-strong population is currently being scattered among other parks in India to relieve the strain on the eco-system (James Draven)
Spotted deer have become so successful in Pench NP that their 50,000-strong population is currently being scattered among other parks in India to relieve the strain on the eco-system (James Draven)
India is home to around 70% of the world’s tiger population and their number is increasing by 6% every year (Alamy)
India is home to around 70% of the world’s tiger population and their number is increasing by 6% every year (Alamy)
Silent alarm
Before long, I moved on to another of Madhya Pradesh’s famous tiger reserves, Kanha National Park. At lunch, on my second day there, I noticed a gaggle of locals and tourists excitedly passing camera screens around. As part of Project Tiger’s initiatives to minimise the impact of tourism on tiger reserves, the use of radios and phones are forbidden in many parks. These guests had sighted and snapped a tiger in the morning, but since visitors, guides and drivers are prohibited from communicating tiger locations to each other, the occupants of my vehicle had not.
Unlike safaris seeking the African lion – pretenders to the title of ‘King of the Jungle’, since they are neither the largest of the big cats, nor do they live in a jungle – you won’t see 4WDs encircling groups of lazing tigers on sparsely vegetated savannah. These big cats are solitary creatures, who only socialise to mate, and Kanha is densely forested with evergreen sal trees, which means sightings are far less frequent. If you do spot one, however, you will likely have it all to yourself here.
On our morning excursion we were graced with sightings of the endangered barasingha, colloquially known as the swamp deer, which was rescued from the precipice of extinction through Kanha’s dedicated breeding programme. In the afternoon we spotted golden jackals, a ruddy mongoose and the immense gaur – the world’s largest, wild bovine species. A male spotted deer, seemingly signifying his victory in combat to the females of his herd, wore a crown of dried grass on his antlers that, when lit by crepuscular rays, glowed with the inner luminescence of a halo.
“The tiger was anything but camouflaged; his vibrant coat read much more like a warning“
The sun had started to set on my final drive around Kanha Tiger Reserve. As the light faded, so too did my hopes of seeing a tiger. Satish, our appointed guide for the day, had positively crackled with enthusiasm throughout our safari, but as twilight fell, his eyes glazed. In the tangled sal forests that bordered the roads, it was already nighttime. Our driver, Arun, was winding a sinuous course back towards the park gates. All was quiet, for now.
The soft pads of tigers’ feet ensure their movement through the undergrowth is almost silent. While this makes them formidable hunters, it does offer us one advantage: tigers don’t like the feel of the forest floor against their delicate paws, so they will often take to trails that have been worn smooth by safari vehicles. There had been no alarm calls, no shrieking monkeys, no stampedes foretokening his arrival, but nonetheless there he was. He’d been there all along, an insurmountable distance of a metre away. As he slipped out of the forest and onto the track, it was as if the tiger had pressed the mute button on the wilderness. He brought with him a deafening silence.
For the past week, across a dozen wildlife drives, I had felt like these tigers had been evading human detection, but he wasn’t hiding from us. With king-of-the-jungle confidence, he strode along the pathway towards us, staring straight down the barrel of my camera lens. He was anything but camouflaged; his vibrant coat read much more like a warning. Beautiful and deadly, dangerous and endangered, he seemed to drain the pigment from the surrounding jungle. Everything else just faded to grey.
“This is him!” gasped Satish, jigging in his seat with excitement. “This tiger is young, but he’s expected to become the next alpha male in this region.” With juvenile insouciance, the tiger lifted his pink nose – yet to turn brown with age – and sniffed the air, inhaling the sweet scent of some blooms hanging from a tree. For a moment, he luxuriated in the belief that he was the jungle’s next monarch. Thanks to the work of Project Tiger over the past 50 years, he may well grow to become just that.
This article was first published in 2023 and updated in July 2024
About the trip
The author travelled with Hayes & Jarvis, which offers a 15-day In Search of Tigers tour. This includes international and domestic flights; three-star and four-star accommodation; the majority of your meals; transfers, including the Agra-Katni overnight train; and day excursions to take in the highlights of New Delhi and Mumbai. The trip offers 13 exclusive safari drives across four tiger reserves: Bandhavgarh NP, Kanha Tiger Reserve, Pench NP and Tadoba Andhari Tiger Reserve.
Botswana’s Chobe National Park is not off the beaten track. But even big, headline-grabbing wildlife areas have corners that few explore. The Savuti – meaning ‘mystery’ – is such a place. Lying on Chobe’s western border, this game-packed wilderness is difficult to reach (flying in is your best bet), so relatively few do. It is known for its huge prides of elephant-hunting lions (a rare sight) and spotted hyena. It also has its own great migration: in November, zebra, wildebeest and buffalo in their thousands move south into the Savuti, looking for fresh grasses, before returning north in February. The area is characterised by the enigmatic Savuti Channel, which runs 100km from the Chobe River to Savuti marsh; it’s often bone-dry but periodically floods spectacularly. Along its northerly banks you’ll find the Linyanti Concession, a remote, private reserve, home to huge elephant herds and wild dogs that might be seen hunting in packs. Tours often combine the Savuti and Linyanti in one wild trip.
Also see: Tiny Mokolodi Nature Reserve, just south of capital Gabarone, is Botswana’s only not-for-profit park. Its cycling routes offer a rare and unusual way of exploring the bush, while giraffe and rhino tracking tours take you thrillingly close to the action.
2. Majete Wildlife Reserve, Malawi
By the late 1990s poaching had devastated Majete Wildlife Reserve. There was very little left to see; indeed, the reserve didn’t receive a single visitor between 2000 and 2003. Then the NGO African Parks took over management of Majete and, over the subsequent years, the reserve has been transformed. More than 5,000 animals from 17 species have been brought in; the arrival of lions in 2012 completed the Big Five. But it has been the measures taken to stop poaching that have had the greatest impact. Not one rhino or elephant has been illegally killed in the reserve since they were introduced. Facilities have also improved. Lodges and campsites now include the luxurious Mkulumadzi, set within a private concession, and Thawale Lodge, revamped during lockdown, where the watering hole has become a prime spot for elephant sightings. In short, Majete is one of Africa’s great wildlife comebacks.
Also see: Another amazing story is that of Malawi’s Nkhotakota Wildlife Reserve. It was once home to 1,500 elephants but, due to poaching, by 2015 there were barely 100 left. This was when ‘Operation 500 elephants’ was put into action, as animals were shipped in from Liwonde National Park and Majete, restocking the numbers and revitalising the reserve.
3. Kidepo Valley National Park, Uganda
It doesn’t get much more remote than Uganda’s Kidepo Valley NP. Some 700km north of capital Kampala, on the border with South Sudan, spread across the sun-bleached grasslands of the Karamoja region, it is visited by few travellers. Those that do arrive may discover one of East Africa’s rarest sights: tree-climbing lions. It’s a quirk more readily associated with the big cats of Uganda’s Queen Elizabeth NP or Lake Manyara NP in Tanzania, and while it’s not common here, it does happen – a result of lions wanting to either escape irritating bugs on the ground or simply snag a cool breeze. When not scouring the branches of sausage trees for unconventional felines – or for the park’s 475 recorded species of birds – look out for cheetah. This is the only part of Uganda where you’ll find these stately cats, and sightings are reassuringly regular. Kidepo also rewards the adventurous traveller, with visits to the boiling hot springs of Kanangorok and day hikes into the Morungole Mountains, pit-stopping at Ik villages en route, offering challenges aplenty.
Also see: Mgahinga Gorilla NP – Uganda’s smallest national park – lives in the shadow of better-known Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. It is quite a trek to reach, nestled deep in the south-west between three extinct volcanoes, but hikes to visit the habituated group of mountain gorillas that live in the Virunga hills here are no less rewarding.
4. Gorongosa National Park, Mozambique
Mozambique’s brutal civil war, which raged from 1977 to 1992, had a devastating impact on the protected area of Gorongosa, at the southern tail of the Great Rift Valley. During this period the park lost some 90% of its wildlife. However, since 2004, when a US philanthropist teamed up with the Mozambican government, Gorongosa has been resurrected. Millions of trees have been replanted; wild dog, elephant, zebra, hippo and other species have been brought in; local people (a third of them women) have been trained as guides and rangers to help monitor and protect the wildlife. As a measure of the project’s success: fewer than 200 elephants survived the war, now 800 to 1,000 crash about the floodplains, woodlands and savannah, in the shadow of Mount Gorongosa. In 2018 a pack of 14 painted wolves (wild dogs) was released and has thrived; visits between August and September might be rewarded with sightings of exuberant pups emerging from their dens. It’s a lost world reborn.
Also see: Mountainous Chimanimani NP was only elevated to national park status in 2020 and lies across the border from the similarly named park in Zimbabwe, forming the Chimanimani Transfrontier Park. The area, also impacted by the war, remains little-visited but may yield sightings of rare mountain elephants.
5. Phinda Private Game Reserve, South Africa
The pangolin is thought to be the world’s most trafficked wild mammal. Its susceptibility to the worst of human impulses means that of the four species found in Africa, all are classified either ‘Vulnerable’ or ‘Endangered’. The Temminck’s pangolin is believed to be the most numerous, and the only species found in southern Africa. They haven’t been seen in KwaZulu-Natal since 1973; however, the South African province’s Phinda Private Game Reserve – which has a history of successfully running breeding programmes to supply other parks with lost populations of animals – is undertaking a reintroduction project. Tours at Phinda allow guests to assist with rhino, elephant and pangolin research, monitoring their progress in the wild. The reserve also offers bush walks, which may yield sightings of black rhino and red duiker, as well as Big Five game drives.
Also see: Samara Private Game Reserve in South Africa’s Eastern Cape has been rewilding a chunk of the semi-desert Great Karoo for 25 years; it is has reintroduced species such as cheetah, elephant, black rhino and lion, which were wiped out here in the late 19th century. It’s a compelling story of farmers turned conservationists. What’s more, only 30 guests are allowed to visit at any one time, so it never feels crowded.
6. Matusadona National Park, Zimbabwe
This forgotten park lies on the edge of Lake Kariba, the world’s largest man-made lake. Some 6,000 animals were relocated here (though many more weren’t) when the Zambezi Basin was flooded to form the lake in 1958. Today, Matusadona NP sits snugly on Kariba’s northern shore, squeezed between the Sanyati and Sengwa rivers and the Matuzviadonha hills from which it gains its name (the word translates as ‘falling dung’, likely in honour of the area’s lively elephant population). At its peak, the park’s density of lion and black rhino was impressive, but by the time its operation was taken over by African Parks in 2019, poaching had devastated numbers and few facilities were left. However, even as restoration work begins, Matusadona’s intrinsic wildness remains. Rugged hills sweep down to flat grassland plains, which in turn give way to petrified forest. Options include Jeep and walking safaris, which may bring you close to the park’s 1,000-strong herds of buffalo grazing on the plains. Or instead cruise the drowned woodlands where some 240 species of bird have been recorded, including African fish eagles – you might spot them swooping down to the water, talons primed for a catch.
Also see: Zimbabwe, despite its abundance of wildlife, is still off most travellers’ hit lists. Even its better-known national parks, such as Mana Pools – famous for its huge elephant population – has more pachyderms (around 11,500) than annual visitors (around 7,000). It’s a shame, as Mana Pools offers some incredible experiences, including canoe safaris along the Lower Zambezi, on which you can paddle gently past drinking elephants and grunting hippos.
7. Ruaha National Park, Tanzania
It’s odd that Tanzania’s second-largest national park, home to one of the biggest single populations of lions in Africa, is still one of its least known. Add to that more than 500 bird species, elephants migrating in their thousands, healthy populations of wild dog, leopard and cheetah, and the rare sight of greater and lesser kudu in the same area, and Ruaha’s anonymity becomes baffling. The answer perhaps lies in its remoteness. Only a tenth of the park, which sprawls across an isolated area of the Great Rift Valley, is given over to tourism; the rest is pure, unadulterated wilderness. Even in those parts of the park that visitors can explore, the low-impact approach here (there are just a handful of camps) means you will rarely see another soul, even during dry season (May-November) when sightings along the shrinking riverbanks are at their best. Ruaha’s large open plains and groves of fat baobabs flanked by rocky outcrops and inselbergs also ensure magical walking safaris, while fly camps allow you to forge deep into this lonely paradise.
Also see: Tanzania’s Rubondo Island NP occupies a forested isle in the south-west corner of Lake Victoria. Wild and uninhabited, it’s become a haven for rescued chimps after they were introduced in the 1960s (it began with 16; now there are more than 60). A lakeside camp offers a serene waterside stay and ample birding opportunities.
8. Zakouma National Park, Chad
In what has become a familiar story, the future of Chad’s oldest national park, Zakouma, was hanging in the balance until relatively recently. In the first decade of the 21st century, some 95% of its 4,000 elephants were slaughtered by poachers on horseback while civil war raged across the country (from 2005 to 2010). African Parks took over the running of Zakouma in 2010 and, with security now beefed up, no elephant has been poached here since 2016. Subsequently, small numbers of tourists have started to visit: this is now the closest national park to Europe where you can see the Big Five. Facilities are minimal. The nomadic eight-tent Camp Nomade, which sets up around the birding wetlands of Rigueik Pan for much of the year, is the plushest option. The more functional government lodge is now over 50 years old. But the unique wildlife is what makes Zakouma unmissable. Its riverine forests and grassland plains are home to half of Africa’s entire population of Kordofan giraffes as well as roan antelope, black-crowned cranes and vast herds of elephants.
Also see: The only other park in Chad commonly included on tours is the dramatic sandstone landscape of the Ennedi Natural and Cultural Reserve. It’s best known for birds, flora and the desert-adapted West African crocodile, which has learned to survive the arid climate by staying in caves and burrows when water is scarce.
9. Kunene Region, Namibia
As Africa’s landscapes change, so do its animals. Amid the parched, sandy bush of north-west Namibia’s Kunene Region, you can see incredible desert-adapted wildlife: elephant, rhino and lion thriving in the arid terrain. Indeed, while trends for wildlife are mostly on the downturn worldwide, Namibia’s desert-adapted black rhino population is increasing. But then, Namibia takes conservation very seriously: environmental protection is incorporated into its constitution and nearly half of the land is protected in some way, with communal conservancies covering one-fifth of the country. This pioneering model of land management sees Indigenous communities directly invested in monitoring and protecting wildlife, and directly benefiting from tourism enterprises operating there. Places such as the Desert Rhino Camp, in the vast 5,500 sq km Palmwag Concession of Damaraland, for example, works with local communities; people earn a livelihood while guests enjoy encounters with desert-adapted lion and black rhino with no one else for miles. Similarly, in the remote Kaokoveld, Conservancy Safaris run expeditions into the Torra Conservancy, which provide excellent rhino-tracking experiences, funds for conservation and employment opportunities.
Also see: Etaambura Camp, set in the hills above the holy plains of Onjuva, is both co-owned and run by Namibia’s Himba. Tradition has it that animals on the plains are protected by ancestral spirits, and strolls reveal evidence of genet and African wildcat amid the blooming bottle trees and purple-pod terminalia.
10. Mara North Conservancy, Kenya
What if you could witness the Great Migration without being surrounded by other binocular-waving tourists? In 2009 a group of Maasai landowners came together to protect what was becoming an increasingly degraded part of the Masai Mara National Reserve. They formed the Mara North Conservancy, partnering with a small number of lodges, camps and safari operators to safeguard the land and the futures of the 800-plus Maasai it supports. This created the largest (275 sq km) of the ‘Big Four’ conservancies within the reserve. Its low-impact, eco-focused tourism ensures not just a fair rent for its indigenous people, but ensures that the crowding found in other parts of the Mara doesn’t happen here. Visitors are limited to those staying within the conservancy, so when the huge herds of wildebeest and zebra pass through the golden grasses of its savannah each year (usually June-October), numbers at sightings are strictly controlled. Other wild wonders here include Leopard Gorge, where rocky outcrops offer cover for big cats to prey on impala and gazelle, and the Lemek Hills, a refuge for African wild dogs. Best of all, you’ll have these areas largely to yourself.
Also see: Among the Big Four conservancies in the Mara, Oi Kinyei was the first to be established. Here, among the rolling hills and grasslands, you’ll find the highest density of lions in any one area, so sightings (shared between just two camps) can be spectacular.
11. North Luangwa National Park, Zambia
Walking safaris were pioneered in Zambia in the 1950s. They are now legendary, particularly those in South Luangwa NP, which lies far enough off the beaten track to warrant ‘secret’ status itself. This patchwork of pristine woodland and plains still feels like a forgotten world, even if it’s one that comes with an increasing number of luxury camps. However, for those wanting to escape further, a short flight to its northern cousin (known as North Park) is a must. Walking safaris here pick their way along the shallow banks of the Mwaleshi tributary. In the dry season, this recedes, leaving a trail of pools that draws animals to the banks where no 4WDs are allowed. There are only three camps inside the park (operating June-October); Mwaleshi is walk-only while Takwela, opened in 2019, offers game drives into remote areas. The park is especially known for its large prides of lions, vast herds of buffalo and reintroduced black rhino, but the main allure is the intimacy of exploring one step at a time and sleeping out in the isolated bush, far from any other people.
Also see: Surprisingly, given its huge expanse, western Zambia’s Kafue NP (which is roughly the size of Wales) is very little visited. A balloon flight over its lonely Busanga Plains, where lions converge on wary antelope, makes for a truly unforgettable experience.
12. Somkhanda Game Reserve, South Africa
Some success stories go beyond conservation. The land that makes up this community-owned reserve in KwaZulu-Natal’s Zululand belongs to the Gumbi people, who were stripped of the rights to it in the 1960s under Apartheid. They only successfully won back their ancestral claim in 2005, as part of the post-Apartheid restitution. It was returned to them degraded from overgrazing, so they made the decision to set aside the bulk of the land for conservation, making it the first community-owned game reserve to emerge from this process. It’s a wonderful gift salvaged from a brutal past and affords jobs and income for the community. It also forms an important wildlife corridor alongside its two neighbouring reserves, while the success of its black rhino and wild dog breeding programmes has been encouraging. For travellers, it’s a rival to any of South Africa’s great parks in terms of sightings, with all the Big Five here, including both white and black rhino and an unusually high density of leopards.
Also see: Buffalo Ridge, in Madikwe Game Reserve, claims to be South Africa’s first 100% community-owned safari camp. Operated by the Balete Ba Lekgophung people, it’s a great base for exploring this reserve, where the Big Five are accompanied by brown hyena and aardwolf.
13. Akagera National Park, Rwanda
The Rwandan civil war saw so many tragedies. After it ended, the consequences continued for its wildlife. In 1994 Rwanda’s dispossessed Tutsi people were resettled along the Tanzanian border, encroaching on what was then part of Akagera National Park. Conflict with the local wildlife was inevitable as buffalo and zebra jostled alongside 700,000 cattle for grazing space. Poaching became rife and by 2002 the last of the park’s 300 lions had died, many of them poisoned by farmers. For a long time Akagera was a cautionary tale; now, a decade after its running was taken over by NGO African Parks, things have turned around for Central Africa’s largest protected wetland. The reintroductions of lion and black rhino are just one miracle; others have included keeping them alive and smoothing relations with villagers. For visitors, it means you can now see the Big Five just two hours’ drive from Kigali, yet the park still flies under the radar.
Also see: The mountain gorilla of the Virunga steal the headlines in Rwanda but spare time for chimp-trekking in the Nyungwe Forest NP. Sightings aren’t guaranteed but if you’re lucky you may have the chance to see their nests and observe their daily activities, from feeding to socialising.
“Oh, there’s an orangutan.” I’d been in Sabah, the jungle state in the far north of Malaysian Borneo, for less than two hours. It was barely 30 minutes since I’d checked in at my first hotel in Sepilok and there, in a tree facing my balcony, was a large and hairy ginger shape. In fact, there was another in the next tree along. The two wild orangutans were just going about their business, one casually sitting, the other pulling on branches and eating. It was an apt introduction to a destination where some of the wildest sights you could ever hope to see often linger just outside your bedroom.
I’d wanted to visit Borneo for decades, ever since I’d seen it on David Attenborough’s acclaimed documentaries, yet somehow it had never happened. I must admit that I’d been concerned whether I’d left it too late. Would Sabah still be full of the weird and wonderful wildlife that had caught my imagination back then? So, to have my first sighting of a critically endangered Borneo orangutan happen so fast felt serendipitous.
The rainforest facing the MY Nature Resort hotel was to yield more surprises, as guests were invited to congregate just before 6pm to watch the resident red giant flying squirrels. As we munched on banana fritters, manager Edmundo explained that there is a species of giant cicada that starts singing at 6pm; this is the sign for the squirrels to emerge from their holes and nest boxes in the trees. But the cicadas were late that evening, and dusk was well and truly falling when they finally burst into a cacophony of sound.
As if on cue, a red head popped gamely out of a nest box. The squirrel scampered up the tree to the top and then launched itself off into space, gliding effortlessly for around a hundred metres or so to another tree. A full moon was rising, and we all turned to each other and hugged, a little emotional at the magic of it all…
Located in the north-west corner of South America, Ecuador is one of the 17 most biodiverse countries on Earth – despite being little more than the size of the UK. And while most people immediately think of the Galapagos Islands when it comes to wildlife tourism here, that overlooks the 48% of its territory that is covered by the tropical forests of the Amazon basin. There is incredible wildlife and unforgettable landscapes to be found on the mainland, which many travellers miss out on.
Because of Ecuador’s equatorial location, and the difference in altitude between localities caused by having the Andes mountains cut an unwavering path across the country, different territories experience vastly different seasonal weather. So, when attempting a birding or wildlife itinerary, it’s wise to prepare for all types of elevations and conditions – often on the same day! With that in mind, you can easily visit Ecuador year-round, though which part of the country you should head to will depend on what you want to encounter and experience.
Although Ecuador is one of the smallest countries in South America, it has the fourth-highest avian diversity of any nation in the world, with an official list of some 1,736 species of bird. Tourism was relatively quick to catch on to this, with birdwatching trips starting here in the late 1960s. By 2006, a national strategy was developed for this activity by researchers, communities, conservation organisations and the Ministry of Tourism, helping to create a more sustainable industry for birdwatching.
As ever with nature-minded escapes, a knowledgeable guide is invaluable in making the most of Ecuador’s birdlife. Travellers arriving today to catch a glimpse of the national bird, the Andean condor (Vultur gryphus), will find plenty of tour options amid the volcanoes and slopes of the Andes. Similarly, Ecuador is home to more than a third (136 species) of all hummingbird species in the Americas, and guides can help you to identify where and when to see them.
Aside from the UNESCO-listed Galápagos Islands, which became the country’s first national park in 1959, Ecuador counts an additional six biosphere reserves and more than 70 protected natural areas. From colonial Quito – the first capital city ever to gain World Heritage status – you can connect with the Amazon lowlands, the Pacific Ocean or the dry forests of the southern region. It’s just a matter of working out what wildlife you’d rather see.
Yasuni National Park
A golden-mantled tamarin (Norby Lopez)
This park offers prime access to the lowland Amazon rainforest of Ecuador, opening up one of the richest and most biodiverse places on our planet. Its forests harbour over 600 bird species and more than 12 types of monkey, as well as giant otters, sloths, jaguars and five other species of wild cat. To get deep into the forests, you’ll need to take a riverboat tour or stay in a nearby jungle lodge, where there are canopy towers and walkways that offer the chance to observe elusive birds on their own terms. Set aside a week to also take in the harpy eagles of Limoncocha and river dolphins of Cuyabeno in reserves around the area.
Best for: Jaguars. But while this wild cat is high on most must-see lists, the park’s clay licks are just as appealing and attract large numbers of parrots, macaws, parakeets and mammals.
The High Andes
A condor in the High Andes (Humberto Castillo)
Quito is surrounded by volcanic mountains covered in magnificent glaciers that deserve dedicated trips just to admire their flora and fauna. Cayambe Coca and Antisana national parks, in particular, are dominated by snowcapped volcanoes, Andean forest and páramo, providing opportunities to spy Andean condors, spectacled bears and carunculated caracara birds of prey. You’ll find access to trails, wildlife observatories and a lush forest interior remarkable for its sightings of tanagers, hummingbirds and toucans.
Best for: Volcanoes. Because the Earth isn’t a perfect sphere (it bulges at the equator!), Chimborazo (6,263m) is the furthest point above the Earth’s centre – greater even than Everest. Further north, Cotopaxi (5,897m) is one of the highest active volcanoes in the world, and its glacial lake fills with resident and migratory birds.
The Cloud Forests
A mountain toucan in the Cloud Forests (Alamy)
The western and eastern slopes of the Andes are home to sprawling, misty cloud forests that lie between 800m and 1,500m. These evergreen areas are home to some of Ecuador’s highest concentrations of birdlife, ranging from hummingbirds and colourful tanagers to mountain toucans. You’ll also find larger mammals such as the mountain (woolly) tapir, puma and the only bear species found in South America: the spectacled bear. Most public and private reserves and lodges can be reached by vehicle.
Best for: Birding. The Mindo cloud-forest route, on the north-western slope of the Andean foothills, and the Cosanga Circuit (north-east slope) have both held records for the number of bird species spotted during the annual Christmas bird counts – between 400 and 531 species in just one day!
Where Else?
Machalilla National Park
As well as being home to fascinating pre-Columbian archaeological remains, this Pacific-adjacent park is visited by humpback whales between late June and October, who return to the coast to breed. Snorkelling and diving excursions also offer the rare chance to observe the largest colony of oceanic manta rays in the world.
Puyango Petrified Forest
The Puyango Petrified Forest is the site of not just one of the world’s largest collections of plant and marine animal fossils, but also an internationally important birding area. Look out, too, for the annual flowering of guayacán trees in the dry forests of the south-west. The first generous rains of mid-December or early January will trigger this annual bloom, producing bright-yellow flowers that extend to the horizon.
The Andean Chocó
The vast strip of tropical land that lies between the high Andes and the Pacific is home to many endemic bird species, from the toucan barbet to the Andean cock-of-the-rock. Up in the north-west, the Canandé Reserve features some of the last untouched sections of lowland tropical forest in the Chocó, protecting rare bird species such as the great green macaw.
Need to know information for Ecuador
When to go: The weather is dictated by regional microclimates. The lowland rainforest is wet and hot (30ºC) throughout the year. The Andean highlands tend to be dry and sunny (20ºC) in summer (Jul–Sep) and rainy between February and April, with the latter coinciding with peak bird migration season in the cloud forests of Cosanga and Mindo. The Pacific coast sees migrating humpbacks travel up from Antarctica to breed between July and October.
Getting there & around: There are no direct flights to Ecuador from the UK. Connections from London to international airports in Quito and Guayaquil usually go via New York and Atlanta in the US, Madrid and Amsterdam in Europe, or Bogotá in Colombia. Airlines flying these routes include KLM, Avianca, and JetBlue. Return flights take from about 14 hours.
Carbon offset: A return flight from London to Quito via Madrid produces 1,057kg of carbon per passenger. Wanderlust encourages you to offset your travel footprint through a reputable provider. For advice on finding one, visit wanderlust.co.uk/sustainable-travel.
Currency & visa: Currency: Ecuador has used the US dollar ($) since 2000. It is currently $1.27 to the UK£.
Visa: UK nationals don’t require a visa for stays of up to 90 days.
Further information:Birds of Ecuador (Helm Field Guide, 2018) by Robin Restall and Juan Freile – A useful primer.
Every spring, the sea ice in the fjords of Baffin Island begins to break up, creating a ‘line of life’ that attracts seals, polar bears and even the mythical narwhal
In search of narwhals, seals and polar bears on Baffin Island
Every spring, the sea ice in the fjords of Baffin Island begins to break up, creating a ‘line of life’ that attracts seals, polar bears and even the mythical narwhal
Words & photographs Phoebe Smith
Item 1 of 3
The colourful houses of Pond Inlet stand out against the icy surrounds
The colourful houses of Pond Inlet stand out against the icy surrounds
An inukshuk made by a hunter to mark safe passage around a crack in the ice
An inukshuk made by a hunter to mark safe passage around a crack in the ice
The author’s view from her tent at base camp
The author’s view from her tent at base camp
There’s a legend told among the Inuit of the Canadian Arctic that all the animals in the sea are controlled by a mermaid-like goddess called Taluliyuk. The story goes that she was thrown off a canoe by her angry father and when she tried to cling onto the side, he cut off her fingers and they became the whales, walruses and seals that populate these icy waters. It’s said that if she is angered by humans not respecting the environment, she will entangle all the marine mammals in her long hair, helping them evade hunters and thereby stopping them from providing isolated communities with much-needed food, clothing and tools.
On a cold day in early summer, while floating in the waters of Baffin Bay wearing a black dry suit and lobster-shaped gloves, it occurred to me how easily I could be mistaken for a half-woman, half-fish sea creature. Thankfully, I still had all my fingers – though that might not be the case if I’d stayed in the -2°C water much longer. This wasn’t a pleasure swim; I was on the search for a creature as mythical as Taluliyuk herself: the narwhal.
The adventure had begun in Pond Inlet after a three-hour flight from Iqaluit, the regional capital of the Canadian Territory of Nunavut. Myself and a party of 12 were introduced to our expedition leader, Jaime Sharp, a New Zealander who had just come from guiding visitors on a polar bear safari in Churchill. He was accompanied by our Inuit team, led by an elder and artist called Billy Merkosak. On arrival, we were split into groups and boarded our qamutiks – makeshift wooden sleds pulled behind snowmobiles.
The sky appeared to become bluer as we creaked over the hardened icy ground. The mountains glistened in the distance, their snow-encased ridges dazzling in the sunlight. After two hours, we reached our base camp at Eclipse Sound, a cluster of yellow tents (our bedrooms) and white marquees (the kitchen and dining hall). From here, the floe edge – the part of the fjord where the sea ice had begun to melt into narrow channels of water, bringing with it hungry wildlife – was a two-hour drive away, Jaime told us.
“With climate change warming the waters, the summer ice cover is rapidly diminishing here”
“We used to camp much nearer, but the effects of climate change mean we cannot anymore,” explained Billy later that afternoon, as we finally arrived at our narwhal-watching spot. “The season is shorter and the ice forms later and melts quicker, so we are always reading the ice.”
It was then that Billy told me the story of Taluliyuk. I couldn’t help but think that we humans had been doing a lot to anger the sea goddess recently. We headed back to camp without a sighting, though our spirits were soon lifted by the feast of freshly cooked caribou steaks (or a cauliflower equivalent for the vegetarians), spiced veggies and rice that awaited. And before we went to bed, Billy told us the Inuit legend of the narwhal.
“There are different versions,” he said, “but the one I was told is that an elder woman with long hair was hunting for white whales with a rope tied around her waist. She was suddenly pulled into the water, and as they dived her into the deep, she twisted her hair into a horn and it froze. She became the first narwhal.”
The name narwhal itself comes from the Norse word ‘nár’, which translates as ‘cadaver’, presumably given due to the creature’s mottled grey-and-white colouring. The purpose of its horn, or elongated tooth, however, is still a mystery to scientists. Some believe it’s used to spear fish, others postulate it’s for echo-location – though this wouldn’t explain why many females haven’t got one. Another theory is that it’s used for fighting. Whatever the purpose, back in medieval times it was harvested by seafaring Vikings and sold to unsuspecting Europeans and Asians as ‘genuine unicorn horn’. Danish kings are even said to have grated it into their wine to ensure a long life, though eating narwhal meat was said to induce a corpse-like state.
The route from Pond Inlet to base camp is a tough one – a motorway of frozen sea ice that has been pockmarked by seal holes and is best traversed by snowmobile
The route from Pond Inlet to base camp is a tough one – a motorway of frozen sea ice that has been pockmarked by seal holes and is best traversed by snowmobile
In Inuit tradition, the value of the narwhal horn is – as with any animal – judged by its use in everyday life.
“We use the tusks as tent poles,” said Billy. “The blubber is very high in protein and vitamin C, which is vital to our diet. The skin and sinew are dried out and can be made into clothing and thread, and the intestines can be packed with fermented meat and dried out to last year-round. To the Inuit people, the narwhal is everything.”
That night, my dreams were filled with unicorns; only occasionally did I rouse to hear the sound of melting snow slip down the sides of my tent, or the footsteps of Joe – the polar-bear patrolman – who kept us safe from any unexpected ursine visitors.
A little after dawn, we went back to the floe edge (or sinaaq) to look for narwhal again. The 24-hour sunlight at this time of year causes tiny microorganisms to energise and grow, attracting fish such as cod and halibut – a much sought-after meal for the narwhal.
“The floe edge is a safer spot for narwhal to calve, away from predators such as orca,” explained Jaime as we spotted unidentifiable fins far away on the horizon.
While we watched a flock of king eider come into the shallows, their multi-coloured faces almost gaudy amid the monochrome, Billy went to speak to some hunters further along the edge. When he returned, he said that some narwhal had been spied but they were very far in the distance. With climate change warming the waters, the summer ice cover is rapidly diminishing here. Some Inuit hunters say that the number of killer whales being spotted is increasing noticeably, meaning that narwhal are being hunted in larger numbers than ever before.
After a hot lunch of spicy soup, mist began to spool across the water, so Billy led us further inland to check out some of the icebergs that had arrived here from Greenland. We spent the afternoon wandering amid frozen sculptures. Some had been carved by the wind and sun into chairs, tree-like protrusions and slabs as big as apartment blocks; others had been made by humans, who had purposely created inukshuk (marker cairns) from huge blocks of ice. These lined a newly formed crack in the ever-shifting ice as a warning.