“Mount Damavand, Iran.  An immense volcanic peak towering above the central Asia plateau, finally piercing the sky nearly six kilometres above sea level; The highest mountain in the Middle East.  Only the Himalayas to the east threaten it’s towering status on the plateau. It’s here that I had unfinished business with this legendary peak. 

My taxi rattled me from the airport, past the huge shrine complex of Ayatollah Khomeini and into central Tehran. In the distance the pinkish glow of first light silhouetted Damavand, almost a perfect triangle, poking from the Alborz range, some seventy or so kilometres to the north east of the capital.  Two years ago I made it as far as the high camp, only for the first winter snows to end to my ascent prematurely.  Last summer the post election violence prevented me getting even that far.

This summer the unrest has moved underground from the streets to simmer among the youth in the coffee shops and internet cafés. Trekking in Iran has long been associated with freedom movements. The mountains were out of bounds during the Shahs brutal reign, too far from the SAVAK (secret police) watchtowers, which kept control over the populace. Now Iran’s ‘Green’ movement uses mountaineering as a physical metaphor for freedom.  Damavand’s history transcends the revolutions, overthrows and Islam, having remained at the spiritual heart of the nation from Zoroastrian times.

Tehran in the summer is no place to be, the 40 degree summer heat sets the streets ablaze with the pollution from 12 million residents, and the city chokes amid the fumes and haze.  Some welcome respite is found at Darband village, a forty-five minute drive up through Tehran’s leafy northern suburbs. Here we scheduled some acclimatisation time on Mount Touchal, a near 4000 metre peak, before the attempt at Mount Damavand.

From Darband an intricate network of pretty paths, waterfalls and tea houses leads up through the village towards the overnight shelter at Shir Pala. This area is popular with skiers during the winter, and also the young who come use the teahouses for a private cuddle and a kebab, away from the eyes of authority. From the shelters terrace the lights of the city twinkled a couple of kilometres below us. The following day we snaked back and forth across slopes devoid of vegetation for four hours to the peak. A small circular shelter, symbolically painted green sat on the top. From here it was a five-hour descent to the teahouses and back to the capital.

Next morning it was time to pack the heavy gear and head west of the city into the rugged foothills of Mount Damavand. This year I was  leading a group of adventurous travellers to the peak for Explore. When I asked them at the briefing why they chose Damavand, it was the combination of a seriously challenging peak and the uniqueness of climbing in an unfamiliar land that appealed.  With us on the mountain were my mountain guides and good friends Hussein & Arash.

After a couple of hours tailing mining trucks along dusty roads and through inhospitable terrain we reached Polour, one of the small towns that service the mountain. The nearby Lar lake provided us with fresh trout, and after lunch we arrived at the Iranian Mountaineering Federation lodge.  The shelter here provided a comfortable and friendly base for the first night of our trek. Later in the afternoon, as the sun began to cast huge mountain shadows, we headed out for an acclimatization walk in the foothills of Damavand. The air was wonderfully fresh and, despite still being summer, heavy snow had left the top 2000 metres of the volcano dusted in white.

Next morning, jeeps arrived to transfer us to Damavand’s second camp, Goosfand Sara ‘place of sheep’ – at around 3000 metres. During the summer months the sheep share their territory with mountain folk who make a living at the dusty interchange of four-wheel drives, mules, guides, luggage and livestock.

A huddle of heavily bearded men transferred our bulk to the mules, and we began our ascent to the 3rd camp, beside Goosfand Sara’s only structure, a gold onion domed mosque.   With acclimatization in mind, we ascended at a gentle pace up through the craggy veins of the volcano. For moments the peak was in clear view, before clouds sped across the upper slopes. Plenty of stops along the route gave us the opportunity to look back across the valley to a spine of 4000 metre plus peaks, shielding the azure waters of lake Lar.

After four hours of steady trekking we approached the high camp at 4200 metres. Conditions had changed dramatically on the ascent; fleeces and wool hats replaced sunhats and shirt sleeves.   As snow flurries whirled themselves into a blizzard, we just about made out the outline of the stone shelter standing out among a backdrop of white.

Inside the shelter the atmosphere warmed us immediately; Iranian tradition prides itself on hospitality and friendliness to strangers. Every new arrival at the shelter was universally greeted with a  ‘salaam’. Single burners with pots of food were heating way in the camps’ corners, and a huge communal kettle provided the tea.  Bread, biscuits, dates, nuts and fruit were shared around, and everyone wanted to know where we were from and what we thought of their country.  After a carb loaded dinner, several blankets and a quality sleeping bag made for a snug night – despite the sub zeros outside.                      

By morning, the weather has warmed and brightened, and a big orange sun began to thaw the pipes that brought water down from above.  A few headaches among the group reminded us that we were at altitude. Outside the shelter our eyes followed the blanket of snow that led up to the icefall, at about 5000 metres. This was the target for our acclimatization walk.  At altitude it’s important to climb higher each day, then drop down to sleep.  Without this system then altitude sickness will make progress physically and mentally impossible.

After breakfast we crunched the first footprints in several inches of snow.  The ascent was deliberately slower than the previous day and  we carefully placed one foot in front of the other expending the minimum of energy. Every forty-five minutes we rested for ten, keeping our energy levels up with nuts, dried fruit, seeds and chocolate. It took us three hours to ascend the 600 metres to a spot below the 12 metre frozen waterfall, which never thaws. At 4800 metres, we rest and acclimatize for forty-five minutes in the morning sun. An hour and a half later we are back in the camp, warming ourselves with soup before the sleeping the afternoon away.   The group appear briefly to be force fed carbohydrates before retiring to prepare physically and mentally for the summit attempt in the morning.

After another freezing night, when outside temperatures reached minus ten, we left camp at first light, when the temperature was a little kinder. Despite clouds racing across a flickering sun, it was still extremely cold and the icefall was not visible from the camp. We walked in hour blocks, it took us two hours to reach the previous days acclimatisation ceiling. Each alternate step was accompanied by either a full lungs worth of air or audible expiring. It’s important to keep a rhythm going – to make the most efficient use of body energy and to keep warm.  Altitude and gradient slowed us – its nearly another two hours to the icefall at 5000 metres; the last 100 metre ascent took an hour.  The new snowfall is tiring us and we sank into virgin snow knee deep in places.  At times we found ourselves paddling with arms, scrambling to get a grip on the rocks to haul us from the snow.

This exertion proved exhausting and 300 metres above the icefall, two of the group decided to abort.  A combination of fatigue and altitude had conspired against them. Spiritedly they decided that to continue could impact our summit attempt, and they put group success before personal disappointment.  Muted farewells and good luck handshakes followed, and they started the descent to the high camp with my guide’s assistant.

For the rest of us, with one mountain guide left, it was either all or none of us that would make the summit.  After the scrambling above the icefall the route flattened so we could see the peak in the distance.  Mentally this was good motivation – although it was still 300 metres up – and more than two hours away.   We were now inside the clouds, with a blanket of white both above us and under foot. The flatter expanses now welcomed a screaming wind across our path; fleece, down and Gore-Tex combined to prevent it cutting through me. As we stole another 100 metres from the angry mountain it had one more test for us – sulphur.  Despite 7000 years passing since Damavand’s last eruption, sulphuric gases spat from fumaroles as we neared the peak. If the wind is unkind the gasses can prevent mountaineers approaching the summit. We were fortunate.           

Almost overcome with fatigue, I sensed the summit was only a few hundred metres away – but dared not to look up.  Aside from a few words of encouragement the last hours had passed in silence; oxygen too valuable a commodity to waste on speech.  Hearing voices again meant I was finally closing in on the peak!  Nearly nine hours after leaving the high camp, we were standing 5671 metres above sea level, at the highest point in the Middle East and Central Asia.

Exhaustion and deteriorating weather conditions muted celebrations a little, and we were soon on our way back down to the high camp. The summit had become dangerous, a mess of dirty grey skies and white snow diminished visibility to about five metres ahead.  The descent had to be quick; it was imperative the person in front stayed in view, rather than disappear into the white abyss that now engulfed us. At times we struggled to find footing, as legs disappeared deep into fresh snow.  The quickened pace combined with exhaustion frequently dumped us on our backsides.  At times it was actually easier to ride on our behinds down towards the high camp, much to the bemusement of the mountain guide. Finally just above the camp the weather relented, and we were able to sit and rest looking down into a vast sunlit valley.  As the clouds lifted, Damavand’s peak was once again visible in the distance far above us.  Now we could fully enjoy the sense of achievement.

Next morning mules were loaded, and we descended again to the camp at Goosfand Sara for our transfer back to the capital.  Our descent was slowed, not by tiredness, but by hundreds of Iranians filing their way up towards the high camp. It was Thursday, the start of the Iranian weekend, a time when local people leave their cities for the countryside. Traditional songs echoed around the mountains and a celebratory atmosphere commenced. Ladies headscarves were abandoned to the wind.  Everyone was keen to greet, congratulate and pose for photos with us. There can be no doubting that Iranians are among the friendliest people on the planet.

Lack of proper equipment and fitness meant most of the people wouldn’t make the summit – but that wasn’t really the point. The weekly pilgrimage predates Islam; they were here to make a connection with the legendary mountain of the Persian epics. The regime may still have a tight grip on the cities, but in the mountain’s people are rediscovering their freedom.

I will be back again next year hopefully with a little less snow and that if anyone wants more info I’m happy to answer questions – if I’m not on tour!”

Mark Steadman, September, 2010

So, the last blog saw Christine about to board the train with her tour group to make the final journey back to Delhi – but did she manage to get all of them on the train and back to the end point???

“Hi Everyone
 
I am sorry about the late delivery of this … the final chapter of Explore ! 1st Adventure apprentice journey to India….. so at last without further a do …here it is .
 
So the morning of the final full day … I am now in charge of 14 passengers and we are about to board a train from Jaipur to Delhi..with Fayaaz our caretaker. Fayaaz is pleasant enough but doesn’t have much to say… and I ve had it on good authority from Rafeeq that he is a train journey expert so with this in mind the group and I are dropped off at the station with a lot of big hugs and fond farewells to our unforgettable friends Rafeeq, Irshad, and the forever smiling suman, not to mention the other guests who are lucky enough to be going on to new adventures…we are now in unchartered territory!
 
Its quite early and the platform is seemingly empty for the 0815 Delhi express…we are able to purchase some snacks from the ever grateful man in the Kiosk ..who seems to find 14 English folk all trying to buy biscuits and crisps in various flavours and indefinable packets quite amusing !! so with our various unexplained flavours clutched we head off back to the platform, to wait for the unexpected.
 
At 0800 a train, pulls onto our platform ……. ok we all look at each other…it cant be ours our train is 0815 we are standing right under the sign that tells us the exact carriage that should pull up in front of us is B1 ..we are B1 but B1 doesn’t pull up beside us and I cant see Fayaaz for people ..he is lost in the massive throng of colour who have leapt off the train and onto the station it is pandemonium.
 
I spot Fayaaz and sure enough he is waving at me from a carriage (not B1) to get on …i call the group tell them to grab their luggage and just get on the train !!! with a few bewildered looks everyone rallies and tries to climb aboard….I am using the term try as this was virtually impossible hundreds of people and their luggage….(Indians love Bundles remember)..in all different colours shapes and sizes were trying to get off at the same time as we were trying to get on …..we were crushed up against everything and everyone ..and we still had to try and navigate our way on the train to find carriage B1 where we would hopefully find our seats for the 6hr journey !!
 
I couldn’t find Fayaaz ….he was last seen beckoning me from the train door whilst we were still on the platform…in the rush and the crush of trying to board the train I had lost sight of him, I did however have the entire group in a line behind me with all their luggage. I advised them to follow me we would walk down the train through all the people and their bundles of life which they all seem to be travelling with,to try and find B1.

Now trains in India are not the same as trains anywhere else. This particular train was a sleeper..so getting through the carriages was even more tricky ..people everywhere in triple decks seemingly dangling in blankets & sheets with naked children, food and general chaos everywhere with indescribable smells and sounds and there we were 15 brits trying to barge our way through …. with suitcases and a few polite excuses me’s .
 
It was about 2 carriages down and the train starts to move…. we still haven’t found B1 or Fayaaz…!! It was at this point a rather kind Indian man in perfect English asked me if I need some help…he gently advises me that B1 is 3 carriages behind us …i thank him profusely and about turn the group and advise them to go back 3 carriages….where we find Fayaaz  sitting in our reserved seats waiting for us rather bemused as to where we had been .. I point out to him that this carriage isn’t B1 as the number on the wall indicates something totally different…in true Indian style ! A conductor sees my confusion and advises calmly that this is B1 but cant explin why the carriage says something different … t i i everyone !
 
So at last I am able to allocate the group into their seats a group of 6 in one compartment a group of 4 and 2 sets of 2s ..we are all near each other and we are surrounded by indian families on the bunks above and around us, all sitting crossed legged children grandparents having breakfast having just woken up sheets and blankets dangling at all angles whilst others snored.
 
In true british style, as soon as the call of the Chai seller arrives from down the carriage up goes our hands, out come our rupees and our biscuits are opened in a flash ..sitting there enjoying the moment with a cup of sweet Indian chai discussing the events that saw us all nearly miss the train over the Indian equivalent of a digestive !!
 
You certainly see life whilst sat on Indian trains and you certainly smell it too… if its not walking down a platform then its walking through your carriage…..absolutely fascinating…you can buy anything from a Sari to Jaffa cakes…most of the carriages have seen better days too,as the majority of the windows are barely see through …if they aren’t broken (shattered)then they are just to plain dirty to get any glimpse of the outside world from. Just dont go to the toilet unless your eyes are shut and your stomache is strong …..
 
The 6hrs go by quite quickly, we are all to busy talking reading going through our photographs…to notice that Fayaaz is indicating that ours is the next stop and that the train only gives us 2 mins to get off… so here we go again ..everyone in a line all our luggage ..we have decided that the girls should just make a run for it leaving the guy’s with the luggage as this will mean less people in the way of the doors…it works like clockwork as planned al the girls get off the men then left behind passing the luggage from the train door into a group heap, the girls then distributing it ..with everyone off and our luggage allocated its back to a bus to navigate our way through the Delhi traffic back to the Hans Plaza for our final night.
 
We all arrived safe and sound at the Hans Plaza where I check everybody in as usual. I ask the group if they had any thought on how or what they would like to do for their final afternoon …shopping is the overriding agenda..I advise that I know just the place, there is an amazing fair-trade fix priced emporium in the heart of Delhi, this is 7 floors of souvenir heaven, and its round the corner form the Hotel we could all walk as a group do some shopping and come back in time for a final meal. Its agreed so with everyone back to their rooms for a quick re fresh …In true Chachi style a group expedition to the shopping emporium, a huge success as we were all finally separated from our remaining rupees.
 
The last supper was had in the same restaurant where we had all started …more curry and beer and much reflection from the last 9 days, tomorrow was the long journey home back to the reality that had sent us there.
 
The End
 
 
I would just like to take this moment to say a couple of things to several people….
 
 Firstly to Explore ! who saw qualities in me that I never knew I had … I would like to say a massive thank you for all you have done and for the once in a lifetime opportunity you have given me ..I will never ever forget any of this from the Boardroom to the Departure Lounge..it has been one of the most amazing things I have ever done..
 
Secondly ..to all in the group who embraced the concept and Me personally into their world …for the best trip ..I only hope that I had the same positive impact on you as you did to me …Thank you one and all ..I havent laughed for that long in my life.
 
Last but not least…to Rafeeq, Irshad, and Suman ..and all those at Sea & Sky who allowed this to happen …and who supported me throughout ..I am only as good as those I follow….Rafeeq you are a gentleman and a professional I feel honoured to have worked with you !! Suman may your water bottles never run empty and Irshad may your tyres remain forever round.
 
All my love
 
Christine”

Christine took part in our ‘Adventure Apprentice’ competition for which the prize was to be an Explore tour leader for a one-off Explore tour in India ‘Moghul Highights’.

Hello everyone,
 
Today is our last full day In the colourful chaotic city of Jaipur.
 
We are going to visit the beautiful and overwhelming Amber Palace, the journey to  get up to the palace is made on the back of Elephants, which is quite a highlight for many on this tour. We alighted from the bus and stood for a couple of minutes just staring up at the stunning backdrop before us. I took this as a photo opportunity and started to snap away ….I heard the strange music of a wind instrument but really didn’t take any notice as India throws a lot of unusual sounds at you which you do find yourself switching off to, it wasn’t until I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye that I realised I was being targeted by a snake Charmer….and the Cobra was starting to sprout swaying to the tune from the basket …….now we don’t get many Snake charming Cobra’s In King’s Lynn…..I don’t think I’ve moved so fast in all my life  !
 
  The palace is set up on the top of what can only be described as a steep cliff , which it lines the top of and spreads down to streets below with its many terraces. The entrance however is right up the top of a steep twisting slope wide enough for 2 Elephants to pass, this slope is scalloped walled either side well over 6ft, which when you standing next to it is fine but once atop the back of a swaying Elephant is a slightly different matter. So there we were in pairs , sitting precariously on the wooden framed seat with a pull down metal bar for protection on top of a seemingly rather grumpy Elephant, which swayed and plodded, and sneezed its way to the top . The Elephant’s Name as we were reliably informed by his Mahout is Chumba, Chumba didn’t want to walk in the middle of the path up to the gates of the Palace …Chumba wanted to walk as near to the scalloped edged wall as possible and dangled us over the edge, which found us clutching on for dear life, I am sure the views were wonderful as we neared the top but I cant tell you as my eyes were slammed shut as I am terrified of Heights..much to the delight of my Elephant ride partner Michael who found this journey highly amusing as was his commentary .
 
We spent a good few hours at the Amber Palace, it is really beautiful I think we must have picked the hottest day of the year ( or it felt like it) and It was relief to meet the cool air-conditioning of the Bus finally as we made our descent in the back of jeeps with joy riding hawkers clutched onto the back trying to sell us their wares at break neck speed. The plan after this was to make a photo stop of the River Palace  Jawal Mahal, this is exactly as it sounds the Palace in the middle of the Lake, this has been the first year in many that there has finally been enough rainfall to fill the lake. I Know every time I have seen it its been the Palace in the middle of a dry lake bed….so it was a good opportunity to actually witness it in the surroundings it was meant for.
 
It was here, that Rafeeq advised the group that once we were on the bus, we were going to get a short Magic show….. Now this is hard to describe but there were a small group of street boys 3/4 in number no more who instead of begging could and would perform magic tricks for food money ..trust me if you could have seen these kids then it makes it hard to resist giving them anything…. Rafeeq asked the group if would be ok we all agreed instantly and Low and behold 1 of the group (this barefoot lad was no more than 7 or 8 yrs) came aboard our bus to present his magic show. He was brilliant …his makeshift implements which had clearly been handmade and  had seen better days made no hardship for this young mans ability to use his well worn contraption to turn blank paper into Rupees…or for a coin to appear in someone’s ear….He was given much applause and a mitfull of Rupees for his efforts on the promise that he buy food and share it with his little group of fellow barefoot magicians whose age ranged from about 4yrs to 9yrs. With many smiles and enthusiastic waving and promises of food he disappeared back to the streets.
 
So, our last night in Jaipur and the last full night for the group as it stood. Tomorrow we would lose 4 members as they were going on to another tour which started in Jaipur and it was at this juncture I realised that Rafeeq, my trusty sidekick was staying with them and that I was going to have take the group on the 6hr train journey back To Delhi !!! with only a caretaker to assist me …. !!
 
Step up to the plate Chachi…could or would  Explore ! 1st adventure Apprentice make it with all remaining members of the group and their luggage in one piece using the most Chaotic Rail service in the world to Delhi … now that is the question !
 
All my Love

Christine

Christine is currently on the Moghul Highlights tour after winning the ‘Adventure Apprentice’ challenge.

Hello Everyone
 
 So the journey to Jaipur proved to be less eventful than that of the journey to Agra. We eventually arrived In the Pink City at around 1300 after a couple of rest stops. Like Karauli, our hotel in Jaipur was a classified Heritage property but this time we would allocate the rooms as they were all pretty similar apart from the configuration.
 
A short wash and brush up and its time to head on out into the the heat and mayhem of the City for a visit to the observatory of Maharajah Jai singh dating back to 18C where the sundial there is accurate no less than 11 seconds ..I have been here several times and it fascinates me that someone could have been so advanced with the astronomy, astrologically so long ago..I always like to stand under the Astrological Dial of Capricorn (my Sign) and have a cheesy photo ..Huxley was able to come in on this one and he too had his photo taken ..!
 
After the observatory came the Maharajah’s Palace . Jaipur Still has a Maharajah, and is the only state in India that does. his nickname is Bubbles due to the consumption and use of Champagne used to celebrate his birth. Jaipur is a very regal city, the reason its called the Pink City is because of the scalloped walls which enclosed it are literally painted in a bright salmon pink, the centre is accessed through 4 gates (N,S,E,W)and once within the traffic and life is nothing more than total chaos. Its like one massive confined market with a remarkable level of traffic in all the usual Indian Methods, It is also heavily polluted with exhaust fumes combine that with the stifling heat makes for an interesting time. However, the shopping here is fantastic and I reckon you could buy absolutely anything. Its also a very vibrant city loads of colour mostly from the beautiful Sari clad ladies going about their duties of shopping and haggling in loud gesticulative ways, whilst cows and goats command the respect in the walkways .
 
 I’ve always Liked Jaipur. Its not the broad organised (loosely talking) boulevards of Delhi, its a cultural mish mash of vibrancies. The gents with their Moustaches & Turbans Rajasthan style, the ladies with their bright coloured Sari’s and henna’d hands. It has the Majesty of a once great Royal ruled domain which has slightly lost its gloss. I like the unintentional shabbiness, the way that they hang their washing through the holes in the pink walls, whilst curious Children stare and wave through tiny broken shuttered window frames.
 
So after another very full day,its back to the Hotel ..i’ve checked ….there aren’t any Chickens outside !! but my air con isn’t working so i’ve asked reception if there is anything they can do …. 10 mins later a man arrives at my door with a hammer with a swift kick and a wobble of the head my Air con is now working !!  After all ..this is India.
 
Thank The Gods for Indians bearing hammers.
 
All my Love
 
Christine

Christine is currently on the Moghul Highlights tour after winning the ‘Adventure Apprentice’ challenge.

Hello Everyone

Our time in Karauli is nearing an end and after a really interesting evening at the Palace and a fascinating insight at a Hindu Temple of Krishna at worship time (dodging the Cows Urine throwing spectacle) we headed back down to our Hotel again on the back of the camel carts..slightly more interesting in the dark as you couldn’t see the bumps coming …but the town this time at its busiest still came out to wonder what the heck are these white folk on. We were followed in earnest by a Tuk-Tuk with neon lights and loud thumping music pouring from it ..not quite sure maybe you paid more for the entertainment !

Back at the Hotel/Lodge in our very swish and colonial surroundings we took to a few G&T’s and settled down to a good meal, put the world to rights under the stars. I know I was looking forward to what promised to be a good nights sleep, my room was delightful not as ornate as some of the other group members but it was stunning. I didn’t have the room with the Library in the bathroom or the extra lounge suite addition or the secret passage to the Snooker room, but non the less I was more than satisfied . So content with my world, I laid back to settle myself down.. then I awoke I thought I had heard what sounded like a Cockerel crowing its head off in the grounds below my window. With a slight panic I leapt out of bed in fear I had overslept and missed my alarm..I turned on my torch looked at my watch 2am…no way ! What I hadn’t realised was that my beautiful room that offered all the decadent promise of a decent nights sleep was directly over the Chicken coup…something or someone had disturbed the chickens woken them up and that was the end of my much needed sleep and also that of the chickens…. they, in blissful ignorance to my plight clucked and crowed away loudly all night long, whilst I laid there in sleepless desperation and wished the property still was a hunting lodge.

It was going to be an early start again ….. (not a problem for me after the Chickens had seen to it) and we were going embark on our 5hr Journey to the Pink City Of Jaipur, capital of Rajasthan.

All my Love

Christine

“We found them, 8 in total! I can’t describe the emotion of my first sighting! We reached a rocky beach by Zodiac and watched the bear waking up from its nap on the snowy mountain slope and getting to the shore for a leisurely stroll. A few hours later we were watching another Polar Bear eating its meal of seal on an ice floe; I truly felt like I was inside one of those amazing wildlife documentaries on TV!

But the Arctic is not just about Polar Bears; each area of the Svalbard Archipelago is so diverse. I loved sailing in the deep fjords, admiring glaciers, canyons and Polar deserts, hiking hills covered in mossy tundra where reindeers wander free and cliffs where various species of geese, guillemots, little auks and other birds nest. Here Arctic foxes are alert and very ingenious in their hunt for chicks; they scan the bottom of the cliffs for inexperienced birds on their first flight attempts, while gulls watch the nests closely for preys.

Whales also populate the icy Arctic waters and some of the quiet bays attract groups of walruses, who enjoy resting on land. I couldn’t believe how close we were to these enormous and fascinating animals!

Unlike Antarctica, where penguins and seals can come up to people’s feet, it’s not possible to approach animals too close in the Arctic and binoculars become essential. A good zoom will also guarantee great close up shots!

Life on board the expedition vessels is not just about wildlife and nature; the informal atmosphere makes it easy to get to know everybody and there are so many nationalities on board. The expedition team is also always around for programmed and impromptu lectures and for sharing interesting facts and information.

We even had an outdoor Polar barbeque with lovely food and lots of dancing!

One of my favourite aspects of my experiences in the Arctic  is the wonderful feeling of freedom and exclusivity of being on top of a snowy hill or a mountain and being the only one with just 20 or 30 other people admiring the breathtaking views. I felt so privileged, in times when most sites are crowded and one has to queue for a glimpse of a view or a photo opportunity.

The silence was deafening, it felt like I was in my very own piece of paradise. We were all fighting back the tears.”

You can currently save 25% when booking an Arctic Cruise with Explore. Click here to see more details.

Hello Everyone
 
Its a 6hr drive from Bharatpur to Karauli. Suman has prepared the bus brilliantly and we have lots of cold bottled water and a clean bus ready for the road less travelled. The view from the windows has changed dramatically as we are now in the deepest rural parts of the majestic Rajasthan. What was continual road chaos is now a lot quieter, the methods of transport have changed too as we are one of a very few motorised vehicles in preference to the Camel and bullock trucks towing just about every commodity known …… however let me just say one thing and remind everyone that this isn’t the M1  … after about an hour in to the journey, tarmac becomes a rare sight and if it is then its in really bad repair ..our expert Driver  Irshad navigates the best he can but the roads are tough going and arduous for the Bus… we as ever are too busy enjoying the view and each others company to care…busy pointing and commentating on the forever changing canvas around us.
 
We take a rest stop and continue until Rafeeq pulls the bus over at an approaching village. When I say village in mean a small enclave area with 3/4 families all living together, in mud & brick huts, bullocks, goats and water buffalo tethered to trees, Wide eyed children in barefoot wonderment at the approaching strangers . Rafeeq has a quick and elaborate conversation with the Elder member of the village and it is approved for us to enter and look around …. this is just an amazing experience the families are all smiles and full of grace, the children shy at first but curious none the less intrigued by everything about us…. our clothes ..our cameras… our voices… our skin… wow what an opportunity this is .
 
So it’s back on the Road and we eventually arrive in the incredible Town of Karauli. This is different from anything we have been to before and dates back to the 13thC .. Tonight we are staying in a heritage property . A heritage property is a an old palace or lodge that has been transferred into a Hotel or guest house . This Hotel was once an old Maharajah hunting Lodge and has all the furniture and fixtures and fittings to match. Huge stuffed Tigers adorn the antique style lobby and ornate black and white Photographs of Old India with Eyes of times past staring back at you … doing the check in here is slightly different as each room is entirely different and offers a unique stay …to make it fair we have decided to register everyone in the usual way but instead of allocating the rooms I will put all of the keys in a bowl and get the team to pull out their own key …it would be unfair to allocate in such a unique environment….. with all keys distributed and the group on their way to their rooms it was time for Rafeeq and I to sit down, catch up on our game plan and sip some ice lime water, in, lets describe it as the Maharajahs’ Snooker room !!
 
It was arranged that the group were to meet at 4pm for the afternoon’s guided tour of the Palaces and forts of Karauli, with a twist. We weren’t going to be doing this with a normal method of transport… but on the back of camel carts no less. 1 camel with like a flat wooden plank attached to wheels on top of the plank was a blanket where 4 people plus the camel driver could sit, so again in convoy 5 individual camel carts pulling our delighted group up through the narrow streets and markets of Karauli …from the minute we set off we were surrounded by children running after us …shouting ‘Hello Hello’ and waving furiously …the local people bemused to say the least at this spectacle as we climbed camel speed through the hilly town . It felt like the whole town stopped and came and watched like a long awaited carnival was finally arriving into town totally enthralled with us and enjoying our ever so bumpy but memorable journey…again we were surrounded with cars, rickshaws, motorbikes ,cows goats…also were enjoying our long slow busy colourful path to the top .
 
 
All my Love
Christine

Hello Everyone,
 
 
We are saying farewell to Agra today, and heading out west via Fatehpur Sikri The abandoned city of Akbar The Great, to Bharatpur Keoladeo Ghana National Park where we will spend the night .
 
The lost city of Fatehpur Sikri is immaculate. It was deserted only 16 years after completion in 1569ad due to fresh water complications but its spectacular court and palaces leave an outstanding legacy to this great emperor. It is said that dancing girls were used as human chess pieces on its checkered inner court floor whilst musicians played on the sandstone island surrounded with fountains……our Guide here is the Iman who I have to say was amazing. Iman is from the villages which now surround this once great City, his knowledge and command of our language is extraordinary as he takes us back in time …close your eyes and you can hear the giggle of the dancing girls, the musicians master their song , whilst the sun beats down in its non forgiving way.
 
After the palaces comes the Great mosque, once again we are thrown into the throng of Hawkers and beggars. We have had to remove our shoes here, and the sandstones is red hot under our toes….as we try and navigate our way on the patchwork areas of shade that surround the area, whilst bemused Indians look on wondering what is the new dance we are all trying to perform !  very funny indeed
 
Again we bid farewell to Iman and embark on what is again comparatively short journey to Bharatpur Ghana National Park, but TII (this is India) so will take several hours along what is now the Rural (bumpy) roads of Rajasthan. Bharatpur is the ornithologists dream land with over 300 different species of birds, this once Duck shooting reserve is now a tranquil world heritage site protecting the very many species that were hunted here. The most spotted species were the Cranes as they perched like giant pink winged balloons from the trees before taking off and swooping down into the lake beneath to catch the odd meal.
 
Cycle rickshaws are used to navigate the peaceful paths, our turban clad rickshaw driver who sported a wonderful Rajasthani styled moustache left in convoy along with the rest of the group pointing out the various different birds along the way until sunset where we headed off back to our resort styled hotel for the small drinks party that Rafeeq and I had organised on the Bus for us this evening . This was huge fun and we were able to have a good laugh and get to know Suman and Irshad  as they played host to this short but much enjoyed merriments.
 
Early Start in the morning for our continuing westerly road trip towards the Forts and palaces of Karauli…
 
Love to everyone
Christine

Hi Everyone,
 
 
After the meal, we had a bit of a celebration not only because we had made it in one piece to Agra, but it was one of the group members birthday Rafeeq had already ordered the cake so it was just a case of tucking in to the delicious choclate offering..
 
So the word on everybodies lips was what are we gonna do without the bus…..Rafeeq had already advised me that the bus had been fixed and was already on its way and that by the time we had finished the meal the bus would be outside but not to tell the group as he wanted it to be a surprise … It’s amazing how quickly things are fixed in India and what with !!! so true enough, we all left the restaurant and sure enough to everyone’s suprise there was our precious bus … with Suman and Irshad. I dont think that anyone truly believed that it was fixable with such a short turn around but hey TI I (this is India right!) 
 
Taj Mahal
 
Next Morning sure enough, there was the dreaded 0500 wake up call,up and out by 0530 to get to the Taj for Sunrise … the challenge is to get there early enough to be the first in the queue so that you get to be the first in the gate and and snap away at the most photographed structure in the world without the blemish of another Human being in the shot !!! now what you dont know is that the queue should you miss the 1st place is massive and much jostling takes place to see who can be the 1st tour group to establish pole position. Well needless to say because we have the marvellous Rafeeq we were indeed head of the queue he jollied us up on the march down as there were a German group hot on our heels !!
 
I got the lead of the ladies queue and the other girls of our group fell in behind me …Michael, created the men’s queue and there we stood waiting to be frisked and the opportunity to run like the wind once inside to be the 1st in….Michael and I got chatting to the doorman …. who with a nod and a wink (not to mention a mit full of Rupees) got the chance to be the only people inside for a couple of minutes to get those all important photo’s.

 
The Taj is simply beautiful. This is my 3rd visit and it never ever fails to render me speechless . It’s tranquility and beauty seem to take over and a rush of melancholy engulfs your soul, build something to remember me by … the dying wish of Mumtaz Mahal wife of Shah Jahan so he did and what an accomplishment and dedication in the honour of Love.
 
Back from the Taj to the Raj (our hotel the Raj Mahal) to feast on a much needed breakfast and a short rest, then out in the afternoon for the Red fort and some optional extra excursions the opportunity to tackle the ever crazy traffic of Agra to visit the Baby Taj and the view form the opposite bank of the Yamuna River overlooking the The Taj for sunset…ahhh !!
 
Love to everyone
 
Christine