Back Up Poo Lizard Smuglers

Down to our favorite surf haunt, Wilderness, aptly named for its location; at the end of a the most arcane of roads at which point you find yourself appropriatly in the midst of Puerto Rican wilderness.  Minus the fact that you are or on the airport runway aproach path which has full sized comercial jets passing a few hundred feet overhead.  Minorly alarming but you get used to it.   The waves where throat high but so were the rice, beans, chicken, potato salad, coalslaw and papaya juice we'd just scarfed, as such a little RnD was necessary, rest and digestion that is.   Mieandering to our daily shade, 'hey check that out, a boat washed up on the rocks, ha must have been a fishing boat that floated off its morig, kind of odd seing as yesterday was the smalled surf and the least wind in a month, hum...be right back, gunna pee in the jungle.' 'Come check this boat out!  It is constructed of 2x6"s and sheetrock screws.' Woo wierd boat you're right!  2x6 framing with the worst grade 1 inch pine planking i've ever seen all held haphazardly together with ungalvizined sheet rock screws.  Puerto Rican fisherman must not put much value on their lives, i'd bet those screws would rust out in a  matter of days; something don't add up.   Four wheelin', many a Puerto Rican's most beloved past time.  Come the weekend come the demons.  Trailers filled with every sort of four weeling machine you can think of.  Ones for 6 people, ones with cromed everything, custom exhaust, monster truck tires, air horns, police sirens, weelie bars, front break lockout so you can do endless burnouts, muffler disconnect for quarter mile radius croud deffening.  If you can think of it, it probably already exists.   So...out in the water when a normal looking four weeler with a helmet clad rider and more suspiciously quiet exhause comes cruzing down the goat track we figured something must be up!  This became poiantly more apparent when he got a bit closer and we could see his full camo machine, army fatigues, blacked helmet and bullet proof vest, 'someting tells me this isn't your average drunk suicidal red neck Puerto Rican rev-monger! One bike, two bike, one truck, two truck, two men, four men, six men, eight men, gun men, rubber gloved men, camera men and sniffer dog too.  The boat was certaintly getting its 10 seconds of fame!  Things were becoming a bit clearer; dat ain't no washed up Puerto Rican fishing boat, built with sheetrock screws for a reson i'd say, a purpos built one voyage vessel.  I wonder if they were smuggling drugs? I very well might be the only surfer on the planet torterued with this affliction but when ever i get to a surfspot and there are waves, 'i gotta poo!'  No exception!  It doesn't matter that i didn't have to go before seeing the waves, it doesn't matter that i just visited the jon 10 minutes before getting there.  Maybe excitement makes my body excrete intestine lubing juices, i don't know but there is no denying it.  Sometimes I try to ignoor the urge but usually  it just can not be ignoored.  Frequently i find myself ducking into the woods before a surf.  At this preticular location, Wilderness, it has been happening so frequently that i've now staked out my own secret poo spot with a secret poo hole digging rock hidden at the beginning of my path.  I'd prefer not to poo in the woods if avoidable, not in the least because i dislike pooing in the woods, infact i love pooing in the woods, sometimes i poo in our yard back home just for fun, but because once i see there are good waves i just want to get out there and surf, not screw around out in the woods trying to dig holes with a rock.   A couple weeks ago, before I'd staked out my secret poo spot, i chose to ignoor the urge to poo.   After an hour out there in the surf i could no longer concentrate on the waves, all i could think about was not pooing myself.  All of a sudden it became apparent that i had T-45 seconds to 'blast out'.  You can paddle pretty far in 45 seconds but not all the way to shore with enough time to ditch the board and dash into the woods.  I only had one choice, get as far down current of the other surfers as i could in the time I had left and do an aqua poo.  Ahh...Not actually all together that unpleaset of an experience, almost enjoyable really.  Strange salt water burning sensation but that went away quite quickly. So this preticular day, before getting in the ocean, I visited secret spot and what did i find?...My private space had been invaded...What the f'...all my poos had been dug up had totally vanished, only a few tattered pieces of toilet paper (biodegradable of course) remained.  Who the?...What the?...Where's my poo gone?...I've never encountered a poo theif before!  Aaa Haa!  Closer inspection revealed the culpret, surrounding my secred spot where lizard tracks everywhere, apperently my poo had been eaten.  How Lovely!! "You're going to get in trouble!   You're going to get in trouble!" chanted Mango while we bobed around in the ocean waitin for another wave.  "You took evidence from a crime sceen and sniffer dogs gunna find where you put it and then they're gunna arrest you!"  Come to think of it, I had picked up a bunch of rubbish from around the boat, two stroke engine oil quarts and Malta India bottles.  "Yah but I didn't know it was a crime sceen."  "Sniffer dog doesn't care!  He's going to get you the instant you get out of the water!"  "Shit!" A couple hours later, arms turned to rubber, we got out of the ocean.  Sniffie didn't even take notice.  Crazy wife, always trying to get me in trouble!  The investigators were still combing the boat for evidence and sniffie and his men were out snif sampling the surrounding jungle.  Quite certain I would not actually be arrested if i fessed up about removing vital evidence from a crime sceen before they figured it out themselves i walked off in their direction.  Only as i started approching sniffie got a sent and they all headed the other direction.  Not wanting to make a sceen and break out into an all out run i followed at a moderate saunter.  Then they were around the corner and out of sight.  "Excuse me!"  I hollered, thinking it might be even wierder if i continued into the woods following them.  Rounding the bend, sniffie had found something... Sniffie had come across the secret rock i use for digging my poo holes and was giving it a very serious investigation.  Ahhh?...There, flashed before my eyes, i could see the future.  In a few steps sniffie was going to connect poo rock to me, unable to speak he'd yap to the gun toting investigators that i was poo rocks owner, confused, they would think I was the drug smuggler trying to sneek up on them and then right there i would be arrested and thrown in jail.  "F' me!" i thought "avoid approaching sniffie at all costs!" "Yes" came the reply to my holler.  "Ohh...um...hello...just wanted...ahhh...to let you...ahh...know...um...that well...ahh..yes...over there..."  "Sir, are you ok?"  (shit now they are suspicious)  Taking a few steps back, "I found some bottles near the boat, thought they might be important."  Just then sniffie leaves the rock, spins a 360....  "Nah, but thanks."  The gun toters replied.  And then you wouldn't believe it, sniffie locks onto my secret poo spot trail and pulls the men off with him.  "K, see ya", i casually turn take a few steps and then book it. The End... Turns out the boat was indeed a smuggling boat, but not for drugs like we had initally thought sniffie was after, but people.  We were later told by locals that sometime up to one hundred Hatians (i think that may had been an exaduration) will cram into boats like the one we'd sceen in an attempt to cross from the Dom. Republic to Puerto Rico.  We were also told that suposidly if they make it they can simply present themselves to border patroll and they are granted refugee status, though this by no means explains why sniffie and his men would have been hunting them down.  Humm... Love Mantis and Mango