Anguilla hikes

Lloyd laughing as he leads Bail-Out out of Iguana Cave (which should really be called Bat-Shit Cave). Photo by David Lansing.

When Luscious and I had dinner at Jacala recently, I asked the owner, Jacque, who is from France, why he liked Anguilla.

“Because there is nothing to do here!” he said in that inimitable French way.

What he meant was that there are no zip-lines or helicopter tours or that sort of thing. The tourism industry on the island is very primitive. And most people who come to Anguilla (like Liam Neeson, Uma Thurman, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams, Michael Jordan, Paul McCartney, etc.) come here specifically because there’s nothing to do.

Except, our guide Lloyd told us, hike down to the Iguana Cave. Now I can’t say everyone was overly enthusiastic about a hike through a quasi rainforest and down a treacherous rock path blocked by belligerent hermit crabs. Luscious and Mrs. Poopsie were wearing heals and T-Bone was in flip-flops—not the best thing to wear hiking. Besides, there were spider webs and strange noises out in the forest which, Lloyd said, had been a lot thicker before Hurricane Luis cleaned it out in 1995.

Anyway, after hiking for several days (okay, maybe it was 20 minutes), we got to an area of rock scrabble that, if you scampered down, led you to the cave’s opening. “I’m not going down there,” said Luscious. “Me neither,” said Mrs. Poopsie.

That left T-Bone, Bail-Out, and me. So down the trail we went. When we got to the cave’s entrance, we all just stood there. Frankly, I’m not a big cave guy. They’re usually dark, moist, and full of weird objects. This one appeared to be no exception.

“They used to mine phosphates here,” Lloyd said. “Back in the 19^th century.”

That should have been a clue as to what was inside the cave. Phosphates, you know, come from bird shit. Like bats. But I didn’t put two-and-two together at the time. Instead, I followed Lloyd in to the cave. Where we discovered…bats. Lots of them. Swirling around the roof of the cave like an evil vortex. I’m not sure if T-Bone pushed me out of the way as she ran to get out of the cave or I pushed her, but we both got out of there in a real hurry.

But the good news is that I think I’ve now come up with a name for our band: Bat Shit.