Private Tour: Travels in South India, COVID-19 and a Coup d-etat
I am aware that this essay is in need of editing. I have not had the chance or the energy to make these edits. I have tried a couple of times, but two years out I am still too close to the events of the trip. I have left it fully intact here because I don't want to forget important details. Even edited it is likely to remain long because the story is in the details. However, there are areas where things might be worded differently or where events could be a little clearer. Also readers may not recognize the relevance of Part 6: A Social Dispute. At the very end, the Afternote containing the Ghosts on the Glacier essay link may fall into the same category. I included both because I found the events very compelling.
Longform personal essay
Word count: 12,000+
By Catherine Carroll
Acronymns used throughout essay:Preface
I begin my essay with an introduction to how I came to be on this south India and Andaman Islands trip in the first place. This is the starting point if we are to travel this long journey together.
Part 1: Introduction and context
In 2011 I took an unaccompanied birding trip to Bulgaria sponsored by the organization Friends for the Protection of Bulgarian Birds (FPBB is now defunct) founded by an American birder Yoav Chudnuff, from Philadelphia, whose wife is from Bulgaria. The goal of the trip was to raise money for the FPBB. I had not traveled like this before - that is, alone - and I felt anxious. I called and spoke at length with Yoav and was reassured that this would be a good trip. I committed and in June of 2011 I met up with five other American birders for a ten day birding trip around Bulgaria. Of the many trips I have been on the Bulgaria trip remains one of my very best. Our field guide, Mladen Vasilev, was amazing and Yoav’s reassurances proved on target.
On the Bulgaria trip I met a semi-retired couple from northern California. They commented that they often organized trips - in the states and abroad - and said that they would let me know of upcoming trips. If interested I could join. I was grateful for such a generous offer but my job was busy and I had to be equivocal about my chances for joining them. I vaguely recall hearing about a trip or two but I was never able to join them. There were a couple of other interactions with the trip organizer; he was also a vintner, and I purchased wine with his label and I received his amusing year-end review group email newsletter.
Nine years passed and I was in the middle of a busy morning at work when my cell phone rang. It was the northern California trip organizer - henceforth to be referred to with the acronym ATO (for American trip organizer.) Would I like to go on a birding and tiger trip to north India? I worked with many Indians, had a deep admiration for my Indian colleagues and I was always asking them questions to learn about India. Would I like to go to north India? Yes!
I joined the ATO, his wife, two other couples from Northern California and three others from Massachusetts, Ohio and Oklahoma, for the trip. The trip was so active, the hotels amazing, the food out of this world and the birds and other animals over-the-top. Of the excellent field guides I have experienced on other trips, our Indian field guide (henceforth referred to as IFG) was amongst the very best of these - along with William Suarez (Cuba), Mladen Vasilev (Bulgaria), Vernon Campos (Costa Rica) and Domi Alveo (Panama). There were a few little dustups, as all trips will have, but by and large the trip went off without a hitch. I attributed this to the people skills of our IFG and his vast knowledge of his country and its wildlife. He comes from a family of birders and conservationists. His father honed his birding skills under the tutelage of Salim Ali, the father of Indian birding, and started a birding sanctuary near their home which thrives today. Talk and early planning for a south India trip began even before the north India trip ended. When I returned home, I wrote a few blog entries about the north India trip, but I had to abandon the project.
What happened next, three days after my return to work following the north India trip - this was March 2020 - is world history. This was, of course, the COVID-19 pandemic. Our world was upended. My work was considered essential and I continued to go to work every day. Others began working from home. Some of my colleagues were furloughed. Some quit. Many contracted COVID-19. A number of individuals in my organization died. There was a period of time when just me and two other colleagues managed the entirety of our on-site workplace activities. COVID-19 completely upended the way we lived and did our work. This is news to no one. As with all travel everywhere, the 2021 south India trip was postponed.
At the end of 2020 I received my first Pfizer vaccine followed by the second injection a month later. The grip COVID-19 held on the United States and the world metastasized from a medical pandemic into a political pandemic. COVID continued to rage in 2021 with second and third waves and new variants. A 2022 south India trip was also postponed. Retirement, a complete bathroom remodel, a new U.S. president, booster vaccines and much else occupied my life. I forgot about the south India trip.
Part 2: My future holds trouble but I don't know it yet
Then around February 2022, the ATO emailed the south India trip itinerary with the Andaman Islands offered as an extension. It was scheduled for March 2023. This was thrilling news. The itinerary email was followed up by another email with details of the trip deposits and due dates. The price of the trip seemed inexplicably high. Additionally, I did not have a roommate to accompany me and was hit by an eye-popping single supplement. Sheepishly, I discussed the cost with my Indian friend in Bangalore. She was highly critical. I spoke to the ATO about my concerns and somehow got the single-supplement slashed by $800 - a drop in the bucket but still something. In the end, I wanted to go to south India and this overruled it all. I wanted to be outdoors and tour India again with the IFG. I wanted to visit my friend in Bangalore. I wanted to see south India, the homeland of many colleagues. I made justifications for the high cost. Everything also cost more in the U.S. Why would India be different? I reduced the sting slightly by making flight reservations with Delta and Air France using frequent flier miles. Cost of airline travel had also increased.
Part 3: My trouble arrives in the form of a dry cough and dusty sneezes
I am finally in south India. I arrived in Bangalore early to spend a couple of days with my friend and her family. Following this, I met with the rest of the group at our arrival hotel where we all had dinner together the first evening. Day one of the trip began the next morning with a visit to a bird sanctuary followed by an afternoon visit to the major tourist destination city Mysore to tour the packed Mysore Palace and the Mysore market. Following this, the next morning we departed for Nagarhole National Park, also in the state of Karnataka. After arriving, we checked into our Kabini cabins, had lunch and then our group of ten loaded up in two safari vehicles - five in each vehicle was a bit of a squeeze - for the afternoon safari. It was hot, dry and dusty.
It began with sneezing. This was the dry season in south India and the safari vehicles created huge dust clouds. I also started to have a dry cough. Knowing I was jet-lagged and sleep-deprived I didn't think much of it. My seat mate commented that she couldn't get sick; she had only 80% lung capacity in one of her lungs. I wondered why she would tell me this. I was trying to see wildlife and take photos. We did not see a tiger or a leopard. We saw a few good birds, we saw a Gaur, we saw a wild boar. The vehicle was uncomfortable. It was dark when the safari ended and we returned to our cabins.
The globally threatened Gaur (Bos gaurus) is also known as Indian bison
We unloaded from the vehicles and traipsed into the open-air dining room. I was looking at my photos when I noticed that everyone else was at the opposite end of a long dining table which had erupted with loud complaints about the discomfort of the safari vehicles. A third vehicle was demanded; "this is what we were promised and this is what has to happen." Then things quieted down and the whispering began. I don't remember what came first, going for the buffet dinner or the ATO's wife throwing a zip lock bag containing an elongated white box at me saying, "here, go take a COVID test."
The gossip and the ATO's wife's crude behavior felt offensive. I finished eating alone and carried the zip lock bag back to my cabin. I had never been infected with COVID. I had received five COVID vaccine injections, including the bivalent injection three months prior to departure. Did I have COVID?
You see where this is going. The COVID test was positive. It was late. I texted the ATO and his wife. (I saved all of the texts and reviewed them as I wrote this.) I considered my situation. By now I had an awareness of the pulse of this group. I was the only solo member and did not have an advocate. I was not from northern California. That night I slept restlessly and awakened early to read authoritarian texts from the ATO. The plan they had made, without consulting me or inquiring about how I was feeling, was that the IFG would hire a car and have me taken to a good hospital in Mysore where I would quarantine. I panicked. I didn’t have a fever and I was not feeling ill. True, my dry cough persisted, but away from the road dust, I was no longer sneezing. I texted my doctor in the states. She had texted me earlier to see how the trip was going. She knows me well and is from south India. In a long text, I poured out the details - the packed Mysore Palace, the market, my symptoms, the positive COVID test.
Flashback to January, three months before departure. During a clinic appointment I asked my doctor if she would be willing to write me a prescription for the antibiotic ciprofloxacin in case I experienced traveler's diarrhea. Yes, she would, but she also recommended taking along a course of Paxlovid (COVID treatment). I would have it if I needed it. In the three years of the COVID-19 pandemic, I had never become infected. Nevertheless, I had come to believe that one day everyone would eventually be infected with COVID. My doctor recommended just-in-case Paxlovid for my trip, so I packed a box in my suitcase.
Considering the time difference, my doctor responded almost immediately. By this time, I had been on-line checking the CDC, Mayo Clinic and other reputable sites for current COVID recommendations. To this my doctor added great practical advice starting with, "tell them that if you go to the hospital, you take them all with you." She had also contacted a colleague practicing in Karnataka who informed her that India had no testing requirements or quarantine restrictions. I started taking the Paxlovid immediately.
What follows is a tangled and complex story. I was completely isolated from the group. The actions they pursued bore no resemblance to what was recommended by the CDC or elsewhere. I could not go on safaris, could not eat in the huge and nearly empty outdoor dining room; in short, I could not do anything. In the meantime no one checked to see if I would like a cup of coffee, no one brought me food. I had to WhatsApp the IFG: "FOOD! COFFEE! please!" The ATO and his chief advisor, a PhD epidemiologist, who the ATO continually referred to as a "worldwide expert on COVID", along with the PhD's wife and the woman with 80% lung capacity would be my worst nemeses. The IFG visited me at night to give updates. I showed him each new text from my doctor.. It seemed that he agreed with what she was advising, because he was also consulting his doctor who said the same things. At least, this is what he told me. I don't know what he was telling the others. Twenty-four hours following onset, my symptoms had resolved. I had never had a fever, never felt fatigue, never lost my sense of taste or smell. I had never felt ill. When the others left for their safaris, the place became a ghost town. I occupied my time by getting my steps in walking around the lodge's circular road. I walked a couple of trails near the lodge buildings, but abandoned this when I came upon a sign warning of wild boars. I went to the kitchen where the staff was busy preparing the next meal to get a cup of coffee. I finished the only book I had brought along. I read my field guide. I sat on my cabin’s porch taking photos of whatever showed up - birds, butterflies, dogs, cows.
Finally, it was time to leave Nagarhole National Park and the Kabini cabins. I was not allowed to travel with the group on the bus, even double-masked with N95 and surgical mask. On the final night at Kabini the IFG came to my cabin and informed me that the cost of a private car and driver would be $850.00 USD cash for four days of service. I agreed and he hired the car and driver for me to travel to the next destination. $850.00 USD cash is an extraordinary sum of money for this service in India. Again, my friend in Bangalore was highly critical. Upon arrival at our second location, I would also have to pay for a personal field guide because, again, I would not be allowed on the group’s outdoor field trips. By now I knew that if COVID-19 had infected one of them their actions would have been completely different. This observation became even more revealing several days later. The ATO and the PhD (henceforth WWE for worldwide expert) steadfastly refused to speak with my doctor - a licensed medical doctor with a clinical practice. I only learned, much later, that one of the couples had been advocating for me, but their advocacy was dismissed. The ATO's wife was deeply fearful of contracting COVID. This was understandable. No one wanted to become infected with COVID. It was also clear that they did not want to be inconvenienced. There was another northern California couple who the IFG never mentioned during his updates and I assumed they were going along with it all. This couple would later take on an outsized role in future trip events.
On the final afternoon at Nagarhole NP, I staged my own act of agency and autonomy although, at the time, I didn't recognize it as such. Many will disagree with my actions. The rest of the group had left for the afternoon safari. I was sitting on the porch of my cabin and noticed people on the dock lining up for the river safari. I grabbed my binoculars and camera and went down to the dock. I asked if I could come along and how much would it would cost. I had 1,000 rupees in my pocket. The guide asked where I was staying and I said 'Kabini' and pointed to my cabin. "Get in, get in," he said, and the boat pulled away from the dock. I had my own seat, I was wearing my mask, we were outdoors and my symptoms had resolved 24 hours earlier. But I felt pangs of panic. The riverboat field guide asked my name and then dialed his phone. He finished the call and looked at me. "You're supposed to be on a vehicle safari." I nodded yes. He asked why I was not. I responded that the vehicles had limited space for taking photographs and that the dust had kicked up my allergies. My heart was thumping, but he nodded and this seemed to satisfy him. I thought, if I get caught I will be expelled from this trip. The boat guide was great and worked well with the boat captain. I sat at the edge of my seat, my face toward the water, and never spoke with anyone. I loved the breeze on my face and concentrated on seeing wildlife and taking pictures. The river safari was amazing and my photos are some of the best of the trip. This was March 13th.
The river safari finished and the boat pulled up to the dock after 6:30 pm. I handed the boat guide a 500 rupee note for a tip and he gave me a puzzled look and asked, "Why?" He went to hand it to the boat captain, but I showed him the 500 rupee note I also had for the captain and he shrugged. I handed the captain his tip as I got off the boat. He smiled, said thank you and didn't ask why.
By this time it was deep dusk to dark. The vehicle safaris had returned earlier. The ATO's and his wife's cabin was across from mine. I fumbled with the clunky lock on my door fearing that they would open their door to inquire where I had been.
As far as I know, my river safari escapade was never discovered. I recall two texts my doctor sent me. The first to encourage me: "Keep fighting them." The second to remind me: "Sometimes you have to think like Indians." I knew she was right.
I discover the joy of solo travel and really learn about India
On Tuesday, March 14th at 7:50 am I rolled my heavy suitcase and carried my cumbersome backpack to the road to await my car and driver's scheduled 8:00 am arrival. The others had left for their final vehicle safari and would be following by bus in the afternoon. Our next destination was the Jungle Hut Resort in Masinagudi, Nilgiris in Tamil Nadu.
My $850.00 USD cash four day car and driver gambit turned out to be a great investment and the best time of my trip. At driver level, I observed crazy traffic and driving, lots of people, their homes, school kids in uniform, roadside businesses, agricultural fields, skinny and ragged stray dogs and much more. A visitor to India should never think that they can step off the plane, rent a car and take off on their India vacation. They would be lost and in a car crash within five minutes. But a good Indian driver is incomparable.
The family-owned Jungle Hut Resort turned out to be my favorite place to stay for the whole trip. It reminded me of the wonderful birding lodges that are found in Central and South America. The staff were friendly, approachable and helpful. The open air dining room was comfortable and inviting and the food was excellent and ranked amongst the best of the whole trip.
In the Jungle Hut resort's open air office I met Rajesh, the birding guide the IFG had arranged for me and of whom he spoke with high praise. Rajesh asked me if I minded if we were joined by another birder. I didn't mind. Minutes later Vinod, carrying a big camera, walked up. It would be the three of us. What followed was the best, by far, afternoon and next morning of birding of the whole trip. Much of it was done on foot, my favorite way to see birds. Rajesh led us to the birds and Vinod turned out to be a delightful companion and possibly also made Rajesh more comfortable. Vinod was a consultant in the IT industry and had lived in the U.S. for seven years and in the U.K. for slightly fewer. He started birding as a kid, but as he grew older he developed his hobby of bird photography and this was now his primary release from the stress of his work. He had driven to the Jungle Hut from Bangalore, where he lived with his wife and daughter, just to go out with Rajesh to find and photograph birds. His photos were amazing and I felt sheepish about my own amateurish results. But Vinod wasn't judgmental in this way and seemed to understand why I was there. Vinod reminded me of one of my favorite neighbors who is of Indian ancestry. I was hooked.
We saw a Brown Wood owl (Strix leptogrammica) staked-out by Rajesh, and a Malabar Grey hornbill (Ocyceros griseus) flew into the same tree. On the ground beneath the owl's perch were millions (literally) of small black insects that had erupted because of some seed on the ground. We were looking up to photograph the owl and the hornbill. I could feel the insects crawling up my legs. When I looked over at Vinod, equally concentrating on his photos, he was also covered with the harmless insects. We finished with photos and took turns swatting the bugs off our backs and legs.
Our final bird of the afternoon was Indian Pitta (Pitta brachyura), my target bird for the whole trip. Whatever else I saw would be icing on the cake. I told Rajesh that this was the bird of the trip for me. I took dozens of photos of it standing on the same perch and looking around. Vinod enjoyed it as much as I did. As it happened I did see the India Pitta again. But the bird that Rajesh flushed out for us will always be my life bird.
I wore my mask. I also wear glasses. It was hot and humid as we were running around in the woods. My glasses fogged up and I couldn't stop this from happening. So I pulled my mask away from my mouth and rested it on my chin when looking through my binoculars or my camera viewfinder. Later I was spotted with my mask off by the ATO, WWE and others who reported this to the IFG. That night the IFG came around for his nightly update and informed me that the others were all upset that I wasn’t wearing my mask or maintaining adequate social distance. I explained to the IFG, but also realized that doing so was futile. I knew I was being safe and this is what I focused on.
Early the following morning Rajesh, Vinod and I went out again. What followed was a wonderful morning of birding - only partly represented by our photos. Vinod got an extension on his checkout time and briefly we went out again after lunch. At one point we had to skip over stones to cross a small stream and Vinod expressed surprise at how nimble I was. This made me happy. I have no idea how long it will last, but it's something that I have enjoyed all of my life. It's also the very best of what birding can be.
I stayed two nights at the Jungle Hut Resort, but there is reason to believe I may be able to visit again. I told the staff I wanted to work there. They went along with the joke (only I wasn't joking). For reasons that were important, but are unimportant to this story, on the morning of March 16th I had a new driver to take me to Ooty. The joys of solo travel were just beginning.
Next stop Ooty
I don't know if it was secondary to being separated from the others and their behaviors, or possibly because of my amazing private driver or both, but the unpleasantness of the group dissipated for me.
My new driver, Shajila, was a freelancer who made his living mostly by word of mouth. He spoke excellent English and had driven people from all over the world around south India. He had been driving for over thirty years and loved his work. His family hinted to him that he didn't need to continue working so hard, but he dismissed this. What was he going to do? Sit around? My kind of guy. Plus he was looking into sending his twenty-three year old son to university abroad. Though I tried to convince him otherwise (because of scholarships), the United States seemed out of financial reach, but Australia and Canada were possible. He drove the narrow, hilly, curvy road to Ooty expertly. We hit it off.
Driving away from the Jungle Hut resort, we picked up Rajkumar, who would be my guide for the day and at the Ooty Government Botanical Gardens. We stopped to try for the Spot-bellied Eagle Owl (Bubo nipalenis) and saw it being harassed by crows. We also chased around another difficult to see bird, the White-naped Woodpecker (Chysocolaptes festivus) and saw it well.
Ooty is a former British colony hill station. When it became too hot at lower elevations, the British colonialists decamped to the higher elevations of Ooty. Many of the former British homes are still standing. I noticed the temperature change and didn't have a sweater or fleece. With all the racing around Rajkumar made me do it didn't matter. We had specific target birds here and we saw them all. When he found the last of the targets Rajkumar leapt into the air, gave a fist pump and let out an exhilarated shout. Under his watch I was not going to miss seeing those birds. He was an excellent guide.
Mission accomplished, we walked back to the parking lot to meet Shaji. We got in the car and Shaji turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. Uh oh. He calmly got out, raised the hood, fiddled around, got back in and the ignition turned over. I was impressed and pretty sure I didn’t know any Americans who could do that. We drove to the hotel which I think was the Fortune Resort Sullivan Court. I had to identify it from on-line photos. Rajkumar took the bus back to his home near the Jungle Hut Resort and Shaji found a cold, little room for 800 rupees near the trip hotel. The next day we would travel to a much different place in Tamil Nadu.
The joy of solo travel resumes
Now it’s March 17th and after breakfast we drove up a very hilly, curvy road on our way to Valpari and the Stanhome Bungalows in the middle of miles and miles of Tamil Nadu tea estates.. We stopped to check in at the Anamalai Tiger Reserve and visited a small museum where I read tributes to Salim Ali, the father of Indian birding, and to Magnolia Kobus Janaki Ammal. Janaki Ammal was born in 1897 and received a Bachelor's degree in Botany in 1921. Then, choosing a life of scholarship over marriage, Janaki Ammal left India for the University of Michigan where she obtained her Master's degree in 1925. She returned to India to teach, but later went back to the University of Michigan to pursue her doctoral thesis. She was an expert in cytogenetics (the study of chromosomes and inheritance). She joined the Sugarcane Breeding Station at Coimbatore - the area we were driving through - to work on sugarcane biology. The Genus Janakia was named for her. While I was reading the information on her display, I was accompanied by a young park employee who seemed to be keeping an eye on me.
I became more animated when I got to the University of Michigan part of Magnolia Kobus Janaki Ammal's biography. I told the young man that I was also from the University of Michigan. I don't think he understood what I was saying, but he got that it was significant to me. He opened the visitors log book and asked me to write about my experience. I wrote a full paragraph focusing on Janaki Ammal's connection and my own to the University of Michigan and how much I enjoyed learning about her. Truly, it did make me pause to consider how, in the 1920’s, a young woman had traveled from Madras, India to Ann Arbor, Michigan. This says so much about the young Janaki Ammal, her family, her foundational education in India and, also, about the University of Michigan. She was ahead of her time and perhaps the University was too. I tried to imagine how she did it. No airplanes or telephones. Only letter writing sent via the slowest of mail. Perhaps she also sent and received telegrams. Then boarding a ship (from which port?) that must have had many ports of call along the way. Then, somehow, finally arriving in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Was it thrilling for her? We think we do big things now, but when compared with the endeavors and feats of those who paved the way for us, we really don't do much. Reading about Janaki Ammal was a highlight of my trip. I was grateful for the stop and feel privileged to know of MK Janaki Ammal.
When I finished writing my paragraph and signed my name, the young man asked me to also include my telephone number. I didn't know what he would do with that information, but I dutifully included my phone number.
Addendum: MK Janaki Ammal is remembered in the March 1, 2025 University of Michigan Matthaei Botanical Gardens and Nichols Arboretum blog article titled Outstanding in the Field: The Rich Legacy of UM Women in Botany.
Valpari and the Stanhome Bungalows were in the middle of miles and miles of Tamil Nadu tea estates. This was possibly the most beautiful area on the whole trip. Impeccably clean, the tea bushes lined up like gigantic jigsaw puzzle pieces. We passed the tea pickers carrying their bundles to be weighed. We saw the houses where they lived. I asked Shaji if the tea pickers were poor? He gave a detailed explanation, saying basically, "They are indeed poor, but things have improved." They had protections akin to the kind of unions that farm workers have in the U.S. "Do their kids go to school?" "They do certainly." Shaji explained that improvements had been made to how the tea leaves are picked, making the work more efficient and productive and, thereby, more lucrative. I knew I could ask Shaji's opinion about anything and receive an honest and fair response. The whole of our driving time went like this. Our discussions veered from life in India to life in the US, politics, economics, education, favorite color, favorite food ... When we came to traffic that seemed impossible to maneuver I told Shaji that I would stop talking so he could concentrate on driving. He laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that Ma'am. This is normal."
Traveling with a good companion meant the world to me. I knew that our time together was coming to an end. I began to think about ways that I could continue with Shaji. Did he have other clients after his time with me? How much was his daily fee? I still didn't know what was going on in the heads of the ATO and WWE with regard to COVID. I had explained the whole scenario to Shaji. I was wearing my mask but noticed that, after the first day, he stopped wearing his.
Return to my COVID story
We arrived at the Stanhome Bungalows in the early afternoon. Lunch was waiting for us. We were hungry and the food was wonderful. They also had a place where Shaji could stay, which is common for this kind of resort, especially when everything else is far away..
Much later in the afternoon the group arrived. I watched from the veranda as wobbly and unhappy travelers stepped off the bus. It took the bus much longer to travel that long, curvy, hilly road. Even though they stopped to tour a tea plantation, as well as for lunch, there was loud complaining. "We were told it would be 3 hours and it was 6 hours." The pulse of the group was worsening. I noticed that they had separated into clicks like high school kids. Continuing to travel with Shaji was looking even better.
That evening, the ATO, accompanied by the IFG, came to where I was sitting at a table on the veranda. Here was the plan. In the morning I would take an antigen test and, if it was negative, I would take a second test 24 hours later. If the second test was also negative I could rejoin the group. If the first test was positive then I could call my travel insurance, return to Bangalore, change my flights, return home, but it couldn't continue like this. This was the evening of day seven and I had been asymptomatic for many days and had finished the full course of Paxlovid. Nevertheless, secondary to the nature of COVID, there was a good chance that the test would measure the proteins of the dead virus; that is, the test might still be positive. For the second time I asked the ATO if he would speak to my doctor. "HELL NO!" he yelled. I won't try to describe how it felt to be treated this way.
A couple of evenings earlier, prior to this veranda meeting, I had learned from the IFG that the plan of the ATO and WWE was to demand a PCR retest. This goes strongly against all recommendations. PCR testing is universally not done before 90 days. I knew they were shooting from the hip as they went along, but even they must have realized that this was inappropriate. I don't know if it was their decision alone to abandon the PCR idea or if the IFG had some influence. During this discussion, I protested to the IFG. If their demand was PCR testing this meant that they had never had any intention of me rejoining the group.
I agreed to the repeat antigen testing.
The next morning at 8:00 am the ATO arrived double-masked with his nose uncovered and the wire ribs of the masks resting on his upper lip. He was accompanied by the IFG to watch me do my test. This provided me with my first comic relief since my positive COVID test. What I was thinking cannot be written here, but I seized a moment of agency. Stating his name, I said to him, "If you are going to wear a mask, at least wear it correctly." The IFG had to help him adjust the mask so it covered his nose. I did my nasal swabbing. I was nervous. During the 15 minute wait time, I left the ATO and IFG to roll my suitcase to Shaji's car. At that moment I had no idea where Shaji would be driving me that morning.
The test was negative.
Next stop Munnar
Shaji and I followed the bus from Stanhome Bungalows for our final official day together as driver and passenger. I told him about the negative test results and the plans for the second retest the next morning. The road to Munnar was even curvier. But first we had to stop with the bus in a small, crowded village in Tamil Nadu to see Lion-maned macaques. Mammals seemed to be the only thing some of the others in the group enjoyed and the macaques were enjoyable.
Tamil Nadu is a state known for its spectacular Hindu temples. But in this village there was a beautiful Catholic church named Sacred Heart next to the macques. I have a Catholic parish in my city named Sacred Heart, as probably many American cities also have. I walked over to photograph the church with my iPhone. I texted the photos to some who I knew had an association with Sacred Heart parish in my city.
We left the macaques and began traveling on a road with 41 hairpin turns. Each turn had a strategically placed mirror so drivers could see the cars coming from the opposite direction. The bus riders would not be happy but for Shaji and me it was driving as usual.
We entered Munnar where I would (hopefully) spend the next two nights, and Shaji would go home to see his family.
We stopped at an ATM for me and then drove to the Tea Country Resort which Shaji informed me was a government hotel. By protocol Shaji would wait at the resort for our IFG to arrive. When I learned this, I asked him to join me for lunch. I checked in and was escorted to my room by a young man who hoisted my heavy suitcase to his shoulder. The sidewalks to the rooms were paved with river stones. The river stones were attractive, but dragging a suitcase along them was completely impractical. We walked and walked until we came to the very end where my escort took an abrupt right turn into a dark, little hallway with my suitcase still perched on his shoulder. I followed and suddenly, out of the blue, I was airborne. I tried, but failed, to catch my fall and landed on my right hip, right elbow and right shoulder just beyond a staircase. It was a hard, hard fall made worse by the heavy backpack I wore. I heard my camera clang against the tile floor. I had missed a step about four inches high. Such a step would never be found at this kind of transition in an American building. My escort had probably taken this step hundreds of times and didn't warn me. I was caught completely off guard. When I stood up I was shaken and breathless. But I was standing and I was okay. The fall, as hard as it was, could have ended everything. COVID was nothing when compared with the potential sequelae of such a fall.
I met Shaji in the dining room and told him what happened. He may have thought, 'this woman is jinxed.' We had a companionable and, for me memorable, final lunch after which I went to my room and he went to wait for the IFG's arrival. He knew of our plan for the second retest in the morning and he parted saying, "If you need anything, please just WhatsApp me or call me." I was grateful to hear his words. I told him that I surely would. For my part, I said that I knew Indians were not sentimental - he nodded agreement - but I occasionally was and that I would always be grateful for his service and professionalism and the time we had together.
Much later, when the bus still had not arrived, and thinking that Shaji might be waiting for the IFG, I went down to the parking lot to look for his car. I was probably also missing him. Wisely he had left.
The next morning my second COVID antigen test was negative and, with mixed emotions, I rejoined the group.
I meet my second Rajkumar
We were moving on to the Elephant Court hotel in Thekkady in the state of Kerala. Driving along the road enroute to Thekkady we passed palatial and beautiful homes that made me think I was driving through Hollywood. Kerala is an Indian state that has nearly 100% literacy. Many people from Kerala live and work abroad and continue to maintain homes in Kerala. Thekkady is a charming city and it's easy to just walk along the streets to explore. The Elephant Court was a beautiful hotel. We were warned not to leave anything unattended on our balcony because the monkeys would come by and steal it. It reminded me of a perfect place for a honeymoon.
While staying at the Elephant Court, I learned of something that put a new twist on my COVID ordeal. It was here that the WWE's wife announced, via text message, that she had taken a second COVID test and that it was negative. She posted a photo of the test cartridge. Of course, I had been away from the group and knew nothing about this. Apparently, she had been coughing and sneezing. She too was present at Mysore Palace and Mysore market and, like the rest of us, was unmasked.
Following my second negative retest, COVID did not present any additional problems for me. I continued to wear my mask for a couple more days and I avoided those who I knew had given me trouble. I tried to assimilate into the group but, to be honest, with the exception of the couple who had advocated for me, my heart wasn't in it and I never quite succeeded. The others didn't seem to be trying all that hard either so it was probably neither here nor there.
On our visit to Periyar National Park I met the second Rajkumar of my trip. We took a jury rigged raft across a narrow part of the river to get to an area of the Periyar forest where we hiked and looked for whatever we could find.
March 20th was my first group activity since the first Kabini safari nine days earlier. I wore a mask and the humidity inside my mask must have been the same as the humidity outside. My glasses never fogged up. We crashed around the dry forest looking at a variety of things, including a tiger paw print. Our guide, Rajkumar, had a raspy voice with the hint of a British accent. He was a proud member of one of the local indigenous tribes; as I recall, he was from the Mannans tribe.
He had no binoculars or camera. Just eyes and ears. His only assistive device was an umbrella that he hung from his backpack. Great, great guide! I think I had a crush on him. I have a photo of Rajkumar but decided not to include it here because I had not asked for his permission.
Rajkumar may not have had a camera, but he knew how to use one. With my camera, he took a memorable photo of the Malabar trogon for me. This bird gave us a good chase. It was birding at its most fun.
Rajkumar’s photo of the male Malabar Trogon
Part 4: Coup d'état
I have a friend who travels to other countries for yoga retreats. My sister travels with others for quilting seminars. Another friend loves big water fishing. He often becomes seasick. This doesn't stop him from going on large charters to fish. Another friend is an excellent bridge player and travels for the pleasure of playing bridge at his skill level. When I returned from India I asked my friend who loves fishing if he had ever been on a trip where someone said 'they really don't get this whole fishing thing.' "Why would someone who doesn't like to fish go on a fishing trip?" my friend retorted.
We arrived at Hornbill Camp on the River Periyar in Thattekkad near Kochi and 70 kms from Munnar. During one of our meals a trip participant announced, out of the blue, "I really don't get this whole birding thing." If you are on a birding trip, or on any hobby or sport focused trip, beware if someone makes such an announcement.
We spent two nights at Hornbill Camp, the last stop on the main part of our trip. Overall, the birding was good. On the first afternoon four of us went to a birding hide and got many good photos, including of the Indian Pitta. On the first evening we celebrated an anniversary and a birthday with a poster, balloons, cake and special dress. An old friend of the IFG, who he had not seen in a long time, joined us and brought along dhotis for the men and dupattas for the women. He also brought a decorated cake. The Hornbill Camp staff helped with the set-up and celebrated with us. They were younger men, so they may have felt some amusement and surprise seeing how Americans celebrate. The next morning we saw the Sri Lanka frogmouths, more Malabar trogons and the Sri Lanka Bay owl - the frogmouths and bay owl were especially good birds to see.
Our final morning at Hornbill Camp was the end of the main trip. Two couples and the other single woman were departing. The remaining five of us; that is, me, the ATO and his wife and another heretofore little mentioned married couple; henceforth, to be identified with the acronym EMC for entitled married couple (this is the polite acronym) were continuing on for the Andaman Islands extension. The ATO and his wife were personal friends with the EMC. When the wife of the EMC team had announced, "I really don't get this whole birding thing," I didn't realize how prescient her statement would be.
A new glitch had presented itself. Unfortunately, such things are not easily explained and what follows is a tangled mess. I need to go back in time.
About a month prior to the trip departure, I texted the ATO to ask if the hotels were the same as those listed on the trip itinerary. A year had passed since we received the final itinerary. Changes were possible, even likely. I was preparing a hotel list for my family including the names, dates and telephone numbers where we would be staying. I never received a reply from the ATO. This had never been my experience with him. I chalked it up to being busy. This was also when California was experiencing its most severe winter weather in a century. Perhaps he was having issues with the terrible weather. I let it go and prepared the hotel list from the year old itinerary. My mistake. Three or four of the hotels had changed. Later I also found out that the ATO had not experienced any bad weather. But that aside.
The wife of the EMC team, noting all of the hotel changes, had inquired to learn that the hotel in Port Blair had also been changed to "the airport hotel" with a 3.7 star rating. The hotel listed on the itinerary was a waterfront hotel in the city of Port Blair. "I'm not staying at an airport hotel." She demanded that it be changed back to the Fortune Resort Bay Island or Welcomhotel (as it is now called) on the waterfront. At this early stage of discovery, she seemed to have a reasonable complaint and I thanked her for her robust advocacy. However, as the demands and arguments ensued, the facts came out.
Months prior to the trip departure, the IFG had sent an updated hotel list to the ATO. However, the ATO either forgot, or didn't think it was important, and neglected to forward the updated list to the rest of the group. The hotel changes had been noted by everyone and, presumably, because they were all nice hotels, no one mentioned the changes. But now we were going to the Andaman Islands, the part of the trip that the EMC seemed most interested in - beaches, snorkeling, scuba diving, boating, etc. In other words, all of the things that appear to be glamorous on Facebook or Instagram. What does any of this have to do with birding? Nothing, but it was all mentioned in the itinerary and the wife of the EMC researched and learned that South Andaman has the "seventh most beautiful beach in the world." She made another announcement. "My husband has not been thrilled with this trip so far and we are not staying at an "airport hotel."
The IFG approached the situation calmly and tried to explain. The reason for the change was because the "airport hotel" provided easier access to the best birding sites and avoided driving through the city. It was the hotel used by other birding groups (VENT, Rockjumper, etc.) This reasonable explanation fell on deaf ears. The wife of the EMC was unyielding. "I don't care where VENT stays. We are not staying there." Initially, the ATO tried to intervene in favor of the "airport hotel", but he was ineffective. Ultimately he did not even accept responsibility for neglecting to forward the revised hotel list. The ATOs wife sided with the EMC. Friendship overruled. The ATO allowed the EMC to take over. For the EMC this was no longer a birding trip. It was going to be their trip regardless of who was impacted.
South Andaman is not a large island and, as it turned out, the hotel being refused was not an airport hotel as we think of "airport hotels", only that the review comments stated it was convenient to the airport.
The IFG, now not quite so calm, called his office to see if a change could be made. All of the hotels had been paid for in advance and change represented a significant loss of revenue for his small company. The fact that we were on a birding trip and he was a birding field guide was of no interest to the EMC and the ATO's wife.
The coup d'état was successful and the rest fait accompli.
We flew from Bangalore to South Andaman Island and stayed at the "airport hotel" on the first night. The next day we took a ferry to the previously unplanned Havelock Island (now Swaraj Dweep) for two nights. This was followed by a ferry to, also unplanned, Neil Island (now Shaheed Dweep) for two nights. All of the unplanned excursions were an additional expense to all. Havelock and Neil islands are much smaller islands and accommodations had to be cobbled together. When we arrived at the Neil Island resort the EMC refused to hand over their passports for the reservation and demanded to see their room. You know where this is going. The room was unacceptable and they demanded to go to another hotel. The ATO and his wife dawdled along behind them. I stayed at the resort with the IFG and the local guide. The hotel staff treated us like royalty and the food was excellent. The IFG explained that they don't often have western guests so our visit was a big deal for them.
When we returned to Port Blair we stayed at the Welcomhotel for the final two nights. Our rooms did not face the waterfront. The EMC requested waterfront rooms and were told none were available. They were unhappy. The IFG and our local guide did their best to focus on birding for me and the ATO. We did see important owls on Havelock and Neil islands and I saw some fun things when walking along the beach. But, every time I looked, the IFG was red-faced and talking on his phone. He and our local guide were also doing their best to make the trip one that the EMC and the ATO's wife wanted. Outwardly, he appeared cheerful, but every time he and I were together, his frustration and dismay were obvious. I know that lost revenue was part of it, but not all of it. This was also an affront to his excellence as a tour operator and field guide. The EMC's complaints did not stop with all of the changes and accommodations made specifically for them.
It had started on the main portion of the trip, when the husband of the EMC team began to complain (always with a sarcastic tone) about time and all of the time changes. "Oh, are we really meeting at 9:00 am or will it be changed to 10:00? Or 8:00?" Or whatever. This became a daily rant and continued on the Andaman Islands. I didn't notice anything like this. The idea that a meeting time, departure time or whatever time might change was not unreasonable on such a complex trip. I listened to the IFGs instructions and was never confused about what time something would start or depart. It was obvious that the EMC were not paying attention. (Something similar also occurred with a couple on the 2020 trip). On the Andaman Islands, the EMC did not have the self-awareness to see that they were creating confusion with all the changes they demanded.
I forget which particular arrangement the IFG made for the EMC that resulted in more complaining. The IFG was surprised by their new complaint. True enough, he was not accustomed to this kind of American, or even to this kind of client. He repeated to me several times, "In my 22 years of tour operating I have never had clients like this." When he expressed surprise at their newest complaint, I lost my patience with him. Stating his name, I said, "Stop! By now you should know that they are never going to be happy. They are not happy people. They complain. They are the same with their colleagues, their neighbors and probably even with their own family. They are not going to change." I repeated this once or twice more and I think he finally got it.
I was in tagalong mode and made the adjustments I needed to make. I continued to have a good trip and I appreciated the local guide's and the IFG's efforts probably more than I ever have on the many other trips I have taken.
As with my COVID-19 experience so much cannot be included. This is already too much. But one more element is needed. On the morning of our departure from Port Blair, the local guide, the IFG and I set out at 5:00 am for our final time of birding together. It was on this outing that I saw the Andaman treepie. My photos are not good but I will always remember that bird. Around 9:00 am we returned to the hotel and I snuck back to my room to drop off my binoculars and camera and to shower. I went to the hotel's beautiful, outdoor dining room overlooking the water for the buffet breakfast. The ATO and his wife and the EMC were seated at separate tables across the dining room from each other. This seating arrangement was not usual for them and neither couple appeared happy. Perhaps the ATO had found his spine. I knew he had apologized to the IFG the night before. I also knew that the IFG and the EMC were meeting after breakfast to discuss the disputed charges of their scuba diving experience (it wasn't what they expected and they were refusing to pay).
It was time to go to the airport. Waiting for the arrival of our local guide to drive us, I was watching the IFGs camera bag while he did something else. The wife of the EMC hustled over, asked if it was the IFGs bag, and then unzipped a pocket and slipped folded money into it. I forgot about this until we were at the airport waiting for our flight to Bangalore. I told the IFG about the money. He unzipped and reached into the pocket, With a bewildered look on his face, he said, “Ten dollars. What am I supposed to do with this?" and stuffed it back into his bag. He didn't unfold the bill, so there is a chance it was a $100 bill. The last I heard the EMC had stiffed him for their scuba diving costs.
We arrived at our departure hotel, the lovely Taj Bangalore, directly across from and within walking distance to the Kempegowda International Airport - ironically, a true airport hotel, albeit a large and beautiful one. We went our separate ways. The IFG caught a flight to his home for just two days with his family. He and his wife have an eleven year old son and eight month old twins. As his days with us ticked by he could hardly contain his eagerness. After his much too short visit with his family, he had to leave them to lead a solo American woman, who he knew well, for a trip to Nepal. Such is the life of a birding and wildlife field guide. I hope the trip that followed ours helped to restore him. A week or so later he sent me photos of a Red Panda. I'm certain that he sent the photos to everyone. He's that kind of guy.
Red Panda, photo by IFG
Our trip had come to its agonizing end. The ATO, his wife and the EMC dined together in one of the hotel restaurants. I went to the same restaurant, but when I saw them sitting at a table near the door, (I don't know if they saw me), I hurried back to the front desk. "Is there another restaurant in the hotel besides the one over there?" There was and this is where I enjoyed a lovely, peaceful, complaint and gossip-free dinner. They all had flights very early in the morning so I didn't need to worry about bumping into them again. I stayed an extra night and the next afternoon my friend came to visit me along with her eleven year old daughter. Deepa had been very supportive during my COVID ordeal and throughout the trip. I was so happy to see them. We walked across to the airport for lunch at one of the outdoor restaurants and then, much too soon for me, they caught the bus for their ride home. I waved as the bus passed and realized that I could easily stay longer. I could hire Shaji and we could all travel together to Hampi. But this is never the way it goes:; my friend had work to do, the kids had their exams and I had a flight to catch.
A nap and a couple of hot showers later, the toxicity began to wear off and finally washed away entirely.
Part 5: Afterwards
Writing this essay was the act of creating a record of the trip to understand it better. I also wrote to remember. It's the truth as near as I can get to it. With this story I am not an unbiased participant. I am aware that if an independent observer interviewed the other nine participants the interviewer would hear nine different stories.
On April 8th, I published the first trip entry on my blog and then continued writing. When I finished I asked friends if they would read it for their feedback and criticism.
Then, on April 25th, I received a typed letter in the mail from the ATO's wife dated April 18th. It was a scathing critique of my behavior on the trip while I was infected with COVID. She described each of my transgressions in fifteen numerical points. Some I understood, others I disagreed with, and then there were others that she either avoided or lacked knowledge of the full picture. A couple were just plain wrong. Her point #13 was a weird and conspiratorial accusation for why I had brought Paxlovid on the trip. In point #15 she described the WWE as a world-renowned infectious disease doctor. His on-line profile does not support this. If he is who she claims, I feel certain he would have spoken with my doctor. His refusal to do so is atypical for how doctors interact with other doctors. By contrast, Anthony Fauci would have spoken with my doctor. I read the letter word for word. When I finished I was not surprised or angry. I recognized that it was as important for her to write and send her letter to me as it was for me to write this essay. Two years later I still have this letter on my bedside table.
If I am really trying to understand, I have considered that there was plenty of blame to go around. The ATO and his wife, the WWE and his wife, seem never to have considered that it could have been one of them who contracted COVID. In fact, it's unclear that the WWE's wife was not also infected with COVID during our Mysore visit given her symptoms and the timing of both of her negative tests. Very plausible, even likely, but this will now never be proven. I did not want my trip of a lifetime ruined and the ATO's wife did not want to contract COVID. In this we were both correct. For me, it was the way things were done; the power imbalance and the way I had been denied advocacy and agency. I can state unequivocally that I never risked exposing anyone to COVID. Will this change their minds? No. But it needs to be said. I was fully aware of the danger of my situation. If someone else in the group had tested positive for COVID, I would have been blamed. I know this as surely as I live and breathe. This, despite the fact that we all visited Mysore Palace and most (not the ATO and his wife) also visited Mysore market. We were all unmasked.
Recently I was speaking with a neighbor who mentioned that her otherwise healthy 33 year old son had become infected with COVID while visiting friends in Chicago. He was very ill with all of the symptoms we associate with COVID; in his case the most significant of these were shortness of breath and fatigue. Two weeks later he was still recovering. She knew he had received one vaccine, but did not know about the rest. At age 33 he was too young to qualify for treatment with Paxlovid. Although I described the mildness of my COVID infection in the early part of this essay, I didn't focus on it. One of the truly astonishing things about my infection was how mild it really was with a dry cough lasting only 24 hours. (My sneezing had stopped as soon as I was away from the dust created by the safari vehicles.) Was this because I began taking Paxlovid immediately? Was this because I had received all of the recommended vaccines, the most recent being the bivalent injection just three months prior to departure? Was the India variant of COVID a mild variant? Are there different variants in India than in the US? From the WHO's website Tracking SARS-CoV-2 variants: "All viruses, including SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19, change over time. Most changes have little to no impact on the virus’s properties. However, some changes may affect the virus’s properties, such as how easily it spreads, the associated disease severity, or the performance of vaccines, therapeutic medicines, diagnostic tools, or other public health and social measures."
I am not indifferent to the millions who died from the coronavirus, nor the millions more who suffered, and continue to suffer, from its effects in the form of long COVID. And I am not indifferent to the families who lost loved ones. Clearly, had my infection been more severe and treatment measures needed far different and the outcome less certain, my vacation would indeed have been cut short. I have not forgotten the early days of COVID-19. This would have been a very different essay. Of course, no COVID infection would have been the best for all, but I am grateful for the mildness of my infection. I, and the others, had to grapple with that. We did it poorly.
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The ATO's wife was clearly concerned about COVID. Her letter contained nothing about her participation in the coup d'état.
The coup d'état was a completely different experience and egregious from the outset. It seems likely that this would have happened on other trips. How likely is it to occur again? There were many things peculiar to this trip that helped set up the coup. A privately arranged trip where the ATO and the IFG had worked together before and the ATO had become complacent. The conflict of interest with the EMC who were not birders and were personal friends with the ATO and his wife. A solo participant (me) whose agency had been diminished by the COVID debacle. Finally, the aggressive, single-minded and unaccountable behavior by the EMC is not something one encounters everyday. This was a toxic mix of unique factors. The likelihood that this would happen again may be unlikely, but not impossible. After my first hand experience, I think it's helpful for others to know.
Except in completely different circumstances; for instance, traveling with friends, I won't be taking another privately arranged group trip. The door opens for trouble of all sorts. What I don't think others understand about birding trips, non-birders especially, but even birders also, is that you are always doing and seeing much more than just birds. You go to places where tourists do not travel and, in this way, you see more of the real place you are visiting. In the case of this trip, that reality would not have been helpful. But it’s important for others to know.
This essay was adapted from 17 posts originally written on my obscure 15 year old blog, Into the Woods and Elsewhere. My photos are not great, sometimes not even good. I am not a famous birder. I don't advertise. I don't have many readers. Nevertheless, I took pains to conceal the identities of the other trip participants. The identity of our excellent Indian field guide and his company have also been withheld. I don't think the IFG would want his name or his company associated with this experience. He's also trying to put it behind him. For this reason, I also conceal the name of our Andaman Islands local guide (also excellent) who got caught up in the mess. He never left our IFG hanging. The names of Shaji, Rajesh, Rajkumar (both) and Vinod, the bird photographer, have been shared in the most complimentary and admiring way that I can describe. If by some unlikely happenstance some, or all, of the others read this I hope they will be able to see the truth in it. If not that, then at least understand that there was another side to the story of this trip
After writing all of this, do I understand the trip any better? Perhaps. The best and fairest explanation may be to recognize that, with its mishmash of incompatible participants, lack of attention to detail and subsequent oversights, the trip was probably muddled and ill-fated from the outset - before any of us even stepped aboard our departure flights. We are all home now, we are all fine and the world didn't come to an end. I'm sure we all learned.
Part 6: A social dispute
A couple of months after writing the first draft of this essay, I was listening to a segment of a BBC World News radio show that focused on survival. It was aired after the four Colombian kids were found alive after 40 days in the Colombia jungle following a plane crash in which their mother died, after the Oceangate submersible implosion and after the Mediterranean fishing boat capsized with over 700 migrants aboard. The BBC interviewed two survivors of extraordinary situations who described their ordeals. In May of 2019, Amanda Eller was lost in a Hawaii rainforest for 17 days. Jhonattan Acosta was lost in the rainforest of Bolivia for 31 days in January of 2023. Each story was riveting. Amanda Eller went missing in the Makawao Forest Reserve in North Maui, Hawaii when she lost her way on what was meant to be a relatively short hike. She ate berries. She fractured her tibia. She lost her shoes in a flash flood. She was finally rescued when she was spotted by a helicopter search team. Jhonattan Acosta’s gripping account revealed that he was on a hunting trip with friends when a “social dispute” occurred causing him and another individual to be separated from the group. Their boat capsized and the other person was lost. Acosta survived unimaginable things, (his entire body was covered with insect bites, he killed a couple of snakes, he fought off a jaguar, he ate worms, he drank his own urine), to live and be found by men in a dugout canoe. Weak and hallucinating, he saw the men on the opposite shore of the river, but before he could react they pushed off again. One of the men in the canoe happened to turn around and saw Acosta standing on the riverbank and he was rescued. It was Acosta’s words “social dispute” that triggered me. In the hospital (Acosta was hospitalized for months secondary to a blood infection), the police spoke with him and planned a full investigation into what exactly happened.
Our social dispute was a disruptive takeover by bullies and it occurred in the lap of luxury. However, a birding trip is not so dissimilar from a hunting trip. A social dispute such as the one Jhonattan Acosta experienced; for instance, say in an Indonesian, South or Central American rainforest might lead to something far worse. Hearing the BBC radio broadcast and then reading about Acosta’s ordeal made me recognize that such a coup d'état could be a very real and dangerous thing, and not just story telling afterwards as this essay has been. Both Eller and Acosta were on the cusp of death when they were rescued. I'm sure that it has taken a long time for both to recover from their ordeals.
I love this photo from our inexplicable “snorkeling” trip to the unnamed island (an internet search was not helpful). I don’t think the island had permanent residents; just tourist kiosks with food, drink and souvenirs set-up along the beach. The dogs occupying this island really needed to scrape by.
If you read this whole thing - over 12,000 words - I hope it was helpful reading as well as interesting and entertaining. Finally, I definitely recommend India as a wonderful country to visit. Whether you go birding or not, there are a lifetime of things to do and see.
Part 7: Acknowledgements
This might seem over-the-top but after writing so much detail about a trip with so much going on, there are acknowledgements to make. In no particular order; all are equally important.
To my doctor, also unnamed, who was so helpful to me during the initial days of my COVID ordeal. It was her idea to pack a box of Paxlovid. Just reading her texts with her practical and encouraging advice buoyed my spirits. In retrospect, I understand why the ATO and WWE would not agree to speak with her. She would have cleaned their clocks. She's a great doctor!
To Shaji, my driver for 2-1/2 days. I wish it could have been more days. Everyone's life includes a bit of luck here and there. I don't know how I got so lucky to have Shaji as my driver. My plan is to return to Bangalore after my friend and her family move into their new apartment. Hopefully, I will be able to hire Shaji and we will all take a trip to Hampi together. No binoculars needed! Thank you Shaji.
To our excellent Indian tour operator and field guide (IFG). During my COVID ordeal, he was stuck in the middle (the worst place to be) trying to negotiate for me. He did his own research with objective sources and he read each of my doctor's texts. He may have used her information to win battles for me. During the coup d'état he was on the front lines trying to preserve the integrity of the trip. A real mensch in the unexpected and unenviable position of having to deal with self-absorbed jerks. I doubt the opportunity to take another trip with him will present itself, but who knows.
The group included a married couple, also unnamed, who advocated for me during my COVID drama. I didn't know it at the time, but I do now, and I thank them.
To my friend, Deepa, in Bangalore - a new friend who feels like an old friend - I hope we are friends for a long time.
Following my truncated efforts to document the 2020 north India trip, I dedicate this essay to south India and the Andaman Islands. It's not what I was expecting to write, but I hope I finally did India justice with this essay. It's a fantastic country and fingers crossed, I'll be going back.
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Afternote: In December, 2023, The New York Times published Ghosts on the Glacier by John Branch, with videos by Emily Rhine, a highly dramatized story of a mountain climbing expedition in Argentina that, in the early 1970s, went terribly wrong. There are many elements to this story that I could have transplanted into my own narrative. If you decide to read it, this is excellent long-form journalism without a satisfactory conclusion but, ultimately, one that is plausible and probably most likely.
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