For anyone interested in coming on the spring expedition, an understanding of the adventures ahead is a must. However while reading this please note that our expedition will have numerous projects and people who do not want to deal with snakes DO NOT have to. Most of our efforts will be observing mammals, recording bird and butterfly species, and having fun. But for those who want to join me for one or two intense nights, we have the opportunity to explore something very special. Here’s the deal:
For three years JJ and I had been hearing stories about “The Lake”, and although its reputation was unquestionable, we had never had time to explore it. Located on the outskirts of the Indigenous Community of Infierno, the lake was a semi-mythical location to all those who knew of it. It was said to be filled with only the most monstrous and deadly creatures the jungle had to offer. For my part, I assumed it was mostly exaggeration that filled its waters.
But in June of 2009, after a boat journey, a taxi ride, and a three hour hike through the jungle, we reached the water’s edge. It took less than five seconds of looking out over the lake to realize that we were looking at a place humans do not go. It looked like something out of Jurassic Park; the jungle surrounding us was sinister and wild. At first we barely understood what we were seeing. It looked like a massive clearing in the jungle, where for some reason the tops of trees grew directly out of the ground. Closer study however reveled that it was indeed a lake; the ground however was anything but. As we made our way out onto the lake (yes onto), we began to discover what it was we were seeing.
Floating on the surface of this multi-square kilometer water body was a dense coagulation of moss and grass. It was as though someone had laid a blanket over the surface of the lake. It was not uniform, and was broken in many places, but covered the majority of the lake’s surface in its botanical embrace. Growing from the green mat was a dwarf forest which consisted of a single species of tree that neither JJ nor I had ever seen before. The only form disrupting the homogeneity of the dwarf forest across the lake was the tops of palm trees. These were Aguaje palms. The palms provided us with a reference with which to measure our surroundings, we knew that they only matured (bore fruit) at heights of over thirty feet, and could grow to sixty. This meant that the tree tops we were walking past were rooted to the lakebed perhaps 30 to 60 feet below.
As we walked the mossy bed rippled and sagged, constantly threatening to break and send us down into the black water below. To be honest, both JJ and I held onto each other in fear. We spent hours making our way over the alien terrain. Along the way we saw some truly massive crocs in the water. Their glowing red eyes scrutinizing us as we made our way through their world. We also spotted pathways through the grass, where large creatures had slid through. JJ was convinced that they were anaconda pugs, drag marks. I however thought that they were far too large to be from a snake, even an anaconda. The moon that night was so brilliant that we did not need our headlamps, and navigated the surreal night scene without any aid.
Over four hours later we had still not reached the other side of the lake. Along the way we had seen owls, frogs, crocs, a stingray, and several dozen more “anaconda tracks”. Our hesitation had subsided and now we were cruising, this was exploring at its best, a completely new ecosystem nestled in the already astounding diversity of the Amazon. It was just past 2am when it happened.
JJ grabbed my sleeve and we both froze. Stretching in front of us was the immense trunk of the largest anaconda either of us has ever seen. Our mouths were open; the girth of the snake was that of an oil drum, easily dwarfing the fifteen-footers we had caught a few weeks earlier. This snake was upwards of 25ft, a giant. Oh, and I forgot to mention, there was more than one. Coiled around the behemoth female was a 12-15 foot male. JJ and I stood for over five minutes staring in awe, our minds were just blown. The snakes were only five feet away; we had practically walked on top of them.
The behemoth female detected our presence and was not pleased. Her dorsal blotches began winding as her coils mobilized towards the water. Realizing that a photograph of a snake this big would mean international interest, I jumped on her back in a feeble attempt to try and restrain her. But my weight did nothing to slow her progress, in fact, she carried me along without hesitation. With arms wrapped around her body, my finger tips could not touch, but I pulled all the same, digging my heels into the floating bed and trying to stop her. She pulled me right through the grass of the floating forest; my legs, chest, and then shoulders plunging into the black water.
Relinquishing my hold I scrambled out of the water and back onto the raft of peat and grass. The last thing I saw was her tail slip by my face and down into the black lake. JJ and I wrestled the smaller male, who was measured at just over 13.5 feet. After hiking out off of the alien forest we returned to camp that night stunned. A snake as large as that female is a living legend, something scientists speculate exists, but which nobody actually sees. We promised each other that we would return and further explore the floating forest. It appeared from the tracks that it is jammed full of anacondas in the dry season, a seasonal sanctuary. Also in the are of the lake that night we spotted a giant armadillo, four different sets of jaguar tracks, and found the wings of a blue morpho. In May we will be further studying the lake and surrounding swamp, finding out what other species they are home to. There are many questions to be answered, but one thing is certain: there is nowhere else like this in the jungle.
