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My column today:

Snowy egrets and great blue herons stalk the shallows carpeted by lily pads and orchids.

Ospreys circle overhead while a kingfisher watches from a treetop on shore.

A parrot adds a splash of red to the sea of green branches. A basilisk lizard dashes up a log toward the safety of the bank.

Fishermen in a dugout canoe drift slowly downstream.

A crocodile dips below the surface and silently out of sight.

That's fitting because our destination is Lamanai, an ages-old Mayan city whose name means "submerged crocodile."

We're on the New River in Belize -- two dozen tourists, mostly Americans, from a cruise ship that anchored beyond the coral reefs protecting the sparkling Caribbean coast of Central America's least-populated country.

As many as a million people might have occupied this land at the height of the Mayan civilization a millennium ago. Today Belize counts less than a third as many. The modern residents inherit a rich heritage -- one that pays only through preservation.

Our party reaches the place of submerged crocodiles where the river opens to a mile-wide lagoon. What look like hills on the western bank turn out to be ancient limestone structures covered with vegetation. Only a small portion of the once-great city has been cleared; its rulers these days are aptly named howler monkeys that greet visitors with unnerving, lion-like roars.

People lived, worked and worshipped here for close to 3,000 years. They developed an advanced culture and built imposing pyramids, which have endured the centuries despite European conquest and nature's reclamation.

Climbing the tallest temple -- not an exercise for the unfit or acrophobic -- affords a majestic view of seemingly endless tropical forest.

The same day, thousands more cruise ship passengers were ashore in Belize taking in its wonders. My sister and her husband and kids were zip lining through the forest canopy. Other visitors could go tubing on a river flowing through a system of caves, look for jaguars or ocelots on a wildlife tour, horseback along forest trails, snorkel or dive on the reefs, fish, swim or choose among a variety of other excursions. Belize makes all this very easy, requiring no passports, visas or holdups for cruise ship passengers.

Certainly, taking a cruise is a voyage of luxury and self-indulgence. I plead guilty. But the cruise lines also create welcome opportunities for people in poor and once-overlooked places like Belize -- if their governments don't spoil it all. Turning Belize City into a glitzy casino town or allowing environmental degradation would dampen the allure.

So far, so good. We traveled 50 miles by bus on a well-maintained, two-lane paved road from Belize City to the New River. The winding 25-mile river safari took us past nothing but mangroves and dense forest except for a small Mennonite community. If our open boat's twin 200-hp Yamaha motors disturbed the tranquility at times, at least we provided income for the Belizeans who transported and guided us, served us a meal of chicken, rice and hot-hot-hot sauce and sold us locally made souvenirs. The people we encountered are proud of their country. They're entitled to use its treasures to make a decent living, especially if that also pays for saving them.

The Miami Herald reported last week that the Royal Caribbean cruise line just signed a deal with the government of Haiti to increase its presence beyond the beach it currently leases. The contract will pay Haiti a $10 tax for every passenger who lands and boost the local service economy. It will do better if it encourages Haiti to protect natural and historic assets that might draw visitors for day trips. Those attractions are fast disappearing, and only the promise of financial benefits can slow the destruction.

It might be too late for Haiti, the Western Hemisphere's poorest and most dysfunctional country. But Belize, with careful cultivation, may have a future worthy of its natural and cultural riches.

Contact Doug Clark at dgclark@news-record.com or 373-7039.