Brazil’s Wild Side: Exploring the Pantanal & Amazon

Embarking on an epic wildlife adventure in the Amazon and the Pantanal, Peter Schlesinger faces some of his darkest fears (snakes and spiders and piranhas, oh my!) in the jungles of Brazil.

Standing with my toes over the edge of the floating dock, the midday sun blazing, I stared down into the jet-black water at my own reflection. Like Peter Pan’s shadow, my mirror image seemed to have a life of its own, impatiently waiting for me to jump in and join it. But this was the Amazon, and the water’s impossible darkness made it all too easy for me to imagine a host of dangers lurking below the surface.

I was at Cristalino Lodge, in Brazil’s Mato Grosso state on the southern edge of the Amazon rain forest. Reachable only by boat, it is part of a 44-square-mile private preserve that forms a critical natural buffer between encroaching ranchlands and pure wilderness. Much of the preserve straddles the Cristalino River, an Amazon tributary that receives its inky color from tannins released by decaying leaves. The lodge itself comprises 12 idyllic teak bungalows nestled in a lush garden clearing near the river. A short walk through the jungle is Cristalino’s open-air restaurant, where I’d been overeating regional Brazilian specialties at every meal since I arrived.

Here, like on an African safari, guests rise before dawn for guided excursions to see the resident wildlife. That morning, Rafa, my guide, had taken me to the top of a 164-foot observation tower to catch sunrise over the misty canopy. As the deep-purple sky lightened, I watched a mother spider monkey lead her three youngsters from tree to tree directly under us; saw yellow-beaked toucans take to the skies after a night of rest; and heard the distant barks of howler monkeys. There are daily afternoon adventures, too, including kayaking through the flooded forest, boating on the Cristalino or hiking on 22 miles of trails. At each activity, my eyes were peeled: river otters and tapirs, ocelots, sloths and the elusive jaguar all lurk—expertly camouflaged—in this refuge. Less hidden are the 585 bird species, whose vibrant colors and whimsical calls never let me forget the pinch-myself fact that I was in the Amazon. The night before, I’d had an all-too-close encounter with a jararaca, an aggressive, venomous snake that I nearly stepped on while walking back to the bungalow after dinner.

A few days earlier, I’d been in on an entirely different type of Brazilian safari. Refugio Ecológico Caiman is in the heart of the Pantanal, the world’s largest wetland, about the size of France. Caiman’s private reserve covers 200 square miles of that, combining wild terrain with functioning ranchlands. From their home base at either the just-renovated main estancia or at two smaller, buyout-only lodges, guests go on two drives a day with expert guides.

And while everything is hidden in the Amazon, many of the animals of the Pantanal—like in the plains of Africa—are out in the open. Elegant jabiru storks stand as tall as a human, serene capybaras lounge by the water’s edge, anteaters roam the paths in search of food and macaws soar brazenly overhead. But for most travelers, Caiman’s real draw is the jaguar: visitors have a 98 percent chance of seeing these majestic hunters during their stay. That’s thanks to the rewilding efforts of Onçafari, Brazil’s leading jaguar research NGO. Its name is a play on “onça,” Portuguese for jaguar, and “safari,” and the organization models itself after South Africa’s Londolozi Game Reserve’s leopard researchers. From its headquarters at Caiman, Onçafari tracks the endangered big cat throughout Brazil. During my tour, I spent a magical hour watching Fera and her adorable, gutsy cub Ferinha laze about under the hot South American sun.

Under that same sun back at Cristalino, I had spent a good 15 minutes in a mild panic as I stood there, watching my reflection in the black water. Rafa mentioned that piranhas, snakes and the dreaded candiru fish (rumored to swim up the urethra, which made for a prominent plotline of a novel I’d read after college) all live in the river. Still, he had assured me, “it’s totally safe for swimming.” After a few more deep breaths, I finally made the leap and plunged into the unknown.

Naturally, there was a massive spider waiting for me on the dock steps when I got out of the water after a few backstrokes in circles. Rafa had mentioned they often hang out (literally) over the water’s edge to hunt for fish. But in another moment of surprising poise, I calmly stepped past it and returned to my sun lounger.

• Length of Stay: Three nights at each lodge, allowing for several full days of touring
• Optimal Seasons: Dry season (April to June in the Pantanal; June to October at Cristalino) has the easiest wildlife spotting, but is also the hottest time of year. Wet season (January to March in the Pantanal; February and March at Cristalino) is when you can see baby animals and the scenery at its most beautiful, though wildlife viewing in general is harder.
• Don’t Miss: The hike to 800-year-old trees at Cristalino. They’ve been standing guard since before the first Europeans arrived in the Americas.

This article originally appeared in the Summer 2022 edition of Indagare Magazine.