I finally left Ahmedabad on the morning of the 27th, on a three hour bus trip north to Patan. Patan was the capital of Gujarat until Ahmed Shah built Ahmedabad in the early 15th century. We passed farmland on the way, but not much wheat. I recognized cotton and mustard, and a plant I was later told produces castor oil, used in Ayurvedic medicine in India. Ahmedabad was a big cotton textile mill town, starting in the 1860's, called the "Manchester of India," and in fact some of the big textile tycoons financed Gandhi's efforts. There is a very nice hotel in the city that was the mansion, built in 1924, of a textile tycoon. We also passed camels here and there on the way, including a big group of perhaps thirty munching on the leaves of trees alongside the road. I saw one camel with an egret perched on his head. He didn't seem to mind.
Arriving in Patan, I got a hotel and then took an autoricksaw just outside town to Rani-ki-Vav, a stepwell built in the 11th century by the Solanki Dynasty, which ruled Gujarat until the Muslim conquest about 1300. It is the largest, and the finest, stepwell I have seen. It had been filled in and covered with sand and was only rediscovered in the 1950's. It is six or seven levels deep, about 90 feet below the surface, and about 210 feet long and 65 feet wide. It is mostly open to the sky, with the well at its west end. The sculpture on its lower levels is fantastic (preserved by the sand, I suppose), very similar to that at Khajuraho, which is about the same time. The well and lowest level were closed, but I walked up and down the main staircase a couple of times and all around the area. I spent most of my time just admiring all the sculpture. There are hundreds of figures. There were lots of tourists there, all Indian but me. One guy, a dentist whose last name is Patel from Baroda (he gave me his card), told me the Patels come from the area between Ahmedabad and Baroda in Gujarat. I left just after 6, as the sun was setting, and the autorickshaw passed the old city walls and gates on the way back to the center of town.
I left about 9 the next morning by bus on an hour ride south to Modhera, with another big group of camels on the way. In Modhera I spent about two hours at the Sun Temple, dating from the 11th century, another construction of the Solanki Dynasty. There are two temple buildings, with a large tank of water, about 165 by 65 feet, with steps and shrines, in front. The sculpture in and on the temples is similar in style to those in Patan and Khajuraho, though more worn. The temples have been damaged by time, earthquakes and Muslims. The central tower, the shikhara, is missing. Even though worn, the sculpture was interesting, including elephants and erotic scenes. Again, there were hundreds of figures. In the sanctuary there were perhaps a couple of hundred bats, about 4-5 inches long, clinging to the ceiling. Outside there were langur monkeys in the trees and lots of birds, including parrots, flying around.
From Modhera I took a crowded auto rickshaw about ten miles south to Becharaji to find that the bus heading further south was full. However, a student gave me his seat and shared a seat with a friend. They were part of a group of four heading to an IT competition in Rajkot. I took the bus for maybe an hour and a half to an intersection called Thori, just south of the city of Viramgam, on the new highway from Ahmedabad heading west. I soon caught a bus heading to Dhrangadhra, my next stop, but it was crowded and I had to stand until I decided to sit on my backpack. I did get a seat for the last twenty minutes or so of the two hour journey.
Arriving in Dhrangadhra about 5, I took an auto rickshaw to the house of a guide for the Little Rann of Kutch named Devjibhai Dhamecha, and found him and six tourists (two Italians, one Taiwanese and three Indians) preparing to head towards his "Eco-camp" on the edge of the Little Rann of Kutch. I had time for a quick cup of tea that his wife gave me before we all left in two jeeps for the camp. It took us about an hour and a half to get there, through very dry countryside, but with some irrigated crops. In places we had to edge past big flocks of sheep and goats and herds of cattle and water buffalo on the road. The sun set about 6:30 and we arrived about 7, just at dark. The camp was quite nice, with comfortable huts of mud walls and thatched roofs. The site is about 25 miles northwest of Dhrangadhra, near a little village called Jogad. We had a great dinner under the stars. In the early evening, Jupiter, a quarter moon and another planet (probably Venus), were all aligned. There was hot water for a bucket bath and I slept well, with the wail of jackals in the distance.
I remember as a kid seeing the Rann of Kutch on a map and wondering what a rann of kutch was. (There are both a Little Rann of Kutch and a Great Rann of Kutch. The modern spelling is "Kachchh" rather than "Kutch." Kutch is derived from a word for tortoise, as the peninsula of Kutch is somewhat tortoise shaped.) Ranns are salt deserts, low lying areas that are flooded by both river water and sea water during the monsoon, from July to September. The strong monsoon winds push the sea water inland into the rann while rivers brings freshwater from the rains of the monsoon. After the monsoon, the Little Rann dries out and becomes a stark, mud desert, with little vegetation.
I was up the next morning about 7, with sunrise soon after. After a good breakfast, I left about 8:30 in a jeep with three others and our guide Devjibhai, to explore the southern edges of the Little Rann. We passed through scrub vegetation and cracked soil (like the bed of a dried up reservoir), with some white salt residue.
The Little Rann is a sanctuary for wild asses, about 3800 of them. They are brown and white and a little bigger than domestic donkeys. There are only something like 25,000 Asiatic wild asses left, with others in Tibet, Mongolia and Iran. We saw solitary males, groups of juveniles and groups of females and offspring, dozens of them all together. I never thought I would be so pleased to spot donkeys. We couldn't get too close, though, as they are shy. We also saw lots of birds: common cranes, harriers and the larks that are the prey of the harriers.
We drove further into the Rann to a salt works surrounded by nothing but cracked soil. The ground looked a bit like a bizarre mosaic. Our guide told us that about 5000 families make their living making salt in the Little Rann. He said the Little Rann is at most 3-4 meters (9-13 feet) above sea level and that the water table below is salty from intrusion by the nearby ocean. They dig a well, pump out water, and then evaporate it in ponds. Piles of blaringly white salt were around the ponds, and in the saltiest ponds, appearing almost like ice skating rinks, men and women were raking the crystallized salt into piles. There are hundreds of these simple salt works in the Rann, with trucks coming in to cart off the salt. Our guide told us the salt workers are all from a Hindu tribal group, of which he is a member. There is another tribal group, this one Muslim, who during the monsoon, fish in the shallow waters of the Rann for shrimp, from about July to September. They establish camps on little grass covered islands, called bets. We visited one, almost deserted and with several wooden canoes resting on the bet or on the cracked soil of the Rann. Devji said the salt workers work from the end of the monsoon until April and that the Rann is deserted in May and June because it is too hot, with temperatures regularly at 118 degrees and sometimes up to 131 degrees.
We went back for lunch at the camp about 1:30 and then set out again about 4. We saw some more wild asses, common cranes, and also saw a big eagle (a tawny eagle) and nilgai, which are large antelope also called bluebulls, because the males are somewhat bluish. We watched the sun set over a salt pond, with cracked soil all around. The soil there was particularly deeply cracked, with cracks about two inches wide and five inches deep.
Up again before sunrise the next morning, we headed out about 8 or 8:30, first going east to Kuda on the edge of the Rann, with massive mounds of salt and some derelict buildings, before turning north and heading into the center of the Little Rann. We soon lost sight of all vegetation and traveled for miles over nothing but cracked soil. Except for salt works, there was almost nothing to be seen. White painted stones marked the way. We did stop at a little, one room school, with about ten pupils. On the walls were drawings, including one of Mickey Mouse. The kids were friendly and curious, though one little girl cried and clung to her brother. Some more students arrived while we were there and the teacher began a lesson, which we watched for a while. This school room was surrounded by nothing but cracked soil for miles and miles, with salt works in the distance. The salt workers live in temporary little huts next to the works and this school is for their children.
From the school room we headed further north with not much more than the cracked bed of the Rann and the sky visible. At one point we did see a hawk perched on a white painted rock at most a foot high, so maybe there was some prey around. Devji asked directions at several salt works until we found the place we were looking for, a flamingo hatchery. The flamingos had fled, and all that remained were the low dirt mounds that are their nests and the eggs and even the carcasses of a few chicks that they had left behind. It's unclear why they left. Perhaps there wasn't enough food in the area (they eat the shrimp that breed in the monsoon) or something disturbed them. There were hundreds of eggs left behind, each about four inches in length. The chick carcasses, and I only saw about five of them, were extremely dessicated. There is now a salt works next to the former breeding mounds.
From the abandoned hatchery we headed east and southeast, again asking directions at salt works. A long, relatively high bet became visible to the north. Eventually, we saw a bush, then a scrubby tree, and then grass. We spotted wild asses and nilgai and finally reached a big lake, a reservoir I think, at the eastern edge of the Rann, where we parked under one of the few big trees and had a very good lunch that we had brought with us. The lake was full of birds, including common cranes, ducks, and a few flamingos, but they were quite distant. After lunch, we drove along the lake to a spot where the huge flock of cranes and other birds were somewhat more easily visible. Next we headed into the ugly town of Patadi and then into the southeast corner of the Rann, passing wild asses on the way to another lake, this one full of flamingos, though they were far off, a line of light pink in the blue lake. I got fairly good views with binoculars. The land around the lake was more cracked soil, with many pinkish flamingo feathers littering the wet rim of the lake, which was clearly receding fairly rapidly. V-shaped flocks of cranes flew over the lake, but landed elsewhere. We watched the sun set over the lake and then drove back to Dhrangadhra, arriving just before 8. We stayed at Devji's house, where his wife prepared us a very good dinner and I could wash off the day's dust and sweat with a hot water bucket bath. The Little Rann excursion cost me 4500 rupees, or about $90 (2000 for two nights in the huts, 2000 for the two days of jeep safaris and 500 for the night in Dhrangadhra, and this included very good meals).
Arriving in Patan, I got a hotel and then took an autoricksaw just outside town to Rani-ki-Vav, a stepwell built in the 11th century by the Solanki Dynasty, which ruled Gujarat until the Muslim conquest about 1300. It is the largest, and the finest, stepwell I have seen. It had been filled in and covered with sand and was only rediscovered in the 1950's. It is six or seven levels deep, about 90 feet below the surface, and about 210 feet long and 65 feet wide. It is mostly open to the sky, with the well at its west end. The sculpture on its lower levels is fantastic (preserved by the sand, I suppose), very similar to that at Khajuraho, which is about the same time. The well and lowest level were closed, but I walked up and down the main staircase a couple of times and all around the area. I spent most of my time just admiring all the sculpture. There are hundreds of figures. There were lots of tourists there, all Indian but me. One guy, a dentist whose last name is Patel from Baroda (he gave me his card), told me the Patels come from the area between Ahmedabad and Baroda in Gujarat. I left just after 6, as the sun was setting, and the autorickshaw passed the old city walls and gates on the way back to the center of town.
I left about 9 the next morning by bus on an hour ride south to Modhera, with another big group of camels on the way. In Modhera I spent about two hours at the Sun Temple, dating from the 11th century, another construction of the Solanki Dynasty. There are two temple buildings, with a large tank of water, about 165 by 65 feet, with steps and shrines, in front. The sculpture in and on the temples is similar in style to those in Patan and Khajuraho, though more worn. The temples have been damaged by time, earthquakes and Muslims. The central tower, the shikhara, is missing. Even though worn, the sculpture was interesting, including elephants and erotic scenes. Again, there were hundreds of figures. In the sanctuary there were perhaps a couple of hundred bats, about 4-5 inches long, clinging to the ceiling. Outside there were langur monkeys in the trees and lots of birds, including parrots, flying around.
From Modhera I took a crowded auto rickshaw about ten miles south to Becharaji to find that the bus heading further south was full. However, a student gave me his seat and shared a seat with a friend. They were part of a group of four heading to an IT competition in Rajkot. I took the bus for maybe an hour and a half to an intersection called Thori, just south of the city of Viramgam, on the new highway from Ahmedabad heading west. I soon caught a bus heading to Dhrangadhra, my next stop, but it was crowded and I had to stand until I decided to sit on my backpack. I did get a seat for the last twenty minutes or so of the two hour journey.
Arriving in Dhrangadhra about 5, I took an auto rickshaw to the house of a guide for the Little Rann of Kutch named Devjibhai Dhamecha, and found him and six tourists (two Italians, one Taiwanese and three Indians) preparing to head towards his "Eco-camp" on the edge of the Little Rann of Kutch. I had time for a quick cup of tea that his wife gave me before we all left in two jeeps for the camp. It took us about an hour and a half to get there, through very dry countryside, but with some irrigated crops. In places we had to edge past big flocks of sheep and goats and herds of cattle and water buffalo on the road. The sun set about 6:30 and we arrived about 7, just at dark. The camp was quite nice, with comfortable huts of mud walls and thatched roofs. The site is about 25 miles northwest of Dhrangadhra, near a little village called Jogad. We had a great dinner under the stars. In the early evening, Jupiter, a quarter moon and another planet (probably Venus), were all aligned. There was hot water for a bucket bath and I slept well, with the wail of jackals in the distance.
I remember as a kid seeing the Rann of Kutch on a map and wondering what a rann of kutch was. (There are both a Little Rann of Kutch and a Great Rann of Kutch. The modern spelling is "Kachchh" rather than "Kutch." Kutch is derived from a word for tortoise, as the peninsula of Kutch is somewhat tortoise shaped.) Ranns are salt deserts, low lying areas that are flooded by both river water and sea water during the monsoon, from July to September. The strong monsoon winds push the sea water inland into the rann while rivers brings freshwater from the rains of the monsoon. After the monsoon, the Little Rann dries out and becomes a stark, mud desert, with little vegetation.
I was up the next morning about 7, with sunrise soon after. After a good breakfast, I left about 8:30 in a jeep with three others and our guide Devjibhai, to explore the southern edges of the Little Rann. We passed through scrub vegetation and cracked soil (like the bed of a dried up reservoir), with some white salt residue.
The Little Rann is a sanctuary for wild asses, about 3800 of them. They are brown and white and a little bigger than domestic donkeys. There are only something like 25,000 Asiatic wild asses left, with others in Tibet, Mongolia and Iran. We saw solitary males, groups of juveniles and groups of females and offspring, dozens of them all together. I never thought I would be so pleased to spot donkeys. We couldn't get too close, though, as they are shy. We also saw lots of birds: common cranes, harriers and the larks that are the prey of the harriers.
We drove further into the Rann to a salt works surrounded by nothing but cracked soil. The ground looked a bit like a bizarre mosaic. Our guide told us that about 5000 families make their living making salt in the Little Rann. He said the Little Rann is at most 3-4 meters (9-13 feet) above sea level and that the water table below is salty from intrusion by the nearby ocean. They dig a well, pump out water, and then evaporate it in ponds. Piles of blaringly white salt were around the ponds, and in the saltiest ponds, appearing almost like ice skating rinks, men and women were raking the crystallized salt into piles. There are hundreds of these simple salt works in the Rann, with trucks coming in to cart off the salt. Our guide told us the salt workers are all from a Hindu tribal group, of which he is a member. There is another tribal group, this one Muslim, who during the monsoon, fish in the shallow waters of the Rann for shrimp, from about July to September. They establish camps on little grass covered islands, called bets. We visited one, almost deserted and with several wooden canoes resting on the bet or on the cracked soil of the Rann. Devji said the salt workers work from the end of the monsoon until April and that the Rann is deserted in May and June because it is too hot, with temperatures regularly at 118 degrees and sometimes up to 131 degrees.
We went back for lunch at the camp about 1:30 and then set out again about 4. We saw some more wild asses, common cranes, and also saw a big eagle (a tawny eagle) and nilgai, which are large antelope also called bluebulls, because the males are somewhat bluish. We watched the sun set over a salt pond, with cracked soil all around. The soil there was particularly deeply cracked, with cracks about two inches wide and five inches deep.
Up again before sunrise the next morning, we headed out about 8 or 8:30, first going east to Kuda on the edge of the Rann, with massive mounds of salt and some derelict buildings, before turning north and heading into the center of the Little Rann. We soon lost sight of all vegetation and traveled for miles over nothing but cracked soil. Except for salt works, there was almost nothing to be seen. White painted stones marked the way. We did stop at a little, one room school, with about ten pupils. On the walls were drawings, including one of Mickey Mouse. The kids were friendly and curious, though one little girl cried and clung to her brother. Some more students arrived while we were there and the teacher began a lesson, which we watched for a while. This school room was surrounded by nothing but cracked soil for miles and miles, with salt works in the distance. The salt workers live in temporary little huts next to the works and this school is for their children.
From the school room we headed further north with not much more than the cracked bed of the Rann and the sky visible. At one point we did see a hawk perched on a white painted rock at most a foot high, so maybe there was some prey around. Devji asked directions at several salt works until we found the place we were looking for, a flamingo hatchery. The flamingos had fled, and all that remained were the low dirt mounds that are their nests and the eggs and even the carcasses of a few chicks that they had left behind. It's unclear why they left. Perhaps there wasn't enough food in the area (they eat the shrimp that breed in the monsoon) or something disturbed them. There were hundreds of eggs left behind, each about four inches in length. The chick carcasses, and I only saw about five of them, were extremely dessicated. There is now a salt works next to the former breeding mounds.
From the abandoned hatchery we headed east and southeast, again asking directions at salt works. A long, relatively high bet became visible to the north. Eventually, we saw a bush, then a scrubby tree, and then grass. We spotted wild asses and nilgai and finally reached a big lake, a reservoir I think, at the eastern edge of the Rann, where we parked under one of the few big trees and had a very good lunch that we had brought with us. The lake was full of birds, including common cranes, ducks, and a few flamingos, but they were quite distant. After lunch, we drove along the lake to a spot where the huge flock of cranes and other birds were somewhat more easily visible. Next we headed into the ugly town of Patadi and then into the southeast corner of the Rann, passing wild asses on the way to another lake, this one full of flamingos, though they were far off, a line of light pink in the blue lake. I got fairly good views with binoculars. The land around the lake was more cracked soil, with many pinkish flamingo feathers littering the wet rim of the lake, which was clearly receding fairly rapidly. V-shaped flocks of cranes flew over the lake, but landed elsewhere. We watched the sun set over the lake and then drove back to Dhrangadhra, arriving just before 8. We stayed at Devji's house, where his wife prepared us a very good dinner and I could wash off the day's dust and sweat with a hot water bucket bath. The Little Rann excursion cost me 4500 rupees, or about $90 (2000 for two nights in the huts, 2000 for the two days of jeep safaris and 500 for the night in Dhrangadhra, and this included very good meals).
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