In the steps of Steve Irwin – a Srifari

It was on this drive we first saw some of the devastation wreaked by the tsunami, December 26th 2004. It’s sobering to note that the south coast was not that badly hit compared to the east, and yet there remain whole villages in ruins with newly spectacular views of the coast: all the trees were simply washed away like matchsticks, along with homes, businesses and 60,000 lives. There are encouraging signs, such as rehousing developments that look of a pretty high standard, but you shudder to think of the east and the north, which were already under siege from their own set of troubles before the wave hit them, and which have received much less by way of government help.

Palm Paradise Cabanas, near Tangalle, was mercifully unscathed by the disaster, and the owners are committed to helping those that were hit. The cabanas claim to be a resort hotel, but really they’re just a collection of pretty basic huts on stilts, deliberately kept simple and open to the breezes (and also the mosquitoes and monkeys) dotted amongst the palms, right next to a small sandy beach. The food is also basic: you get whatever is in that day, which usually involves curried local fish. But with two swings, a games room and a beach, it was mecca for the kids.

It was also a base from which to explore Yala National Park, and this we did in some style. We took a jeep safari with the same company that had taken Steve Irwin, the world-famous Aussie crocodile hunter, on his filmed srifari (get it??) in 1994. Rowan’s grin broadened enormously as she found this out, and looked avidly through the snapshots shown us by Steve’s very own driver. Hey, we were following in the footsteps of the very famous, and now very dead, croc hunter. Not dead at the jaws of a crocodile, but rather at the tail of a sting ray that managed to get him right in the heart as he swum over it, and kill him almost instantaneously, through his wetsuit, and on film to boot. Rowan got a real kick out of the fact we were taking his jeep. And what a jeep! Old, battered, open sided and with disconcerting stickers to denote a no guns in the jeep policy. We jumped in and hung on as our driver sped off down dirt tracks at an incredible pace. We jolted and jumped on and off road, swerving past buses and tuk tuks until we reached the national park.

Just as we have never been cruise people, we had never thought of ourselves as safari folk either. But Yala had us pretty much converted. “Extreme animal number one in close up: Monkey!” shouted Rhys after only a minute in the park.
We hared across dirt tracks through spectacular plains, spotting scores of wild elephants, wild boar and buffalo. The monkeys were also everywhere, as were wild peacocks, and we saw wild crocodiles lazing on the banks of watering holes, doubtless waiting for a weak deer (of which there were also large herds) to do something foolish. It was an amazing afternoon, speeding off after bears, spotting lizards, kingfishers and mongoose as well as the larger game. Yala also has the largest concentration of wild leopards in the world, with 1 for every square kilometre, but despite many jarring hours of chasing, we were not fortunate enough to find one. But it was fantastically exciting nonetheless, and the kids were in heaven. They were also in very grave danger at one point, as we had left the jeep to watch the monkeys, only to hear a private 4×4 come charging through the river, piling on the power and speed to come shooting out over the top of the bank, in front of which Rowan and Rhys stood. We screamed at them to move, and at the driver to stop. Expletives were used. They did look somewhat abashed as we told them in no uncertain terms that they had been driving straight at children, and Rowan was pleased to tell us that, as they drove off at a somewhat reduced charge, the wife was berating her driver husband soundly.

Undoubtedly the highlight was when I was shooting some video of an elephant. The driver suddenly shouted “bear! Bear! Bear!”, threw the jeep down a few million gears and shot off in clouds of dust. We clung to the jeep bars and practically flew over the churned up track, to stop as suddenly as we had sped off. Our magnificent driver-tracker cut the engine, and we were amazed to see a mother and baby sloth bear rootling around in the undergrowth. The near-bear misses of north America were repaid in spades.

We were bruised and battered, covered internally and externally in dust and inanely happy when we finally regained Palm Paradise Cabanas that night. So what if there was fish curry again. So what if we found a shed snakeskin right under our cabin, which was open on all sides to anyone who fancied crawling or creeping in. We were safari kids now, all five of us, and we slept like babies.