Puerto Maldonado, late December 2018

[cranefly]

Oops.  Forgot I left you hanging...


1/2/2019: Part 3 -- The Brazil Nut Trail -- Still Outward Bound

We're walking along, loosely grouped, deeper into the Brazil nut grove, when a sound startles us.  It's something you'd never expect to hear deep in a rain forest.

"Passing on your left!"

It's Paula, coming back from behind to pass us once more.  She doesn't go far, though.  She's just screwing with us.  Soon she joins us, and she's ready to put on her hiking clothes and hiking shoes.  That's when we discover that one of her hiking shoes bungeed to Mina's backpack is missing.  Paula is bit distressed by that.  "We'll find it on the walk back," Mohsin assures her.

As we're walking onward, we see something on the trail ahead of us.  It's a caterpillar, very striking, and big, maybe three inches long, crawling through dappled sunlight.  Mohsin has us gather around for a good look and to take photos, but warns us not to touch it, as its spines are almost certainly venomous.  This is an open invitation for Stuart to crouch down close and reach out and bring his fingertips within a fraction of an inch of it.  Fortunately, he never makes contact.  He seems amused that everyone thinks he's in danger -- just like when he stood near the edge of that waterfall days ago despite Mohsin's warnings.

The caterpillar:


Moments later, we come upon another caterpillar, and then a third -- all the same kind.  I point out to Mohsin that each of them is crawling in a patch of dappled sunlight on the trail.  We both find that intriguing, but don't know what to make of it.  I suspect they're all mature and looking for a place to spin their cocoon.  I also suspect there are lots of them all around us, on trunks of trees, crawling on the ground, ready to cocoonate.  

It's an amazing type of caterpillar, and once I'm home (hypothetically speaking, as it's still not known that I survive this adventure -- and yes, I'm as much on the edge of my seat as you are), I search for it online and look through various tropical butterfly and moth reference books, in vain.  As Mohsin pointed out at the start of our adventures, this region is largely unexplored, and we may be seeing some new species.  This is certainly a candidate.  It's clearly of the Saturniidae family, whose caterpillars metamorphose into various giant silk moths (not to be confused with the Asian silkmoth whose caterpillar is harvested for its silk), the largest moths in the world, which include the Luna, Cecropia, and Io moths.  Most Saturniid caterpillars are outrageously spined -- and often venomous.

Here's a web photo (taken in northern Costa Rica) of Automeris metzii, which looks similar.

Automeris metzii (not my photo):

 
And here's a web photo (taken in southern Brazil, just to the east of us) of Lonomia oblique, which is also similar, and considered the deadliest caterpillar in the world.

Lonomia oblique (not my photo):


Here's a description of Lonomia obliqua:

Lonomia obliqua (family: Saturniidae) -- world's deadliest caterpillar ("causes inflammatory changes at the site of envenoming, followed by systemic symptoms such as headache, fever, vomiting, and malaise. After 24 hours, a severe bleeding disorder ensues, leading to ecchymosis, hematuria, pulmonary, and intracranial hemorrhages, and acute renal failure.")

I don't know if the caterpillars we're seeing are venomous, but they're similar enough to Lonomia oblique and in that same general area, and I suspect that if Stuart had managed to get himself stung, hours later he would have had some serious problems.

LCF and I move to vanguard, and we come to the fallen tree and brush that blocks the trail (where Paula had ultimately turned around).  We circumvent it and go a bit further.  We take pictures of a few butterflies.  But the camera continues to have problems with the high humidity.  Soon Mohsin rounds us all up and says it's getting late, and we'd best turn back.  So we turn around and head back towards the ecolodge.

[Drunk Monk]

What a gorgeous and gnarly caterpillar.

[cranefly]

Yes, I know.  I need to get back to this.

In the meantime, here's something that just appeared in the news, regarding Mohsin.  It's a nice article.  If I'm ever in Virginia, I really need to try this.
An Abingdon, Virginia-based Food Truck Reconsiders Appalachian Identity Through an Unlikely Pairing of Culinary Traditions



https://www.100daysinappalachia.com/2020...-mp-SwONAo

[cranefly]

1/2/2019: Part 4 -- The Brazil Nut Trail -- Return Leg
When I last left off, we were at the terminus of the Brazil Nut trail, the farthest we'd been from the research station.  Not that the trail actually ends there, but we were past the Brazil Nut trees and edging into what Mohsin called the Labyrinth, a confusing mess of trails notorious for getting people lost.  Anyway, this was deemed a good turnaround point.

In recent posts I may have come across as overly preoccupied with my health.  The thing is, I don't want to be the weakest link.  I don't want to slow the group down.  At age 67, I'm by far the oldest, with bad hips to boot.  If I'm going to participate in these excursions, I have a responsibility to keep up.

Which hasn't been a problem so far.  I'm tired right now, but not hurting.  Still, there's been warning signs I might be overdoing it: a spell of blindness in the left eye the day before, frequent urination throughout the night, and now swelling of the hands.  So I'm monitoring myself very closely.

I have a new concern, one I should have considered before now.  I have an old knee injury suffered as a teenager trying to run on a plowed field (don't ask).  It almost never affects me, but the repetitive motion of very long walks in excess of about six miles can aggravate it.  The joint becomes inflamed, and I simply cannot walk.  There's nothing to do about it then but sit down and let it rest for an hour or two.  Here's the kicker.  There's little forewarning.  When I first notice it becoming a problem, I'm only good for another 100 yards.

Certainly we've gone over six miles.

So I'm a bit apprehensive, but trying not to let it affect my gait, because that can just aggravate the knee faster.

As we start back, Mohsin pauses where some gunny sacks are laid out next to the trail.  He grabs one, and as we come to piles of brazil nuts gathered earlier, we put them in the sack.  He is ever urging us along, leery of the brazil nut trees, not wanting us to linger beneath them for long.  We sort of overdid it piling nuts along the trail, and we only need to gather some of them before the sack is full.  It's heavy, and before long Mohsin is asking if someone else wants to take a turn lugging it.  I head back to volunteer, but Ian beats me to it -- which is a good thing, in hindsight.  As far as I know, Ian carries it all the way back, declining offers by others to take a turn.

A word about these Brazil nuts.  Mohsin and JJ's organization has conservatorship over this region, but with a Brazil nut concession.  Essentially, they must permit the harvesting of these Brazil nuts -- by whom, I'm not sure.  We are gathering some because Ray, our cook, intends to use some in one of our meals (LCF and I don't think he ever got around to it).  Anyway, Brazil nut trees cannot be domesticated.  You cannot make a plantation or orchard of them.  They need to stay in the rainforest, and will die if any of that surrounding forest is damaged.

At about this time LCF takes photos of something that still puzzles me.  It was taken about 30 minutes after the caterpillar photos.


That there is a bird of paradise plant.  No big mystery about that ... except that the bird of paradise is native to South Africa.  Also, it's not pollinated by insects but by a sunbird, and sunbirds don't exist in South America.  So there's a possibility we discovered a secret passage to Africa and spent a few moments treading there, before coming back to the Amazon rain forest.

[Okay, I just now did some more digging, and it turns out my basic assumption is wrong.  It's not a bird of paradise plant (genus Strelitzia).  It's a Heliconia (genus Heliconia), which can closely resemble the bird of paradise plant.  Soooo, never mind.]

Mohsin falls back to check on something, and I settle in with Paula in the lead.  She's still in her running shoes and not happy about it.  They're not suited for walking, and as an elite athlete she needs to use the right shoes for the right activity -- or risk injury.  She's desperate to find that missing hiking shoe and keeps a close eye on the edges of the trail.
She tells me other problems she's having -- how hard the meals are on her out here.  They're four hours apart on average, and she can't go that long without eating.  She's munching on some bar right now, but it's a poor stopgap.  As a tri-athlete, she has almost no body-fat, and her metabolism is very high.  In conversation she gets a bit loopy, and I think it's because her brain is a bit nutrient- or oxygen-deprived.

My hands are now swollen beyond making a fist.  I ask her if she knows what that might indicate.  She says the same thing happens to her on long walks, though she never has that problem when she runs.  Anyway, no, she doesn't know why that happens.

Then, there it is, the hiking shoe.  It's in plain sight at the edge of the trail.  She's relieved and quickly changes into them.  The others overtake us.  Mohsin and LCF have been walking together, and now Mohsin takes me aside and tells me of a plan.  Up ahead is a turnoff, and while the others will be continuing on the main trail back to the research station, Mohsin will be splitting off with LCF and I.  We will be going back to the mammal colpa.  LCF has decided that that's where she wants to scatter the rest of Kevin's ashes.  It's a great idea that I fully approve of, but I tell Mohsin I need to make sure she wants me along.  I've never known for sure how private she wants to make this little ceremony.  In planning this Peru trip, she didn't even tell me this was part of it.  Mohsin thinks that's considerate of me.

When we get to the turnoff, Mohsin directs the others to continue down the main trail, giving some instructions on where to turn at a T.  I now ask LCF if she wants me along for this, and she says of course.  But she's drenched, looks very tired, and while I still have a quarter of my water, her water bottle is empty.  That concerns me.  The Brazil nut trail has been long and exhausting, and this mammal colpa trek is the one that nearly did me in 3 days ago.  I voice my concern at the water situation.  After some discussion, I opt to give LCF my water bottle, take her empty one, and head back.

Before I set off, Mohsin reminds me to turn right at the T if I haven't caught up with the others yet, and then it's a straight shot back to the research station.  I can't possibly get lost.  Those tend to be famous last words for me.  I have no sense of direction, and if there's a way to misinterpret something, I will.  I say goodbye to LCF as they head off, and then I head after the others down the main trail.  They're just faint voices in the distance now, and I'll have to hurry if I want to catch up.  But I'm tired, without water.  Striding out will stress my hips and could aggravate my knee.  I make the sudden decision to slow way down, to walk back alone.  The voices fade away in the distance, and soon it's just me and the rainforest.

I stroll along by myself, communing with my surroundings.  This is such a beautiful place.  I realize I've been wanting to spend time alone in this rainforest, and it surprises me it took me this long to act on it.  I do feel a bit guilty for not accompanying LCF to the mammal colpa.  Did I overreact to the water situation?  Maybe I was just concerned my knee might give out and mess things up.  It feels fine right now, but it always does until it doesn't.

I walk along, savoring the sights and sounds.  The canopy is dense above me, but in a couple of spots I glimpse bits of sky.  Dark clouds are moving in.  Maybe we'll finally get a rain.  And then I hear it, a patter of raindrops hitting leaves high above.

I come to a marshy section of trail where the canopy is spotty.  A few raindrops get through, hitting me.  At the same time, the sun breaks through to hit me.  It's an odd juxtaposition of sensations, walking through dense rainforest yet getting hit by rain and sunlight together.  I savor this magical moment, listening to tropical birds and watching butterflies dart about.  It only lasts about 30 seconds.  Then the rain, never more than a few droplets, ceases.  The unseasonable drought persists.

Just beyond the marshy area, I spy something on the ground.  It's like a big ant, but oddly colored, and with a gigantic head.  I've never seen anything like it.  I'm tempted to catch it, put it in my eyeglass case, and take it back to the research station to find out what it is; but it seems wrong to displace anything from this pristine wilderness.  I also wonder if it's some sort of queen, and don't want to disrupt a whole colony.  I try to memorize its appearance and then move on.

I come upon a water bottle on the trail.  Someone from our group must have dropped it.  I pick it up and take it with me.

I come to a vague fork in the trail, and wonder if this is the T where I'm supposed to go right.  After a while I come to another vague fork.  Was this where I was supposed to go right?  I thought there was only one decision to make.  I go right again.  I grow increasingly uncertain of the trail, and recall Mohsin's tales of people getting lost and how it takes a whole day to find them.  I don't want to become another one of his anecdotes.

But then the trail starts to look more trodden, and I see trees and vegetation that strike me as familiar.  Before long I hear voices, and then I see the barest hint of structure through the vegetation.  The research station.  I estimate it's about 3:30 pm.

At the deck, I take off my shoes and socks and join the others in the public area.  I hold up the water bottle I found.  Mina tells Ian I found his water bottle.  As I'm giving it to him, he asks where I found it.  "Under a water bottle tree," I say.  There is not even a waver in his expression.  I walk off, feeling like a smartass.  But then he calls after me, "Thanks!"  Ian is a good guy, even if he doesn't appreciate my sense of humor.

I clean up a bit and join the others, and we hang out and recuperate.  An hour or so later Mohsin and LCF return.  I check with LCF.  She's tired and dehydrated (obviously), but doing okay.  She says she found a good spot at the mammal colpa and Mohsin wandered off to give her some time alone.  At the time that she scattered Kevin's ashes, a hummingbird buzzed up close to her face and hung there a while before zipping off.  That seemed a good sign.

She took a photo of the spot.



I still regret not going along with her for this, and still wonder if I overreacted about the shortage of water.

Oh.  Here's a frog pic LCF took on the way to the mammal colpa:


Also, after researching that ant or termite I saw with the gigantic head, I think it was a big-headed ant in the genus Pheidole.  Here's a photo I got from the web of Pheidole pilifera (note that they have two kinds of workers -- one with a normal head, one with a big head):

[NOT MY PHOTO]


There were plans to go swimming at the waterfalls in late afternoon.  But the Brazil nut trail took a lot out of people, and it's getting a bit late, what with Mohsin and LCF's late return.  The rainforest is starting to take a toll on us.  There's been some upset stomachs, bee and ant stings, odd rashes, and other odd ailments.  People aren't thinking very straight.  They're doing stupid things.  That's my impression at least.

Anyway, it's decided to postpone the waterfall swim until another day.  I'm last to learn this; LCF notifies me as I'm getting ready in our room.  But she says that some people went down by the boat to soak in the shallows.  So I decide to do that.  But when I get down there, it's really just JJ and Mohsin and a couple other locals, and I feel awkward, like I'm intruding.  Still, I climb in and wallow about for a while.

[Drunk Monk]

Yay! Finally. 

DOOM has been good reading lately. I mean it’s always amusing but there’s been some exemplary posts. Thanks brothers. It’s a much needed diversion.

[cranefly]

1/2/2019: Part 5 -- A Rather Bizarre Dinner
Darkness has settled in, the tables are candlelit, dinner is announced.  For once I go through the line early and sit down to eat while LCF is back at the room cleaning up.  Paula sits down next to me and we chat while we eat.  She's loopier than usual, no doubt tired and way overdue for a decent meal. 

She's concerned about a blister that's formed on the bottom of her big toe.  I wonder if wearing running shoes while walking caused it.  It's a significant issue for her; she's been trying to train for a triathlon coming soon after this trip.  She has her foot up in her lap, inspecting the blister.  And then all of a sudden she picks up her fork and brings it to bear on her foot.  In the dark, I can't see what she's doing.  But she soon puts the fork back on the table and says matter-of-factly, "There, I popped it," to be followed almost immediately by, "Why did I do that?  That was a stupid thing to do.  I don't know why I did that."  She repeats that a couple more times, puzzled at her impulsive action.  It's certainly not a smart thing to do to a foot blister, especially where we're at.

Anyway, we continue to chat and eat, and I don't remember what we're eating.  But eventually LCF sits down opposite me at the table, only to promptly get back up.  "I'll be right back," she says.  "I forgot to get a fork."

That's when Paula says it.  "Oh, you can have mine.  I haven't used it."

Now, it's important to remember how dark it is.  I can't see the tabletop in front of Paula.  And maybe she does have two forks.  But there's no good reason that she would.  Paula just isn't thinking very straight, and I'm not much better.  Because as I'm slowly assessing the situation, putting two and two together, it becomes too late.  LCF has taken Paula's fork and is eating with it.  So I stay quiet on the matter.  What could I possibly say at this point?  Maybe I'm hallucinating everything.  I don't know.  So I don't say a word.  Not then, not ever.

As we're finishing up dinner, Mohsin stops by.  He tells me that later tonight he'll be taking a group on a night walk.  They'll be going into a swamp.  Would I like to come along?

Would I like to come along?  Into a swamp?  In the night?  After all we've done today?  I wouldn't miss it for anything.

After dinner, I take a shower.  I do so mostly to wash my clothes, which I wear.  We're always struggling to have clothes that don't smell too bad.  So I'm in the shower, washing up some.  And I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing this for.  Because I'm about to go into a swamp.

[Drunk Monk]

That's when Paula says it.  "Oh, you can have mine.  I haven't used it."

Now, it's important to remember how dark it is.  I can't see the tabletop in front of Paula.  And maybe she does have two forks.  But there's no good reason that she would.  Paula just isn't thinking very straight, and I'm not much better.  Because as I'm slowly assessing the situation, putting two and two together, it becomes too late.  LCF has taken Paula's fork and is eating with it.  So I stay quiet on the matter.  What could I possibly say at this point?  Maybe I'm hallucinating everything.  I don't know.  So I don't say a word.  Not then, not ever.

Oh man. So much for staying quiet. 

Why you and Greg let your spouses on here is beyond me. But we're super glad to have them here. 

Stacy disdains all social media so she's not here, not on sitonmyfacebook, instagram, or anything like that.

[Greg]

Most of my stories have been vetted before posting.




Most....

[Drunk Monk]

I disavow any knowledge of DM's actions. 

me & dm: Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde

But I gotta say - triathelete blister poppin fork made both me & DM queasy.

[Greg]

It's something every backpacker should have in their kit: Blister Poppin Fork. The BPF.

Probably in the same family as the poop knife.

[lady_cranefly]

1/2/2019: Part 5 -- A Rather Bizarre Dinner

>>That's when Paula says it.  "Oh, you can have mine.  I haven't used it."

Oh, reeeeeely.

[Drunk Monk]

1/2/2019: Part 5 -- A Rather Bizarre Dinner

>>That's when Paula says it.  "Oh, you can have mine.  I haven't used it."

Oh, reeeeeely.

Me & dm still queasy at the thought...

...and we don't quease easily.

[Greg]

Now you've done it.

[Drunk Monk]

Now you've done it.

[cranefly]

1/2/2019: Part 6 -- The Swamp

Eyeshine

The first few times you go out on night-walks, you don't notice it much.  All you see is a swathe of vegetation in your beam.  But after you've done these night-walks a few times, you start to see more, and eventually you see the totality of the eyeshine.  There's twinkling pinpricks of light wherever you look.  Tonight I'm hyperaware of it, the eyeshine on the trunks, branches, ferns and fronds, on the decaying vegetable matter at my feet.  There's hundreds of pinpricks wherever I look.  They're spiders, with few exceptions.  Not big ones, mind you.  Not tarantulas.  When you get down close to one, the pinprick resolves into two dots, or more, because spiders have nothing better to do than grow extra eyes.  These are teensy-weensy spiders, working nightshift, preying on the tiniest of insects.

You don't see eyeshine in humans.  At most you get red-eye, and only under very special circumstances.  In flash photography, if the flash is insufficiently offset from the camera lens and the subject's pupils are wide open, the lens can capture the redness of the blood vessels in the back of the eye.  It's a dull red, indicative of our poor night vision.  But nocturnal animals are different.  They have a retroreflector (apetum lucidum, "bright tapestry") behind the retina that reflects light back through the retina so the photoreceptors can get a second helping of photons.  This is what gives them good night vision.  And if you shine a bright light on the apetum lucidum, it acts like a mirror.  That is the eyeshine you see in nocturnal animals.  You've doubtless seen it with possums, raccoons, skunks, even housecats.  Nocturnal bugs have a similar reflective adaptation.

Most of the pinpricks I'm seeing are indistinguishable, because they come from basically the same thing -- tiny spiders.  But mixed in with them are some that are bigger, or differently hued, or they have an odd scintillation or cast, or they might even blink.  Because mixed in with all those tiny spiders are other critters -- frogs, toads, beetles, scorpions, what have you.  An expert can identify many insects and animals just by the character of the eyeshine.  But I'm far from that level.  All I've got going for me is curiosity.  And that's what's driving me nuts right now.  Because among all the eyeshines dotting trunks, branches, ferns and fronds, and speckling the ground at my feet, there are a few that are different, that stand out as unique.  I'm itching to get up close to them to solve the mystery of what they are.

But this is not the night for that.  Tonight we're after bigger game.  We're going into a swamp.

The Swamp

Before we set off from the research station, Mohsin gathered us together to make certain we were properly attired and equipped.  Headlamps are of course a necessity.  The research station has maybe 8 sets of rubber boots available for use, but Mohsin doesn't recommend using them.  They'll just fill with swamp water and become a drag on you, and could even pose a danger if you hit a deep spot.  So, we're just wearing our normal shoes and socks.  He recommends that we tuck our pantlegs into our socks.  Likely to keep out the creepy crawlies.  Things like water snakes, poison dart frogs, diving spiders...  I wonder if there will be leeches.  Anyway, we tuck our pantlegs into our socks.

I bought two waterproof backpacks for this trip.  It was recommended by several rainforest travel sites.  We've used them on boat excursions, but they were never needed.  But tonight?  Tonight I've got my waterproof backpack strapped on.

When everyone is ready, Mohsin leads us across the clearing towards rainforest, our beams dancing about.  I'm following close behind Mohsin and notice something.  "Mohsin?  Why don't you have your pantlegs tucked in?"

"So I can look cool as long as possible," he casts back without missing a beat.  He says he'll tuck them in when we get to the swamp.

Which makes a lot of fashion sense.

Mohsin leads, with me close behind.  Then comes Ian and Mina, the Swedes Olaf and Magnus, the resourceful Indian Saurabh (who I haven't talked about much), and then there's Paula, who at the last second decided to come along.  We're on a trail I should know by now, then we split off on another, then onto what I think is a new trail.

As we progress, I'm disheartened to realize my headlamp is weak.  I tested it in our room and it seemed okay.  But I should have put in new batteries just to be safe.  Still, it's not easy to find new batteries in the dark mess of our room.

We haven't gone far, maybe a 15 or 20 minute walk.  Then Mohsin slows to a stop and points aside.  "This is it," he says.

It's hard to see the swamp, or its extent.  I don't think it's very big, maybe 30 by 30 feet, house-sized, but jigsawed into the rainforest.  There's a good-sized tree on a tiny island mass near its center.  The surface is choked with muck and leaves, with dead limbs flaring up.  That's the general impression, as we only see it piecemeal as our headlamps excavate it in sweeping pans.

Mohsin starts into the undergrowth to the right of the island tree, but a log and thick brush drives him back.  "Let's go around the other way," he says, changing course.

I follow Mohsin's lead, sinking in to my ankles, calves, ever deeper.  I hear the others sinking in behind me.  It's treacherous going, as the bottom is slick and uneven, fraught with roots and snags ever bent on tripping you.  The swamp is choked with muck and brambles and tangles of vegetation, and lurking among these, poised and ready to pounce, are big predatory spiders.  It's the rare spider that creeps me out.  These creep me out.  They're big, poised, as if ready to pounce.  I don't know what type these are, and whether they're at all venomous, but they look strong and agile, covered in fine hairs that enable them to run across the surface or form air bubbles for breathing while diving beneath the surface.  Maybe they have webs too.  But I don't recall seeing any.

Here's a photo that approximates the big fishing spiders we were seeing:

[NOT MY PHOTO: Giant fishing spider, Ancylometes bogotensis]:


I'm keeping up, but feeling increasingly unstable.  In all our past excursions, no matter how tough the terrain, I've found ways to compensate for my bad hips.  Mostly I use muscle tension as a substitute for missing cartilage, but this also involves properly orienting myself to make this possible.  I've gone up and down the steep gully inclines by turning to be strongest and most flexible where necessary.  But here all directions are precipitous.  It's like being on stilts on ice that is uneven, and cluttered, and oh by the way I'm blind.  I'm tensing all the muscles around the hips in all directions to keep from splaying apart, which is exhausting.  It's a very sobering predicament.  I wanted so badly to go into a swamp, and now here I am, all but helpless.

I'm up to my knees now, then to mid-thigh.  My feet slide about on an uneven bottom, and my shins hit a branch.  I almost fall over.  I'm twitching, overcontrolling, awaiting the next surprise.

Everyone is well into the swamp now, their headlamps sweeping across the muck.  They keep catching eyeshine, those tiny pinpricks that are small spiders, but also some bigger things, like frogs and who knows what else.

I notice a slight commotion.  Olaf and Magnus are near the tree on its tiny island.  It's shallower there.  Olaf is waving his hands about, knocking something away.  Headlamps converge on his antics to show a couple of wasp-like things dive-bombing from a limb overhead.  He might have gotten stung, but I'm not sure.

Mohsin is panning the edge of the swamp, and his beam catches something: two reddish orbs, very reflective, just above swamp level.  "Caiman," Mohsin whispers.  The red orbs are all you can see.  But it's a caiman, and it's on the bank.  Ian quickly locks onto it and starts forward, but Mohsin suggests a more circuitous route on the bank.

I'm in an unfortunate spot.  The trunk of that island tree is blocking my view.  I wade left to get clear of it, but the swamp gets deeper.  I'm up to my waist now.  Meanwhile, Ian has climbed onto the bank and is circling in from the right.  Then my shin hits another bottom branch, and I skid and sag backward.  I fight to stay erect, but am straining.  That's it.  I'm done moving.  I don't want to make a commotion and spoil things for Ian.

Ian is almost there.  He's closing in on the spot.  Then I hear a splash.  It isn't me.  The caiman got spooked and dove into the swamp.  All seems lost.  Still, Ian remains intent on the spot.  Suddenly, he just falls forward into the swamp.  There's all kinds of splashing, then things get quiet.

"Did you get it?" Mohsin asks.

Ian stands up, hugging something.  "Yeah."

Mohsin is surprised he got it, especially after it spooked.  But Ian says he could just barely see it sitting on the bottom.  Apparently it thought itself safe down there.  Mohsin makes sure he's got a proper grip on it.  Ian has caught small ones before in other parts of the world, so he pretty much knows what he's doing.  Then we all congregate in the middle of the swamp, and while Ian grips the caiman, Mohsin points out several interesting features.  It's a spectacled caiman.  The bony ridge between the eyes makes it appear to be wearing glasses -- or so it's said.  I don't have a camera with me, so once more I'll borrow from the web:

[NOT MY PHOTO: Spectacled Caiman]


Spectacled caiman get up to seven feet long, but that's very rare.  Four or five feet is more typical.  This one is three, maybe three and a half feet long.  If female, it's pretty much an adult.  If male, it's got a bit more growing to do.  It's the biggest caiman Ian has dealt with.

Mohsin encourages everyone to feel its scales.  I take my turn.  The scales vary in size and texture depending on where on the body they are.  The teeth are a bit scary, and Ian had guts pouncing on it like he did.  Then Mohsin gives instructions on how to safely grip the caiman, and cautions people to be ready for a sudden powerful thrashing.  There follows a careful hand-around to everyone in the party.  I skip this, telling Mohsin that if it thrashes, I'm not certain I can stay upright.

When it comes Paula's turn, I have concerns.  She grips it properly, but I'm just not seeing the firmness.  Mohsin must see this too, because he stresses how powerful a thrashing caiman can be, and repeats this a couple times to her, and that the thrashing can come without warning.  I'm not so much concerned with the caiman escaping, as it will almost certainly head away from us.  But those teeth...  If it thrashes, those teeth don't have to bite.  If they make contact with any flesh...

The moment of truth comes and goes.  Paula holds the caiman and nothing happens.  Everyone has taken a turn (excepting me), and not once has the caiman thrashed.  Ian again holds the caiman, and now it's time for us to leave the swamp.  Mohsin says we'll release the caiman once we're all out.

As we all start charting courses out, two main avenues avail themselves.  One is more direct, but goes deep.  The other is more roundabout, but shallower, though it's infested with giant fishing spiders.  "Take your pick," someone says.  "Deep swamp, or big spiders."

I choose to take the shallower route.  As I'm wading among all the big spiders lurking in their little territorial coves, there's chatter among those going deep.  Olaf and Magnus have spied a poison dart frog.  That's not all that surprising where we're at, but this one isn't tiny; it's the size of a regular frog.  They've never seen such a thing.  Not that they're able to catch it, and soon it's gone.

Eventually we all reach solid ground and gather near the trail, except for Ian, who is crouched five feet from the swamp, preparing to set the caiman down.
Mohsin tells us to watch how fast it scrambles into the swamp.  Ian puts it down and jumps clear.  The caiman doesn't move.  Stomping near it does nothing.  Mohsin ventures close to check it out.  It seems okay.  Ian then moves it closer to the swamp.  Still nothing.  Mohsin and Ian have never seen such a docile reaction.  I suspect the caiman is in a state of shock.  Ian is a bodybuilder.  I think he so overwhelmed the caiman catching it that it can't believe it's still alive.  Mohsin, crouched down with a hand on a log, jumps up.  "Look, guys.  I'm seeing bullet ants here.  Let's finish up and move out."  Ian finally picks up the caiman and places it in the edge of the swamp.  Only then does to caiman come to life and dive away.