SNAKES ON BOATS

San Blas, Panama, March

We left Mamitupu shooting through the narrow pass on the village’s north side and then threaded through the reefs headed for Mono Island where the anchorage had a reputation for being well protected and a good spot to go up your mast. The spot fit the bill on all accounts, except for not mentioning the reptile factor, because we had our second snake experience. The first time was when a boa had got on board in Trinidad, an exciting day that had ended with us being in a bay on the south side off Venezuela’s Paria Peninsula where the locals tried to settle an argument with some gun play. Not an experience I wanted to repeat. (See Log Archive November 2007)

Our VHF radio was working but didn’t seem to have a good range either broadcasting or receiving. I had new couplings and had changed the one at the foot of the mast but was waiting for a calm spot to do the upper swap out. Mono seemed to fit the bill. The repair went well and after a pleasant evening we hit the sack planning an early morning run up to Snug Harbour. After breakfast I up went to the bow to start lifting the anchor. Exercise on a boat can be a challenge and as a diabetic for the last twenty years and insulin dependent I figured working the windlass was a health benefit despite the effort. The powerful modern electrical models seem to be one item cruisers are constantly complaining about being on the forever broke list. SeaCycle has a manual windlass which over the years I have managed to develop an understanding with. The windless doesn’t bother me and I don’t replace it. Been relatively problem free over the last five years other than a persistent oil drip. Using the larger 3/8 chain at a pound and a half as a rule we rarely run out less than 120 feet even in shallow anchorages which along with a 45 lb. Delta anchor leaves 200 lbs. on the seafloor and has been almost foolproof over the years. Following the sea writer Bruce Van Sants' teachings I have developed my method lifting ten or so feet at a time letting the catenary action of the boat do the work instead of the coronary. It’s not quick but unless it’s an emergency it works. Under the bow roller I keep a rag for wiping my paws down with and this time after cranking a few feet of chain up I reached down to pick it up. Somewhere between the bow roller and me standing up straight again the realization smacked me that I had a visitor curled up under the bow roller behind the rag.
I was thinking “oh shit” which I must of thought out loud because just as I was speaking the words “you are not going to believe this” Deb immediately and intuitively said "SNAKE" and preceded to have a right regular girlie moment . Strange thing, that, even the most hardened feminist ball busting types, when challenged, insist they are permitted, indeed, entitled to have (funny how the double standard clause kicks in). I immediately asked for the camera which for some reason always seems to bother her. She would rather supply the machete, a loaded gun or an atom bomb at that particular moment anything but a camera. The snake didn’t seem to be bothered by my presence. I couldn't help but be thankful I hadn’t been bitten when I pulling the rag out with my bare hands. I somehow seemed to realize immediately that this was a deadly one. I took the obligatory camera shots for the record thinking at least they would have an ID on the cause of my imminent demise. Having no idea how to approach the question of removal but with Deb starting to sound like a Greek chorus of Cassandra’s I couldn’t help acting like I was thoroughly in charge to calm my excitable mate. In my best Eastwood tone I coolly asked for the fishing net and the boathook, tools which had worked with the boa extraction. I was planning to prod him out of his spot under the roller with the hook and persuade him into the net. Unfortunately the windlass and anchor bit were configured in such a way that I couldn’t lay the net properly. Faced with the need for action, I decided to cowboy through which ended up with me doing a jittery tango and just getting the hook all caught up in the net. The snake didn’t move. I retreated to untangle my mess. Next I asked for a bucket thinking maybe I can just flush him out and he will go back down the anchor chain. Filling the bucket I washed it up in the roller. Finally some movement but not enough, in fact with the warm water washing over him and a towel in sight he probably thought he was at the spa. Realizing I had no choice but to piss him off I gave him a poke. Well that was the ticket and he started out on the starboard side tongue flickering. He found a clear spot and immediately started to coil himself. Now I have seen enough westerns to know this isn’t a good thing so backing off I towelled him to gain some time. That was when he made his mistake coming out and putting his head on the outside of the lifeline stanchion. Seizing the opportunity I got the hook behind his neck and flung him off the boat.

He immediately started to swim away which was a relief because last time the boa returned and tried to reboard. I quickly started to pump the windlass to bring the anchor up. The problem was if I pulled too fast I would end up on top of the reef since I had dropped the anchor right on the edge of an opening in the reef Suddenly my attention was grabbed from behind as I heard Deb yelling “he-ssss back”. Sure enough he was headed back with three or four inches of his body raised right out of the water.I couldn’t pull the boat forward any faster without grounding us so I grabbed the boat hook and ran back to the rear quarter where he approached. Meaning to just scare him off I tried to beat the water in front of him with the boat hook to scare him off. Instead I end up clobbering him on the head. He curled up laying like one of those curly garden hoses leaving his nostrils out of the water. Getting back to the windlass I started to work the windlass again when sure enough "he-ssss coming again" sounded the alert hysterically from the helm. Jesus back to stern, sure enough swat again, curled up again, back to the windlass pump, pump, and bingo anchors up and away we go.
The coiled snake laid still as SeaCycle a 37 foot, 9 ton, full keeled deep water boat planed out of the anchorage running from a 6 foot snake like something out of an old Beany and Cecil cartoon. Further out in the bay and hopefully safer I asked Deb to stop the boat. Giving me one of her WTF looks I explained we had better check below for any other stowaways before we found ourselves out sailing through the reefs with a problem on our hands. The only place that concerned me was the anchor locker which on our boat is open and accessible from the forepeak right where we sleep. Two doors with finger holes and latches provide access to the locker. At first I was going to put my eye up to the hole and have a peak but I had this vision of the snake on the other side and my eye to the hole presenting itself like a tooth in a dental dam for a target, forget about it. Flinging the doors open, the next problem was if the snake was overhead waiting to pounce. Finally a cautious look and I figured it was clear although it was awhile before anybody slept in the front berth again. This was our second experience with a snake getting on board. I can only think that our dark blue hull maybe retaining it's heat well into the night acting as a draw for any reptile swimming by. The only way to get on board was up the anchor chain which may present the answer for a snake proofing solution.

As we sailed towards Snug Harbour Deb declared no inshore anchorages tonight. After eyeing the charts I was informed we were going to drop the hook a good two miles offshore at the Ratone Cays. I couldn’t help but hide my smile as the name conjured up other fright night scenarios. After the hook was down we were approached by an old Kuna looking for the obligatory anchoring fee (three dollars). I showed him the pictures of the snake on the camera and his face went into a worried frown turning side to side as he kept repeating Venemo,Venemo.
To be continued