Sarah sails to the Sundarbans part 3

I just realized that I haven't given a very good description of just where our boat was going. The Sundarban is basically a big forest that has a vast amount of rivers interspersed throughout. We were basically spending a day  sailing from the top of the Sundarbans to the bottom where the water officially becomes the Bay of Bengal (starting all the way from the Himalayans, turning into the Ganges for a bit and continuing on), anchoring for a day and exploring the wildlife, then sailing another day back to the top. This picture gives a rough idea of the contours of the land. I can't remember exactly what route the boat took, although Kubir showed me on a map. Much to my surprise we actually didn't sail down one of the major rivers, but a smaller side river. That river seemed wide enough (felt like Mississippi river width to me but I could be wrong) that I couldn't imagine how wide the really big ones must be. Towards the late afternoon of the first day we actually left the side river and began sailing down an even smaller one. As it grew darker it became slightly nerve-wracking as the visibility grew to zero, and the navigation was made possible only  by a light that the captain beamed from side to side. This made me feel like I was somehow in the Amazon on a trek to find a lost city. The fireflies lit up the forest on both sides, like an abundance of 4th of July sparklers held by invisible hands.

The crew woke us up at 5AM Saturday morning to go on an early morning rowboat / nature viewing excursion. There was no shortage of little critters like bright red and blue crabs and mudskippers (fish that actually walk on land) but a definite dearth of any of the more exciting animals. We saw an otter from about 50 feet away that quickly disappeared as we floated toward it. Finally after about 2 hours in we saw a snake. Aigar (the slightly crazy Latvian) was sitting in the on the bow of the boat yelling out things  (in his thick eastern European accent) like "can he eat me?"  It was here I realized that if somehow we were to get stranded on an island in the Sundarbans without the possibility of rescue our wacky group (with just a few tweaks) could easily constitute the cast of Lost 2.

After our nature tour we headed back to the boat for breakfast and some down time. Shortly after we headed out to the Ocean. Since the Sundarbans are one of the only homes left of the near extinct Royal Bengal Tiger we were accompanied by 2 armend guards. Oddly enough this gave me some flashbacks to my Israeli birthright trip, the only other time in my life I have been accompanied by a guy with a big gun, which was mainly for show. We trekked about 2 miles through the forest to the ocean. The sky was gray, the water was gray, the landscape was nearly entirely... yes, gray, but beautiful. Perhaps it was the German company, but I couldn't help but be reminded of the painting The Monk by the Sea by Caspar David Friedrich. We swam for awhile, played frisbee, and a bunch of the guys played an early version of the Germany v. Argentina football match that would be on later that night. (Germany won... perhaps a premonition of things to come.)

We had lunched on the boat and had a few hours to kill before once again trekking back out into the forest. We were told we were going on a mud walk, and that they would provide shoes for us so we didn't ruin ours. The shoes turned out to be very old converse hi tops in all large men sizes. At this point I had a very strong feeling that I should just stay on the boat, that trekking through the mud sounded terrible and that no good would come from this. I disregarded this instinct and headed out where the mud awaited. We went to an island near where the boat was docked. On this island were about 5 buildings (a few houses had been destroyed by the cyclone from a few years ago) and a group of men who worked for the forest department lived there. It seemed like a very lonely existence. During the winter (when the tourist season peaks) they have lots of company, but the rest of the year they have to make due with the occasional tour boat and fisherman.

The hike started out nice enough, on a slightly dilapidated foot bridge that seemed to just stretch out into the forest. It was about 3 feet above the ground, the ground meaning mud of course. Eventually more and more wood from the bridge seemed to disappear and we were walking one by one on the one concrete support beam running through the middle. Eventually the side rails also disappeared and the bridge consisted of nothing but basically an elevated balance beam. My anxiety started to kick in and I imagined myself somehow falling, breaking a leg and drowning in mud all at the same time. Luckily I made it off the bridge ok, unluckily I was no standing in ankle deep mud, and had about an hour of this ahead of me. Now I could lie and say that I eventually came to enjoy it, that it was somehow exhilarating and freeing, and that I was able to let go of my inhibitions and just enjoy the very muddy moment. Alas, this is not the case. I was miserable. I hated every second. My shoes were too big and they kept sinking completely into the mud and I had to struggle to get them out. Shortly I figured out that the quicker I walked the less likely I was to sink (also the quicker I walked the quicker this would be over). I spent nearly the entire time either walking next to Kubir, or the guide with the gun, whoever happened to be leading at that moment. Through about half of it we followed a deer trail, where we had to do all we can to avoid the seemingly endless puddles of deer urine. We also had to wade through a stream about a mid-calf deep. Now, I honestly think that if the point of this had been to actually go somewhere or see something interesting I could have lived with it. An hour trek through the mud to see a beautiful waterfall is something I can definitely get behind. What soured me to the whole thing was that on this hike the mud itself was the point. In the end, I'm glad for the experience, as it rates as one of the more bizarre moments of my life, but it is something I will never do again.

That night the crew prepared an amazing barbecue dinner, and we all ate at the top of the boat. They then brought up a television and we attempted to watch the Germany v. Argentina World Cup match. We were in the middle of nowhere so the signal was obviously not very strong. To solve this they attached the antenna to a long bamboo pole and tied it to the top of the boat. This seemed to help and we were able to see about 1 of every 3 minutes, but this included all 4 goals. The Germans were elated with the 4-0 result and the Bangladeshi crew were heartbroken. With Brazil being eliminated the night before, I just regretted that my favorite topic of conversation had also been eliminated.