The Pantanal, Brazil

The Pantanal - the world's largest tropical wetland, a vast floodplain spanning parts of Brazil, Bolivia, and Paraguay, known for its incredible biodiversity and high concentration of wildlife. This UNESCO World Heritage Site is subject to seasonal flooding, which creates a rich, open ecosystem, making it one of the best places in the Americas to experience nature. It is home to over 1000 species of bird and 300 different mammals.

I've arrived via Sao Paulo to Cuiabá and I'm really looking forward to seeing the again. Last time, it was the unexpected highlight of my trip to Brazil. This time, I have much longer to enjoy the area, with jaguars as the main goal. Along with pumas, ocelots, tapir, anteaters, giant river otters, capybara and assorted birds.

Cuiabá

The airport at Cuiabá, the gateway to the Pantanal, isn't actually in Cuiabá, but in twin city, Várzea Grande (The 'City of the Great Lowlands'). The only reason to build any city, let alone two, in a place so hot, is gold. Though this area was originally an indigenous farming community, in a partly Spanish area, at that time, as the borders had not been set. Slaves were brought in, from Africa, to work the fields, when the Jesuits converted the locals and outlawed their use as slaves, as they were now considered to be people.

The journey to Cuiabá/Várzea Grande is smooth, except that the Amazon Airport Hotel denies all knowledge of my reservation and says they will have to rebook me at today’s price. Oh no they won’t. I win eventually. But now I need to cool down. Especially as it's a baking 40 degrees Celsius. And they have a tiny pool. There's also an excellent restaurant ( tapioca tortilla stand at breakfast) and a mall over the road, which features dinosaurs.

Poconé

There are six of us on this Pantanal tour: Fran, from Brighton, near me, Jeff and Dave, zoo keepers from the USA, Martin and Annette from Denmark and guide Andre. Travelling south, we're quickly into the Pantanal and its savannah, sprinkled with lakes, rivers, forests and snow white cattle. There are eight million beef cattle in the Pantanal. Far more than is economically viable and the pasture is running out, so the youngsters are sold on to be fattened. The cattle ranchers are known as Pantaneiros.

The horses are all white too, descended from imported Arabs. It's baby season and tottering calves and foals are literally running rings round their parents, as they test their new legs. Ranch buildings with corrugated roofs sit amongst cleared areas either side of the highway. This area floods in the rainy reason, so is only forested on higher ground. The flooded areas are flat grasslands, in the dry season.

The flat topped hills in the distance are the residue of gold mines. Poconé began life as a gold town and transitioned to farming. Now, tourism has arrived. We are staying at Piuval Lodge, a 10,000-hectare working farm-cum-ecolodge. Here, we will undertake five truck safaris.

Capybaras (great name) are waiting to greet us, oddly angular. The world’s largest rodents cavort around the pool, hoping to evade the jaguar we are seeking, as they make one of the big cats' favourite meals. Luckily for them there aren’t so many round here.

A Parade of Anteaters

The highlight is the giant anteaters, who emerge for their morning exercise run, just before dawn. So, we are up, to set off at five, to find the termite hill strewn fields, around the posada, alive with the bizarrely shaped mammals. Maybe God used up all his spare parts when he made them. Misshapen Afghan hounds, gliding on their wrists, keeping their large claws ready to tear open those termite mounds. Their front legs hydra like, the fur colouring suggesting an additional head. Long snouts and beady eyes to find and examine the mounds. Sticky tongues, up to two feet long, to excavate the ants and termites. The females transport cubs who cling onto their backs, heads lolling, even though they look too large to be carried.

They promenade in solitary fashion, stopping to wander in a circle or sniff at a termite mound (these look suspiciously like the dementors in the Harry Potter movies, at times, with the holes for eyes). Each anteater wends their own path. One male heads for a female, but he is quickly seen off, when their paths meet, and he lollops away in ungainly fashion.

We follow all this excitement from our safari truck, careering across the savannah and trying to avoid the termite hills and the deep sandy ruts. But we maintain a respectful distance from the animals. Internet sources can't agree on a collective noun for anteaters, which isn't surprising given their solitary existence. Candle, weirdly, is suggested. I'm sticking with parade - that's exactly what they're doing. By the time the sun is over the yardarm they have all disappeared. But for now they are my favourite animal, up there with aardvarks.

More Wildlife at Piuval

Birds

At dusk and dawn there are mosquitoes to contend with. As the day moves on, the heat becomes intense and baking. but there are still plenty of birds. Fran, Jeff and Dave are all keen on the fowl spotting and naming. So every flutter ( and there are many) calls for a stop and prolonged observation. Most of them are pretty enough. And I have to agree that the horned owls are fascinating. Woodpeckers are always cute. And there are rheas roaming the grasslands. These south American ostriches are one of the largest birds in the world, placing ninth behind assorted ostriches, cassowaries, the emu and the emperor penguin.

Speaking of penguins, waterfowl too, are always interesting. Here we have herons of all kinds, egrets, jabirus, white storks and spoonbills, in their giant nests, whilst the parakeets piggyback on these, creating their own small dwellings underneath. They flutter in and out, with a cacophony of shrill tweets.

Mammals

Howler and capuchin monkeys crouch out of reach, behind leaf covered branches. Coati and agouti wander onto the track and then off again, more speedily, when they spot us. Diminutive red brocket deer hop out in front. A herd of peccaries race past. Wild cavies (much smaller capybara cousins) play hide and seek in the bushes.

Other bucket list mammals are ocelots, pumas and tapirs. An ocelot scoots across the road and into the bush. We see the pale rump of one animal, which the driver says may be a puma as that too, disappears rapidly. After four runs out my interest is beginning to 'tapir' out. But suddenly there is one standing so close I can’t get her into my camera frame. Another strangely awesome creature, hippo like, with an odd sucker like snout.

Reptiles

Jacare caiman stand guard, in rows, along the banks of the water holes, so still they seem to be sculptures, until they blink an eye to show they’re watching. Or slither under the water hyacinth carpet, if someone gets too close. And we are not even in the Pantanal proper yet.

The Transpantaneira Highway

The bumpy gravel covered Transpantaneira track (they decided not to finish building the road which was planned to connect north and south Matto Grosso) carries us 145 kilometres, over 122 rickety wooden bridges, across the wetlands of the Pantanal, to Porto Jofre, where it finishes. Some of the bridges are impassable and we are diverted off them. A few are brand new concrete, rather than timber. In the old days, you had to check there were no gaps before you ventured over.

It's not the most comfortable of rides, but it’s scenic. There are plenty of ponds replete with birdlife. Abundant white cattle and the odd marsh deer, wielding enormous antlers, mingling amongst them.

Into the Heart of the Pantanal at Porto Jofre

The hotel at Porto Jofre, like the last, is modern, but utilitarian. No fripperies, not even a glass in the room, and buffet meals. It’s beautifully situated on the banks of the River Cuiabá and six seater canopied speed boat trips carry us the 30 minute ride into the Meeting of the Waters State Park, rather than safari vehicles. (Matto Grosso Sul on the south bank. Matto Grosso on the north.) We’ve been assigned five of these.

It's a pleasure to zip along the river, the speedboat creating a cooling breeze, in the searing heat. The forest for the most part is dense, covering the banks. The sides are lined with bobbing water hyacinths and small sandy beaches, beloved of the capybara, caiman and water birds. (But not all at the same time.) The Cuiabá is broad (it has a long way yet to go to join the Paraguay River), with plenty of tributaries (including the Negro and the Piquiri) and tranquil ox bows. That's why it's called the Meeting of the waters, though Google is getting this utterly confused with the Meeting of the Waters on the Amazon.

The target here is jaguar. They were almost unheard of, on my last visit but, now protected, they have multiplied and currently number over 100, in the park. But, to start with there is a great deal more bird life, which is a mixed blessing, as we still have to stop to identify anything with wings. Assorted kingfishers, raptors, herons, storks and cormorants and their relatives. The endearingly magnificent clowns of the forest, the giant hyacinth macaws. (This is the largest macaw and the largest flying parrot species) And huzzah, toucans (one of my favourite birds), posing for new Guinness advertisements:

 "If he can say as you can, Guinness is good for you, How grand to be a Toucan - Just think what Toucan do". 

Jaguar Jamboree

Jaguars

• The jaguar (Panthera onca) is the only (living) large cat species which is native to the Americas.
• It is the third largest cat in the world.
• It has a distinctively marked coat, with pale yellow to tan coloured fur, covered by spots which transition to rosettes on the sides,
• The jaguar kills with a powerful bite, which allows it to pierce the carapaces of turtles and tortoises, or directly through the skull of mammalian prey, between the ears, to deliver a fatal blow to the brain.
• The jaguar has featured prominently in the mythology of indigenous peoples of the Americas, including those of the Aztec and Maya civilizations.

Marcella

Then, the crackle of the radio and the sound of other small craft about-turning on the water and motoring off signals a jaguar sighting. After several wrong directions and more turns, a row of boats crammed with excited photographers suggests we’ve hit the spot.

New mother Marcella (two cubs) is alternately swimming and strolling along the banks looking for caiman. These are their staple diet. The boats hold their ground in a relatively orderly line, drifting and then heading to the back of the queue as she passes by, though one or two try to sneak ahead. There’s more of a scrimmage when she decides to cross the river. The boats all cross the river to watch. It’s far worse than the get close to the shoebill battle in Uganda. So, unsurprisingly, the poor jaguar retreats.

Then, our guide and boat driver decide that Marcella has her eye on the little capybara family, sunning and swimming on the strip of beach, just a tad further along. There are two pups. We head for a mooring just off the sand and anchor. And, of course, all the other vessels follow, jostling for position.

It’s a long wait. The jaguar (no specific name exists for a female jaguar) does indeed cross over, once her path is clear and settles herself in front of the reeds, just round the corner from the group of giant rodents. She has a very beautiful face and soft amber eyes. There’s a lot of tail whisking and ear flattening, but nothing else happens. The capybara are blissfully unaware for some time, but eventually raise one of their high pitched alarm calls. Perhaps it’s the vulture strutting up and down, in anticipation, which alerts them. Eventually she trots off, into the undergrowth. Maybe back to her cubs, maybe to try again when it’s dark. Very David Attenborough. It’s not nice seeing babies get eaten. But these are all present and correct at their beach home, next morning.

The Rest of the Jaguar Jamboree

Internet sources can't agree on a collective noun for jaguars. Leap, prowl and shadow are all offered, but I'm sticking with jamboree. And our tally is so far beyond expectations as to warrant a celebration. Over the course of our next journeys we see Marcella’s mother Amber ( she gave Marcella the eyes) Marcella’s grandmother Patricia, a non relation female Ibaca (twice), Ibaca’s female cub Apeiara, females Carvarinha and Ti and one male, Bagua (twice) who is apparently adept at forming alliances with other lone males. On the second occasion he’s unusually crossing paths with Carvarinha, but nothing salacious ensues. She already has a young cub. Finally, on the land, Tango a two year old male settling down, on a beach, for the night.

While we watch, they’re all embarked on the same routine. Sauntering down the river, in and out of the water, climbing on the bank and then swimming again, where the sides are steeper. Ibaca puts on more of a performance, chewing grass and pouncing with great splashes. Her endurance outlasts that of the massed audience and she’s still swimming, as the boats drift away. There’s an annually produced guide book on sale, detailing all the jaguars' names, families, and the unknown visitor sightings too.

More Pantanal Wildlife

We also encounter a pair of giant river otters, gliding serpent like, their huge tails acting as rudders. They would easily win the Olympic gold medal for synchronised swimming. The guide then points out almost a dozen well camouflaged proboscis bats, crammed into a tree trunk crevice. He knows, you know. A solitary water buffalo eyes us mournfully, as he wallows in the cool water.

Next, an invasion of frogs, creeping up the sides of the boat. Annette squeaks.

The jaguar haul has exceeded our expectations, but watching jaguars swim or waiting for them to reappear is becoming less than exciting, after two and a half days. And, the tapirs are elusive: ‘But I’ve seen them on this stretch of the river before', says the guide. We're told the other family of giant otters have moved on. It must be time for us to do the same.

Aymara Lodge, Pantanal

Last Time at Aymara

Back up the Transpantaneira, to Aymara Lodge, where I stayed before. But then it had a different name, it was still the rainy season and there was considerably more water, alongside the approach road. Then, there were fishermen, caiman and a plethora of birds. The boat trips here, animal spotting in the remote wilderness, were my unexpected highlight, and I got to see capybara, jabiru storks, howler and Capuchin monkeys, toucans, the striking hyacinth macaw, agouti, a coiled anaconda and numerous Jacare caiman. The locals seemed oblivious to the latter and happily fished in the water right next to them, despite the wide-mouthed yawns and glistening teeth. There was a tame caiman (we were told), called Pandora, at the lodge. Piranha fishing on nearby waters was less exciting and not very productive, but I enjoyed the painted skies of the gorgeous sunset over the river.

The River Clarinho is very low, today, too low for motorboat outings. but still tranquil and covered with water hyacinths. Stacks of wooden boats on the strip of beach, which is home to several pairs of bare-faced curassows. The female, for once, is prettier than the male. We take out three canoes and I’m paddled through the water hyacinths, herons scattering before us. The river is maybe only 20 cm deep at times, so it's more of a punting and pushing the hyacinth pads out of the way and unwrapping the roots from the paddles exercise, but it’s relaxing and peaceful.

Safari Drives

A dusk safari drive brings quality rather than quantity. Hidden in the dry mixed forest are two solitary tapirs. And an armadillo scuttles across the road, almost squashed by our truck He disappears rapidly, in a cloud of dust. Two more drives, dawn and dusk, reveal a juvenile male jaguar, name Macaw, one of only two in the area, and a pair of foxes having a stand off with a raccoon. We stake out yesterday’s armadillo sighting spot, standing ready on a hillock, with lenses trained ready, but he fails to materialise.

The dawn drive is chilly and very much an endurance test. My one souvenir is a photo of a cactus flower.

From My Hammock

But they say the jungle comes to you at Aymara. From my hammock, I can see capuchin monkeys leaping through the canopy above the cavorting hyacinth macaws. On the ground, an agouti nibbles at some fruit and a skinny ground lizard l scuttles by. The rooms have been upgraded since last time. Very acceptable after the basic, but comfortable, so far and the buffet meals are delicious.

Chapada dos Guimarães National Park

North again, and back through Cuiabá, to the National Park of Chapada dos Guimarães, part of the the Pantanal Biosphere Reserve along with the Pantanal, and Emas, and Serra da Bodoquena National Parks, as well as the Serra de Santa Bárbara, Nascentes do Rio Taquari and Pantanal do Rio Negro State Parks. It's a huge area overall. This park marks the transition of the Amazon basin to the Paraguay River basin, protecting the headwaters of the Cuiabá, the chief river (and for a long time the only mode of transport) in the Pantanal.

The park is also notable (possibly) as the geographic centre of South America, at the Geodesy Lookout. The citizens of the city of Cuiabá got ahead of themselves and erroneously marked it there, with a white marble obelisk. More importantly, the park is strikingly beautiful. Astonishing tepuis (flat topped mountains) meet Monument Valley formations. This is dramatic cinnamon soil and emerald vegetation land.

Exploring the Chapada dos Guimarães National Park

Then, we’re deep into forested valleys and a canyon carved into the ground by an 86 metre waterfall, on the River Claro. It's called Bridal Veil - as they often are. The falls are surrounded by parrots' nests and red and green macaws frolic around the edges. A toucan zooms over head, toying with us, as we try and follow him with our lenses. An extraordinarily impressive view.

An undignified scramble up a rocky outcrop for a panoramic vista. More walking, below canyons and on the edge of canyons, peering down precipitous drops into into fabulous U shaped valleys and escarpments. On top of the ridge is what I honestly thought was a ruined city. It's called Cidade de Pedra (Stone City), but it's actually formed by rock erosion. And a swim in a pretty dappled spot, where the river forms an infinity pool, as it swirls round a bend. Tiny fish nibble at my legs, tickling and I have to be careful that the current doesn’t carry me with it, over the fall.

The Town of Chapada dos Guimarães

The town of Chapada dos Guimarães, is a historic one, founded in 1719, and the second oldest in Matto Grosso, after Cuiabá. The church, Igreja de Sant'Ana do Sacramento, now renovated, was built by slaves who wrapped each tile round their thighs. The plaza is prettily lit by hundreds of lights.

Brazilian Food

In-between walks we’re sampling varieties of Brazilian cuisine, so this seems a good moment to talk about Brazilian food. Buffets are common on the tourist trail and the fare is pretty much the same at each establishment. Rice, beans, falofa (ground manioc), plantain, tough beef and cardboard chicken. Battered pintado (catfish) yuck. Others like it, but I can't get past their wide lipped, whiskery appearance and it's fatty. What's more they don't have scales, so are banned, according to the Bible. (I'm ignoring the bit about lobster.) I'm happy with rice, beans and plantain and there are some delicious salads. And I love the balls of pão de queijo (cheese bread), which tend to feature warm, at breakfast.

In Cuiabá, it's rodizio/churrascuria. Churrascaria is Brazilian barbecue and rodizio is the practice of the servers (or gauchos) rotating the cuts on offe. Essentially, a huge salad buffet is the orders of the day and pieces of meat (mainly beef) are offered, on skewers, until you can't eat any more. In Chapada dos Guimarães, another typical Brazilian buffet, where you help yourself to all manner of meat, rice and veg and your plate (huge to encourage large helpings) is weighed to calculate your payment. Cachaça (Brazilian spirit made from fermented sugar cane - not molasses, like rum) ) based caipirinhas, of course, feature everywhere, much to my delight. Though at the pizzeria in Chapada dos Guimarães they are incredibly strong. This causes suffering.

Next day, I’m covered in incredibly itchy insect bites, acquired during my swim. This causes even more suffering.

Nobres

Danish Martin still points his long lens at everything that moves, determined not to miss a shot. The Americans still won’t allow a single bird to go unnoticed. Dave (also known as Snackman) has a bag full of assorted packets of cookies with him at all times. And guide André launches into long stories about past exploits, but neglects to give us basic instructions about what we are going to do and need to bring. A performer rather than an informer. He doesn’t even tell you where the toilets are, but you can work that out, as he always leaps off the bus first and makes his way to them.

A little further north, in the Pantanal, to the Nobres area and a pousada surrounded by orchards and macaws, enjoying the ripening cashew fruits. Hundreds of fluttering cream and orange butterflies. Basic rooms, with showers which are either scalding hot or lukewarm and air con which only operates at freezing cold but an antique themed bar area with wood and glass display cabinets like an Edwardian parlour hammocks and rustic benches and cupboards.

A first for me, snorkelling down a shallow river, the Triste, alongside the fish. It's an easy journey, as the current carries us along. Though we have to beware of jagged rocks below the surface. Then, Lagoa dos Araras, for the popular macaw display. As the sun sets, the blue and green macaws return to their nests, in the dead palm tree trunks. The lagoon is scenic enough on its own and the landowner makes a tidy sum, as the tourists pay their fee, to watch the spectacle.

Return to Sao Paulo

Back to Cuiabá and a return flight to Sao Paulo. Last time, I was on a challenge to find the most appalling souvenir and the airport was a a rewarding hunting ground. Stuffed piranhas, surrounded by shells, in domes filled with fluorescent coloured striped gel. Sadly, they've disappeared. Then it’s on to Mexico.