Off Again
Perhaps reminiscent of The Garden of Eden, a land exists along the midwestern border of Brazil far south from the Amazon; a seemingly limitless wetland packed with creatures large and small, its reputation reminds me of the plains of Africa by population if not by geography. It is The Pantanal of Brazil.
Where it isn’t swampland, it is cattle country. Here are three parks reserved from hunters and far from cattle ranches. The Parque Estadual do Guirá (Guira State Park), Parque Nacional do Pantanal Matogrossense (National Park in the State of Mato Grosso) and my destination, Pagque Estadual Encontro das Águas (State Park of Meeting Waters). Those waters would be the Cuiabá River (pronounced Coo Yah BA) and the São Lourenço River.
These are protected reserves, mostly untouched, set aside to preserve life; but, in fairness, this is a vast swampland and, were it not set aside, it would, I suspect, remain mostly undeveloped.
There, the jaguar sits atop the food chain. Jaguars are the largest cats in the Americas—the largest recorded males can reach 350 pounds—and are both secretive and solitary. During the dry season their normal hideaways contain very little to eat so they must follow their meals to still running rivers.
Due to the absence of roads, the only way for humans to see these jaguars is by boat upon these rivers. It is simple: To the rivers prey are drawn so too are the jaguars who hunt that prey and so too are those who seek a photo encounter with these majestic cats. The river is their cafeteria line and it is my portrait gallery; the only place on the planet where jaguars and humans encounter each other in such a convivial fashion.
Because the terrain is mostly flat, waterways here meander, zig and zag, wander and turn back upon themselves. Inside the protected reserves along these rivers, jaguars do not perceive we humans as being threatening--much the same as with lions in Kenya’s Maasai Mara or Amboseli parks where tourists carry long lenses rather than long guns. Thankfully, as in African wildlife reserves, these carnivores also do not perceive us as food as they would in The Lion Park outside Johannesburg, South Africa, where humans in trucks bring food. This is the definition of “the wild” and we humans are about as intriguing to predators as a tree would be. We don’t bother them, don’t interest them and don’t threaten them. I think of myself to them as being like a telephone pole along a highway; there but of no consequence unless you bump into it. Hopefully, that continues to be the case while I am here.
I've done a bit of research. Jaguars mate and separate. They are extremely solitary except for when females come into a week-long estrus during which they may mate up to 100 times a day. Females give birth to cubs which wean at the age of six months but rely on their mothers to hunt and kill their meals and keep them safe and teach them to survive as adults. At around two years of age, cubs are abandoned to begin a solitary life. Males grow to be larger than females—who weigh only up to 180 pounds—but they go off to leave solitary lives. Only the biggest and baddest males will dominate a territory up to forty square miles in size. They will be the only males to mate within that territory.
Also upon the rivers of the Panatal live 10 million caiman. Caiman are “alligatorid crocodilians,” similar to American alligators or African crocodiles. For 200 years unchanged by evolution, they thrive in spite of the odds against them. Caiman, from six feet to eight feet long (though unverified reports say 13-footers have been spotted), have wide flat bodies with immensely powerful tails and even more powerful jaws containing 74 teeth. Their eyes and nostrils are atop their head so they can hide in the water much as a submarine might with only its snorkel peeking above the surface. Their strong jaws drive cone shaped teeth into their prey. Since caiman cannot chew, smaller prey are swallowed whole while larger prey are torn into pieces with leftovers stored underwater for consumption later. They feed on fish (especially piranha), birds, reptiles, small mammals and larger mammals, particularly capybara, the largest rodent on earth.
Adult caiman have but one common and successful predator: the jaguar. A mistake by the jaguar, however, can result in a caiman grabbing the jaguar and dragging it to the river bottom where the caiman can remain submerged for up to fifteen minutes before it needs to take a breath. When it comes to mammals for food, caiman are much more likely to feed on capybara.
Similar to giant guinea pigs, capybara are semiaquatic with webbed feet, grow to weigh up to 150 pounds and, I read, make great pets. Caiman would seemingly say they make great meals. Capybara are quite often seen with cattle tyrant birds perched upon their backs. The cattle tyrant birds feed on insects that the capybara stirs up along with ticks that have found the capybara to be a tasty host. They graze in groups, barking like dogs when threatened whereupon they all dive for deep water. They are remarkably fast swimmers. But, they have no offensive weapons when it comes to predators. They live only by being able to flee.
Also here are giant river otters. These six-foot-long creatures need about 8 pounds of fish to eat daily. They eat catfish, perch and piranha. On the ground, alone, they are easier jaguar prey. For safety, they cluster in packs; they can and will attack a jaguar as would a pack of wild dogs. Jaguar beware.
Jaguar, then, must become stealthy and expert at ambush or they have for food only fish, turtles and frogs which amount to mere snacks. Males hunt for themselves, females for themselves and their cubs. Hunting is no easy task, most often ending in failure. One source indicates that a jaguar is successful at hunting giant river otter, capybara or caiman only 15 per cent of the time.
Nat Geo Wild has a wonderful segment on this topic which I would urge you to seek out if this drama appeals to you. The footage of jaguars swimming, looking for caiman, attacking and, sometime succeeding was the prime reason I came here. A quick peek can be seen at this link: www.barcroft.tv/jaguar-ambushes-caiman-croc
I am going there to see this in the flesh.
As is often the case when I have a very early flight, I slept fitfully. Fully awake five minutes before my 3:45 iPhone alarm could mandate it, I brewed a quick cup of coffee, brushed, showered, dressed and was out the door in twenty minutes. Uber did its job so the disturbance I caused B4 was, thankfully, minimal. She seemed not to mind the goodbye kiss. Had there been a problem with Uber or Lyft or a taxi she had volunteered to drive me to the airport. I am delighted that Nathan was only seven minutes away when I logged on.
I had been confused yesterday by my inability to check in online for my 5:29 American Airlines non-stop flight to Miami but the reason was soon made clear when the customer service agent said they had no record of my eVisa for Brazil. “I have an actual paper visa which you will find pasted inside my passport,” I informed her. I did and she did. A boarding pass was issued and I made my way through pre-check only to be randomly chosen for advanced screening. A first: I was told that to complete my screening I would have to remove my shirt. I did and I did. Thankfully I opted for a t-shirt beneath my regular shirt—I get cold on airplanes.
American flight 4695, on time, departed from terminal C, date 78, which is proudly identified with an Allegiant Airlines logo. The flight is, amazingly, oversold. I am traveling on frequent flyer miles in first class aboard a 76-passenger Embraer 175 Regional Jet operated by Republic Airlines as American Eagle. It is a long haul from Kansas City to Miami—three hours and ten minutes—but it is smooth and the upgraded man in the window seat to my left only had to use the lavatory once.
As usual there is breakfast in the front cabin but neither choice is hot. Rather than the smoked salmon I opt for yogurt, granola and fruit. The front cabin is full but only two of us are booked there with the remaining ten passengers being upgraded. Delighted and unfamiliar with hot towels and the offer of a beverage before taxi and takeoff, they basked in the minor splendor that passes for domestic first class in a regional jet.
As we cruise, I find that the The New York Times is full of stories about Trump on immigration and tariffs, the Supreme Court’s opinion about tracking our whereabouts using cell phone data, Saudi women for the first time being allowed to drive cars—and motorcycles—and Brazil’s five time world championship soccer team narrowly avoiding a World Cup defeat in St. Petersburg at the hands of Costa Rica. When you have three hours to pass and sleep won’t come, you read.
After being challenged about my Brazilian visa, reading news of Brazil’s soccer team while riding on a Brazilian made airplane on the first leg of my trip to Brazil bodes well I suppose.
We taxi to gate D60L and I roll my 23-pound rollaboard full of clothing and my 20-pound backpack full of cameras and lenses and my laptop down the jetway and then to the Flagship Lounge to pass the two hours before heading for my 12:05 long-haul flight to Sao Paolo.
American flight 233 is a 273-passenger 777-200 V2 with 37 business class flat-bed seats with those ten rows divided into two cabins; I occupy 2A. We board at 11:20 in the morning, enjoy a mimosa and then sit and sit and sit. Several times my phone rings with updates from American pushing back our departure time. First it is because of a “ground stop” due to lightning from a thunderstorm making it necessary to keep all ground personnel indoors. Next it is due to a mechanical issue of mysterious origin.
While I wait, I’ll write.
My itinerary has me checking into the airport Marriott hotel upon arrival in Sao Paulo so a delay in this just under eight hour flight really doesn’t impact me much. It would be nice if they made an announcement or two on board but they aren’t doing that. The only updates that come with regularity are on my phone from American Airlines Flight Services and via text from B4. I’m glad I signed up for flight updates but I don’t really need them with her keeping me posted.
Sao Paulo is 4210 miles away on a heading South Southeast of Miami. It is one hour earlier than Miami and two hours earlier than Kansas City. Our route takes us over the eastern part of Cuba, overhead Kingston Jamaica, the middle of Venezuela and then 2,500 miles of Brazil (including past the city of Manaus and nearly over my ultimate destination of Cuiabá) and then into Sao Paulo’s Guarulhos International Airport, most often referred to, simply, as Gru. It is just a few miles further to the Atlantic coast. https://vimeo.com/276714341?utm_source=email&utm_medium=vimeo-cliptranscode-201504&utm_campaign=28749&email_id=#share
The most populous city in the Western Hemisphere, Sao Paulo is the 9th largest in the world—30 million people reside in this megalopolis. The U.S. State Department says, “Exercise increased caution in Brazil due to crime. Do not travel to any areas within 150 km of Brazil’s land borders with Venezuela, Columbia, Peru, Bolivia, Guyana, Suriname, French Guiana and Paraguay due to crime. (Boldface theirs) Violent crime, such as murder, armed robbery, and carjacking, is common in urban areas, day and night. Gang activity and organized crime is widespread.” I won’t be out and about in Sao Paulo, that’s for certain.
It goes on to say, “Travel to the Foz do Iguacu National Park and Pantanal National Park is permitted” for U.S. government personnel. That’s where I am ultimately headed.
Update: The first officer just sat down in the seat ahead of me. I asked him, “What’s broken?” He replied, “Everything.” But then he added, “Really, it’s just the intercom. We need to be able to communicate and we can’t without that. I’m sitting out here to get out of their way in the cockpit.” So, there you have it. “That explains the lack of announcements then,” I said. “No. The PA works.” There you have it.
But back to Sao Paulo for a moment. Brazilian Federal News Radio reports today: “Furious at corrupt politicians and fearful of deteriorating security, many Brazilians are calling for a military intervention to clean house of crooked leaders and crack down on heavily armed drug gangs.” Note the source of that report. The sugar crop in Brazil is at risk due to irregular rains. Brazilian aircraft manufacturer Bombardier sees a 50 percent market share with their new CRJ 900 jet. Deforestation in the Brazil savannah ticked up in 2017. “Burning high-rise occupied by squatters collapses in Sao Paulo.” Forty nine people are listed as missing after the 24-story building was engulfed in fire and collapsed. The building was “a disused former police headquarters.” And, last on my list of updates for you: “Brazilian prison riot leaves dozens dead.”
When you next think that you or your country has problems, consider your Brazilian friends. Their plight is even worse. Brazil, since 1889’s military coup d’etat against Emperor Pedro II, Brazil has had six constitutions, three dictatorships and three democratic periods. Voting is compulsory. Brazil’s former president, Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, a former soccer pundit, began serving a 12-year prison sentence for corruption in April. He is charged with accepting $1.2 million in bribes. He remains the Workers’ Party candidate for president in October’s elections and leads president preference polls. He calls his conviction, “politically fabricated.”
At 1:50, one hour and forty-five minutes late due to a busted PA system, they close the doors on this $300 million airplane. Ten minutes later we push back. Fifteen minutes after that, at 2:15, we are wheels up.
Seven hours and forty-nine minutes later after consuming two meals, two movies (Thoroughbreds and Nostalgia), two episodes of Amazon’s “Mozart in the Jungle” and a nap, we land at Gru.
Immigration is empty, the agent is smiling, there is no paperwork (other than my visa for which I applied months ago), and since I have no checked luggage I am through customs in a flash. At the curb, the Marriott bus, at a high rate of speed, passes me by despite demonstrative waving and a shout. Oh, well. A taxi gets me to the Airport Marriott for 39 Reais (about $10) plus a tip of 20 Reais more because I cost him a longer fare. My room is ready and I await sleep just after midnight.
