| 7 Mistakes Not To Make When Exploring Caves in Panama |
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| Written by Matt Landau | |
| Monday, July 30 2007 | |
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It was a lazy Sunday morning when I decided to drive out to the Chagres National Park and explore bat-infested caves with my friend Ivan, adrenaline junkie and learner of 'the English'. “You are to bring your helmet and gloves and machete with you?” Ivan asked. Seeing as though I didn’t own a helmet or gloves or a machete, I grabbed the closest thing I could find: a small keychain made by Swiss Army.
We reached the mouth of a deep and cavernous cave hidden deep away in the jungle. It appeared to be the type of cave in which you might come across Odysseus or Tupac, all tired and fatigued playing dominoes or something. Oh hey guys I’d say to them, where the heck y’all been, we’ve been looking all over for you? Ivan helped me across several rocks into the dark chasm, lowering myself maybe fifteen feet below. The sharp rays of sunlight from the forest revealed rock formations that appeared to tunnel themselves endlessly into the earth. The walls were sharp and the shelf-like holes looked beautiful and mysterious. “Yes those holes is beautiful,” Ivan said. “They too has many danger snakes.” 1. Don’t touch “danger snakes” We climbed down through a tiny hole, no bigger than an inner tube, which eventually opened up into a larger room, about the size and shape of a small chapel. The chapel room had vaulted ceilings and was flanked by beautiful gemstone-looking granite. I seriously felt crafty and adventurous, like a recognizable explorer known for his bullwhip and fedora. Indiana Landau, it had a nice ring to it. There was a peculiar breeze inside the cave, not unlike a team of small fans pointed in your direction. I looked up and noticed that in fact, from every angle possible, bats—with their wide wings and devilish red eyes—were dive-bombing us! They’d swoop in, as if going for a mosquito, not but inches from my face. I’d duck and hide for cover in the tightest fetal position since birth. “It OK Matt,” assured Ivan. ”It’s not OK Ivan, I have to do fetal.” Fetal was my way of feeling safe and at home, with my mother. "Why you need football?" "Not football, fetal!" “No you no need football,” he said, “they bats just not like the bright light.” 2. Don’t shine bright lights on bats: it makes them nervous 3. Nervous bats make me nervous The bats were everywhere, swarming around like possessed bird warriors. Whooosh. I squealed that they were going to attack me, but Ivan grabbed my arm and made the universal silence motion by putting his finger to his tightly fastened lips. 4. Don’t make loud sounds: it makes bats aggressive We dug deeper into the cave, maneuvering up, down, and around the type of large and sharp impediments that read humans, not meant for these parts. Only 10 minutes into the cave and it was pitch black, the life and light of the bustling jungle above completely deceased. I kept shuffling my feet for fear of snakes, but Ivan guaranteed me that snakes could not survive in areas this dark and this deep. It was ludicrous, I noted, to spend a leisure Sunday in a setting not even snakes cared to go. In one small crack in the floor, I noticed a small bed of mushrooms flourishingly healthy in the most sinister of cultivation spots. I went to grab one for a bite when Ivan pointed out they were toxic mushrooms, the type that makes your head spin. “Don’t eat them right now.” 5. Don’t eat toxic mushrooms nearly fifty feet below the earth I liked how Ivan clarified that eating the mushrooms right now would be a bad idea, as if eating them later might be a good one. He led me to a steep rock and naturally motioned for me to climb up it. I’m not sure whether it was a compliment to have Ivan assume I could scale large walls, but I’d humor him until I got hurt. 6. Don’t try to humor anyone when your life might possibly be in danger In trying to climb the slick bat-poop-laden wall, I slipped and scraped my arm in a spot I now refer to as “oh, that’s just a war scar”. Ivan ended up pulling me up using a harness-type rope: the kind they use to haul fat asses out of the water when they’ve swam too far out to sea. I didn’t necessarily feel like a fat ass, but I definitely felt I’d stepped a little beyond my boundaries. At last, about an hour and a half into the cave exploration, I caught glimpse of the familiar emerald green forest glow. The trees and sun above the cave had combined to form this comforting and uplifting beam that shone down into the cave as a beacon of hope. It was the feeling I imagine a marathoner gets when he sees the finish line in sight, or when that little Asian kid eyes the 63rd hotdog he needs to set the record. Come on Kobayashi, I said to myself. You can do this! The last ascent involved lifting my leg like a ballet dancer nearly up to my chin. Now folks, I am pretty flexible, but this far too much. In the process, I heard a zipper-like sound and, after thinking I had broken one of the various groinal tendons, I realized I had ripped my favorite cargo pants in the a spot I now refer to as “oh, that’s just for easy access.” 7. Don’t wear your favorite cargo pants when exploring caves We climbed out of the vaginal-like opening, all dirtied with mud and bat poop and sweat. It’s a boy!!! The jungle was welcoming in that a cloud of mosquitoes surrounded us and feasted on our newly-surfaced flesh. But there was something very comforting about being above ground whether or not we were getting eaten alive. It was this feeling of security and wellbeing that, even if something terrible were to happen from this point on, at least someone would be able to find us. |
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| Last Updated ( Monday, July 30 2007 ) |
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