Of Hornbills And Gibbons-A Walk In Namdapha

I don’t know why but a magazine picture of the Forest Rest House (FRH) at Deban in Namdapha National Park (NNP), seen more than 15 years ago, has always remained firmly etched in my memory. A unique wilderness, a back of the beyond place seeking the attention of those who long to be one with green canopies, hooping of the Hoolock Gibbons (the only ape in India) and the whooshing of the hornbill wings.

On a surprisingly nippy December morning in Kolkota, I take an early morning flight to Dibrugarh. Miao, the gateway to Namdapha is a four-hour drive from Dibrugarh towards east. A one-day bandh had been called by the Assam Students’ Union for today but fortunately it has withdrawn now. Even then, a handful of rowdy-looking school/college drop-outs stop our vehicle twice on the way. The driver, though tense and scared, manages to convince the troublemakers that I am to be urgently dropped at Indian Oil office in Digboi. Somehow this trick works on both the occasions.

The road is good in most parts and passes through Tinsukia, Digboi, Makum, Margherita and Ledo. The rolling green waves of tea estates on either side of the road are soothing to the eyes. A train track runs almost parallel to the road from Dibrugarh up to Ledo and one needs to alight here to proceed to Namdapha. The North Eastern Coalfields has mines in Makum, Margherita and Ledo areas and the resultant chaos is everywhere. Terrible roads, all-encompassing block coal dust, emaciated men and bare-feet children carrying (perhaps pilfering) headloads of coal.

Inner Line permit or a government ID card is a must to enter Changlang district of Arunachal Pradesh. I reach the small town of Miao by noon and head to the Namdapha Tiger Reserve Director’s office. He is out of station but has asked his staff to help me to get to Deban. I collect the necessary documents and shift to a Bolero. For a short drive of one hour covering 17 kilometres, the driver is asking for 3,500 rupees. ‘Can’t help, this is the rate here’, he says with a smile.

The driver tries to scare me-he has to justify the money he is charging-by explaining the treacherous road ahead and the sheer necessity of a four wheel drive. I reserve my judgement as I am not unaccustomed to tough tracts in Western Ghats. The road of course is bad but the mud path to my uncle’s house near Mangaluru is precarious! There is a smattering of wooden and bamboo houses of Chakma refugees on the way and a couple of small villages interspersed with paddy fields. There had been some rains recently and two deep puddles prove a bit tricky but the driver manages well.

The road cuts across the Noa Dihing river and then almost hugs her for most part till we reach Debang guest house. The road continues till Vijoynagar, a military base near the Myanmar border which is a good 160 kilo metres away. This is supposed to be a wonderful trek and I promise myself to do it someday!

The wooden guest house of Deban which I have always wanted to visit and stay in, is located in a depression on an open space with towering trees as the background and the enchanting, quietly flowing Noa Dihang in the front. Japang Pansha who comes highly recommended as a guide for all those who want a knowledgeable company, meets me and says that he is ready to come along with me for the trek the next day. I am delighted.

Deban Forest Rest House

            Dihing river

His name rings a bell and Japang confirms my suspicion by saying that he is a Naga. In the seminal ‘The Naked Nagas’, the well-known German anthropologist Christoph Haimendorf calls the Panshas one of the most fierce warrior tribes. But that was a lifetime or two ago and this Pansha is gentle and friendly.

After a simple, late lunch I walk towards the Dihing river and take a stroll along the pebble-filled bank. The sun is slowly setting and the rising hills at the horizon, behind the dense forests show streaks of snow as if drawn by a paint brush. I sit with Japang after dinner and plan for the two-day trek.

Next morning we head towards Hornbill Glade, a good 11 kilometres away. The usual trek route is Deban - Haldibari - Hornbill Glade - Bulbulia - Ranijheel - Firm base - Deban, forming a circle covering about 35 km over a four day period. But I decide to skip the last part and plan to return after visiting Bulbulia by the same route.

Japang sends the ration, tents and other supplies ahead on an elephant back with two porters and we walk up to the Dihing riverbank towards a waiting boat. The flow is placid and the water is cool and refreshing to touch. We cross the river within a couple of minutes and start the trek towards Haldibari. You climb a small hillock using a makeshift staircase and then directly step into the thick evergreen jungle. The moment we enter the forests, Japang takes over effortlessly as my birding guide, identifying most of them from their calls. He shows me the wreathed, rufous and the brown hornbills, all lifers. Oh, how high up in the trees they perch! My neck starts to pain after a few minutes of continuous straining, with the binoculars clipped to my eyes.

Wreathed hornbill, female (cropped image)

Wreathed hornbill, male (cropped image)

Brown hornbill (cropped image)

Rufous-necked hornbill, male (slightly cropped)

The whoosh-whoosh of the wing-flapping of hornbills is distinct and Japang teaches me how to differentiate the species based only on this. Most of the birds here are first time sightings for me and the diversity of the winged creatures is breathtaking. The walk in the shade of towering wet-evergreen forests is pleasant and I don’t feel even a wee bit tired. I am carrying only a light backpack, of course!

Haldibari has a small camping hut for those who want to spend considerable time in serious birding and stay. We cross Haldibari and walk ahead towards Hornbill Glade - our camping site for the night. There is no sight of either the great hornbill or the Hoolock gibbon. A Malayan Giant Squirrel scurries along a liana above us, sits briefly facing the sun and before I raise the camera, vanishes in a flash of black and white.

Hornbill Glade has no hornbills but Japang promises sighting of Himalayan flying squirrel in the late evening or at night. The lunch is getting ready and we decide to walk up to Bulbulia and return which is only 3 kilo metres away. Bulbulia is an interesting place, with several bubbling hot water springs. The springs are unlike geysers and warm water gently spouts out flowing into a small stream. Due to the chemicals present in this water, the place has a distinct but not unpleasant odour.

Dal, rice and a vegetably curry are luxuries in such settings and as always, taste heavenly. The cooks are local lads and tourism in Namdapha provides them with good income. Japang expertly pitches my tent and I fling my bare necessities inside. I ask him to accompany me for another stroll and we wade into the pathless forest. Now the activity of birds has dimmed and by four, it is getting dark. We are back at the camp before 4.30 and by five, it is night!

Japang calls me thirty minutes later and signals toward a tree. As he had promised, a Himalayan flying squirrel is sitting on a huge tree near the camp, waiting for us to get into the tents so that it can steal some food. I take out my camera and quickly click some snaps. There is another small, squirrel-like animal which is moving too fast to comprehend its location and Japang says he too cannot identify it. By then our cook has spotted another flying squirrel, this time on one branchless, tall stag tree and before I could fully fix my eyes on its contours, it glides down elegantly to a nearby tree.

About to glide

Himalayan Flying Squirrel

Next morning we get up early and after a quick breakfast, begin our trek back to Deban. Japang assures me that we would definitely sight a Hoolock’s Gibbon today. True to his words, we start hearing the calls of the ape a few minutes into our walk. For more than two hours we continue to hear the calls of gibbons but no sighting. It is as if they are aware of our presence and two groups of animals are giving warning calls to one another while keeping a very safe distance from us. I begin to wonder whether we would actually be able to see one today and Japang reassures me.

After an hour more of incessant Gibbon calls, I suddenly see flashes of movement high up in the canopy and there it is. A small black animal with long, slender arms and dangling legs, with distinct white brows. I aim my camera at him and he freezes briefly and then is off with his quick flowing moves.

One more hour into the walk and we sight three more Gibbons, a male and a female with a young one. My day is done.

Hoolock Gibbon (cropped image)

Hoolock Gibbon female (slightly cropped image)

After leisurely walking a pleasant 14 kilometres, we reach Deban by 3 p.m. In the late evening, Japang takes me for a walk along the Vijoynagar road, hoping for the sighting of slow loris. But many trucks have passed this way today, carrying equipment for the army camp and perhaps the animals are disturbed and haven’t come out, Japang explains.

I go for one more long walk the next morning with Japang on the Vijoynagar route, this time to sight the Great Indian hornbill. We again come across the rufous and wreathed hornbills but not what we are looking for. Then Japang hears a call and slowly hushes me and points towards a huge ficus tree. Hidden among the foliage, I see a combination of dark yellow and black, far away from the reach of my poor 400 mm lens. The colours look wonderful through the binoculars and I watch it for a minute, transfixed. Then the Great Hornbill flies away, perhaps suddenly aware of the observers.

Great hornbill (cropped image)

This has been a quick walk lasting only three days, temporarily slaking the thirst and I’m definitely not sated. What is a trek if you don’t get a chance to lie on your back and gaze at the stars, your knees don’t hurt and the body doesn’t beg for a quick rest? But the long march from Bijoynagar to Deban beckons and fate willing, I hope to be there before 2020!

-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----