Nepal: Land of the brave.

Rhino in the early morning most, Chitwan National Park.
Image: Slawek Kozdras

A journey across Nepal reveals the mountain country at its most steadfast and stoic, whether it’s maroon-robed monks perched in lofty monasteries, or courageous forest dwellers, listening to the long grass for the tell-tale signs of rhinos.

How do you stop a rhino with a stick? This isn’t a joke — I really want to know. Do you jab it on the nose? Throw the stick and hope the rhino bounds off after it like a puppy? I’ve been amusing myself with the question ever since we clambered out of the wooden canoe and made our way into the park. But suddenly the correct answer seems important, because a snort has just come from the elephant grass to my left. The sort of snort made by something very big and very close.

And now the bamboo hiking sticks clutched by our guide, Hemanta, look flimsier than they did before. The grass cracks and swishes a few short metres away, and my chest vibrates with the rumble of heavy feet moving fast over the earth. 

“Quickly, quickly!” Hemanta whispers, ushering my friend Bob and I along the trail. After 30 seconds, we stop and Hemanta raises a hand for silence as he cocks an ear at the 12ft wall of grass. But there’s a thrashing in some branches, and we’re off again, almost into full stride before Hemanta calls us back. Just macaques in the mid-canopy. Heartbeats fill my head. Our second guide, Bissow, returns from scouting and announces the all-clear. This time, the rhino has bolted in the other direction. This time.

“We call it ‘adrenalin grass’ when it’s tall like this after the monsoon,” says Hemanta, leaning on his stick. “It hides everything, so you can get near a rhino without realising. And a startled rhino will charge.”

By Adrian Phillips.

Full story at NAT GEO Traveller.