Tuesday, January 29, 2013

I Stalk a Leopard in the Mountains of China


Sichuan Province, China


When preparing for my first trip to the Wolong Panda Breeding Preserve, which is located several hours drive from Chengdu, in the Sichuan Province of China, I learned that leopards inhabit the forest around the Panda Preserve.  The elevation is around 1,500 meters.  A combination of Pine, hardwood and bamboo forests cover the slopes of the steep sided river valley where the panda preserve is located.  The date was October 31, 2005, when I arrived there.

Seeing a leopard in the wild has been on my list of things to do for some time, so I decided to prepare for the panda trip as if I would also be going out to stalk leopards.

Since leopards are nocturnal I packed an assortment of nighttime camouflage gear.  I packed away a black knit ski hat that rolls down to cover my face, a dark black fleece hood, black gloves, and dark blue and black waterproof outerwear.


One day while talking with our van driver, Ted, I learned that in the darkest hours of the night from 9:00 PM to Midnight drivers sometimes see leopards crossing the main road that runs between the nearest town of Wolong and the Panda Garden.  In fact, Ted told me had just seen a leopard around 9:00 or 10:00 P.M. the night before.  It had crossed the road only a mile up the mountain from the Panda Inn. 
This was exciting news.  I was determined to go out that very evening and stalk this wild leopard.
 
The Panda Inn management locks the front door to the hotel and the main gate to the grounds surrounding the hotel at midnight.  I figured I had a two or three hour search window, from around 9:00 PM until just before midnight. 
    
When they heard me discussing my plan with our guide, some members of the Panda encounter group asked if they could go along.  I was concerned for their safety.  It seemed too dangerous to take someone else along with me. 

To avoid the chance that I would get talked into taking someone else along, I just told the group that I didn’t think I would go out.  But then after dinner I advised Jai, our Chinese translator & local guide, that I would be going out for a walk that night.  I promised her I would be back by midnight, before the doors were locked for the evening. 

Jai is a city girl and was concerned about me going out alone.  Earlier in the day, while doing a day hike, Jai became just a little bit frightened when a group of 3 wild pigs ran through the underbrush near our hiking trail.  Jai (pronounced Jaw) heard the pigs rustling in the underbrush 50 yards from us, down by the Pitaio River.  She looked concerned and asked me what was making the noise. 

I whispered for Jai to be quiet and said “I don’t know what’s there, but let’s wait and see, maybe it is a Golden talken”.



 But the noise proved to be the work of a wild boar and two females who moved closer to us in the brush and then suddenly burst from the underbrush on a second trail perhaps 5 meters from our position.

Jai screamed and grabbed my arm while moving to hide behind me, as if those three wild pigs were monsters in a sci-fi movie.
For the remainder of that hike Jai would not leave my side.  As we finished the one hour hike, she walked so close, I sometimes felt her bump my back if I stopped too quickly. 

So now, while trying to calm Jai’s fears for my safety in the night, (she felt responsible for my safety) I told her some stories about past solo mountain adventures I have been on.  I meant to calm her worries, but I think my stories just made her even more apprehensive.  Moving toward the door that opened into the cold night air, I promised once again to be back before the doors were locked at midnight.
  
It was cold that night in the mountain valley.  The elevation is about 4,500 feet and this was early November.  The weather had been turbulent and rainy before our group arrived in Wolong, but upon our arrival a period of nice days and cold nights settled in.  The leaves on the hardwood trees had begun to turn red and amber but were just now beginning to shed their leaves.  This made for some pretty daytime scenery.


Stalking a leopard   



Just up the road a few miles from the Panda Garden there was a thick layer of snow on the ground and in the forests that would just keep growing deeper with each passing storm, until spring came once again.  I knew that the temperature would drop well below freezing by midnight. 

I layered up with two thicknesses of thermal underwear, a heavy polar fleece outer layer, a second layer of fleece outer pants and then my waterproof gear.  It wasn’t raining, but the waterproof gear would keep the wind and night mist out.  Sitting in one spot for hours on end in cold weather can be very uncomfortable if you don’t have the proper clothing.



Preparing for a night in the forest.

1.  Under layer of moisture wicking long underwear that has Spandex and is form fitting.
2.  Second layer of lightweight warm long underwear.
3.  mid layer of black polyester fleece.
4.  Outer layer of dark midnight blue Goretex coat and pants.
5.  In addition to the black wool hat in this photo, I also work a black balaclava that could be pulled down over my face.
6.  I am told that when my granddaughter saw this photo she started to cry. She was 11 at the time.

To avoid attracting attention when I left the hotel, the black hood, gloves and ski mask were stuffed inside my jacket as I exited through the front lobby.  I had my Nikon D70 digital camera slung over my left shoulder, as I always do.  As ready as I was ever going to be, I casually sauntered out of the hotel at 8:30 P.M. 
  
There were some local people gathered under the lights near the hotel entrance when I exited the hotel lobby.  They were waiting for rides up the road to the town of Wolong where they live.  I walked slowly uphill past them and toward the town of Wolong, away from the lights of the hotel and the Panda Preserve.
  
As I walked from beneath the direct glare of the streetlights, I realized that the night was as black as it could possibly be.  The sky was thoroughly clouded over.  There would be no starlight to guide my leopard stalking efforts.

After walking into the dark away from the lights to the point where I could no longer see the road beneath my feet, I stepped off the shoulder of the road to take a few minutes while my night vision adjusted.  Ten minutes later, everything was still black around me.  I couldn’t see anything ahead of me uphill, just the glow of the hotel lights behind me.
   
I began to walk up the road once more.  Not being able to see the ground beneath me, I took each step cautiously.  With each careful step away from the hotel I felt just a little bit more insecure.  Stalking a hungry leopard in a night so dark that I couldn’t see my own shoes became less appealing with every footstep away from the friendly glow of the Panda Inn lights.

Fifteen minutes of this slow uphill stroll and I felt a tingling sensation running down my spine, into my stomach.  It wasn’t sweat.  I felt as if someone – or something was watching me.  The back of my neck had a tingling feeling to it.  My pace seemed to slow a little bit with each additional step uphill.  Now each stride of my double insulated Danner hunting boots was carefully measured.  Each boot set slowly onto the concrete roadway as if I were sneaking up the roadside.  My ears strained to hear the slightest sound.  My hands, unseen in the pure black night, waved in front of me.  I used the edge of the concrete roadway as my guide.

Another 20 minutes of this slow walking brought me to where I thought I was near the site Ted the Driver had shown me he spotted the leopard crossing the road.  Since most animals stick to pre-set hunting paths I wanted to be near to, but off of this big cats expected path to the Pitiao River.
   
I chanced flashing my headlamp around, damaging my night vision, but allowing me to find a big rock to hide alongside of.  The rock was surrounded by heavy underbrush and was positioned far enough off the road that I wouldn’t be visible to any passing cars. 
   
I sat down on the moist earth, turned off the headlamp and wiggled around to make a soft depression for the cold wait ahead of me.  My butt was comfortably wrapped in fleece and Goretex so the cold damp earth was only a minor annoyance.
   
Quietly I slipped the knit facemask and black balaclava down over my shiny white face.  I pulled the warm black fleece hood over that and then last of all I pulled on a pair of black Goretex gloves.  As I tugged the gloves on I realized I couldn’t see them.  Waving a hand around just inches from my face, I couldn’t see any movement.  I could feel the cold air moving, I knew the hand was there, but it was invisible.
    
Ten minutes later I tried waving my hand again.  Still nothing.  This night was so dark I could have been inside a cave.  Although I had taken a shower before leaving, using no soap or deodorant to give me a scent, I began to feel like an unfortunate goat staked out as leopard bait.

I now realized that tingling gnawing sensation that had been coursing up and down my spine for the last 40 minutes was fear.  Every little sound in the night was amplified.  Innocent sounds of mice carrying seeds to their nests were transmuted in my mind.  Every leaf rattle became the sound of a leopard paw brushing against a branch.  Every rustle of a nocturnal rodent going about his nightly chores became the sound of a leopard stalking closer to me.
   
I pushed my back hard against the rock that protected me from behind.  I held my hands in a Kung fu-like position in front of me, the better to stop the attacking leopard from clamping down on my raspy throat.  The night felt thick like chocolate pudding around me.
Stalking a leopard – Page six

The 8” wooden chopstick that I had taken from the dining room earlier that day and then patiently sharpened to a point on the concrete roadway, didn’t seem like much of a leopard deterrent anymore.  What was I thinking?  What rational person would think he could defend himself against a 150 pound snow leopard with just an 8” chopstick?
   
I had recently studied a poorly mounted leopard at the Wolong Panda Museum.  I could remember quite clearly the long and pointy teeth that leopards use when hunting serow, taiken, wild pig and the occasional stupid human leopard stalker. 
  
The night was quite cold by that time, but I could feel hot sweat trickling down my spine.  It was almost 10:30 PM.  A dozen leopards could already have passed me and I wouldn’t have seen them in the thick darkness that surrounded me.
  
So why was I still sitting there, huddled against the big cold rock?  I guess I was trying to prove to myself that I’m not afraid of the dark.  Whatever the reason I watched the white radioactive luminous hands of my wristwatch move to precisely 10:45. 
    
Suddenly, with no forethought I just stood up, turned on the headlamp and headed down the road toward the distant glow that was the Panda Inn.  I had no idea I was going to do that.  It was like spontaneous combustion.  One minute I was pressed against the big rock and the next I just began moving.  I didn’t run, not exactly, but that 35 minute uphill walk only took me 10 minutes going back down the hill.
  
The warm glow of the streetlights outside the Panda Inn was certainly a welcome sight.  As I entered the bright lights outside the Inn, I slowed my quick step to a casual saunter.  Before stepping inside the hotel lobby, I removed the black knit cap, the black balaclava, the black gloves and then placing a big smile on my face I opened the door and stepped into the welcoming warmth of the Panda Inn.
  
In the morning I casually mentioned to the group that I had gone out for a little walk the night before.  I told them it was too dark to see anything, so I gave up.  I left out the part about the funny tingling sensation running up and down my spine.  I guess I shortened the time that I said I was out there because I didn’t really want to admit that for a brief 2 hour period that night I had struggled with fear of the dark.  And I surely didn’t want to admit that I practically ran back to the hotel.
   
It’s good to see a scary movie once in a while.  I think it might even be therapeutic to scare yourself just a little bit in real life too. 

Following this first visit to the Wolong Panda Preserve I returned another 20 times before a horrendous earthquake devastated the Sichuan Province and destroyed most of the Wolong Panda Preserve.  On May 12, 2008 only three weeks after my last visit to the preserve in April, the massive earthquake struck.

Buildings were toppled, trees fell, boulders rolled onto roads and through building roofs and into the Pitaio river.  Mountainsides collapsed; the only road leading to the panda preserve was destroyed becoming nearly impassable. 

Some foreign visitors were trapped there for a brief time.  Some Chinese visitors and students on their way home from the preserve were killed or injured.  Five of the Wolong Panda Preserve staff died.  One panda, 9 year old Mao Mao the mother of five pandas, was killed when an enclosure wall fell on her.

This tragedy will be remembered for a long time to come.  Three years after the earthquake I finally convinced myself that I should re-visit Wolong.

But next year I think I’ll stalk that leopard from the passenger seat of a slow moving car while Ted steers us up the highway.

The End
by
Keith Jones
Sichuan Province, China

No comments:

Post a Comment