Travel Sized Bites.
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elephants, tuk-tuks & other bumpy rides
By Author: Peter W. Morris
E-mail: petertraveler@usa.net
Submitted on Tuesday 11th December 2001
Elephants, Tuk-Tuks & Other Bumpy Rides By Peter W. Morris, Travel Writer & Photo journalist
Modern day travel varies little within the United States. You take a commuter plane to an aviation hub, board a bigger aircraft, and find something do for the umpteen hours before arrival at your destination (15-hours Los Angeles-to-Hong Kong, 14-16 hours to eastern Australia, 22-hours South Africa-to-Atlanta). Of course, contouring your body into whatever space is allotted for its bulk, doing your best to keep the guy in front’s bald head out of your lap and having the flight attendants’ trays’ constantly causing pain and injury to your limbs, does help pass the time.
Or, within the continental U.S., you can hop an Amtrak, sit back in a Greyhound or pilot the family SUV or land-yacht to destinations from coast-to-coast.
Not so, generally speaking, in more out-of-the-way places both in this country and, most certainly, abroad.
In Alaska, Betsy and I found that bush pilots were an invaluable resource, although flying in their small, often-cramped aircraft wasn’t always what one might expect from the less-friendly skies of United, TWA, Delta or, for that matter, Eva, Swiss Air or Singapore Airlines. A few incidents come to mind...
• Such as hopping aboard Alaska Coastal-Ellis in times prior to its merger with Alaska Air and years before Ketchikan would have its own land-based airport. Heading out of Annette Island, the captain invited me to fly co-pilot, since I was the airline’s only passenger. He gunned the seaplane’s twin-engines well before reaching the runway, sending us sideways and burning rubber, until he recouped, made a 180-degree slide, and caught a lift. (We landed at Ketchikan’s docks 20-minutes later.)
• The flight out of Skagway proved somewhat embarrassing for this extra-large, XXL traveler. Three people were on board, Betsy, a friend of the pilot and myself, when I noticed the captain headed my way. "Can I ask you to please move to the other side of the plane," he pleaded. "It’s so that we can balance the craft for takeoff."
• Then there was that "special something" that the pilot, for what will remain here an undisclosed airline, offered enroute to Juneau. "We normally follow the inland waters northward, but I’d like to show you the glacier from a very different perspective," he explained. Always up for a new experience, Betsy and I chimed-in with a resounding "Yes!" Moments later, our aircraft was enclosed by ice and snow on three sides...the plane’s "TOO CLOSE! TOO CLOSE! TOO CLOSE!" alarm signaling, on two separate occasions, that wingtips and mountain peaks were getting a tad too friendly.
No matter where in the world you travel, transportation is of vital importance; it also offers experiences not-to-be missed by lovers of high adventure.
While trains are an ideal way to move throughout foreign destinations (and a preferred way in which to meet locals and become one with their culture) and native airlines continually provide for unexpected encounters (Moslem’s on knees praying in mid-aisle, bearded transvestites in black lingerie and fishnet stockings, enraged passengers pooping on the food cart), it’s the less-conventional modes of transportation which remain dear to the memory. Son Jonathan and I pursued one of "Dad’s dreams" in northern Thailand when, outside of Chaing Mai, we contracted to enter the mountain jungles, adjacent to Burma, on elephant-back. Perched atop our first pachyderm, we headed down a hill leading into a river when the elephant, no doubt deciding he wanted to stay home with the wife and kids, abruptly reversed direction in mid-step. Our neck-mounted guide became airborne. Moments later, we found out what it’s like to ride atop a slow-charging elephant. "We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!" we both laughed, clinging tightly to our somewhat rickety seat. "We’re gonna die!!!!!!"
A new elephant was quickly mounted; we would later journey back to the elephant camp via oxcart, our now-faithful steed being allowed to return to the jungle for the night.
On other Asian journeys (Asia being a beloved destination frequented by myself, Jon and Betsy) mobility was facilitated by cyclo, where an individual (or two VERY CLOSE friends) is bicycled about town by a lone peddler; Tuk-Tuk’s, golf carts-turned-taxies which provide for hair-raising experiences within unbelievably scary Asian traffic; and ferries, motor-launches, bamboo rafts, and sampans which routinely ply rivers and other waters from Singapore to northern Japan.
Perhaps my fondest recollection of unique travel took place in north Africa, where my normally well-grounded Betsy decided she’d opt for a camel ride. These temperamental beasties, which are mounted while they’re squatting on the ground like a long-legged dog, first toss you violently forward when they rise, later throwing you backwards when their front legs move to the level of the back ones. Sure enough, only moments had passed before Betsy was perpendicular with the camel and horizontal to the ground, her eyes wide and her mouth forming an, "Oh, oh, oh..." of sincere apprehension.
It was all that Jonathan, Andrea and I could do to contain our hysterical laughter at the comic actions of our flailing, frightened, up-for-anything companion. The camel, meanwhile, had a perplexed look of puzzlement about its soulful face, wondering, no doubt, what the problem might be with this short, not very athletic, curly-haired foreigner.
"Half the fun of the journey is in getting there..." I recall one travlin’ philosopher placing into legend.
I couldn’t agree more.