I jumped in the air, throwing the sheet off, almost knocking over the lantern that cast a dim light on the interior of the jungle hut. My friend, Captain Bill, and I had been trying to sleep despite the storm, the heat, and the mosquitoes. The thunder and the rain slamming into the tin roof almost drowned out Bill’s voice, “What’s going on, a scorpion get you? “
“Just a moth I think,” I checked to make sure nothing was crawling on me.
Bill had a worried look. “I gotta go pee.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“Are you kidding? I’m not going out there.”
“I have to go too,” I added. I thought of our hosts warning us to check the outhouse seat for scorpions before sitting, but more disturbing were the land crabs. These crabs are big brutes with purple backs and there were thousands of them. They come out of their holes at night to hunt and when I’d opened the door earlier the whole jungle floor was moving. The sound of the crabs scratching at the sides of the hut only reinforced my determination not to go outside.
The growl of a Jaguar menaced the surrounding darkness. “There it is again, it sounds a little closer,” I said, thinking back again to Paul’s orientation. He said there were Jaguars around, in fact, we had seen some tracks that morning but I really didn’t think we’d hear one.
Earlier that afternoon Captain Bill and I were sitting on the veranda at Possum Point overlooking the Sittee River in Belize. Possum Point was a biological research station owned by Paul and Mary Shave that catered to universities. The compound was comprised of a central wooden building and about a dozen huts up on pilings in the rainforest. The central building had a kitchen and dining area for students, faculty, and crew. There was a small laboratory for processing water samples and biological material.
Paul explained all the things we had to be aware of in the jungle. “The most important thing to remember is that the fer-de-lance is the most venomous snake in Central America. The natives call them Tommy Goffs and they can be very aggressive if you see one get away from it quick.”
“What about snake-proof boots?” I asked remembering an ad for a nice leather pair. “They won’t do any good. Tommy Goffs hang from the branches of the trees and whack you in the neck as you walk by. They can also eject venom from the tips of their fangs up to six feet.”
Bill took an extra-large gulp of his warm rum and squash drink and said “What about malaria?”
Paul waved his hand, “We don’t worry about that, and we’ve got botflies.”
“What the hell is a botfly?” I asked.
“Botflies lay their eggs on the bodies of mosquitoes and when a mosquito bites you those eggs can get in the wound,” explained Paul. “Once in the human body, they grow into large maggots that are difficult to remove because they are covered with spines. They breathe through an air hole and if you look closely, you can see two eyes looking at you. They eat human flesh to survive until the mature maggot crawls out. If not removed surgically infection sets in and you can die.” It was my turn to grab my drink and down it.
As Paul was speaking a small bird was flitting around my head and I tried to wave it away. “There’s a bird that keeps flying around me.”
“That’s not a bird it’s a vampire bat. You need to make sure you cover your toes when sleeping. That’s where they like to suck the blood from. Their bites can lead to infection or disease. Last year a man died in South America from rabies contracted from a vampire bat.”
Looking back I thought about how we’d gotten here. It was 1985 and I had come down to Belize to shoot a video for an adventure series I hoped to produce. Captain Bill was looking to try and start a tropical hardwood import business. We had been staying at the Mopan Hotel in Belize City when we met who owned a biological research station on the Sittee River. He invited us to the station and the next day we loaded our gear in the back of his pickup truck with the Mayan Mountains pale blue in the distance.
We finally stopped at the edge of the Sittee River and clambered aboard one of the station’s panga boats. They had three twenty-two-foot pangas based on the original Yamaha design of 1970. Heading down the river thick jungle swept by and I realized I’d never been in a real jungle before. Now we were in this little hut in a raging tropical storm. The flashes of lightning were almost continuous and the thunder shaking the hut was the only thing you could hear over the roar of the rain smashing into the tin roof. There was no question of going outside to the outhouse now. Bill and I had to shout to even hear each other. I pulled the thin sheet over me and prayed for dawn.
After dozing off I realized it was morning. I opened the door and peered out on a world that had totally changed. The sun was out and the river had risen over its banks flooding all the surrounding jungle. The river’s languid pace of the previous day was now replaced by a swift brown current. We watched as whole trees, broken from their hold in the earth, floated by; some with animals using the branches as lifeboats. The natives called this a “top hat” and the jungle here was all floodplain. All the buildings at Possum Point are raised on pilings for just such an occasion. I felt a sharp sting on my foot and looking down saw the floor was rapidly filling with ants that were climbing up the pilings to escape the flood waters, time to go. Bill and I waded into the thigh-deep water to make our way to the main building, avoiding the occasional snake swimming by in the current. When we got there everyone was getting ready to leave by boat to Wee Wee Caye. The caye was another part of the biological station located ten miles off the coast on part of Belize’s Great Barrier Reef, the second largest coral reef in the world. It is truly one of the greatest natural wonders on earth and I was excited to finally see it.
We loaded everyone into three pangas and headed down the river. As we left the mouth of the Sittee River the low jungle coast receded and the muddy flood water was replaced by sparkling blue. The salt spray, cool wind, hot sun, and open sky felt incredible after the closeness of the jungle. The heavy panga with its flared bow made easy work of the leftover swell. After an hour several small green islands appeared on the horizon like jewels in a necklace along the great reef.
We pulled into the island and Paul informed us that there were no poisonous snakes. This was welcome news. The only inhabitants were hermit crabs, small yellow birds, and boa constrictors. We saw many of the boas, some up to 12 feet long, in the trees but they wouldn’t bother you if you left them alone.
The layout of the camp was similar to Possum Point with a central building for cooking and dining surrounded by small huts for sleeping. The walkways and huts were raised about three feet above the ground creating wonderful pathways through the mangrove forest
After dinner, a small group of us sat at the end of the pier with a lantern at our feet watching the twilight slowly fade to night. As we sipped our drinks a feeling of peace came over me. I turned to Paul and said, “It’s nice not having to worry about poisonous snakes or botflies for a change. There’s nothing to bother us here.”
Paul said, “Sure, except for the hound fish.”
“What the heck is a hound fish,” asked Captain Bill. Paul explained that the hound fish, also known as the crocodile needle fish, grows up to five feet in length and has a needle-like snout filled with teeth. They can be dangerous because they’re attracted to light and jump out of the water at high speed. Anyone in the way can be impaled and many fishermen have been injured while night fishing, some fatally. I noticed Captain Bill had moved farther away from the lantern. I thought that might not be a bad idea.