Gestalt Switch Expeditions

The Mud Pit of Flesh-Eating Isopods

by Ethan Daniels

Well, I survived once again.  It may have been improbable but I did it.  I got out of the Mud Pit of Flesh-Eating Isopods (or some other monstrous crustacean) alive.  Now I sit thinking back with a bit of longing, wanting to return… A bit sadistic isn’t it? 

It’s now June and I just returned from spending the entire month of May in Raja Ampat onboard the Shakti, a beautiful Bugis schooner, owned by David Pagliari.  It was a great month of exploration but there was one area that I had long intended on checking out and had previously eluded me.

M/V Shakti © 2008 Ethan Daniels  

As we headed above the equator my internal radar for the unknown went on full alert as the Shakti sailed toward distant islands of jagged rock.  I had been eyeing satellite images of the approaching area for several years.  The pixilated and blurry picture of islands just north of the equator showed several dark spots scattered amongst sprawling green forest.  The spots indicated marine lakes, some of which may never have been seen first hand, let alone swum in, before.  

Marine lakes are significant because they often harbor new species, each lake being a novel ecosystem where unique aquatic food webs have naturally developed over the past 12,000 years or even less in some cases.  One lake, within the upcoming maze of limestone, had thus far evaded my exploratory efforts.  It was the largest enclosed body of water among these islands yet it was the most difficult to approach.  Surrounded by looming walls of crumbling, razor-sharp rock, thick, almost impenetrable jungle, and muck-filled pits of mangrove forest, the lake seemed intent on guarding its secrets.

But, nothing was going to keep me from getting to this lake this time.  Nothing except the hardcore slog through sharp thorns and long spikes on snarled, mischievous vegetation, over camouflaged, neck-breaking sink holes, and by giant wasp nests that hid amongst the greenery.  Despite the pitfalls, I was determined to see the lake and a day later, after the Shakti was sitting in a beautiful anchorage, time allowed an attempt. To make a long and fairly miserable story short, I never made it into the lake.  My attention was diverted by what became known as the “Mud Pit of Flesh-Eating Isopods.”

Having lugged my snorkeling gear, camera housing and strobes through a kilometer of maddeningly thick vines, tangled roots, and unstable rock, I finally came to standing water.  But, this puddle was definitely not the lake.  The thin ribbon of water meandering through the pneumatophores of mangrove trees was covered by a luminous canopy of leaves. There was no way this area would have shown up on the satellite image.

Soft corals on mangrove prop roots © 2010 Ethan Daniels 

Peering from the rock above, it became clear that the water was only a meter deep at most, and there was something moving in it. Climbing down to the muddy edge of the pit, I could see thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, of tiny red shrimp skittering, helter-skelter amidst the liquid.  Creepy though it was, I had to photograph this strange aggregation, and waded knee deep into the mud and slimy algae.  In order to keep from stirring up too much sediment I lay down in the water.  Never having been exposed to predators, the strange shrimp had no fear and surrounded my entire body, landing on my arms and legs, mask and dome port. I found that only by moving slowly ahead could I free myself from the horde.  Unexpectedly, I felt a sharp sting on the back of my leg. Something had bitten me, hard! Being in such shallow water, with my hands full of camera gear, I couldn’t do anything but wince and hope that it wasn’t the shrimp getting a taste of human flesh for the first time. 

Shrimp inhabiting Karst mudpit © 2010 Ethan Daniels

The multitude of shrimp turned out to be quite innocent, but other small invertebrates that looked a lot like isopods were not so innocuous.  These little beasts must have had saber-tooth fangs and the longer I stayed in the water the more they found my scent tantalizing.  Eventually the minute monsters drove me out of the pit, where I left behind several cubic centimeters of blood.  Though I never made it to the real lake and my arms and legs were covered in bites, my curiosity was momentarily fulfilled having witnessed the novel red shrimp.  Shouldering my gear as I turned away from the pit and picking a tortuous route back through the jungle, the realization hit me how robust and adaptable life on earth is. Even in a remote, isolated puddle of mud organisms have adapted to flourish.  Alfred Russel Wallace would have loved this place.