Pura Vida Costa Rica: Mr. Snake

I. Hate. Snakes. My boyfriend says it’s because I don’t know enough about them. Quite frankly, I don’t think it would matter. Their movement is unnatural to me. (I realize that’s a funny thing to say given that they live and are created in the natural world.) They are scary looking. They can kill me. Shall I continue?

When it comes down to it, I think I inherited this trait. No one in my family likes them either. Sigh... I guess since it’s hereditary, like my height, there isn’t much I can do about it.

Unfortunately, when you are alone on a trail in the middle of a rain forest and you scare one up, that paralyzing fear does nothing for you—except make you sweat profusely and leave you wondering if you are going to have to spend the night in the rain forest because the snake is blocking your exit.

I was running low on daylight on Saturday evening when I headed down a trail that promised to bring me to El pozo rojo, the red pool. I had plenty of time to make it down the .7 km trail and back before the sun was completely down. Nevertheless, I was walking at a quick pace to get there in time. It was a half run/walk/shuffle step that I was doing.

I was keeping my eyes low to the ground to ‘spot’ any crazy creatures when all of the sudden, something recoiled and jumped back right next to my right shoe. I looked down, quickly realized it was snake, and nearly wet myself. I shot off down the trail high-stepping and hollering unintelligible phrases to the extent of “Ahhhhhhhhhh, Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, mmmmgrrrrrrruummmpphhmmmmmoffff.”

When I finally stopped to breathe, I came to the realization that this snake was blocking my exit to get off the trail and back to the safety of the hotel. I walked back close enough to locate it on the ground and then retracted back about 1o feet just to keep a safe 7 meter distance in case it charged.

Now here comes the part about having little knowledge about snakes. I didn’t know what kind it was, poisonous or otherwise. I didn’t know of its capacity to strike, and if it did, just how far it could go. I felt like my 7 meter buffer would be sufficient if I needed to get a head start running from it, but how could I know for sure? At this point, I had conjured up nearly every scenario of gravity-defying gymnastic feats that a snake could do to get to me. If it bit me, then what? Did I have enough time to get off the trail and call for help? Just how fast do they move? With a 7 meter head start, could I still out run the potential Usain Bolt of snakes? I had no answers. Just a lot of sweat and a pounding heart.

So, from 7 meters away, I began tossing sticks at Mr. Snake. I had already contemplated routing myself off the trail and into the forest just enough to get around it, but what if there were more snakes that I couldn’t see under the leaves? I couldn’t take my chances.

Thus, the onslaught of small sticks and rocks began. I didn’t try to kill it, just bother it enough to leave the trail. I know I was probably provoking it, but given my range, I was hoping I could still out run the snake if necessary.

It was all to no avail. The snake never budged. At this point, I felt like an eternity had passed and now I was really stuck with some big decisions—of which I had no idea what they might actually be. I just knew they were big (life and death) decisions.

At some point (roughly 10 minutes), the snake grew weary or uninterested and slowly made its way off the trail and into forest. When it was stretched out, it was about 1 meter in length and the size of a quarter in diameter. It might as well have been an anaconda.

As soon as I could no longer see the snake’s tail in the brush, I took off sprinting down the trail toward the hotel, again high-stepping and mumbling things to keep my morale up.

I finally broke free of the forest and stopped running once I was safely on the wide-open road. Red-faced and sweating, I quickly gathered myself, and my pride, and calmly walked back to the hotel. No more hiking for me.

At the point I returned, grateful to be alive, I quietly say myself in reception until dinner. No sense in stumbling upon anything else that evening.