Mahout Training in Northern Thailand

My wife, Katherine, likes large mammals – gorillas, bears, whales, hippos, even me. That is why I am sitting on a very large elephant, riding bareback, at the Thai Elephant Conservation Center (TECC; http://www.changthai.com/) about 20 miles outside of Lampang in northern Thailand. We are here for three days of mahout training, an introduction to the basics of elephant care and handling.

The TECC is one of several centers located throughout Thailand dedicated to protecting this revered national symbol. For centuries, elephants were used to log teak forests, transport goods through the mountains, and perform any task that required serious muscle. Since logging was banned in 1989 to protect Thailand’s forests, these magnificent beasts have been put out to pasture, literally and figuratively. Many have been exploited in tacky tourist shows; others by their desperate mahouts who bring them to the big city to cadge a few baht from tourists who feed them bananas and take photos. Even more tragic are the hundreds, maybe thousands, that have been poached – murdered – for the ivory in their tusks.

The elephant preserves, like TECC, help save Thailand’s elephants by providing a financial incentive to the local communities to protect rather than poach the animals. The centers also educate tourists and school children about the role of the elephant in Thai history and provide them with medical care and treatment. The main attraction at most of the preserves are the elephant shows which showcase traditional skills such as moving, hauling and lifting logs, and responding to the commands of their mahouts, as well as more gimmicky tricks like painting pictures and playing xylophones.

MY OWN PERSONAL ELEPHANT
The center also offers 1-3 day courses in mahout training, the reason we are here. We are signed up for the three day course, along with three others. Our group of five ranges in age from 30s to the mid 60s and represent three different countries.

Just a few minutes after our 8:30 am arrival at the Center, we are wearing our blue mahout suits (with pants big enough for both my elephant and me) and trying to memorize the basic commands, in Thai, from a one page cheat sheet. Before I have barely mastered what I consider to be the most important command, “how” for “stop,” we are each introduced to our very own elephants and mahouts.

Mine is huge (the elephant, not the mahout). Won, my mahout, barks a command, and Poomphwoum (or something like that) bends her front leg back towards me. Won motions for me to step on her leg and pull myself up by holding an ear in one hand and a roll of skin in the other. Somehow, with absolutely no skill and less grace, I manage to get on. Before I can even process the idea that I am actually sitting on an elephant 8-10 feet off the ground, Won starts running through the basic commands and I practice getting on and off.

It’s a bit scary at first sitting on top of this behemoth bareback with nothing to hold on to. I balance myself with the palms of my hands resting on the two lumps on the back of her head. It is my only means of support and seemingly all that keeps me from falling off.

Soon, too soon, we are riding our elephants in single file to the lake a hundred or so yards away. The elephants ease into the lake just as a tour bus pulls up. With the tourists’ cameras clicking away, the elephants dunk themselves -- and therefore us -- for the first of several times over the next two and half days. After the initial shock of being up to our shoulders in muddy, but thankfully, warm water and realizing that we won’t drown, we laugh and frolic as our elephants dip, rise, and spray us with their trunks. With instructions from our mahouts, we make our first clumsy attempt to wash our elephants.

Then it’s back to the open air amphitheater for the show. Instead of watching the show, we soon realize that we are still part of it. We ride into the amphitheater waving triumphantly to the amazed audience. After a few minutes of demonstrating how to get on and off, we are finally off duty for a few minutes as the real mahouts lead the elephants through their paces for the rest of the show.

Following the show, we check into our rustic bungalows at the adjoining Chiang Thai resort on a lush, green, jungle-covered hillside, change out of our wet mahout suits, and have lunch. After a brief rest, we return to our elephants and ride them deep into the jungle. It is an amazing way to experience the jungle – a quiet, swaying ride on the back of a huge animal, at “chirp” level, to use Katherine’s words, an animal that is as intrinsic to the setting as the trees and brush.

We ride for about two hours, get another dunking in a lake, then leave our elephants behind, tethered in place with a very long chain, and walk back on the trail for a ride to our bungalows. The image of “my” elephant as I look back, feeding in a field with the jungle as background, is unforgettable.

The Center’s staff cooks us an excellent Thai dinner featuring lots of fresh vegetables and tall bottles of Thai beer. The air is cool and there are few mosquitos. As we get ready for bed, Katherine pretty much sums up the day -- “There is nothing as thrilling as riding your own elephant through the jungle. Temples are great but this gets my heart pounding.” For the first time since we arrived in Asia three weeks ago, we don’t hear a thing as we fall asleep except for the occasional chirp of a bird or insect.

RIDING TALL
We return the next day to the jungle and walk up the trail to where Poonphoum waits for us. It’s a strange feeling walking through the jungle, spotting a large elephant ahead of you and heading directly towards it. My instincts say stop, but of course it’s OK. We carry treats – stalks of bamboo – and Poonphoum seems glad to see us, or at least to see Won.

Over the next day and a half as we ride further into the jungle, I begin to feel more steady and comfortable, aside from a sore butt and inner thighs, and am able to appreciate what an extraordinary experience this is. I even begin to feel a little control – just a little – as I shout “bai, bai” (go, go) and nudge her with my knee in the direction I want her to go.

Riding bareback, I can feel the powerful muscles undulate under me. It’s not a fast power, like an overpowered automobile, but a slowly-push-through-anything kind of power. And its live power, driven by muscle and sinew, just like me but orders of magnitude greater. And it’s a power that I know I could not control if she ever got it in her head to ignore me or Won.

As we say goodbye to our elephants and mahouts on the last day, Katherine is moved to tears. So am I. Every one of us has been deeply touched by the experience and by the beauty, intelligence, agility and almost human-like qualities of these extraordinary animals. It’s hard to think of a three ton beast as gentle and lovable, but that is exactly what we feel. We turn often for one last glimpse of our elephants and a final wave to the mahouts who looked after us and put up with our bumbling but earnest attempts to live in their world, if only for a few days.