^TM

A South American Safari: Brazil’s Pantanal

By Joyce Dalton

Each morning at 6:15, the wake-up bell clangs, signaling the start of the day’s activities at Caiman Lodge in Brazil’s Pantanal region.  Despite various mutterings as we drag ourselves out of bed, a quick shower, a cup of coffee and we’re eager to set off for adventure. Life at Caiman is an intriguing mix of African safari, summer camp and nature experience.

The Pantanal’s 363,000 square miles comprise one of the world’s largest wilderness areas. In Portuguese, the name means “swamp,” but technically, the Pantanal is a floodplain where from November to April, rains deluge the vast river system which, in turn, inundates up to two-thirds of the land, creating the biggest freshwater wetlands on earth.

Swamps, seasonally flooded grass and woodlands, and various types of forests make the region an ideal home for an abundant variety of wildlife: some 700 bird species, including 26 kinds of parrot; 260 types of fish (highlighted by catfish weighing up to 265 pounds), and a zoo’s worth of animals such as jaguar, puma, giant anteater, tapir, ocelot, giant otter, capybara (in spite of being earth’s largest rodent, these are adorable creatures), giant armadillo, marsh deer, five species of monkeys and my lodge’s namesake, caiman (South American crocodiles).

Naturally, my fellow tourists and I are eager to see a goodly number of the above, while fervently hoping to give the 50 resident species of reptiles a miss. Feelings are mixed about a glimpse of the world’s largest snake, the anaconda.

Getting here proved easy enough. Varig Airlines’ nonstop service from Sao Paulo to Campo Grande in Mato Grosso state even squeezed a light lunch into the one-hour flight. My talky seat companion grew up in Campo Grande but is now living in New York so I had all the local gossip from 20 years ago. From the small, but attractive, airport, a lodge driver and I started on the four-hour surface trip, half on a good paved road. When we hit the rutted dirt track, which eventually leads to Caiman Ecological Refuge, my driver joked, “Now the adventure begins.” Our vehicle threw up dust worthy of the African plains. We passed a car temporarily done in by a flat tire, whose Brazilian occupants were (they hoped) on their way to Bonito, some 120 miles distant. This, I learned, is a beauty spot offering multiple waterfalls, a crystal clear river, guided nature hikes, snorkeling, and rafting on gentle rapids. I later found that some of my yet-to-be-met fellow tourists at Caiman Lodge planned to follow their days at Caiman with a few at Bonito. As we bounced along, I fervently hoped that the lodge would produce more interesting sights than the drive. I was not disappointed.

The hacienda-style lodge has a comfortable lobby decorated with local artifacts. There are books on the region and a neat bar with saddle seats. One large guest room is housed here, but the others run along two connecting wings on either side of the outdoor pool. The arched walkway holds lounge chairs, tables and an alcove filled with sofas, cushiony chairs, a coffee table, attractive ceramics, plants, yet more books and highly-in-demand hammocks.

Without bothering to check out my room, I head for the activity board. Guests are divided into color-coded groups and illustrated activity cards show each group’s morning and afternoon schedule. Designed to ensure that everyone takes in as much as possible, however long their stay, activities vary by day and feature horseback riding, hiking, boating, and excursions by truck. Smiling and frowning faces also are posted, reminding us which activities are ideal for shorts, sneakers, boots, cameras, binoculars, sun lotion or insect repellent. For example, shorts merit a frown for horseback riding, as do sandals for hikes.

Wake-up, breakfast, morning activity, lunch, snack, afternoon activity, dinner, evening activity --- life runs by the bells. For some, a bit too reminiscent of school days, perhaps, but it gets us where we’re supposed to be more or less on time.

Though I briefly consider passing on the first activity, I think better of it and clamber into the back of a covered truck with long benches along either side and side panels open half-way, the better to observe whatever critters might be waiting for us to pass. Unfortunately, there aren’t too many of them today, though we do spot a number of bird species, including ibis, crested caracara, cuckoo and limpkin. One tree offers up a stork, a spoonbill and a few egrets. And of course, our guide adds a bit of Pantanal trivia to our repertoires: the cecropia tree produces fruit year-round so it’s an important source of animal food, the spoonbill’s flat beak assists in scooping up crustaceans, and tapirs can weigh 500 pounds and are related to rhinos and horses.

After awhile, we stop at Pousada Baiazinha, one of four separate lodges that comprise Caiman, and set off on an easy nature walk. The late afternoon light is getting dim which means insects are waking up, but none of us notices as we gape at a row of caimans lined up, like taxis waiting for a fare, at the base of a mini-waterfall. Mouths spread wide, they lazily allow little silvery fish to slide inside. Driving back to the main lodge, our guide shines a spotlight over the landscape, but all it catches are a few peccaries.

The first buffet sets the standard for the lunches and dinners to come and the variety and quality seem to satisfy our group of diverse nationalities. The open seating policy at meals facilitates guest interaction, which, at Caiman, makes for some interesting conversations. One elderly German man relates how he was forbidden to travel during the Communist era (he lives in the former eastern zone) so now, he’s doing his utmost to make up for lost years. There’s a Belgian family, a Dutch man traveling alone, and a sprinkling of Canadians, Danes and Brazilians. Although the US accounts for 30% of guests, the only other Americans at the moment are an interesting couple from Vermont.  Many foreigners, we’re told, know of the Pantanal through John Grisham’s book, The Testament, which is set here.

Certain I’d fall asleep during the slide presentation set up by the pool, I opt for an early night and beat the wake-up bell by a few minutes the next morning. Birds are singing and the sunrise is golden.

As someone raised in Kentucky’s Blue Grass country, my love/hate relationship with horses is somewhat embarrassing. The hate part comes when I’m on a horse’s back. Naturally, the chart’s smiling face shows my morning activity to be riding. At least three staff members swear the horses are old and only know how to walk, so I let a mustachioed man with a straw hat and a machete at his belt hoist me aboard. His introduction to the skills of riding goes as follows: “This is a horse. He knows what’s on your mind but you don’t know what’s on his. Once you turn the horse on, the reins are the gears.” 

Armed with this amusing, if not terribly reassuring, bit of knowledge, our international group sets off. The three and one-half hour ride through grasslands, marshy stretches, tall grasses, open spaces and narrow trails turns out to be great and as promised, walk is the gait of choice. We see a golden-winged cacique’s nest hanging from a branch, an anteater in the brush, a coati in a tree, deer, two varieties of toucans and a lovely little vermilion flycatcher. During the short break, we sample our leader’s mate, the tea-like South American beverage made from the leaves of a holly species.

After an outdoor buffet lunch, everyone stakes out his favorite resting place: a young German couple floats in the pool, the older German man heads for his room, one of the Danes claims a hammock, a Canadian stretches out on one of the outdoor alcove’s sofas, while I grab the other one.

Lest we while away the entire afternoon, the now-familiar bell rouses us. It’s motorboat time. Our first stop is at a small museum where we view skulls, legs and feet of various Pantanal inhabitants, plus a selection of nests and insects. Then, it’s back into life jackets and onto the water. A black-collared hawk perches majestically in a tree, kingfishers fly around and a southern screamer demonstrates how he earned his name. Perhaps his horrendous shriek remembers a relative’s leg or foot that we saw in the museum. The after-lunch lazing around time means that afternoon activities must cope with declining light and chillier weather, at least on the water. 

By now, I’m acquainted with my somewhat basic, but quite comfortable room: tile floor, twin beds with pretty woven spreads, a large wardrobe, luggage rack, night table with lamp, woven throw rug, excellent ceiling lighting and both fan and air conditioning. Screened windows with curtains, glass and wooden shutters line two sides. The bath has a stall shower and good quality towels. There are no toiletries or hair dryer; it’s the wilderness, after all.

Next morning, it’s a truck and hike combo. Most guides are young, often university students. Since many are biology majors, there’s no doubt about their flora and fauna knowledge; however, a lack of confidence or tourism savvy prevent some from keeping up the requisite running spiel of interesting facts that so enrich a safari.

We encounter birds aplenty, including ibis, heron and the huge Japiru stork, notable for its red neck. Our hike starts at yet another Caiman property, Pousada Cordilheira, an attractive lodge with an elevated walkway, guest room balconies overlooking a flooded area, and a nice wooden deck by the pool. An observation tower, similar to western fire towers, offers great views.

Our walk is rather jungley. We hear a woodpecker doing his thing, see a crested oropendola with its lovely yellow tail, and note how the bases of many trees have been rubbed bare by the back-scratching of feral pigs. A certain rough-leafed tree, name forgotten, is pointed out; we’re told that cowboys use the leaves to polish their boots. 

Obviously, I’ve chosen a repellant that insects adore since I emerge bitten from scalp to lower legs.

After another good lunch and a quick round of the lodge’s small, but quite good, shop, it’s back to the airport for the flight to Rio via Sao Paulo. A hot meal accompanied by wine is served on the first short hop, drinks and a snack on the second, leaving little time to reflect on my all-too-short stay in the Pantanal.

If You Go….

Refugio Ecologico Caiman. Web: www.caiman.com.br.

Caiman is open year-round. High season is July – September; this is the dry time of year and the best for wildlife viewing. Intermediate season runs April – June and October – November. As the water level recedes at the end of the rainy season, fish are trapped in ponds and small lakes, attracting thousands of birds. Low season is December – March when intense rains flood the Pantanal. Vegetation is lush, but animals have fled to higher ground and many species of birds are nesting.

Caiman owns 131,000 acres, part of which remain a working ranch. Its four lodges have a total of 29 rooms; Caiman (also called Sede) Lodge is largest with 11 rooms. All lodges have air conditioning, private baths and a swimming pool. The smaller properties are approximately one-half, five and eight miles from the main lodge. Guests staying five or more days can divide their time between any two dwellings. Per person, per day rates, including three meals daily and all activities, range from $180 to $275 single and $144 to $170 double, depending on the season.

Varig Airlines. Web: www.varig.com.

Varig offers daily nonstop service from New York, Miami and Los Angeles to Sao Paulo, continuing to Rio. It also has nonstop flights to Rio several times per week. From Sao Paulo, you can fly Varig to Campo Grande. A Varig AirPass, valid for three flights within Brazil, can be purchased for $530; additional segments cost $100 each, to a maximum of nine.

Images by Joyce Dalton

Back to TravelLady Magazine