Ranthambore National Park, India

Ranthambore National Park, in the heart of Rajasthan State, is home to the mighty Bengal tiger. We headed there in hope of seeing one of the world’s biggest cats in the wild. 

Our train rolled into Sawai Madhopur Station in the early afternoon, and we decided to get some snacks as we weren’t sure of the food situation at our out-of-town hotel. Laden with our backpacks, we wandered along the dusty streets of Sawai Madhopur, weaving through mopeds, cows, cars and market stalls to the food store. We arrived, to find it completely derelict. Not a great start. After some more trudging, we found a dusty little alternative shop, bought enough Oreos and bananas to sustain a small army, and flagged down a tuk-tuk to take us to Ranthambore Tiger Inn Comfort Resort.

That’s an important name to remember, Ranthambore Tiger Inn Comfort Resort. Not Tiger Villa Ranthambore, not Ranthambore Tiger Resort, not Ranthambore Tiger Den Resort. The tuk-tuk driver confirmed he knew Ranthambore Tiger Inn Comfort Resort, and headed off in what seemed to be the right direction. My map said it was about 7km away, but after just a few minutes on the world’s bounciest dirt road, our driver slowed down to turn off into a nearby hotel. I leaned forward into the cab and said it’s probably another 20 minutes at least. He nodded and carried on for another couple of hundred yards before slowing down again. He was clearly completely lost. 

Before long I was Google-translating directions into Hindi, but this didn’t seem to help. After another ten minutes and several attempts to drop us off at a selection of hotels which definitely were not ours, our driver pulled over and I showed him the map. He studied it intently for a moment or two, before it became clear he couldn’t actually read a map. We then rumbled along the road for another minute or two before he pulled over to speak to a uniformed chap in a jeep, with a rifle slung over his shoulder. He asked to look at my phone, and I handed it over largely because he had a rifle. He didn’t know where we were going either. I got my phone back and eventually, with a combination of hand gestures, directions in Hindi and a healthy dose of blind luck, our tuk-tuk trundled through the gates of the Ranthambore Tiger Inn Comfort Resort.

And what a resort it was. The advice is generally to stay in a hotel which is near the entrance to the national park, is fully catered, and able to book tiger safaris on your behalf. Our lodge claimed to be all three. I’d messaged them beforehand, and Vijay, the General Manager, had assured us they’d arrange the safaris. When we arrived, I checked with Vijay and he smiled and said the safaris had not yet been arranged but they would be. This was then his response every time I saw him over the next few days. Nice chap, but woeful at booking tiger safaris. Eventually I took things into my own hands and booked a couple of safaris via Viator at a considerable markup, but at least we would be going in search of tigers.

The rest of the team at the Ranthambore Tiger Inn Comfort Resort were equally friendly, but all ever so slightly hapless. The edge of the swimming pool was being constantly sanded by a man with an angle grinder, its cable trailing through the water. One evening Nicola asked the difference between two daals on the restaurant menu, she was told with a wry smile that they were exactly the same. Another day we asked to buy a bottle of water at reception, and the guy insisted on taking it all the way to our room, marching right past us as we stood at reception. Every night there was Mughal music in the gardens which seemed to be compulsory for guests, and they phoned our room nightly to tell us off for not already being there, and to come and watch it. The whole resort was a lovely gentle chaos, and in the days we were there, we grew rather fond of the whole team.

Anyway, back to the tigers. After eventually getting it booked, we set out at dawn on the first safari, wrapped up in blankets and with our Thermos full of coffee (which the lovely lads at the resort had brought to our room); it’s cold in the national park before the sun rises. We were in a canter, a sort of open top mini bus thing with about eight other people, all ready to peer out into the trees and scan the long grass for Bengal tigers.

For our first few hours in the park we saw plenty of tiger food, which we told ourselves was a good sign. We saw deer, crocodiles, peacocks and wild boar aplenty, but after a couple of safaris and a few hours of searching, we’d had no luck in seeing any tigers. The park is roughly the size of Greater London and there are around 50 tigers in there, so our chances were fairly slim. 

Towards the end of our final safari, we heard a crackle over the guide’s radio that a tiger had been seen a couple of miles away. With a cry of “if you want to see a tiger, you have to eat dust!” our driver put his foot down, and we tore down dusty trails, branches scratching along the side of the jeep, throwing up clouds of thick red dust. After chasing across the park for ten minutes, we arrived just moments too late. The jeep just ahead of us had caught a glimpse of the tiger; but we were unlucky this time. We returned to our lodge.

I suppose that’s the thing with wild animals though: there are no guarantees. If you want to guarantee seeing a tiger, go to the zoo. It’ll be there in the enclosure looking fairly forlorn. But if you want to cling to the railings of an open top jeep, bouncing through the dust at dawn to look for a tiger skulking through the long grass in rural India, go to Ranthambore National Park. It’s fantastic. And you know what, stay at Ranthambore Tiger Inn Comfort Resort too. It’s wonderful.

We said goodbye to our chaotic friends at the lodge, and this time opted for a driver who knew the way back to Sawai Madhopur Station. Our next stop: Jaipur.