All language subtitles for Wonders of the Monsoon 1of5 Waiting for the Rains

The monsoon.

THUNDER CRASHES

The greatest weather system
on Earth.

The giver of life.

And the destroyer.

Shaping magical lands,

from the Himalayas

to Australia.

Its impact felt by giants,

the exquisite,

and the bizarre.

Where spectacular nature

meets the planet's
most vibrant cultures.

Our story begins
when all of life is waiting.

It's a time when wildlife
is pushed to extremes.

A time when ancient cultures
anxiously await the great rains

to deliver the wonders
of the monsoon.

THUNDER CRASHES

Across a vast area of the globe,

from India to Australia,

life is dominated

by an immense weather system.

The monsoon.

Throughout the year,
unimaginable quantities of water

are moved about this swathe
of our planet in rhythms

sometimes unpredictable
and mysterious.

The monsoon delivers deluge,

and with it
the miracle of rejuvenation.

But the monsoon
can also bring drought.

Such extremes test the endurance
of every creature

and everybody.

We begin our journey

in the far southern extreme
of the monsoon world.

It's the dry season
in Northern Australia.

BUZZING

It's been six long months
without rain.

But there is an escape
from this dry and thirsty land.

The Roper River.

Fed by underground springs,
it flows throughout the year.

A vital refuge for a small mammal

with an intense dislike for the sun.

The little red flying fox.

These bats are waiting
for monsoon rains,

but now it's reached
38 degrees Celsius.

Just a few degrees more,
and they will die.

THEY SCREECH

Squabbles break out for shade.

They are dehydrating.

300,000 bats
are desperate for water.

Only the Roper River can save them.

By soaking their chests,
they can collect a little water

to lick off back at the roost.

But this is probably the most
dangerous thing they'll ever do.

SPLASH

Australian freshwater crocodiles.

Warmed by the summer heat,

they are at their most alert.

A crocodile's jaws
snap shut in the blink of an eye.

The bats' reactions...

..must be quicker.

They must choose a spot,
and run the gauntlet.

The survivors
will brave the river every day

until the monsoon rains break.

Which must be soon.

Australian Aboriginals call this
time of the year Gunumeleng -

the pre-monsoon.

It's a tense, menacing time
that can last for weeks,

and which brings
an unexpected danger.

Dry lightning.

The spark that ignites
the "fire devil".

This raging tornado of fire

can grow to more than 100m high.

It incinerates everything
in its path.

At its core, the temperature
can reach over 1,000 degrees.

From all around,
air is sucked into the furnace,

feeding the flames,

before being blasted
high into the sky.

It's by a similar process
of heat rising

that right now the monsoon winds
are being drawn towards Australia.

But on a scale that's continental.

The entire landmass is now
a vast hot-plate.

It heats the air above,
causing it to rise.

This sucks in more air
from all around.

These are the monsoon winds.

WINDS BLOW

And as they hit Australia's coast,

great storms begin to build.

As the humid air
hits the heated land,

it's thrust upwards,

rapidly cooling,

condensing...

..and forming clouds taller than
the world's highest mountains.

Giant cumulonimbus -

the biggest and most powerful clouds
on the planet.

Inside, vast electric charges build

on a monumental scale.

WINDS HOWL

The energy released
from just a single storm cell

can be equivalent to
an exploding atom bomb.

They can let fly over 1,000
lightning strikes an hour.

With every discharge,
the air around explodes

at over 25,000 degrees,

four times hotter
than the surface of the sun.

FLYING FOXES SCREECH

At last, the flying foxes are free.

No longer tied to
the crocodiles' river,

they can now return to
their nomadic life

and disperse across the outback.

For the next few months,

one of the biggest weather systems
on Earth

sits over Northern Australia,

transforming the land...

..and stirring dragons.

A frill-necked lizard.

He's endured the dry-season heat
and lack of food

by drifting in and out of a state
of suspended animation.

But the monsoon rains
have triggered a bounty.

This is his chance.

He must cram a year of life
into these few short months.

But he's not the only predator
the monsoon wakes.

The black-headed python has
a taste for lizards.

HISSING

His frill is a bluff,

to look big and ferocious.

But if that doesn't work,

he's off.

He sprints so fast
that his upper body lifts off.

At speeds of
up to ten miles an hour,

no snake is going to catch him.

This is a lizard
that lives life in the fast lane.

At least while the southern monsoon
is overhead.

1,000 miles to the north,

on a remote and tiny island,

the rains have triggered
another extraordinary emergence.

One of the greatest wonders
of the monsoon.

Across the island,

the forest floor is erupting.

Over 40 million burrows
are opening up.

The red crabs of Christmas Island.

For most of the year,
they hid below ground,

feeding on rotting leaves.

But now, with the monsoon
and rising humidity,

they begin to march.

It's time to spawn.

The forest
is a colossal assault course.

And the neighbours are indignant
at the sudden swarm.

SQUAWKING

BUZZING

A nesting booby is best avoided.

But the crabs face
a more insidious danger.

Suffocation.

Crabs, even land crabs,

breathe with gills
that must remain moist.

They can only attempt this journey
when the monsoon brings damp air,

but every time the clouds part,
water evaporates,

and it becomes increasingly
difficult to breathe.

But that's not the end
of their troubles.

Monster-sized robber crabs.

Their legs
span up to a metre across,

and with little competition,

they have become the top predator.

CRUNCHING

But no matter how many they kill,

they won't dent red crab numbers.

There are just too many of them.

The island's entire population,

over 45 million of them,

are on the march.

Journey's end.

It's more than two weeks

since these crabs
left the darkness of their burrows.

And this is why they've come so far.

Tonight,
when the tide is at its highest,

billions of red crab eggs
will be released into the sea.

Mission complete,

they'll all return to
their forest burrows

before the island dries out
once more.

It's only down to the moisture
brought by the monsoon

that these crabs can make
their incredible journey.

While the colossal weather system
revives Australia

and its neighbouring islands,
further to the north,

it's making life
surprisingly difficult.

Monsoon winds draw moist air away,

creating a dry season in one of
the most unexpected places.

Southeast Asia's equatorial islands.

With daily rainfall
for most of the year,

this is one of the warmest
and wettest regions in the world.

The annual rainfall for some islands
can be as much as six metres.

But even here, it's seasonal.

While Australia is having downpours,

the island of Sumatra
has only the lightest showers.

It's perfect weather
for a baby orang-utan

to practise a useful skill.

Making a leaf umbrella.

During the wet season,
it will be an essential accessory.

He hasn't quite perfected it yet.

But that's fine.

He has time.

Even so, the dry season
creates a problem for Mum.

She has to find food
for both of them,

but during the dry season,

fewer trees fruit, and they're
usually great distances apart.

She must take her son
on a long and difficult journey

through the treetops.

Their search will cover
many miles of canopy,

and she can't afford
to get it wrong.

But she has a plan.

She knows exactly where to head.

She holds a mental map of almost
1,000 hectares of rainforest.

But also, quite remarkably,

she has a diary of
exactly which trees are fruiting

and when.

She times her journey
through the forest precisely.

A fig tree she knows well.

Its fruit, perfectly ripe,

just as she knew it would be.

Her memory map is vital
for surviving lean times,

and now she's passing
that knowledge on to her son.

He'll spend up to ten years
with Mum,

piecing together his own map
and diary.

It will be her legacy,
and his survival kit.

When the monsoon rains return,

fruit will be widely available
again.

But there are rogue years,

when the monsoon is so weak
that it fails to bring rain.

Yet what sounds like a disaster

is crucial for the survival
of a key forest species.

Dipterocarp trees,
some up to 70 metres tall.

And as the forest dries out,
something magical happens.

They all flower and fruit
at the same time.

Which means
all their winged seeds ripen

then drop together.

Each tree sheds as many as
20 million seeds,

so there are billions
carpeting the forest floor.

Though triggered by

the unpredictable failure
of the monsoon,

the reason for this spectacle is
the trees' greatest foe.

A tiny weevil,
less than the width of a matchstick.

This is a voracious seed predator.

But because the trees
have not fruited for several years,

the weevil population has starved,

and has been kept in check.

By fruiting now, as one,

the remaining weevils
are swamped by a glut of food.

Guaranteeing that many of the seeds
will survive, and germinate.

The trees have used
the rare failed monsoon

as a cue to outwit
their number-one enemy.

But there was once a time when the
monsoon cycles mysteriously changed,

and weakened, for almost a century.

In the forests of Cambodia lie
the remains of a once-thriving city.

The temple of Angkor Wat.

Nearly 1,000 years ago,

Angkor was the pre-industrial
world's greatest city,

built on the bounty of the monsoon.

Superb engineers
constructed vast reservoirs

to collect monsoon waters,
used for irrigation

and pushing food production
to the maximum.

At its peak, over a million people
lived in Angkor.

But then the monsoon weakened,

causing a cycle of severe droughts

that lasted nearly 100 years.

Drought brought famine,
and an end to wealth and prosperity.

Angkor's population collapsed.

The kingdom fell,

its buildings consumed
by the forest.

Its people had created a system that
relied totally on the monsoon.

Too fragile to survive
such drastic change.

Today, over half
the world's population

are dependent on its fickle nature.

Each year, in India,

people's hopes focus on
whether the rains will come to them.

An explosion of colour
welcomes spring

as rainbow play-fights
take to the streets

in the joyous celebration of Holi.

It marks the end of the dry winter

and anticipates
what all hope is soon to come.

In Mathura Temple in northern India,

families gather
in a centuries-old tradition.

It honours a symbolic victory
of the future over the past

and good over evil.

For this, they call on the monsoon.

INDIAN MUSIC PLAYS

Water is coloured with
the spring flowers of the forest.

Symbolic of the monsoon rains,

it washes away the dust
of the dry season

and the old year.

This is a rebirth for everyone.

But underlying the colour
and good humour

is something far more serious.

Economic success
and even a family's very survival

depends on the rains coming.

What controls their future

lies over the northern border
of their huge country.

The Himalayas -
the highest peaks on Earth.

And beyond,
the great Tibetan Plateau.

This is the other driver
of the monsoon,

even more powerful than Australia.

As the Plateau heats up in spring,
hot air rises,

drawing in monsoon winds
from thousands of miles away.

From far beyond the southern tip
of India.

The winds pull at the surface
of the Indian Ocean,

creating currents so powerful

that even the waters of the deep sea
turn to follow,

bringing great changes
beneath the waves.

In the Maldives Archipelago,

an unusual gathering takes place,

triggered by the pull
from the distant Tibetan Plateau.

A giant manta ray,
almost four metres across.

They're normally solitary wanderers,

but now many arrive together
in one small, shallow bay.

They're here for a feast.

Mantas feed on microscopic plankton,

relatively scarce in the tropics.

But the monsoon winds

pull up cold, nutrient-rich water
from the depths,

thick with plankton,

trapping it for just a few hours
in the confines of this bay.

Remarkably, the mantas
know when to be here

almost to the minute.

Just how they know
is still a mystery.

For a fleeting moment,

it's the greatest gathering
of giant mantas in the world,

and all brought about by the winds
blowing towards the Tibetan Plateau.

After just a few hours,
the plankton disperses,

and conditions won't be
as good again until next year.

Above the waves,
through the monsoon season,

the winds hold steady and strong,

heading towards India.

It's April in Kanha, northern India,

and the forest wakes
to a new summer day.

Soon, it will be unbearably hot.

But there's a sure sign
that change is coming.

PEACOCK CALLS

According to local folklore,

the peacock's call means
the monsoon is just weeks away.

Right now, his one desire
is a partner.

But peahens
aren't so easily impressed.

If only he could mate now,

his eggs would hatch
just in time for the monsoon.

PEACOCK CALLS

The hormones are clearly
clouding his judgment.

PEACOCK CALLS

By mid-morning, it's just too hot
for such flamboyance.

The forest is drying out.

Toughest, perhaps,
for the chital deer.

The ground is parched, and food out
of reach for even the tallest stags.

But they've learned that right now,

it pays to hang out with
fellow forest-dwellers.

Hanuman langur monkeys.

Mahua trees produce
their strangely fleshy flowers

before the rains, just when
the animals most need them.

There's enough that the monkeys
can take their fill

and leave the rest.

Sticking with the langurs means
the chital can keep their strength.

But there's also security
in their combined numbers.

GROWLING

A tiger mother
with two rapidly growing cubs.

They're bouncing with energy.

Not even the heat of the day
stops their play.

Despite the invitation,

their mother is more intent
on keeping cool

than joining in.

Experience tells her
it's only going to get hotter.

Right across India,
temperatures are soaring.

It's June, and the monsoon
should be here by now.

Roads must be repaired
before the expected floods.

But will they come?

The city waits.

Traders monitor the market.

When rains delay,

food prices rocket.

The impact of a failed monsoon
will ripple across the entire world.

With the monsoon already late
and the stakes so high,

it calls for desperate measures.

CHANTING

In a sacred ceremony,

called upon only
when fears of failure are greatest,

holy Brahmins give voice
to ancient Vedic texts

that are learned by heart.

They call on Varuna,
the god of water.

CHANTING

This centuries-old ritual
beseeches Varuna

to deliver India from drought.

Prayers to bring
the life-giving monsoon.

But will he answer?

Outside, it's getting tougher
by the hour.

On northern Indian salt pans,

the rains are now two weeks late.

And for one family, the situation
is becoming critical.

New foals have been born to
a herd of Asian wild ass,

their birth timed to coincide with
the usual arrival of the monsoon.

All around, new grass
should be growing,

but the frazzled ground
offers nothing.

A mother struggles to provide
her youngster with enough milk.

And now, there's danger coming
from within the herd.

Rain or not, the stallion
has one thing on his mind.

HE HOWLS

He can't delay.

Breed now, and next year's foals
will arrive on schedule,

in time for a normal monsoon
and its fresh grass.

Right now, the mares
have barely enough energy

to care for this year's foals,
let alone carry another.

They'll resist,
but there's nowhere else to go.

The herd must endure
the rising tensions.

And wait.

PANTING

In Kanha, even the cubs are subdued.

Yet despite the heat,
the delayed rains

have given their mother
a distinct advantage.

In the forest, the chital are
tied to the last muddy water holes.

The dry vegetation means that
she is perfectly camouflaged.

But chital
have a keen sense of smell.

CHITAL CALLS

Langurs warn the rest of the herd.

She's brought down a large stag -

more than two days' food
for her cubs.

The late monsoon
has been good to the tiger family.

But prey will be
much harder to catch

when the rains eventually come.

And there's a sign
that they're finally here.

THUNDER RUMBLES

India has endured months of drought.

Could the long wait be over?

Come the deluge,
the land will be green again.

RAINDROPS FALL

But the monsoon
can bring both welcome relief

and complete devastation.

The only certainty is that
all of life here is about to change.

Across the series, the team's
ambition was to film monsoon storms

in all their glory.

Some of the world's biggest
and most powerful thunderstorms

occur in Northern Australia.

This is where the team joined one
man who understands the ambition

more than anyone.

Murray Fredericks, ex-commando and
world-renowned photographic artist.

For him, capturing the perfect storm
is about more than just the weather.

It can't just be a shot of a storm.

It's got to be a great landscape
as well.

It's got to be the whole image.

And getting that quickly,
somewhere you've never been before

because the storm is taking you
somewhere you've never been before,

is a real challenge.

The team are monitoring
about 400,000 square miles,

an area four times bigger
than the UK.

Typically, storms need hot ground
and high humidity to power them.

Professional storm-chaser
Jacci Ingham

is helping the team
to narrow the search area

and safely get close to a storm.

So we're trying to anticipate

theoretically what we think's
going to happen today,

based on what we just know
from the models.

Humidity is rising
600 miles to the west.

It's a good sign.
But even with the help of radar,

the search area is still vast.

The chances of us now saying,

"The storm is going to happen there"
is 1%, you know?

So I think if we go, "It's there,
there, there, there, there,"

and we just know
that's where we barrel on to...

We always want to be ahead of it
so it's coming towards us.

To film a storm, they need to
find one that's accessible.

So the thing about Australia is,

the roads just go on
for ever and ever.

And this is apparently a highway.

To cope with the rough roads,

they're using specially adapted
long-range vehicles.

It's a long day's drive,

but eventually Jacci's predictions
pay off.

We've just driven
right into the rain.

This is it.

This is the real thing.

There's thunder, there's lightning,
the road's flooded,

I can barely see out of the window.

We're driving further
and further into the storm.

Wow, did you see that?

That lightning just hit almost...
Just off the side of the road.

Here, a single storm can dump as
much as 12 billion tonnes of water.

I can hear the lightning over there,

so that's... The centre of the storm
is rumbling there,

and if we can get in front of the
storm where the light's hitting it,

we could get some nice shots.

RADIO: 'On the left-hand side, guys,
there's a nice cell there.

'Looking good.'

Out of the rain,
the team head to a high point

where they can capture the storm's
final stages.

But to capture a single
ten-second time-lapse,

they need the camera to run,
free of water on the lens,

for at least ten minutes.

The team need to
leave the cameras running

until the last possible moment

before the storm is on top of them.

Let's go! I've got to get
the other camera too. That was good.

An encouraging start to the shoot -

a spectacular curtain of rain.

What they need next is lightning.

The land here is now wet and cold,
but further west,

it's still hot and humid,
with storms looking likely.

It's another 1,000 miles,
and time is against them.

We're trying to get into
this more arid country,

but this is as far as we go.
There's no way round this river.

So what do we do now?
We turn around and go back -

hope we've got enough fuel.

By the time they catch up
with the storm, it's dark.

THUNDER CRASHES

Whoa! It's absolutely going nuts.

That sky is alive.

Oh!

It's a great light show.

But for the perfect shot,

Murray needs just enough daylight
to illuminate the landscape.

I hope this carries on.

To get ahead,
and ready for storms tomorrow,

they're pushing even further west.

The journey eventually brings them
to the spectacular landscape

of the Kimberleys.

The humidity and temperature
have been building here for days.

I've got one straight ahead.
Keep coming, guys.

That's just stunning.

RADIO:

OK.

A thunderhead is forming.

The bigger it grows, the more
static electricity builds up

and the more chance of lightning.

There's a shot, as tight as we can
get through to that mountain range,

through the saddle there
between those two hills.

Lightning keeps coming down
at exactly the same point.

ALL: Whoa!

THUNDER CRASHES

THEY WHOOP

Look at that!

I'm a little bit scared, now,
what do you think?

Never show fear to the storm.

Whoa!

I've never seen anything like that!

It couldn't have actually
worked out better.

It's a beautiful shot.

Good day, really, really lucky.
Stunning.

These images help to tell the story

of the monsoon's arrival
in Australia.

For the monsoon team, though,
this is just the beginning.

Next time...

..deluge.

Flood.

The monsoon at its most extreme.

Those that survive

must now grasp the opportunity
to prosper...

..from life-giving waters.