We left the safety of our ship, boarded small boats and headed in to the jetty and the beach.
Somewhere in the fetid jungle the ferocious dragons lived – mouths full of fangs, dripping red saliva and a bite so deadly that nobody survived. Their reputation went before them.
The could outrun deer and eat them whole.
We were introduced to our intrepid guide who was going to lead us into the interior. We eyed him up for signs of strength and courage. All he had to defend us with was a forked stick. We remained dubious.
We set off and immediately came across a wild pig, part of the staple diet of the dragons. It looked half-starved and petrified. I think it was a nervous wreck.
We set off down the trail through the thick tropical vegetation, expecting to bump into a dragon at every step, peering around us, expecting one to pounce.
Rounding a corner we stumbled upon a giant monster slumbering in the shade. It opened its eye to see who was disturbing its morning nap.
Then it closed its scaly eye and went back to sleep.