Further west the dusty flatness of the floodplain gave way to green tangles of jungle and the glossy red leaves of silk cotton trees. This was the cue for the Mahabaahu to anchor and groups of us to putter along the bank in the ship’s two motorised tenders. Once we got excitingly close to a family of small-clawed river otters whose holts were hidden among the exposed roots where the bank had been undermined. Another reward for travelling in the low water season.
Star attraction – By this time we were sailing along the southern fringes of Kaziranga, one of India’s great national parks and by far Assam’s most popular tourist destination. Our morning in the park was the most eagerly anticipated shore excursions, and faithfully delivered the highlights for which this vast swathe of grassland, marshes and forest is famed. An early-morning convoy of elephants was waiting for us. We clambered on, two of us per mount, and swayed off into the dawn mist. In cahoots with their mahouts, they seemed to know exactly where to find the star attractions, Indian one-horned rhinos. So critically endangered are these creatures that the 2,300 or so in Kaziranga make up about 70% of the world population.
The elephants’ practised senses picked out with ease a flank of grey armour here or a horn pointing out of a thicket there, and we would amble up to within a few metres of them. Next, on a jeep safari, we looked out for wild buffalo (tick), swamp deer (tick) and boar (tick), all the while hoping against probability for a flash of tiger (no tick). I am thrilled to have been to Kaziranga, but in truth this was no more than a taste. I promised myself I’d come back one day and immerse myself properly in this exquisite park.
The ways of the water – In between cultural and wildlife-spotting sorties, life on board was supremely relaxing. The Mahabaahu is beautifully appointed with luxurious cabins, a sauna and even a small outdoor pool. And thankfully, it is run with none of the stiffness sometimes associated with cruises. Meals, for example, were easy-going, sociable buffets where guests mingled with staff such as Payal, Shatzil and cruise director Neena Morada, a raconteuse to be reckoned with as well as being Sanjay’s sister-in-law. I found that I could spend ages attuning to the changing moods of the river from the top deck, or watching the continuous opening of folds of water at the bow. Evenings were especially magical. Because our direction was westwards, the setting sun seemed to guide us downstream, marking the way with a slender golden path on which the survey vessel ahead burned like a huge floating ember.
The whims of silt and currents made progress unpredictable, so some overnight spots were not pre-ordained. Instead, the skipper would choose a bank or island where we would moor and come ashore, sometimes for a barbecue and beers round a campfire. After a night on sandy Luitmuch Island, I walked through scrub spiked with acacia bushes and fields worked by yoked bullocks, to a remote Mishing settlement of stilted, thatched huts protected by wooden stockades. To say that somewhere feels untouched by the modern world sounds like the hoariest of travel cliches. Here (give or take a few solar panels) it was true.
