michael alexander
Jungle venture in Belize
Geography graduate of 1995, Michael Alexander, got a taste for travel while a student on field trips to Russia, Spain and Belgium. Now a journalist with the Dundee Courier and Evening Telegraph newspapers, he embarked upon an adventure in the Belize jungle last summer to raise money for the Royal Scottish Geographical Society's Scotia Centenary Appeal. He writes:
It was a typical May afternoon in the depths of the Belize jungle: hot, humid and incredibly dry. The sun beat down on the twisting river with skin-peeling ferocity, but here beneath the thick canopy of jungle where our canoes came ashore it was refreshingly cool. As we scrambled up the muddy banks to find a suitable place to set up camp, a battalion of leaf cutter ants paraded across our path oblivious to the fact that we were about to erect a tent on their home. Yet as if to remind us that this was their world, from every direction came the whirring of a million insects whose calls were only matched by the amazing primeval roar of howler monkeys hanging from the trees above our heads.
'I got lost in the jungle for five days once and I was so scared I couldn't even cry,' our Belizian river guide Tony Santiago remarked as he slung his hammock. His face broke into a grin as he recalled the time when, as a teenager, his father challenged him to spend some time in the wilds alone. A small but strong 38-year old with the remarkable ability to impale fish with his machete, Tony had spent most of his life exploring the rainforest and long-lost Mayan ruins around the mountain town of San Ignacio, and knew more about the Belize River than anyone else. But as he showed off the scars where beef flies had once burrowed into his chest and laid their eggs, it was clear he had learned to respect the jungle the hard way - as those of us suffering a vicious onslaught of mosquito bites were now having to do too!
Our first view of the Belize River had been a daunting one. Glimpsed from the air as our plane made its final approach from Houston, Texas, into Belize City's Philip Goldson International Airport, the spectacular waterway meandered across the lush carpet of Central American jungle like a giant turquoise snake, its mouth dipping gently into the Caribbean Sea.
Our first challenge had been getting our food supplies through US Customs, officialdom never explaining why dried custard was considered a foot and mouth risk! Now, here we were in the midst of our epic adventure battling intense heat, dehydration and the bloodthirsty appetite of the local mosquito, snake and crocodile population.
Following in the wake of the ancient Maya and later settlers who navigated these densely forested lands, our challenge was to canoe, over seven days, 175 miles down the river from the Guatemalan border to the Caribbean coast, carrying our own kit and making our own jungle camps along the way. A diverse bunch with next to no canoeing let alone jungle experience, our 14-strong group ranged from journalists to photographers and care assistants to the retired, but with one aim - to complete the expedition and raise funds for The Royal Scottish Geographical SocietyÕs Scotia Centenary Appeal, in turn supporting scientific expeditions and geography education all over the world.
Our base at Chaa Creek, set within the most opulent jungle setting, hardly seemed like roughing it. A luxurious place by day, the remote location came alive at night. With the darkening sky, a crescendo of sound engulfed us as the male cicadas made shrill mating calls. Fireflies floated through the trees like fairy lights, carefully avoiding the bats patrolling the night skies for bugs. And over the top of this came the long deep boom of the howler monkey. It made you wonder what the early European explorers must have thought when they first heard these mysterious sounds as they ventured up the river centuries ago. You certainly never got this on the River Tay!
After a day of canoe training and jungle preparation, we were ready to set off down river. A typical day involved a 5am rise for a 6am start. A hearty breakfast, dismantling of tents and then it was down the 60 foot bank laden with all our kit, tying everything into the canoes, and then maybe canoeing 7 hours a day, interspersed with a vital 10 minute break every hour and a lunch break - with a thankful respite from the midday sun. Our campsite was dictated by the availability of suitable land for eight tents. Camp was made and dinner cooked- and then as darkness fell the jungle would come alive again. Poisonous snakes, one bite from which would kill in an hour, lay in the dark and the prospect of a stray Jaguar crossing your path to the latrine was remote but not impossible. Crocodiles lay along the river banks and insects ran amok.
During the course of our 175-mile expedition we passed through remote and intriguingly named settlements such as Bullet Tree Falls, Never Delay, More Tomorrow and Double Head Cabbage. Occasionally we would hit rapids requiring us to take evasive action to avoid being shredded on lethal thorns of bamboo. But generally the long sweeping curves allowed us a good, steady pace which gave us plenty time to admire the spectacular wildlife and scenery around us.
We met locals as warm as the weather who showed us natural remedies for everything from diabetes and diarrhoea to mosquito bites and sunburn. Many were surprised but impressed that we had embarked upon a river journey few people inside, let alone outside Belize had ever done.
By the end of the week we were a bedraggled looking bunch. Seven days of exposure to the sun, washing in the river and trying to fend off mosquitoes with super-strength Mossie Guard had taken its toll. But did we succeed? Of course we did. As we reached Manatee Lookout a dolphin broke the surface, a sure indication the sea was not far off.
We had worked, eaten and camped together, encouraged, cajoled and at some points harried each other to keep going. We had canoed in tropical downpours, in failing sunlight and 35-degree baking heat and we had reached the end together. Even those of us who came close to witnessing what became a murder in a remote jungle village could not have the smiles wiped from our faces as we crossed the finish line And we had achieved our ultimate goal - raising funds for the educational work of the Royal Scottish Geographical Society.
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