Decidedly we’re not getting much sleep on our travels! Today is another dawn wake-up call as we get picked up at 6:30am to go visit an elephant sanctuary (Into the Wild) in the Chiang Mai countryside. It’s an hour and a half drive so we were hoping to catch up on sleep on the way, but unfortunately our transport is a red song-thaew, a converted pick-up truck with benches in the back, rather than the minivan we expected. It’s very typical but makes for a bumpy and uncomfortable ride with ten of us crammed in the back, swaying against each other at every turn. It’s also not very safe by our standards - we can barely stay in our seats and of course there are no seat belts - but at least our driver has installed doors to stop us sliding out the back, which is not the case for every truck!
We get a quick respite at a market town on the way there - twenty minutes to stretch our sore legs, buy breakfast if needed (we got a lovely breakfast hamper from our hotel so we're set) and check out the local market. At eight in the morning, it’s just opening up but it is a fascinating glimpse into a truly authentic market - not a tourist in sight outside of our little group and I can’t spot a single elephant-themed tat stall. Our driver picks up lunch parcels for all of us from one of the stalls, and we press on - only forty-five more minutes of bouncing around in the truck.
We climb up into the mountains on increasingly narrow and windy roads, passing a slew of other elephant camps - it can’t be very nice for them being right next to the traffic - before reaching a bumpy dirt track heading off into the forest. Apparently that’s us: our truck turns in and rattles through for a hundred meters before climbing back on to two concrete tracks, just wide enough for each wheel, to help navigate the steep downward slope we’re now on. It’s really the most basic form of road but does the job and after some slightly scary cliff-side moments we stop in a quiet valley near a wide, shallow stream. No elephants yet but friendly dogs and scattering chickens as we cross over a small wooden bridge on our way to “camp”: a basic wooden hangar open to the elements. It’s very, very rustic but at least it doesn’t feel like we’re part of a big tourist operation, and while basic, everything we need is provided.
Our guide for the day, Pai, one of the sanctuary’s owners, sits us down for an introduction before we get to the main event. He is a tiny, wiry Thai man (he will later mention he weighs just 42kg!) who needs to stand on a bench to make sure we all hear him, especially as we’re quite a big group in the end - two other trucks joined us here. He gives us a fascinating insight into the history of elephant tourism and his view of the ethics of it. As I found out when I researched where to go today, there is a lively debate about the rightness or wrongness of the various sanctuaries, concentrated almost entirely amongst westerners. It’s focalised for some reason on the question of whether or not it’s ok to ride an elephant (this used to be a popular tourist activity until western outrage cancelled it almost entirely) but the real concerns seem to be more around how the animals are treated and trained, and the fact that they are kept captive instead of being left wild - I couldn’t find solid evidence of the riding itself being the problem. Pai draws a fascinating parallel between the historical role of elephants in Thailand and more traditional farm animals like horses and cows in Europe: the culture of relying on them for hard labour is similar. He explains that the pachyderms used to be the backbone of the logging industry until the end of the twentieth century. For that, they were captured as babies, brutally “broken” to obey their masters, and worked to death. When the government banned those cruel practices (not even needed anymore with the advent of modern machinery) an entire population of captive elephants was suddenly left without means of income: for them and their masters, it was entertain tourists or die.
The early camps kept the same barbaric training methods and work culture as the logging industry. But as more and more westerners become aware of the issues and protest, they are slowly becoming more humane. Pai doesn’t seem to think the riding is really of any importance: as long as the animals are well cared for and treated humanely, it’s a much better life than their previous one! He does insist on the fact that his charges have been captive their whole life and he is physically not able to release them: they don’t know how to survive on their own. He needs to provide for them, and that doesn’t come free: they still need to work, in a fashion. It’s a hard issue for me to make my mind up on: on the one hand, I’m not sure there is (or needs to be) that much difference between training and keeping a horse for example, or one of those bigger, greyer beasts. But on the other, I’ve got very little means of checking how well the "stars" are treated when tourists are not around. I suspect there’s a balance where humane sanctuaries have their place to help provide for already captive elephants, but it can easily tip either way.
At least, here at Into the Wild, where one of the founders is a vet, the animals appear well-fed and cared for, and have a nice big slice of the mountain to themselves. As we’ll see throughout the day, Pai obviously has a very close relationship with his giant friends (one of them runs to him the minute he appears in distress!) and we see no sign of violence or coercion from any of the handlers. Obviously however, those “wild beasts” are surprisingly tame and happy to be surrounded, fed, petted and bathed by thirty unknown tourists, so they must have had some pretty intensive training - I hope that it was of the positive Pavlovian reinforcement kind rather than anything else.
After this though-provoking preamble, Pai introduces the stars of the show: his four elephants, rescued from various work camps in Myanmar. The little reconstituted family consists entirely of females: a forty-five years old matriarch, forty-year-old mother and seven-year-old daughter Moon and Star, and the last addition, lucky number Nine, a similar-aged friend for Star. They come running as he calls - I assume they do the same routine each day and know it’s time for some tiny bananas! Each provided with a basket of the fruits, we stand safely in a “tourist pen” and hold out our offerings to the pachyderms, who deftly grab them - sometimes five or six at once! - with their trunks. They are friendly and very intelligent - they can sense immediately if we don’t have anything for them, and apparently can also easily tell the difference between Ollie’s yellow, banana-sized phone and the actual treats: none of them reach for it despite our fears. Once they’ve had their fill, they’re happy to pose for a few pictures before going for a dip in the river.
Next order of business: walk the elephants! I did hear they need to exercise, and to be fair here they have the space to do so. We head off in the forest with them and follow and watch as they go about their business: searching for some nice leaves to top up the banana course, having a good scratch against a tree, taking a mud bath, and a display of the full range of bodily functions including an impressive fart. Now that we’re out of the pen and close up amongst them, they’re truly huge and Pai clearly warns us to always make way for them: they’re also several tons and we won’t come out of a collision unscathed. During our stroll, we also witness some adorable cuddling between Moon and Star and one of the older pachyderms even brings down a tree! After a bit more than an hour’s hike, we head back to camp to change into our swimsuits: it’s time for the elephant bath. We first cover them (and ourselves) in mud before going for a splash and a rinse in the cold, cold river. They’re all very well behaved but they seem rather indifferent to the whole process.
As we climb out of the river Pai gives us a demonstration of how close he is to his charges. As he drops to the ground, pretending to be hurt, Star immediately runs to him, soon followed by her mother. Even when he gets up, she hovers protectively around him while he cuddles her to reassure her he’s alright. It’s an impressive testament to the bond they have and he genuinely seems to care for all of his little tribe.
We cap off the day with a banana-leaf wrapped lunch parcel: simple fried rice with a mild sauce, before heading back off in the same truck. After all these activities, it’s an exhausting ride into town and we take the afternoon off to rest and digest the experience. We only come out for dinner where I finally get to try papaya salad (specifically made milder for me) at Kat’s Kitchen - it’s delicious and I will be back!
I see what you mean. When we were young in Thailand, we rode an elephant once and - as far as I can remember - its leader was respectful and the bond between him and the elephant was very close. But things look different to an 8-year old I guess!