It had long been a dream to visit the world’s largest tropical wetland, the UNESCO-listed Pantanal. Spanning 140,000 square kilometers, Brazil’s smallest but most biodiverse biome is home to 450+ bird species and iconic wildlife like jaguars, maned wolves, tapirs and giant anteaters.
Stretching across two states the Pantanal is found in Mato Grosso to the north and Mato Grosso do Sul, to the south, where I traveled. The southern region boasts a unique, wetter ecosystem and pace when floods transform its grasslands and forests, attracting spectacular species that depend on it. One where capybaras and cowboys thrive among underwater plains.
It was a roadblock – of the hoofed variety, signalling that we were getting close. Two hundred or so cattle thundered by, herded by Pantaneiros on horseback and trailed by dogs. As we sat in our dust-coated car, I watched the scene unfold. Through the windows came the trills and squawks of birds and the scent of animals and wet earth.
As we continued, something felt familiar. Maybe it was the dirt roads, barbed-wire fences or cows seeking shade under trees. Or perhaps it was how I instinctually scanned the vast panorama for birds, as I do back home.
At each wooden fazenda gate, guide Victor do Nascimento, or Vitinho, as he preferred, stepped out from the vehicle barefoot into the flood pastures to swing open the gates. The sound of water and earth squishing underfoot triggered nostalgia, taking me back to childhood summers of sprinting through wet grass, to avoid a sprinkler’s wrath.
“I was born here,” he said simply.
Raised on Estância Caiman in the heart of the Pantanal, Vitinho started as a tractor driver before finding his calling in ecotourism. After three decades, he wasn’t just familiar with the land, he was an extension of it.
Venturing further, roads disappeared into open marshes and flooded savannah alive with birdlife. Buff-necked ibises gutturally croaked; Savannah hawks perched statuesque; Red-legged seriemas sprinted alongside us, while Roseate Spoonbills streaked by in pink flashes.
While many travelers avoid the wet season as wildlife is harder to spot, Vitinho offered a different outlook. “The wet season is beautiful,” he declared. “You see fewer mammals, but more beautiful landscapes, and more birds.”
After driving many hours, we arrived at Fazenda Baía das Pedras, a 15,000-hectare working cattle ranch turned ecolodge, and base for the next three days. Located in the Nhecolândia region on the banks of Vazante de Castelo, 300 kilometers from Campo Grande, the ranch and ecolodge is owned by Rita and Carlos Jurgielewicz, both whose warmth made us feel like family returning home.
Before dinner the first evening, we wandered the property under the sunset’s pink hues and took in classic Pantanal views. Birds waded in still waters and mother pigs trotted past with attentive eyes. Vitinho pointed out a charismatic, mohawk sporting, Guira Cuckoo as he shared more about his life. “Now I live in Bonito,” he told us. “I travel and work for different ranches. I know everything about this place.”
We’d soon learn that Rita, a fourth-generation farmer, does it all with grace and grit – everything from driving the safari trucks and pointing out wildlife, to making her grandmother’s traditional Pantaneiro cheese from scratch.
Traditional fazenda meals were hearty and featured rice, beans, carne de sol, farofa, pão de queijo made from yuca flour, Sopa paraguaia and fried queijo coalho – recipes passed down through Brazil, Bolivia and Paraguay. Meals stretched into evenings at the long communal table, where Rita and Carlos, married 42 years, swapped stories, saúdes and laughter with guests.
Morning alarms were replaced by throaty ibis calls and piercing squawks of stunning Azaras Azuis, or Hyacinth Macaws. Listed as a vulnerable species, seeing the world’s largest parrot in the wild was a gift.
Days unfolded with different safari variations. Led by fazenda cowboy Mateus Carvalho Domingos, we rode horseback across flooded terrains, temporary shimmering lakes peppered with water hyacinth and lurking caimans. My horse, Perdido was patient and well mannered – we shared an affinity for carving our own path. He was anything but lost.
Midday, I wandered the ranch under the sun’s relentless heat, camera in hand. Often, Vitinho joined me. Connected by mutual bird fascination, he’d whistle softly, calling in species. “There,” he’d say, pointing quietly as they revealed themselves. He made it easy to see them but so too, did the birds – it’s not every day you witness a tiger heron flyby or a toucan dining on papaya.
New exotic species piled onto my life list: Great Rufous Woodcreeper, Blue-crowned Parakeets, Purple and Plush-crested Jays and a Bluish-grey Saltator. While focused on macaws, a Pygmy Owl sat peacefully perched and posed graciously behind me – affording me a shot and a magical moment.
Birds were far from the only draw. One afternoon, Meghan Doiron, a fellow Canadian living in Natal, said, “Strange we haven’t seen any capybaras yet,” a second before a large male appeared. More followed, including a mother and baby, grazing together. Pampas Deer sightings became common. Later, when stopped to photograph a bird, spotter extraordinaire Daniella Meres saw something rarer: a well camouflaged giant anteater in tall grass. Thanks to Rita, we were able to observe it closely when she gently coaxed the shaggy edentate until it emerged in full view.
On another outing, we searched for tapir following fresh tracks but came up short. Later, we heard strange chattering from inside the brush – white-lipped peccaries. “They are very nervous. Maybe it’s because we ate a cousin yesterday and they can smell it,” joked Luis Salas, which drew collective laughter. Vitinho shared that peccaries make this sound by gnashing their tusks to communicate, signaling agitation and possible predators.
Golden hour drives further exposed the Pantanal’s beauty and new species before heading back. Daniella came through again. “I thought I saw eyes shine!” She had indeed and we all watched in excitement the passing of a cute crab-eating fox.
During our final night, we explored by water with Matheus barefoot and beaming from the stern. As he gently rowed us across a glassy lake, we saw a capybara swim by, stared down a motionless caiman, and adored a brood of juvenile Brazilian teal ducks and Wattled Jacanas walking atop lily pads.
At Baía das Pedras, tourism, science and conservation also go hand in hand. Here, researchers have been studying tapirs and elusive giant armadillos for over a decade, and when visiting, guests have an opportunity to attend talks and witness live monitoring. Rita, who has spent her life here, has only seen the armadillo twice, a testament to the wildness of this place.
Leaving the Pantanal, I realized barefoot isn’t casual, it’s cultural, and how one stays grounded. Its slow rhythm is intimate, not inefficient, led by the rise and fall of water and the call and answer of birds.
Reflecting on Rita’s wish that she “hopes guests leave with a lot of pictures and memories that the Pantanal is a wild and untouched sanctuary,” made me smile. We all certainly did.
Saying goodbye was hard, especially to the special group of ATTA folks who became instant friends; however it was made easier upon arriving at the conference destination of Bonito, which when translated, means beautiful. Set in the Serra da Bodoquena, its blue pools, waterfalls and spring-fed rivers, revealed the meaning behind Bonito’s name.
This Pre-Adventure kicked off the Adventure Travel Trade Association’s AdventureELEVATE Latin America event. Alongside a new group of soon-to-be ATTA friends, we rappelled 90 meters down Brazil’s tallest platform, the Boca da Onça cliff, hiked along a forested trail and cooled off in natural, hidden pools with clear emerald waters like the secluded Buraco do Macaco. The reflective waters of the Janela do Céu offered a stunning view of the area’s beauty.
Though it’s a city, wild exists in Bonito, as does a fierce commitment to conserving its vibrant ecosystem. Scarlet macaws can be seen nesting in the main square and nearby rivers run so clean, fish can be seen beneath your feet. Tourism in these parts isn’t extractive, it’s protective, demonstrating an ambitious model for what’s possible.
At the event, Portuguese and Spanish replaced English, marking a milestone moment and welcome reminder of who these lands and stories, belong to. Local voices took center stage through keynotes. Latin American operators, conservationists and storytellers swapped thoughtful insights with conviction during accelerator sessions and marketplace meetings, with energy that grew and deepened each day.
Unlike many global conferences, this one did not center outsiders, it honored the region with exchanges rooted with genuine intention. Whether it was a new or existing connection, each encounter came with reciprocal “Bom dias,” triple kisses, hugs and opportunities to learn from one another.
Among the most powerful voices was Ronald Rosa, a local environmental champion whose decades-long conservation experiences captivated me. Later, I learned we shared a love for anteaters and spoonbills, and passion for creating art. A serendipitous connection was cultivated.
Gabi Stowell, who hosted the conference, led the energy charge daily with grace, enthusiasm and ease. Her love for home and responsible tourism was contagious, sparking joy and inspiration among delegates, perfectly reflecting what both the event and Bonito stood for.
My experiences in Bonito and the Pantanal left a mark, not just through its incredible landscapes and offerings but through the remarkable people who carry them forward with purpose, care and pride.
