Our last day is marked by both positive and negative experiences. On road BR262 towards Corumba it is difficult not to see all the animals lying beside the road. In an area like the Pantanal and with people like the Brazilian truck drivers, it is easy to see that many hundreds of mammals, birds and reptiles fall victim to the wheels. Not spotted in the wild, the giant ant-eater (Myrmecophaga tridactyla) and the crab-eating fox (Cerdocyon thous) lie dead on the road, but we see familiar species as well hit by traffic: giant river otter (Pteronura brasiliensis), armadillo (Tolypeutes matacus), brazilian rabbit (Sylvilagus brasiliensis) and South American coati (Nasua nasua). On one of the smaller roads we spot a rare cat, the jaguarondi (Felis yagouaroundi), a close relative to the puma. On the road piercing into the endless horizon we meet at last with real cowboys not seen previously during our touristic pseudo-adventures on horseback: they wear the traditional cowboy gear complete with chaps, lasso and iron whip, unlike the barefoot Pantanal horsemen with no saddle. They are busy crossing the road, that means a half-hour wait until the hundreds of cattle pass. In the evening Youth Hostel Campo Grande offers dorm beds for R$ 20 and we head off for a goodbye-dinner in one of the rodizos nearby. For R$ 15 per person you get a liter of beer and a plate that you can pack full as many times as you want at the huge salad and pasta bar. Of course, the real pro’s place only a few veggies on the plait, and wait for the waiter, who hurries back and forth from the kitchen carrying long spikes loaded with grilled steak, sausages, chicken and an assortment of other meat. The guests only have to point at the part they would like and it is cut right onto their plate. This goes on until you finally manage to say no more please.

The only animal regularly mentioned but never seen during the trip was the jaguar. Some say that the mystery surrounding the biggest cat in the Americas is attributed to its rareness (but then why we never mentioned the almost extinct golden tamarin?); others say the excitement comes from the fact that the jaguar is so dangerous (what about the way more dangerous rabies virus?). We even heard someone argue that the popularity has something to do with grace and beauty, but how can we say something is beautiful if we never saw it for real? Anyway, during our arguments we realized that our knowledge about jaguars is way too little, not to mention big cats in general. Even professional opinions differ, so here is a summary of our research using the internet and local info. But before we start explaining the characteristics of jaguars, leopards, panthers, black panthers, pumas and their relatives, let’s try comparing them. Almost everyone knows there are no tigers in Africa, the lion does not live in the jungle, the jaguar is an American cat and the pink panther is not a relative of the black panther. But do we also know that leopards have both black and white (melanistic and albino) varieties, the clouded leopard is the closest relative to the extinct saber tooth and the leopard can be found in the Far-East as well? But first things first. The most confusing are the differences between the jaguar and leopard, and the word panther, used for both species.

Jaguar (Panthera onca)
Area: Central and South America
Appearance: stronger jaw, muscles and stockier body
Skin: spots are usually full or semi circles with smaller spots inside, white belly
Habitat: A good swimmer, needs and likes water and thick foliage
Hunting method: kills prey with one bite on the skull
Human contact: Rarely aggressive towards humans

Leopard (Panthera pardus)
Area: Africa and Asia
Appearance: smaller jaw, lighter build
Skin: spots are made of several smaller sports, no inner coloring, and black behind ears
Habitat: A good climber, likes open areas with trees, attacks from above
Hunting method: kills prey by strangling it by the neck
Human contact: When wounded or threatened it may attack humans

Panther (Pantherinae)
It is only partially true that we use the word panther for Asian big cats. The panther itself is not a different species; the word is often used for melanistic leopard and jaguar varieties (black panther). The black color is based on a recessive gene, like albinism, and is very rare. Melanism can be either black or red, and melanistic leopard and jaguar varieties still have their spots, but those can only be seen in special light conditions. Two more distant relatives are the snow leopard (Panthera uncia) and the clouded leopard (Neofelis nebulosa), both living in Asia.

Bonito is undeniablya professionally developed tourist centre, making things all the more difficult for independent travelers. Around here it is impossible finding cheaper possibilities to visit a waterfall, and it is no use staying for days at a given hotel, you won’t be given a discount. A pizza easily costs 4-5 times the price of a complete all-you-can-eat churrascaria in Campo Grande. But on the other hand, tourist agencies offer hundreds of free, colorful and informative brochures about the region, the rooms are clean, there is hot running water 24 hours and occasionally places are environment-conscious. Tit for tat. All prices are fixed, which makes competition kind of difficult, but that is the aim of the whole system: make as much money from visitors as possible. A snorkeling trip to Rio da Prata costs the same on site as in the most expensive luxury hotel. And it seems this is what most people want, so who are we to decide? After the original, natural Pantanal, where the only foreigners we met were groups doing 2-day trips from Campo Grande, this place is bustling. Well, I suppose there are things we will never understand. Since it is difficult obtaining good info about the area, here are some links: accommodation, programs, further research etc, copied from local, up-to-date brochures.

Accommodation

Hotel Santa Esmeralda
Tapera Hotel
Hotel Fazenda Cachoeira
Hotel Fazenda Cabana do Pescador
Hotel Pousada Arizona
Jandiá Hotel
Pousada Olho d’ Agua
Pousada Canto do Bambu
Fazenda Santa Inés
Pousada Carandá
Gira Sol Bonito
Aguas de Bonito
Marrua Hotel
Bonito Hostel
Pousada do Peralta
Pousada Moinho de Vento
Wetiga Hotel
Chalé Apart Hotel
Pousada Remanso
Hotel Bonsai

Tourist information

Brazilian Diving Association
Bonito Travel Agencies
Abrasel
Atratur
Conference Centers
Bonito Conference Centre (1500 pax)
Brazil Bonito
Bonito Online
Agencia Ar
Tucano Tour
Bonito Adventure
Bonitour
Vanzella Transportes
Integrar

Sights, activities

Bonito Aventura
Rio Formoso swimming, snorkeling, regional dishes

Dive Bonito
Scuba diving

Buraco das Araras
Macaws by the hundreds

Balneario do Sol
Beach, restaurant, boat- and quad rental, playground, sports field

Reserva Ecológica Baía Bonita
Swimming, snorkeling

Barra do Sucuri
Swimming, snorkeling, boat cruises

Praia da Figueira
Snorkeling, restaurant

Circuito Arvorismo
Canopy tour, rappelling

Rio Sucuri
Swimming, snorkeling, horse riding, river cruises, bike rental

Projeto Jibóia
Snake exhibition

Anhumas Abismo
Swimming, snorkeling, rappelling

Reserva das Figueiras
Swimming, snorkeling, rappelling

Boca da Onca
Rappelling, waterfalls, hiking, bike rental

Back at the camping the receptionists have stopped greeting us, seems like they are hurt we don’t buy our vouchers for the daily programs from them. Today we are headed towards another speciality, a stalachite cave with water and sunlight, named
Gruta do Lago Azul. Miles away from the entrance the white tourist buses can be easily spotted, locals say that during high season it is impossible to buy a ticket weeks before. Even now we cannot buy one on site (since this part belongs to the Municipality of Bonito, and the places from the previous days were under the jurisdiction of Jardim), so one of us has to return to Bonito, buy vouchers for R$ 25 per piece and drive all the way back. The cave is interesting, nothing more. On the way home we enjoy the endless horizon of the Brazilian pampas, the clear blue sky and the small, fluffy clouds. Our journey is slowly coming to an end…

Today we return again to Rio da Prata, but carry on towards Buraco das Araras, a ten-minute drive from there. It is the usual entrance, T-shirts and Coke for sale at the reception, the entrance is R$ 20 and the guide takes us to a huge pit, repeat huge: 300 x 100 feet and 500 feet deep, it is actually an ancient dolina (collapsed cave) with a small lake at the bottom including a lone caiman. As soon as we get there industrial screeching greets us, there are over 100 red-green macaws living in the pit, they eat the clay on the walls rich in minerals, raise offspring in the holes and crevices and live with the fact that dozens of visitors stare at them daily from tailor-made lookouts. These birds turn sexually mature at the age of ten, lay one egg every two years, choose their partner for life and if one of them dies the other just stops eating and dies too. Their only natural enemies are a few raptors and the ocelot (Felis pardalis); they live for 70-80 years on average explains our kind and informative guide, who really goes over the limits to help us get closer for some good shots.
In the afternoon we make our way to Camping Balneário Assisi, a little-known place not far, where we intended to camp originally (R$ 10) but the group decided differently. The river is a 1-minute walk and a 5 R$ entrance from the camping area, a way better site than the neighboring Balneario Municipal. It has turquoise water, lush jungle around it and waters as full of fish as the R$ 83 Rio da Prata. The only difference is that here there is no DVD, wetsuit and snorkeling gear. We have a swim, eat lunch, laze around and return to Bonito for a little sight-seeing. Not much better than a Friday night in Mallorca.

We start early for our first tourist program, from Bonito to Jardim we have to drive through the city, which is basically a huge dump of souvenir stalls, travel agencies and Swiss-style beer gardens. After the real Pantanal it is a bit disappointing seeing this tourist zoo, but there is nothing we can do if we want to see why Bonito is so famous. A few of us have been around several times, and even they agree it just gets worse year by year. After two hours we reach the main road, turning left here the entrance to Rio da Prata is only a mile away. Manicured lawns and rustic handrails meet us, complete with a smiling, tourist-compatible receptionist who immediately makes us sit in front of a DVD player and starts the movie about the offered programs. Yeah, ecotourism and services and all that crap, but it is just so artificial. We have to refuse dinner at least three times (costs R$ 16, three times the normal price), and every time we are told this is the last opportunity to eat, later there won’t be any food and we might get hungry. After they tell us the rest of the group finally arrived (minimum number of participants: 6) we can finally pay for the river snorkeling program (R$ 83 per person). After a short walk in the jungle we see agouti (Dasyprocta agouti), capuchin monkey (Cebus apella), coati (Nasua nasua), chacalaca (Ortalis canicollis), bare-headed curassow (Crax fasciolata). The water is crystal clear and naturally full of huge dorado (Salminus maxillosus), pacu (Piaractus mesopotamicus) and pintado (Pseudoplatystoma corruscans) species. Arriving back after four hours of floating, snorkeling and hiking we are offered yet another last opportunity to pay for a dinner or buy some souvenirs at the local shop. No comments. The birds seen on the way back: burrowing owl (Athene cunicularia), rhea (Rhea americana), turkey vulture (Cathartes aura), toco toucan (Ramphastos toco), oven-bird (Furnarius rufus), bat falcon, (Falco rufigularis) and yellow woodpecker (Colaptes campestris).

The pics of the fish were made by a kind local tourist, who rented an underwater camera

We wake real late, and join the group of guests heading out for some horseback riding. After all the quality service two things were amiss at Santa Clara, one was the pool: people who pay only for camping are not allowed to use the swimming pool. It was empty most of the time, with the local manager always watching if it was a camper using it and sending them away. It is kind of cheap, what difference do 3-4 extra persons make if the pool is empty any case? The other downside was the horse-riding; there were more than 12 people in the group, with some having their first experience with horses in their life. Two hours of slow walking around the ranch; it is almost like being led around on a pony at the local fair, although we do have a good chat with the other guests. We leave this hospitable fazenda around noon, meet the first agricultural plantations in weeks, the surroundings are getting artificial, power lines and cars everywhere. At Buranco das Piranhas our dirt track meets the Corumba – Campo Grande (RD226) motorway, and we are back on paved lanes again. Hours pass before we spot the sign towards Miranda, after that Bodoquena, and drive along another few miles of dirt road till Bonito. It is dark and late when we arrive, but manage to find a decent camping well inside the city: Pousada Peralta), the fee is R$ 15 per person. The bathrooms are clean, we have hot water and even a fireplace, and the receptionist is a kind guy who wants to sell us some package for tomorrow even before we get out of the car.

In the morning we walk down to the river behind the camp, and have a go at fishing with the line and hooks bought in Cuiabá. We were told it is pretty easy to catch almost anything here as long as you have the right bait. We heard that before somewhere…. We manage to find an earthworm, and soon we have a catfish (Liposarcus anisitsi) on our hook. We cut it up, and with the slices manage to catch a piraputanga (Brycon microlepis) and our first piranha (Pygocentrus nattereri). We stir-fry them in flour and oil, and enjoy every bit of our own catch. Later on we leave “town”, and after 20 minutes of driving turn right towards the sign Pousada Santa Clara. About twenty guests stroll about the courtyard, and from the reception a woman literally runs to us smiling and asking what can they help us. At first we only ask directions, this always being a good method to evaluate how much has money got to do with helpfulness. But they take the test, and give practical advice on other accommodations and sights in the area. Camping on the ranch costs R$ 20 per person, and all other activities (horse-riding, boat excursions, safari etc.) all cost R$ 25. The metal shield protecting the undercarriage got bent back by the road conditions; the local mechanic has a look, screws and straightens it out, all for free. Cool. The decision is unanimous; we will stay here for a night. The camping area is a grassy patch, 10 minutes by foot from the Pousada, on the river bank. It has a huge, netted wooden cabin built on stilts, with about 30 hammocks strung up inside. We pay for the river cruise, one hour speeding upstream followed by two hours of coming back. Lobo, our guide is patient and likes to explain about the area, although it becomes a bit annoying after a time when he slows down at every caiman and capybara and points: look, caiman. It’s like pointing out pigeons to locals in Rome. He soon realizes it causes us little excitement to see yet another sleeping croc, and stops only at birds or other animals. On the way back he hands out the rods and lines, we prepare our tackle with the bloody cattle intestines brought along, and cast out. Soon the hook is being attacked by swarms of furious fish in the deep, we can feel them fighting for the food but it takes more to actually catch them. Soon we catch our first piranha (Pygocentrus nattereri), a few smaller piranbeba (Serrasalmus marginatus) with teeth the same size, and finally, just before we leave a better-sized dorado (Salminus maxillosus) makes the same mistake. This fish is the most important species for anglers throughout Brazil. In the meantime Lobo catches a decent size pacu (Piaractus mesopotamicus). We pack up, and on the way home are lucky to see a whole giant river otter (Pteronura brasiliensis) family hunting. In the evening we visit the diner of the Pousada and drink a few beers and play table tennis, pool and foosball with the other guests.

The Estrada Parque, with both ends connected to Road 262, takes you deep into the Pantanal. It is a popular destination with tourists from Campo Grande who usually stay at one of the Pousadas (guesthouse) along the road. While there is not much touristic infrastructure between Corumba and Porto di Manga, after crossing Rio Paraguay and leaving some flooded parts behind, all this changes. At Curva do Leque (a decently equipped general store with the usual number of locals sipping beer on the patio) the road takes a sharp turn to the right, and following water-lily fields and forests it heads straight south. Since we haven’t found any horse-riding possibilities since we left Cuiabá (excuses: too much water, no local guide, horses are tired, why would you want to ride a horse?) and some participants are keen to try it, we turn left at the first sign promising tourist facilities. Pousada Arara Azul is a neat, well-managed ranch at first glimpse, but then we meet the landlady. With a depressed and annoyed expression she tells us, horse-riding is R$ 35 per hour, take it or leave it (sorry, we never thought of haggling). We are not allowed to pitch tents anywhere on the property, which is totally understandable looking at the price-list. A room per person costs R$ 550, with breakfast and other activities included. Although it is late in the day, our clients decide to go for it, and accompany the guide to collect the horses. The landlady meanwhile refuses to let one of the women from our group to use the bathroom, seems like it is not included in the price of horse-riding. On the contrary, the guide is great, the riders see red macaws (Ara chloroptera), armadillo (Tolypeutes matacus), lots of peccary (Tayassu pecari), the guide is kind, helpful and knows a lot about the area. It is already dark when they get back, the owner walks up and down anxiously before the gate, and after we pay she disappears completely. The fact, that we were the only visitors whole day is maybe not so surprising after all. We move on, and after a bit of asking around we cross Rio Abobral on an old wooden bridge, and directly after turn right onto a narrow, winding sand road. Following this track leads us to a basic camp, where they tell us we can sleep in the communal, mosquito-netted house in hammocks or on the concrete floor. They won’t tell us the price beforehand, but assure us, it will be “mutto, mutto barato, amigo”. That means we shouldn’t worry, it will be unbelievably cheap but right now they can’t remember how cheap exactly, they have to ask their “boss”. A traveler would refuse immediately, but since we have clients the decision is not ours, so we accept. Pretty soon they connect to their boss, presumably through telepathy, and tell us, it will be R$ 20 per person, and they don’t have R$ 20 for change. Which is, compared to Pousada Sonetur yesterday, seriously overpriced. There is no electricity, only cold water, the mossie netting is full of holes, but we are allowed to use the kitchen if we collect some wood for the stove. It turns out these guys work for Ecological Expeditions, the same company reviewed in Lonely Planet as one of the operators running mass tours from Campo Grande. We chat a bit at the campfire later, they show us their photos taken the other day from an anaconda they captured and then let go. At last they ask us to leave the camp by 11 tomorrow, since they are expecting a big group and have to tidy up before they arrive. Whatever.

Our first guest photographer, Emese will also publish her pics on the site, where possible we will name the author

Corumba, being one of the largest river ports in the world at the time when colonialism and the gold rush made headlines everywhere, now is a place where even travel agencies close up on a Sunday. Remnants of the old glamour can be felt under the old, moldy buildings and along the long harbor, running parallel with the river for many kilometers upstream. Where else in Brazil can you find cities boasting 100.000 inhabitants with bars and restaurants turning off lights after 10 pm? Not far from the dock, near Praca Independencia we find cheap and musty rooms (20 R$ single, 35 double, 50 triple) at Hotel Salette with vent and shared bathroom. We decide to rent a car and drive from now on, which seems like a better option both financially and physically. Yesterday we received info on local possibilities: the only agency is Localiza, with an office closed at 4 pm, but with a receptionist who promised us full service by 8 am today. Just running back and forth several times from hotel to airport costs us more than 50 RS$ (mototaxi 4, cab 15, expect half-hour waits) before we reach the Localiza agent on her home number with the help of local firemen and security guards. She really makes an effort to arrive in time to work, so around half past nine we are paging through the possibilities in the brochure. All in vain, as it turns out: the only available car is a VW Gol (no misspelling, VW Golf here is called Gol). After the usual hassle with deposits, insurance, credit cards, signatures, blabla we visit the local Chinese market, the only difference is that the vendors are Bolivians, not Chinese. But they have the same stuff: plastic alarm clocks, expired canned food, Sany DVD players and thousands of other crap under plastic tarpaulins. As well-behaved tourists, we visit the Statue of Christ behind the city (an exact, miniature copy of the one in Rio), and stop for a huge dinner at an 8 RS$/person self-serve churrascaria. Heading back towards the Pantanal, a half an hour from Corumba signs mark the turn-off towards a road aptly named Estrada Parque Matto Grosso do Sul, which is by the way the only all-year road besides the Transpantaneíra that heads deep into the Pantanal. At first it is a twisting, up-and-down experience between serious hills, but after it stretches out towards the plain horizon the two red tracks disappear under a few feet of water. River Paraguay is busy with its’ annual flooding, nothing new, but what really surprises us is the water level: at some places it flows almost 2 feet above the road. Watching other cars (well, only 4WD-s and tractors) cross we make our attempt. One of us sits on the hood watching for shallow parts while the rest scoop the water flowing into the passenger compartment. Unbelievably, the over-revved engine never stalls; we make it through even the deepest parts. It is already dark, when the lights of Porto di Manga appear after a bend. The road ends, we arrived to Rio Paraguay. The only possibility to cross is by car-ferry, but there is no point, better do it tomorrow. No-one seems really excited about having half the village under water, movement between the 15-odd shacks and houses is mainly by boat; in one kitchen the housewife tends the stove in knee-deep water. The only dry strip of land is the road itself and a small patio before the general store. Merry locals sit around, with their beers in plastic thermoses, waving and shouting at us as if we were old friends. Although a small beer costs RS$ 2,50, the kindness of the owner makes us buy some more, and we join the locals, watching the empty road, talking and sipping cold beer, even dancing later. Pousada Sonetur, the local hotel stands in water as well, but this doesn’t deter the landlord to make good use of the higher floors, offering us honest and acceptable prices considering the low season (R$ 20/person). It turns out to be our best value-for-money accommodation since, with spotless rooms, complete with TV, minibar and helpful staff.

A vast amount of photo material is produced every day, so based on your requests we will try to publish some pics of questionable quality as well, especially if the given species is new. The Latin names are mostly from guide books and the internet, if there are any mistakes please contact admin [at] bedouin [dot] hu

We sit around, watching the changing scenery, talking to locals, walking around, taking photos, unpacking and repacking, mending our gear, sleeping, eating, passing time. The places we stop at are usually small clearings in the dense forest with a few huts strewn across the river bank, here everyone seems to know everyone else, some just send packages to town, others help unload cargo. It is a bit like travelling along the Amazon, except for the terrible cold, the locals feel it too, everywhere along the shore fires dot the skyline, with families huddled around them. After 26 hours Corumba appears on the horizon, to the right stretches Bolivia, to the left purple mountains loom in the morning glow, the sun appears for a moment and then we arrive.

The dark of early dawn still covers us when we see the light of a ship across the river, in panic we start packing our stuff together, running up and down as if it made a difference. Then at nine in the morning the port master finds us sitting on the river bank, staring at the ship and the deckhands who are talking cheerfully to locals suddenly appearing out of nowhere. When not talking, they are packing “stuff”, that is huge drums of gasoline, a tractor gearbox, food for the farmers and salt for the cattle. Life is not an easy one around here, at the farm where Elisio works the diesel generator consumes gallons of fuel by the hundreds, so every barrel has to be shipped up in two days, unloaded by hand, uploaded on a tractor and driven off to the farm. Slowly it is our turn, after all cargo has been organized it is time for the passengers to embark, we find a perfect spot on the upper deck, everyone is extremely excited, after all we have been sort of imprisoned for three days, and some of us were genuinely concerned about our possibilities of travelling on. The ferry finally departs amidst enthusiastic horn blows, but after a minute it turns back, there is shouting from the shore and amongst the trees far away a shadow of a wide-rimmed Pantanal hat appears, the owner leaning heavily in his rowing pole, hurrying along the narrow channel littered with water lilies. Another boat follows, laden with boxes, tanks, children and dogs. Another hour of waiting, we finally set sail around noon. The banks of the river are covered by lush rainforest, only occasionally dotted with houseboats, fishing huts and wading birds. Within an hour we are served steaming rice with meat. Three meals a day are included in the R$ 60 ticket, with the captain personally serving the food, a rare experience indeed these times when air travel prices soar while “food” served on flights is impossible to compare with this decent meal. Moreover, here we can take as many servings as we want. In warmer times we might hang our hammocks on the deck, but now we flee into our cabins and double bunks. The engine house is an experience in itself, a small room saturated with black oil, glistening steel tubes and unbearable noise. Along the passageways sheep are tied to the railing and people lean over in the wind, talking to each other. Most make their way upstairs, probably to have a look at the gringos on a cargo ferry in the middle of the Pantanal, a sight probably not many have seen.

After we heard from Elisio about the jaguar venturing into the building, our late night visitors caused some concern amongst us. But as it turned out, it was just a dog and some cats desperately trying to seek shelter from the storm that went overdrive by the morning, covering the sky with thick, grey clouds. At last the local chief explains us all about the ferry (This is more like real travelling: having to spend two days in one place only to find out about departure times). The Dez de Mayo sets sail from Corumba every Wednesday, the Á Vitória every Sunday. It takes two whole days to make it here, the farthest point upriver, Porto ze Viana. It starts back every Friday and Tuesday, and makes the same trip in one day. The weather deteriorates further, a cold and vicious wind sets in and we pull on all our clothes (guess how much that is on a Pantanal trip), raincoats and hats, shivering around the kitchen fire wrapped in our sleeping bags. Later that afternoon Elisio takes us over to the farm close by (where the old port master lives) so we can charge our laptop (to keep the blog updated, of course), we try several tractor batteries, but no sign of life in the machine. We return, cook some dinner, talk, wait, relax. Elisio leaves and returns with yet another battery, and using some wires and complex electro-technical knowledge, he finally gets some power into the old MSI Megabook. It still shuts down every ten minutes, but at least we learn to save our work more often. Just like in the old days, Windows 3.1, yeah. We make some dough and try baking pizza in the small oven, also some hot chocolate made from Peruvian cocoa.

In the morning we wake enthusiastically, asking our co-inhabitants about ferry departure times, shops close by, possibilities, acting as normal tourists. But this is backcountry, no use hurrying, any given information is valid only during the time it is said. Elisio and Luigi speak slowly, thoughtfully, and they suggest we ask the local port authorities about departure times. We wait till noon, finally a half-blind, old and sympathetic man arrives glides up in a boat from the neighboring farm. At once we attack him: how do we get to Corumba? When does the ferry start? Do you have electricity on the farm? We can hardly decipher his accent; the ship leaves on Friday, plus-minus one day (since it is Wednesday this isn’t much help), straight to Corumba, and on his farm he only has tractor batteries. We borrow his boat (another impossible thing to do on tourist routes) and four of us disappear for half a day in the flooded forest stretching for hundreds of miles in every direction. We explore the area, wading knee-deep among the water lilies, walking along white-sand beaches, pushing the boat along narrow channels covered by foliage. The only life around is the river, the animals and us. Upon returning to our hammocks, we are offered freshly brewed coffee by Elisio, and listen to his part of the story. He arrived from Corumba two days before us, and has been waiting since for a tractor that should take him 45 miles inland into the middle of the wilderness, where he works on a farm as a general organizer of labor and logistics. He leaves his family at his home in Rio Verde for months at a time, depending on weather and water levels. He loves the Pantanal, whenever he can, he spends his free time as well on the floodplains. To prove this, he shows us his bird photos taken with a small compact camera. He tells us that a few months ago a jaguar actually came into the building at night, and they regularly see it swimming across the river. Last week he was here when they herded 600 cattle onto a ship to be ferried downriver. Elisio drones on, his stories mingle with the twilight and the sounds of bats and nighthawks and distant thunder and wind.

Anyone wonders, why the hell do we write so much about our negative experiences? The answer is simple: previously most of our readers asked for more practical information and facts about the places we visit. And they are right, who wants to read about how beautiful a country is when they are headed there anyway? So we try to give specifics, prices, names, ideas as well as negative stuff that might help future travelers avoid the usual swindles. Of course, we have to say that all the above is just based on our own experience, it is just an opinion, and in no way a conclusion or judgment on locals. The way Elio thinks is totally understandable if you look at it objectively, he has never in his life met any foreigner not yearning for a freshly made bed after a days’ dusty driving. Travelers, who want to prepare their own meals, who are disturbed by the noise of diesel generators and other drunk tourists, who don’t have 4600 Euros for a 2-week trip. The Pantanal for him is just a workplace, and honestly, who likes their workplace? As he confessed the first day, his big and only dream is to go to the States and earn a lot of money. He probably didn’t believe us in the beginning, we actually do want to go deep into the swamp (after all, this tour is about nature photography), and after he realized he won’t get any commission from hotels and restaurants on the way, neither the automatic tips he is used to, his eagerness evaporated. After all, earning only a few hundred R$ is not a viable option for a Pantanal tour guide. They are used to blank tourists from the States, Japan and Western Europe, who are grateful that the tour guide found them such a nice, clean hotel, a pizzeria with cold beer or just simply saved them from a jaguar by arriving before dark. And they actually believe that this is all extra service, and leave the guide a few hundred bucks worth of tips. No, we cannot hold Elio responsible for the way he handles his world. In fact, he is right. But that unfortunately does not help us at all. After breakfast we admire a huge hive of African bees humming just above our head, a wasp nest on another tree and the bats flying around in the abandoned house (casa abadonda). By noon we are back in Porto Joffre, sitting around in the sun, trying to pacify our depressed driver and eating hearty portions of deep-fried piranha. Finally we load one of the aluminum boats (the rim just 2 inches above water), and according to the deal, leave for the one-hour, R$ 75 trip to Porto Ze Viana, the closest stop of the Corumba ferry. The journey itself is great, the water and the jungle and the scenery is something special, once in a while we meet a chugging barge or speedboat carrying rich Brazilian anglers to the ultimate fishing spot. On this part of the river there is no regular transportation, so we need to reach Porto ze Viana, the last stop upriver for the Corumba ferry. After three hours we arrive, and the kind boatman tells us it will be R$ 250, guys, because he didn’t prepare for such a lot of luggage. We take it kind of naturally, give him some amount between R$ 75 and 250, and haul our stuff up the hill to the communal waiting hall. The building is fantastic. Imagine a gym hall, with mosquito-nets as walls and iron bars across the space for hammocks, a small kitchen and bathroom in the back, the lush Pantanal all around you. It’s hard to imagine people who stay in hotels and artificial ranches all the time while such places are labeled as dirty and uncomfortable. Yeah, there is no running water, the kitchen stove needs firewood and some mossies do make it through the net, but it’s for free. We can hardly believe it at first, suspecting some scam again, but the two locals inside assure us we won’t have to pay a dime, offer us coffee and ask about our trip. Real, undamaged Pantanerios. We fire up the stove for some coffee, sling our hammocks and by the time it turns dark at 6 pm, we are sound asleep.

After the usual morning chores we are back on the dirt track, late in the afternoon we reach Porto Joffre, it is not really a town, only one super-exclusive hotel with an airport and private dock and a few fisherman shacks in the back. Porto Joffre is mostly known as the end of the Transpantaneíra. In the seventies, when this road was planned all the way south, no one believed that nature can be stronger than the technology of the 20th century. But the yearly flooding, construction difficulties and escalating expenses made the government change its’ mind, and they simply gave up. The road basically leads into the River Sao Lorenzo. We turn left towards the shacks on the river bank; Elio admits never in his life has he been this far along the Transpantaneíra, not bad for a professional tour guide. The locals are all chilling out on the street, smoking and sipping Brazilian tea. Called mate, it is consumed from a cup made from ox horn. They fill it with mate leaves, pour boiling water on it, and sip it with a special, filtered metal straw. A few sips, and the device is passed on. Elio talks to them for hours, finally makes his proposal. He leaves us here, tomorrow a local guy takes us to a port further down the river where we can continue our journey towards Corumba, while he returns with some locals to Cuiabá. We don’t really understand the whole situation, we paid four days in advance, and he wants to leave us here at the beginning of the third day? Of course, he has lots of good reasons. Joel Souza, the guy who got him this job, gets 600 from the 1000 R$ we paid (who has ever heard of such a commission?), so he has no profit on this trip, and of course no money left. Oh, and the best part: it is much better for us too, if he leaves us here, since the ferry to Corumba leaves tomorrow early, for weeks it will be the only one, etc, etc. Of course we don’t accept any of this, so he continues to persuade us with some emotional warfare including his children and hard life. But hey, we paid it all in advance, so we stick to our rights and finally he grudgingly takes us back along the Transpantaneíra to a small ruined house beside the road where we can pitch our tents. Poor guy is totally depressed, he keeps quiet all the way. Later we ask him if he could takes us for a night safari, as a compensation for the fourth day. Ruby eyes glow in the dark as caimans slip into the water, night-hawks (Podager nacunda) lap around the flashlight beam, frogs bawl all around and the water channels are dotted with white water lilies, blooming only at night time. On the way back we spot an ocelot (Felis pardalis), it looks almost like a mini jaguar. We don’t meet the big brother, but Elio makes us promise to keep the fire burning all night, because the onca (jaguar in Portuguese) is a very, very dangerous animal. Opposing to it’s African relative, we never read anything about a jaguar attacking humans in the Pantanal, but what the heck, one more tourist lure won’t hurt.

Pousada Rio Claro isn’t that original, late in the night a truck arrived and dozens of locals started hauling off bricks amidst terrible noise and shouting. Of course all this was forgotten once the owls living in the tree behind us started calling to each other, countering the sounds of howler monkeys and frogs from the nearby forest. The owners are friendly, they even let us sit in the dining room early in the morning. It is still dark when we follow Elio along a trail, shivering in the light morning breeze. We find our boat quietly waiting on the river, and start exploring the area. There aren’t as many animals, as along the road, but the experience is more natural, our guide eases the metal boat with a long pole along the banks, occasionally we make a short trip on foot trying to find the howler monkeys (Alouatta caraya) screaming nearby, or take some pictures of the herons and egrets hiding in the thick foliage. We arrive back to our camp around midday, and manage to get some real close-ups of toucans (Pteroglossus castanotis), forest stork (Mycteria americana) and jabiru (Jabiru mycteria), after which we load our VW van and head back towards the red dirt track of the Transpantaneíra. After a time we don’t stop at every caiman, hawk or kingfisher, so late in the afternoon we turn off to the right after Puma Lodge and arrive shortly to the gates of Gloria Ranch. Elio tells us a story about Puma Lodge, a local Brazilian bloke married the daughter of a French bank owner, daddy bought the children a few thousand acres of land and built bungalows complete with swimming pool and restaurant right beside the road. According to Elio, every second client is dissatisfied with the service, of course who knows the truth, as locals will always fight each other over tourist money. Gloria Ranch is not an official accommodation, just a private farm where hundreds of tourist camp in the high season (again, according to Elio). He really wants us to stay, even though we agreed after the Rio Claro experience to go bush camping, away from civilization. The owner and his wife are really friendly, they advise us to go for a walk around the ranch in the radiance of the setting sun, horses and zebu cattle abound everywhere, a typical farm in the Pantanal. Our ice casket is loaded with meat, so we make a fire and start preparing dinner. Elio doesn’t like this arrangement, he constantly tries to persuade us to eat the food cooked by the owners. It is just impossible to explain, we stocked up on food to save money. Later he wants us to give our food to the owners, who will prepare it for us for free. What a camping experience, right? We start grilling the steaks, but realize that all of it is just saturated with salt, inedible. Before we can prepare it properly, Elio informs us that dinner is ready at the house, no charges. It seems like the typical tourist trap, and we are right, after dinner Elio tells us quietly, of course it is free, but if he were us, he would give 30 RS$ for the food. No comment. In the evening we watch an original Brazilian soap opera on TV, what an expedition!

The past 48 hours we choose not to remember. From bus to taxi, from far-flung bus terminals to city centers, flat tires, drunken drivers, in Santa Cruz we technically board a train moving at jogging pace, all our valuables tied under our clothing, arrival to Corumba, direct transfer to Campo Grande, finally arriving overnight to Cuiabá. But no time to rest, we have to prepare for the arrival of our group, so the morning goes by with shopping, car and guide rental and fighting fatigue in the tropical heat. Although Cuiabá is a huge city, organizing the first leg of our journey wasn’t easy. Lonely Planet, rapidly becoming the fact book of luxury-backpacking, writes less and less about stuff for real travelers and adventurers, and more about top-end restaurants with great pizzas and 50-a-night clean hotels with running hot water. And what good did it do to buy the 2004 edition online last year, when the 2008 edition was published early this year, with the whole Pantanal section re-written. So the surprises began, Pousada Ecoverde was closed for reconstruction, all prices quoted were at least double in reality (truth be told, the US dollar did go through some devaluation) and not one restaurant was open in town, OK, that was because of the national holiday Corpus Cristi. But as it turned out, all this was just the beginning. LP mentions two outfitters who can arrange tailored trips into the endless swamp (correctly called alluvial tropical floodplain), the Pantanal. Our deposits and contracts made last year were cancelled due to the insufficient number of participants, so the first on our list was Joel Souza, owner of Ecoverde Wildlife Safari Tours, recommended highly by Lonely Planet. We meet him near the airport, he actually helps us find the public bus headed for town, not an easy task with all those aggressive cabbies around. Not feeling threatened we admit our plans for the day, and he admits is technique of hunting tourists, he never asks them if he can help, he just gives some local advice to dazed backpackers who immediately confide in him. A good psychologist, no problem with that. Fluent in English, German and Spanish, Joel has no trouble explaining the possibilities. He no longer leads tours into the Pantanal, he rather arranges private guides “for free” to anyone who asks. The other LP favorite, Munir Nasir immediately finishes off the conversation when he learns there are only 4 people involved. But we won’t give up, so we start touring the city in search of a decent tour guide, but everyone just wants to sell us the usual 175 US$ per day package, no camping out, most of them swear it is highly illegal and dangerous. Yeah, whatever, it is all about money. At least Joel was straightforward, he told the truth, he won’t take tours any more but he can find us a guide. We walk back to his office, share a few (dozen) beers, and after the 15th call on his cell he finally smiles, he found the guide for us, a local guy who grew up in the Pantanal, knows all about the animals and fluent in English. The cost will be R$ 250 per day, everything (car, gas, guide) included. Not very cheap, but we are not in a situation to be choosy. Elio, our guide, is a kind, honest, quiet sort of guy, we pack in our stuff and head towards the airport. The flight of our group is late as usual, finally they arrive, we stop right away at a churrascaria, a local Brazilian speciality, it has a huge salad bar, the meat is grilled and fried and cooked on site, and everyone takes as much as they can eat as many times as they want. All this for R$ 15, that is fifteen Brazilian Reals, about 1,5 to the dollar. We buy some water, a few hammocks, and start off towards Poconé, the northern entrance of the Pantanal. If we haven’t mentioned it before, we plan to spend the next two-and-a-half weeks in the world’s biggest floodplain. The Pantanal, an area three times the size of Guatemala, shared by Paraguay, Bolivia and Brazil. A photo expedition was planned here last year, but participants showed up only for this years’ dates. In the evening we are already bumping along the world-famous Transpantaneíra, the canals near the road are full of capybaras, caimans and herons. Late in the night we arrive to Fazenda Rio Claro, where we have to pay R$ 20 per person for a shower and the right to pitch our tents in the mud behind the house.