apologies to the snails

Full of salty stew I grab my herp stick and begin the hour walk to transect 3 as it is getting dark. A few minutes in and the storm breaks, lightning reflects off of the shiny wet leaves of the jungle as the rain lashes down. I have a rain jacket but before long even my underwear is wet and I know my boots won't be dry by tomorrow. Deeper we go, sliding over wet logs as twigs and leaves slap and flick into our wet faces. A huge dragonfly lands on my lips drawn by the light of my head torch and I pick a fallen spider off my chin. On we go and my torch battery weakens, I can hardly see my feet. After an hour and 10 minutes we reach the transect and begin our herp search. I see mating stick insects, a venomous centipede, pretty snails of various shapes and sizes, but amphibians? Nada. The diversity of spiders is uncomfortably impressive. Soaked, after 30 minutes and a few frogs, found by the others, we give up trying to write in the wet night on wet paper and 'mody' (home) is declared. The walk back seems much faster but how do you dry anything inside a tiny tent not even big enough to sit up properly in? The pile of wet clothes stays outside, but even just my wet body makes the whole thing feel damp. I fall asleep with the rain still pelting down.