One one things

Being jetlagged is a bitch. I hate flying at the best of times, and going to Canada and back for 2 days really does stretch things. It didn’t help that Ottawa was pretty dull, plus it rained shit loads, foiling my efforts to try a beavertail. But the good thing about going to not so exciting places is that it reminds you of how super it is back home, and bc I haven’t written in a while I thought it’s best to scrape together some memories of the last few months. A quick glance at recent posts shows the last time I travel-logged was during dive season - eek. But since then things have been a bit quiet - couple more dive trips, yala, wasgamuwa and some spot off talpe which was superb even off-season.

We went diving off unawatuna sometime in March I think and it was substantially better than Hikkaduwa. The dive station is superb, better equip, spacious and the chaps there clean the gear once your done. Oh and nothing like having a nice cup of tea and biscuits set up for you as soon as you come out of the water. It is the excreta. First dive was at Godagala, which was amazing. Fantastic viz, loads of marine life and a thoroughly pleasant and chill session. Next day however was a different story, we took a boat further out to Aluthgala and as is now the practice I got nice and seasick but held it in till after the dive. But things got worse before they got better. Soon as I got in the water and began to descend my ears didn’t feel right. Every 2m or so it hurt so I signaled to Prabath that there was something wrong. After a couple of minutes of trying I was ready to give up and let the others go ahead. But Prabath pulled me back up a long way and finally the ears popped - good to go. Unfortunately I lost shit-loads of air in those few stressed minutes so I couldn’t quite relax for what was a really nice dive. I loved the part where we chipped at a bit of coral attracting a bunch of fish that came and fed on the debris. The rest was eventless until M disappeared just before we were due to re-surface. We looked around for a minute and then had to ascend, A in a panic having lost her dive buddy. Luckily when we hit the surface M was already there, waving from the boat. She had shot up when her tank emptied. I puked as soon as I got on the boat, but more worryingly coughed up some blood - the pressure had messed up some vessels. But all was ok.

The March long weekend was the next chance for some travel and annoyingly everyone had all sorts of plans so come Saturday morning R and I just got into the car and drove without really knowing where we were going. Ended up in Tissa at a place I had seen online that sounded charming. It wasn’t that charming and we’d find out later that the chaps running it were a bit too keen on the buck, but it had beds and it would do. Anyway it was almost Yala season so we found a jeep the next day and headed off to the park at dawn. The driver was a bit shady but he promised to hook me up with a contact at the Salt Coop bungalow which would in theory sort out my accommodation hassles for future ventures. There was a bit of a drizzle which was annoying but it cleared up soon enough and the fresh post-rain forest smells are really out of this world. It was R’s first time in Yala so it was mildly embarrassing to have to stop for jungle fowl and so on. That said, it was actually nice appreciate the game we normally take for granted - the colourfully clumsy jungle fowl, the darting eyes of the spotted deer and streams of wild piglets with spirally tails and of course dozens of Yala’s feathered inhabitants. I’ve been reading a pretty decent book called Jungle Journeys in Ceylon where in the 50s they write of leopard and bear being vermin and shooting them for fun - it’s pretty sad that in 50 years they’ve gone from over-abundance to precious few. When I say the book is decent I mean beyond the first chapter - which is a disaster. It’s really hard to write about Yala and be mind numbingly boring, but that chap managed it, and worryingly, he’s the editor. But the rest of it is super (except the last chapter, which is by his son) - Sri Lankan nepotism, got to love it. The morning round wasn’t very exciting, no major sightings except getting out of the vehicle at Patalangala and seeing an elephant further up the beach. But the disappointment was drowned in the Menik ganga at Kosgasmankada, where we stopped for a rice packet whilst seated on the kumbuk log that rests over the river. We jumped in the river despite the warnings about crocs - nothing gets between me and a good river bath.

About 6 years ago I was camping at Kosgasmankada in the height of the dry season and the river was completely dry so we set up camp on the river bed. One morning some of us walked upstream and came across a crocodile carcass. It smelled quite bad but then how not to come away with a few crocodile teeth? We returned to camp after a while but one of my friends decided to have another look alone the next day. Ten minutes later we see the fellow hooking it back to camp. After catching his breath he explained that he walked up to the carcass and despite his bad eyesight had seen a fuzzy black image just to the right of the croc. In the nick of time it occurred to him that the black fuzzy thing was in fact a sloth bear. Luckily the bear has worse eyesight than our friend so he returned to tell the story. That was a great Yala year, a time when Komaweva was home to a particularly extroverted leopard cub, who for our luck dragged a wildboar carcass across the road right in front of our jeep. Superb.

Back to the present. Refreshed by the river bath we headed back to the jeep. Despite not seeing much game other than several Jackal near Buttuwa and most of the species of eagles (including a pair of lovely white bellied sea eagles who completed a successful fishing mission while we watched) it was fantastic being in the park that was near empty. There wouldn’t have been more than 5 other vehicles in the park and we were the first locals to enter the park in months. There’s been plenty of bad press about Yala about security and all but it actually felt quite safe given the extent of army foot patrols in the area. That said I heard that a buffalo had its foot blown off the other day in a mine. In Block 1. Around 3pm our driver decided to be a Johnny and got stuck in some mud on a by-road off meda para. The tracker was pissed bc he and I had to push in vain. Since there were hardly any other vehicles and we were on a lonely stretch, we were mildly screwed. The driver, despite our protests, decided to make a dash to main road to find a vehicle. The bad form was that if the army guys spotted a chap running they’d shoot him, no questions. So the bugger stuck his hands up, held aloft his white shirt, and ran. He was gone for half an hour or so and with it went his tip. The tracker in the meanwhile had a proper rant about him, accusing him of being a druggie and what not. Eventually driver turned up with a vehicle and we were out of trouble.

It was almost 4 and I had given up hopes of seeing any leopard when we headed out of meda para. Just as we reached main road and took a left the tracker hissed, “kotiya kotiya kotiya! reverse karapang!” Everyone shot up - eyes peeled into the forest. And there he was. A magnificent male, resting on a branch of a siyambala tree. We cut the engine and admired him, yawning lazily and peering straight back at us. The best part was there were no other vehicles - no van-fulls shouting and pointing, no clicking cameras and best of all no spluttering engines - just the sound of the Gonalabbe Weva lapping against the shore, the rustling of leaves and the sound of our hearts. After about 15 minutes he decided to stretch and climb down, ever so slowly, a beautiful physique perfectly juxtaposed against the amber sky. This was Pottaya, a seasoned male with a dubious eye - he was very comfortable with our presence and didn’t seem bothered at all. He quietly got off the tree and made his way to the forest. It was one of the most peaceful leopard sightings I’ve enjoyed in a long while.

Thoroughly content we headed back towards the office. We stopped for a bit to look at an amazing sight of an elephant carcass being fed on by dozens of crocodiles. The carcass was all but skeleton but the ground surrounding it was, without the mildest exaggeration, a mass of grey. The crocs had completely taken over a radius of about 8m around the skeleton - just lying there, jealously guarding what was once their fodder. After a few mins one of the few vehicles remaining in the park overtook us and headed along main road and we followed it back. The vehicle was about 100m ahead of us when I saw an animal of some sort ambling on the side of the road in front of the retreating vehicle. I thought its probably a wildboar or deer, but there was something about the way it was walking, head swaying from side to side. Just then our tracker also leaned forward and said, “ara mokekda?” and immediately there was a cloud of dust as the jeep ahead braked and the animal shot across the road - leopard! “Yanna yanna yanna!” the tracker all but yelled, and we caught up. The leopard was in the thicket walking parallel to the road and we tracked her for a bit before she headed off into the forest. She was a lot smaller than the previous sighting but just as pretty. How we wished we’d been in front of the vehicle ahead, we’d have spotted her earlier and avoided startling her. Before we knew it it was almost 6.30 so we had to leave the park. The tracker is superb, his name is Priyantha, he doesn’t say much unless probed, and has a fabulous pair of eyes.

We got back to Tissa and fuelled up on some superb kottu from a kadey at Debaraweva junc. In the night we headed out to the jetty in the Tissamaharama rest house and stargazed while reliving our rounds. What a great day - 2 leopard sightings in one day in March, that’s some serious luck. We got back on the road again the next day - the tentative plan was to stop in Tangalle and do some diving but the road to the town was closed bc of something or the other so we took a detour and went to Mirissa instead, after stopping at the blowhole off Dickoya. The blowhole is well worth a visit if you’re in the area - it’s pretty popular amongst the locals and a nice way to stretch the legs mid-journey. Mirissa was nice, especially the place we found to stay, called Suduweli, which was a lovely wooden contraption with very basic rooms overlooking the sea. In fact it’s so basic that there’s no attached bathroom - but it’s all good. And it’s cheap as chips, I’m talking 700 bucks a night cheap. Jayasuriya, who I made friends with on an earlier trip, made sure we were well fed and warned us about the sea - “eeyeth api ekkenek hari amaruweng bera gaththe, wediya yanna epa”. I smiled and ignored his warning - to our peril, as we’d find out the next day. But that’s another story. The jet lag is wearing off and it’s time to get some shut-eye.