Skimming My Way Through The Black Hole Drop

“Just sit back, put your feet in front of you and all of your weight on your backside.” Those were my instructions. Now, this not a position with which I am unfamiliar. Rico, our well-muscled, handsome guide was essentially telling me to sit down, kick back and relax. Funny how this time those words made every nerve in my body scream “No! Stop! Fake a stroke!”

I was deep in the mainland jungles of Belize, trussed up in a jumble of rappelling equipment. The harness, a series of 4 inch wide straps, was pulled tightly across my stomach, the tops of my legs and mid thigh. This is not a flattering look for a 40ish woman, ample of rump and portly of thigh. I looked like a pink, sweaty pork roast.

Precariously hovering on the edge of a cliff, I began to weigh my options: Temporary, fear induced paralysis? Sudden onset coma? How might I get out of having to do this? I began to tremble impressively and my once-steady breathing deteriorated into short staccato gasps. “Just relax.” Rico was saying. “You’ll be fine.” And then I did it. I took the first few shuffles backwards off a cliff into a 300ft. deep sinkhole called The Black Hole Drop.

“Why?” You might ask. Do I do this for the adrenaline? Do I do this for the adventure? No. Mostly, I do this because when it comes to reading brochures, information packets and instructions, I’m a shameless skimmer.

“It’s called the Black Something Cave I think.” My husband offered absently. “It’s a hike through the jungle and then a rappel down some rock or something – sounds fun. Here’s the brochure.” And the photos were lovely. Fresh-looking, twenty- something hikers marveled as they gazed up hundreds of feet at the jungle flora. They looked as if they were thinking “I can’t believe my good fortune at being in this magical place with such outrageously attractive, freshly showered companions!”

And true to the photos, we did gaze up and marvel at the wonders of the Belizean jungle – for about the first 15 minutes. The remaining hour of the “hike” was more like something out of Survivor. You see, in order to rappel down 300 feet, you must first climb up 300 feet.

I also was not aware that I would be sporting a backpack which held eight lbs. of rappelling equipment and three liters of water. The temperature in the jungle was somewhere near “caution – steam room – avoid if prone to fainting” and this hike quickly turned into a climb on hands and knees, over slippery boulders. This was patently outside of my physical endurance ability, and I began to whine. “How much longer? Are we almost there? What stinks? Oh….never mind…it’s me.”

Occasionally, when I was unable to reach the next foot hold, our guide would helpfully boost me. “Here, let me help” he’d offer, and then hoist my bottom end with his shoulder – causing him to emit a low pained-sounding “Oooofff”. This was not pictured in the brochure! My pride was completely gone.

We stopped to rest every once in awhile and Rico would tell us about the jungle. Mostly, he told about all of the things that could kill, maim, or otherwise make you rather cranky. There are six varieties of wild cats, including the jaguar, ocelot and puma that would, I imagine, be happy to eat your face. There are two types of deadly snakes, the coral snake and the fer-de-lance. While an encounter with either would ruin your day, the fer-de-lance is the deadliest reptile in Central and South America, and is responsible for more deaths than any other reptile in all of the Americas.

There are scorpions, tarantulas, fire ants, and bees that could inadvertently be stepped on or grasped while searching for a hand hold, and there is a type of bamboo thorn so sharp that it can shred right through the sole of your hiking boot into the tender flesh of your instep. Think it’s hard to hike through the jungle? Try crawling on your knees as gangrene sets in on your thorn-speared foot. Again, not pictured in the brochure.

But that’s not all! There are at least nine types of plants that can equally interfere with your happiness. Oleander, Poisonwood, Give and Take, Basket Tie Tie, and Dumbcane trees can cause symptoms including dizziness, swelling, convulsions, vomiting, suffocation, and death. Really. “So you’re telling me that even if I could deftly escape the advances of a venomous fer-de-lance snake by quickly climbing a tree, I could be done in by the tree’s sap? That first my hands, lips, and forearms would inflate to Popeye-like dimensions and then I would suffer fits of dizziness, vomiting, convulsions and eventually suffocate? Really – from tree sap?” Rico nodded. Well then.

Part of me suspected that Rico shared these details to keep us motivated to push forward despite being exhausted. Nobody wanted to linger seated on a tree stump with that kind of information swirling around in their head. And, I suspect he was trying to prepare us for the most terrifying moment of all – blindly walking backwards off of a 300 foot cliff.

We had finally reached our destination. The vistas were stunning. As far as I could see was lush, untouched rainforest with mist rising from the ground. I looked down at the canopy of the trees and the imagined the jungle floor 300 feet below. Then it occurred to me. I didn’t have to rappel down this cliff. Sure, I could get out of the jungle the way I came in…on foot.

Just then I felt a slight brushing along my right side and heard a plop by my feet. I looked down as a huge, black scorpion scurried away under some leaves. Giant scorpions falling from the sky? I think I’ll go first.

And as I took those first terrifying steps backward off the cliff I looked, wide eyed, at my husband of 20 years. “Honey” I asked. “Did you read the brochure?”

Word Count: 1021

Julene Nolan
jules@julesnolan.com
www.julesnolan.com
www.takethekidswith.com