The Lost One

No matter how many times I did this, it never got easier. You could say I'm a bit pampered, accustomed as I am to fancy toilets with running water that flushes into a sewer system. Heck, at this point I'd be happy to see a port-a-potty. But no, in the jungles of Guatemala, collecting miles away from camp, there's nothing but you, the dirt, and a little plastic shovel. Toilet paper too if you're too squeamish to use a leaf, and let's face it, as a botanist, of course I'm too squeamish to use a leaf! I've seen what grows on jungle leaves, and I'd like to keep it away from my behind, thank you very much.

In case you didn't know, the answer is fungus. Lots and lots and lots of fungus.

Of course, most of it's uncatalogued, which is what brought the leader of our research team out here in the first place. The great Dr. Whitfield, a remarkably tall woman once you get her out of the lab desk, was leading our motley team of students, guides, and volunteers on a search for the uncatalogued treasures of the Maya Biosphere Reserve. As our official mycologist, (and a taxonomist on the side) she was in charge of deciding whether or not anything the rest of us found was worth hauling back to camp. As extra hands, our job as students was to point out anything we thought looked cool, and, once back at camp, perform all of the necessary culture work and paperwork required to get our samples back to the states.

Really, I was a lousy scout. I have an eye for detail, sure, but that's in the lab. Out in the jungle, there's color and things happening everywhere. I have a bad habit of getting distracted by, say, the composition of the dirt, or the growth pattern of trees, or look at all these weird insects on the bark over here! I'm not in the best of shape physically, and I'm too easily distracted, so I tend to slow everyone down.

I probably won't come out collecting again. There's plenty to see back at camp, and there'll be plenty to do once this first trip is over with. Last time the professor found a new Ophiocordyceps though, and I'd like to see that if possible. You may recognize that fungus as the one that takes over the mind of an insect and then feasts on its innards. In the fungus world, it's a rock star. People tend not to care about rusts or yeasts unless they specialize, but everyone knows Ophiocordyceps.

In the meantime, back to business. I filled in my hole when I was done, then called out to the rest of the team.

"I'm coming back!"

"Ok!"

Well, that was a slightly different angle. I guess everyone else finished already and they started moving. You see, when you're out in the jungle, there's a surprisingly large number of things that you need to look out for that can kill you very, very quickly. It's also really easy to get lost, so for a bathroom break you only go a short distance away to do your deed. Far enough that they can't see you, but still close enough within earshot so you can find the group (and the path) again.

It's really embarrassing, especially since I'd been having... exotic reactions to the local cuisine... but still better than getting lost in the jungle full of biting insects and strange fungus and, oh yeah, did you know there's three types of large hunting cats in this reserve? Jaguars, pumas, and ocelots all roam freely, and while it's highly unlikely we'll see one, in this jungle you'd be lucky to catch a glimpse as it eats your intestines.

I decided to stop thinking about my painful demise and pay more attention to my surroundings. Mahogany grows wild in this jungle, and there was a fabulous specimen just a few feet to my right-

and I fell in a hole. Ow. That's just great.

"Mark!"

"Yeah!?"

"I'm stuck!"

"Stuck how!?"

"I was looking at a tree and I fell in a hole!"

"Only you, Laurie! Only you!"

"I know, I know! Look, get the group, ok!? It's pretty deep!"

The hole was roughly circular, and it looked like the top had been concealed by leaf litter. Usually leaf litter doesn't do that, but in this jungle, where the name of the big-leafed mahogany is painfully literal, it wasn't that much of a stretch.

It reminded me a bit of the sinkholes we'd get back near my hometown in Indiana, right down to the limestone. The soil around here is leaf litter, a thin layer of very rich humus, deep clay, and the limestone, and the hole showed this perfectly. I was kind of glad it was the dry season, because even so the clay under my feet was kind of sticky and gross. I moved over to sort of the higher side of the hole, and that's when I saw it.

It was a big carving of the sun, weathered and worn, yet highlighted by the clay stuck to it. Next to it was a curious carving of two figures, doing... something. Archeology was never my strong point. Lace, however, is, and I noticed that one of them was wearing what looked like a lacy skirt. I'd heard one of the other students talking about how the Mayans would use jade beads for clothing, and I guessed this is what it looked like in stone. A man and a woman? I thought their sun god was a man, but that's about all I knew.

On the other side of the big sun was a circle with a bunch of small carvings, a calendar most likely. Maybe this was some sort of minor temple outpost at some point, before it sunk into the clay. Nice to know we Hoosiers aren't the only ones to appreciate quality limestone.

There were more carvings, but I had no clue how to interpret them. I'd let the rest of the team know, but I doubted we'd be doing anything about it on this trip. Most likely we'd let some real archeologists know about it and see if they'd be willing to come check it out. We're here for fungus, not for Mayan artifacts.

It may seem callous, but what seems like an exotic treasure to us is usually considered old garbage to the people around, or just something to loot. As a kid, there was this one creek where we used to find all sorts of arrowheads washed up. It took about 10 of them before I lost interest in them, and it didn't take long for everyone else to lose interest as well. That's what Maya stuff is like in Guatamala: either you can sell it, or it's garbage. It's not considered all that important unless it's really big, and sometimes not even then.

I heard a loud thud.

"Mark!? Is that you!?"

"Yeah, they stopped for us!"

"Let me guess, you fell in another hole!"

"Yeah, but Jeff didn't!"

"Could you go get some more help, Jeff!? Let them all know to keep to the tree trunks so they don't fall in any more holes!"

"I'm on it!"

Great, that was 1 of the 4 guys we had with us out of commision. Looks like I'd be getting mighty familiar with this hole.

Speaking of which, some rare break in the canopy was allowing light to shine on the big sun, and it looked all... shimmery. I know limestone, though, and limestone just doesn't do shimmery, not in the rough like this. Surely any polish or paint they put on it years ago had long since worn away.

Maybe it was some sort of fluorescent algae? With nothing better to do I reached my hand forward, completely unaware of the possible consequences of that action. My grimy hand touched the warm stone, and my whole world changed forever.