Belize and Its Elusive Jaguars by Simon Heptinstall
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The little plane buzzed down towards a clearing in the rainforest. From the air, I could see a wild green sea of jungle spreading towards a distant rim of hazy, gnarled mountains. It was my first glimpse of Belize’s Cockscomb Basin - an immense wildlife sanctuary covering 155 square miles of lush tropical wilderness.
You may not of heard of Cockscomb – yet. But as eco-tourism grows and rainforests shrink, this extraordinary theme-park of nature could one day become a world-famous visitor attraction. For Cockscomb’s 128,000 acres are home to more than 500 different species of animals. The Basin’s teeming fauna includes a screeching, tweeting and hooting collection of 300 types of birds, from toucans and vultures to hummingbirds as tiny as insects.
There are hundreds of exotic animals too, like tapirs, anteaters and armadillos, countless plants ranging from giant tree ferns to precious mahogany trees, and a whole host of slimy things almost too horrible for a soft city-dweller like me to mention: tarantulas, scorpions, soldier ants, boa constrictors and the particularly deadly fer-de-lance snake, which uses highly sensitive heat-detectors on the side of its head to stalk its victims. Crikey, even the frogs here can be dangerous.
The least-accessible parts of the Basin are also the lair of fabulous rare wild cats like pumas, ocelots, margays and jaguarundi… But most importantly, Cockscomb is the kingly realm of America’s biggest cat of all – the jaguar.
This giant jungle-filled bowl enclosed by mountains on three sides is the world’s only jaguar reserve. Cockscomb has the greatest concentration of jaguars anywhere – an estimated population of around 80. For such a sadly endangered species that makes Cockscomb the Piccadilly Circus of jaguars.
So with these big cats growing up to eight-feet long and 250lbs, shouldn’t it be easy to spot them strolling round the forest? Unfortunately not. I was warned that despite their size I was very unlikely to see one. “You looking for jaguars, man?” the immigration man at Belize airport asked me incredulously. “If you see one you’d better just run – those are some big cats. Them dangerous. I never seen one and I hope I never do.”
Like him, most Belizeans have never seen the third biggest member of the cat family after the lion and tiger. The heavily camouflaged jaguars are nocturnal, preferring the densest forest where they live very scattered, shy lives. The animal world’s version of Greta Garbo certainly likes to be alone. In fact, an adult male jaguar prefers his own territorial patch to stretch for up to 16 lonely miles. Squeezing into a noisy packed flight from Miami to Belize City I knew just how he feels.
Well, if I couldn’t see a Jaguar at least my visit would help promote the work of the Sanctuary – which is partly sponsored by Jaguar Cars. For those of us familiar with the symbol of power and elegance adorning bonnet and badges, exploring the natural habitat of the inspirational creature itself was quite a thrill.
There’s an aura of mystery and superstition about the jaguar. Locals may fear their ferocious hunting skills but they also speak of the big cat with a hushed reverence. One guide took me on a long walk – just to see the spot where he’d seen a jaguar years before. “There. That’s where it was,” he said, gazing at the empty patch of forest as if the spirit of the beast was still present.
To the indigenous Mayans the jaguar is simply called ‘baalum’, meaning king. Its likeness is found carved all over the stone ruins of their ancient civilisation through Belize. The jaguar they worshipped once occupied a range from the USA to Argentina but fur hunters and deforestation have reduced that population to a few hundred just in Central America’s and Brazil’s thickest rainforests.
Oh well, nevermind. My trip to Cockscomb also gave me a fascinating glimpse of Belize, one of the hottest tips for prime tourist spot for the future. It’s just a small Central American nation bordered by Mexico, Guatemala, and the Caribbean Sea, yet its landscape contains a massive mix of major eco-systems. There are mountains, jungles, rivers, swamps and coastal lagoons and, to cap it all, one of the longest barrier reefs in the world.
Thankfully the former British colony is a peaceful and democratic country that has had the foresight to give protected reserve status to an astonishing proportion of itself, over 40 per cent. It can’t have been popular with farmers, hunters and timber merchants, but, as an investment for the future, that could be a priceless decision.
Living standards are not high and the tourist industry is still getting into first gear. Until now Belize has mainly attracted hardcore bird spotters and backpackers, hardy souls prepared to brave primitive conditions for close encounters of the environmental kind. Gradually however, a more luxurious form of tourism is gaining a foothold.
After my flight to Dangriga’s tiny airport I was collected by a young driver from Jaguar Reef Lodge, a stylish small hotel on the coast close to Cockscomb Basin.
The Lodge’s driver, known as ‘Junior’, was soon launching into his own Caribbean-style version of a guided tour. “There are some nice ladies,” he said as if pointing out an important monument. “And over there are some more ladies,” he added, beeping his horn and waving.
A few miles further on he pointed out, you guessed it, more ‘ladies’ and continued to direct my attention to all the ‘ladies’ he spotted on the 40-minute drive to the hotel.
I’d come to see the wildlife of Belize, but Junior was the first hint that the human life would be just as interesting. Belizeans have the clichéed Caribbean innocent friendliness that I’ve never actually found in reality anywhere before.
I’ll never forget the gangly waitress in blue gingham who leant over me as I was writing notes at the dinner table, asking softly: “Are you a poet?” or the dreadlocked artist who helped decorated the hotel rooms. “I’m a natural man and I like to live neutral,” he explained to me with great seriousness, leaving me totally baffled.
Jaguar Reef Lodge is as luxurious a hotel as you’ll find in Belize but still reflects the easy-going eccentricity of the locals. One night evening I joined a pretty waitress chasing an intruding frog around the restaurant. It was more bizarre than it sounds… for the frog was the size of a small dog. Less amusing was the morning when a bizarre breakfast of fried eggs and oranges was interrupted by a shiny black scorpion sauntering between the tables.
This picturesque and colourful eco-resort is the creation of Canadian commercial diver turned investment broker Bruce Foerster. Bruce told me he had set out to find “a piece of sand and a palm tree to call my own. But when I found this property with a beautiful beach, great diving, a pristine river, Maya culture, rainforests and charming villages nearby a light bulb went off in my head.” That lightbulb has now turned into one of Belize’s finest places to stay.
The location is fabulous - right on a seven-mile long sandy beach just ten miles from Cockscomb Basin. The Lodge’s ‘rooms’ along the beach are white-washed thatched bungalows with a central open-sided lodge containing a cocktail bar and restaurant that juts out between swaying beach palms.
Everywhere there are terracotta floor tiles, cheerful local paintings and carvings, and raked sand patterns like a Japanese zen garden that’s got hopelessly lost. My big airy room had a king size mahogany bed, a bathroom decorated with Mexican tiles and a fridge and coffee percolator - but there are no TV or telephones. The only contact with the outside world is via a free email service in reception.
For a real get-away-from-it-all experience that suited me just fine. The last thing I wanted was a call from the office while I was investigating the quality of the Lodge’s cocktails or a long call from my family while I was watching dolphins frolic a few metres off-shore from a hammock on the beach. In fact I needn’t have worried because there’s so much to do and see that I hardly had time to sit down at all.
I started with swimming in the clear warm sea as a flock of crested terns watched me from the jetty and graduated onto walking along the beach towards the village of Hopkins where homespun restaurants and makeshift wooden houses on stilts gave a colourful glimpse of country-life Belize style. Then I took a free kayak for a paddle around the lagoon and later borrowed a free mountain bike for a ride to the hotel’s wooden pavilion on the Sittee River a mile away.
Here I met a hotel boatman who made an offer you don’t often hear at a Ritz Carlton or Four Seasons. “You wanna see some crocodiles?” he asked with a huge smile. I took a deep breath and jumped aboard for an Africa-Queen style boat trip down a wide sluggish waterway lined by an inpenetratable jungle of lillies, mangroves, palms, breadfruit, mangoes, alamanda flowers, huge pampas grasses, and trees like wild cane, caraway, provision and the lovely mayflower whose pink flowers float down the river for miles. And yes, Patrick was soon pointing out crocodiles and iguanas lounging in the roots along the overgrown banks while tiger herons and egrets strolled around the shallows.
The next day another boat trip took me 12 miles out to the reef, where sting and eagle rays patrolled the shallow clear water like vast shadows. Needless to say this World Heritage site is prime scuba and snorkelling territory.
There are hotels, restaurants and scuba centres on the islands dotted along the reef’s 200 miles. On one island – a protected bird reserve called Man of War Caye - I watched the spectacular courtship displays of the frigate bird where the males inflate their red throats like Christmas balloons to lure the females.
The best expedition of all though was to the Jaguar sanctuary at Cockscomb. There was a 20 minute drive on normal tarmac between plantations of sugar cane, banana and citrus before the hotel’s wildlife expert Francis turned off the main Southern Highway. The fields gave way to forests of mahogany, cedar, rosewood and pine and the road became a rough track only suitable for four-wheel-drive vehicles.
Finally we stopped a clearing with a few huts – Cockscomb’s offices and visitor centre. From there you can explore miles of marked paths leading into the rain-drenched tropical basin. Rain drenched? Well, the annual rainfall reaches 180 inches in parts – that’s 15 feet of water a year. It rained torrentially while I was there but the heat meant I was dry again within half an hour.
The ring of mountains around Cockscomb includes the 3,680ft Victoria Peak. It shows just how undeveloped this country is to read a local guide book which refers to Victoria as “perhaps the second highest mountain in Belize”. “Higher peaks may exist in the unexplored southern divide” says the guidebook. This is the sort of area where the map marks some roads as “seasonal” and some towns as “abandoned”. Yet these untamed jungles include more great tourist attractions of the future - Central America’s highest waterfall and the biggest cave system in the Americas that stretches right under the border into Guatemala.
My day in the Sanctuary was certainly an unforgettable travel experience that easily ranks alongside more famous eco-adventures in other parts of the world. I saw gangs of howler monkeys staring down at me from the canopy, a daunting ‘road’ cleared through the undergrowth by an army of leaf-cutter ants and a tiny leaping frog the size of a grasshopper. There were colourful birds of all shapes and sizes fluttering through the leaves, sleeping bats hanging from trees and giant termite hills almost humming with activity. I was buzzed by huge dragonflies but thankfully I didn’t see the local centipedes which have poison injecting fangs. I did however see some thin lizards running around on their back legs which were scarily reminiscent of a scene in Jurassic Park.
As a lily-livered European I stuck to walking, ignoring the options for kayaking, canoeing and tube floating in the Sanctuary. Neither did I consider camping out in the Park or taking a guided night walk. Total immersion in nature is fine for some, but I prefer my green excursions to be a little more cosseted. In fact the riskiest thing I managed in the rainforest was sitting down to eat the hotel’s sumptuous picnic lunch and spotting a large hairy spider in the grass a few few feet away.
On my last night in Belize I lounged on the beach in the darkness sipping a cocktail feeling like Graham Green or Ernest Hemingway. I decided that even though I hadn’t seen a jaguar I had seen more than enough to compensate. But as I gazed out into the humid darkness there was a rustling in the undergrowth to my right. Was that something big, moving with stealthy precision? A branch cracked. I felt I was being watched by the eyes of an ancient predator. A shiver ran up my back. But then again it could have just been my imagination…