800 kilometres across Yellowstone National Park

This earth originates from the greatest depths, yet it is newer than everything around us. In Yellowstone, we stand inside the caldera of an active volcano; the ground bubbles and steams. The heat from beneath gives the region its trademark feature: its colours. Yet in the end, that wasn’t the most fascinating part in this leg of the journey.

KM 900, 2.1 million years ago

First, however, a brief jump back in time; for Yellowstone is past and present all at once.

2.1 million years ago the Earth saw the birth and largest eruption to date of the Yellowstone volcano: the Huckleberry Ridge eruption. Two further eruptions followed. The last outbreak, which actually contributed to the caldera’s current shape, occurred just 640 000 years ago, known as the Lava Creek eruption.

We slowly drive into the park, approaching from the south directly from Grand Teton National Park. The road winds uphill. Behind us, a never-ending tailback of cars struggles up the slope. At over 2000 metres, the Land Cruiser’s engine no longer delivers much power, especially when climbing, so we push forward slowly yet steadily at 40 km/h. We quietly enjoy the landscape and keep an eye out for wildlife. The enthusiasm of the drivers behind us, who are taking the brunt of our black exhaust fumes, seems rather limited by comparison.

Lewis Falls comes into view, the river meanders through the tuff just like the road. Tuff is a rock formed from consolidated volcanic ash and pyroclasts. Reaching the ridge above, we stand at the edge of a round basin. Yet unlike so many volcanoes we have visited across the continent, we see neither a beginning nor an end at Yellowstone.

Yellowstone’s volcanic caldera measures 48 by 72 kilometres. Beneath the caldera lies a hotspot, the point where hot mantle material rises from deep within the Earth. The ridge we crest every time we drive through Yellowstone Park is the rim of the supervolcano. Below it bubbles a massive magma chamber, and its enormous forces can be felt all the way to the surface. At such hotspots, the Earth’s surface regenerates from ancient, molten rock. And this plateau rises and falls by several centimetres every year.

We have arrived in the present of our journey: where stone comes to life.

Some elements of a typical volcanic landscape are visible to the naked eye. Over 10 000 hydrothermal features shape the terrain. Geysers vent steam as if mini-factories were at work everywhere. Mud pots bubble away, and bison warm themselves on nature’s underfloor heating. Other features can only be felt: thermal springs warm the rivers to the perfect temperature for fish. And in winter, the interior of the caldera shelters a warm zone here and there where animals can escape the deepest snow.

And then there are the living organisms that only truly thrive in near-boiling water: thermophilic microorganisms. They not only withstand boiling water, but also feel right at home in extreme acidity. However, they like it hot but do not tolerate temperature shifts. In the hottest water live mainly transparent and yellow microbes, with the transparent ones glowing blue to the human eye. Along the cooler edges, orange, brown, and green groups gather. Together, they create an impressive, colourful, living spectacle.

Yellowstone National Park covers an area of nearly 9 000 square kilometres—2.5 times the size of Mallorca. Established in 1872, it is considered the first official national park in the world. However, the welcome news of nature conservation had a dark prelude—for animals and humans alike.

We drive along the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway over Dead Indian Pass towards the North East Entrance of Yellowstone National Park. The tragic name of the pass stems from the displacement of Native Americans from their ancestral lands. The Nez Perce fled from the Yellowstone mountains to the Great Plains during the Nez Perce War of 1877. In doing so, they outsmarted the US Army: they led them to believe they were taking the easier southern route. Instead, they climbed the steep pass. By the time the soldiers realised, the Nez Perce were gone. Apparently, however, a Nez Perce was ultimately killed on the pass—giving Dead Indian Pass its name.

The region around the Rocky Mountains was inhabited by various Indigenous groups. For a long time, they were tolerated in these barren and challenging areas because settlers were slow to reach them. Originally, the concept of a “national park” arose in the early 19th century as a place where Native Americans could maintain their traditional way of life. But the idea shifted: Native Americans were forced onto Indian reservations, and from the national parks emerged the dream of creating an untouched wilderness. Until then, the American wilderness was viewed merely as a vast, lawless hunting ground.

What has become of this wilderness is something we want to see with our own eyes.

How safe is it to travel through Latin America and especially Mexico by vehicle?

‘You know, I opened this campsite to take away travellers’ fear of Mexico,’ Raúl tells us at his ranch in the north of the Baja California peninsula. The ranch is less than an hour away from the border between Mexico and the USA. Many people fear this border. There are travellers who believe that as soon as they drive across, they will be mugged, and a corrupt police officer will be waiting on every corner.

We are at the end of our journey through Mexico. Raúl’s ranch is our final stop before the border crossing. And to be completely honest: he doesn’t need to convince us anymore; Mexico enchanted us a long time ago. Staying with him is the unexpected, crowning final.

We spend Good Friday eating fish tacos around the campfire, together with his family and friends who have come here for Easter. The horse ranch is so idyllic that instead of staying for one night, we end up staying for another four – delaying our border crossing into the USA for as long as possible.

Is it really that dangerous to travel through Latin America?

Mexico is the final Latin American country on our journey to Alaska. Before entering the southernmost country in North America, we are warned constantly – far more than with any of the other countries. The last time we experienced this level of intensity was before Nicaragua and Venezuela.

We were told we would experience countless police checks. That the military would have a heavy presence. That we would encounter widespread corruption or indigenous communities demanding money to let us pass. That there would be many closed roads and, of course, cartel violence.

Notice a pattern? It’s essentially the same list as before. Definitely nothing we hadn’t already known or heard about.

Since we were approaching from the south, the negative reports didn’t put us off as quickly as they did many other travellers entering from the north. We had heard similar warnings about almost every country – and after more than 200 police checks in Venezuela, it takes a lot to ruffle our feathers.

Even so, just for fun, we decided to keep track of the checkpoints again. The result? In just under two months, we drove through 34 checkpoints. We were pulled over at 12 of them, and we had to open the boot at 7.

Was money demanded? Not by anyone. Not a single time. Not even remotely.

Between cartel violence and everyday routine

Mexico is not a safe haven – certainly not in certain tourist regions or in the immediate vicinity of the notorious drug cartels. All the same, the day-to-day life of most people is not characterised by violence.

The people we met have adapted to Mexico’s peculiarities. They have all been checked by the police at some point and asked for a small “donation”. There have been curfews due to escalating violence, and they too know countless stories about what the cartels are up to. Their lives are admittedly a little closer to these problems, but even for them, it is not an unremitting daily reality.

No one we interacted with told us about extortion or paying protection money – something we witnessed first-hand in other countries. That this exists in Mexico is indisputable. The fact that the drug trade and the illegal criminal underworld generate vast amounts of money, undermine politics and justice, sow violence and complicate matters is a reality. Especially in impoverished areas where young, unemployed people are promised fast cash. Furthermore, the cartel world is regularised and glamourised through narcocorrido songs, which even make it into the pop charts.

However, in a country inhabited by 134 million people, this is not the reality for the majority. It is the media’s attention that remains glued to it – and the cartels know exactly how to generate that media spotlight. A striking example was the death of El Mencho in February and the subsequent roadblocks across the entire country. If cartel members know one thing, it’s how to bring a state to a standstill in no time.

Even in the state of Jalisco, the main headquarters of the Jalisco Nueva Generación cartel, there is a life that happens entirely outside of the drug trade. The majority of people live completely normal lives – just always a tiny bit closer to the dark side than is the case in Europe.

Are rural roads really that dangerous?

Before we entered the country, we were often advised to stick strictly to the toll roads (cuotas) in Mexico, as they were safer. Hmm. If they mean safer from the countless speed bumps (topes), then it’s true – and you save a lot of time, though they are also horrendously expensive. If they mean safer from police checks, we actually encountered most of them on the toll roads rather than in the small villages. We did, however, avoid driving across the mountains where cartels are known to fight over territory.

Just like in South America, we constantly kept ourselves actively informed: by asking the police, the locals, other travellers or via travel apps. This gives you a good picture of the current situation. If you ever have a bad gut feeling, it is always best to find an alternative route.

We leave Mexico with tears in our eyes. Because here, too, we experienced the hospitality of Latin America in its absolute abundance. The long Easter weekend at Rancho La Bellota was a worthy finale. There is no better description for the people of Latin America: good food, deep conversations, plenty of laughter and an incredible warmth.

If we take a single insight home from this journey, it is this: the vast majority of people are, at their core, simply good.

183 days in figures – a review of the geographical central part on our journey

By the time we leave Central America, we have been on the road for 868 days. From Colombia, the car was transported by container ship to the Caribbean end of the Panama Canal, to the port of Colón. We were able to collect the Land Cruiser there on 8th August 2025. And on 3rd February 2026, we crossed the border from Belize into Mexico, thereby leaving Central America.

So it’s time for another look back.

We’ve driven a lot again, but as the region is quite small, it’s nowhere near as many kilometres as in South America. Just 7608 kilometres criss-crossing Central America.

How far?

In total, we covered 7608 kilometres in 183 days. From Colón in Panama to Orange Walk in Belize. That works out at an average of 107 kilometres per day on the road. Our longest single-day journey, covering 306 kilometres, was in Costa Rica from Cóbano to Liberia, where we went to meet Michael’s niece.

In Central America, too, fewer kilometres still mean many hours on the road, yet the roads are generally in better condition than in South America.

We spent the longest time in Costa Rica – mainly because we were visiting family. We covered a total of 2856 kilometres in Costa Rica alone, and as the country is rather small, we’ve now got to know many parts of it. In second place is Panama with 1218 kilometres, followed by Guatemala with 925 km. We also spent some time there at the mechanic’s, as the car had reached 200 000 kilometres and was due for a full service. During this time, we drove around Lake Atitlán in a rental car with Michael’s brother and his girlfriend.

We actually covered a few more kilometres in Guatemala, but as we always count the day we cross the border towards the destination country in our statistics, many kilometres are added to the total for Belize.

And what else?

We collected data throughout the entire trip. Every time we filled up with petrol, we had to convert the price into Swiss francs (and into euros for this post) and often from gallons to litres as well. Every evening, we reset the odometer to zero and noted down the starting point, destination and distance. The result is the data we present here.

The summary shows once again everything we experienced over the 183 days. We set off from the Waldorf Astoria in Panama (thanks to our shipping partner) and stayed in Belize a week longer than planned, as we were invited by locals to eat, drink and go boating.

In Belize, we trusted the locals so much that we got stuck in the mud and couldn’t get out on our own. Someone had to pull us out for the first time. In the process, they nearly ripped off our rear bumper. In Costa Rica, we were able to help another local out of a tight spot in return. Michael also caught a calf that had escaped from a trailer involved in an accident. Otherwise, not much happened.

There were hardly any checks and our border crossings always went smoothly. We were even allowed to take our food and alcohol (at the Guatemala–Belize border) into the new countries.

In Central America, it was the first time we had to pay a fee for every border crossing: usually it was less than 10 dollars. We also had to pay for the car’s import permit suddenly, on top of the third-party insurance. We hadn’t come across that before on our travels, the south all paperwork was free.

Of course, the Land Cruiser was also looked after and maintained: In Panama, the roof was resealed; in Costa Rica, an extra leaf spring was fitted; in Nicaragua, the exhaust pipe had to be resealed; and in Guatemala, a full service was due. Just before crossing the border from El Salvador into Guatemala, we had 200 000 kilometres on the clock.

There were hospital visits again too. In Nicaragua, we ended up in A&E; it took less than 10 minutes. Diagnosis? Too much gas in the gut. Treatment? Medication for a week. As things didn’t improve, Cora went to a clinic in Antigua, Guatemala, again to get checked out thouroughly. Conclusion: it’s nothing serious, the cause remains unknown.

Michael also had to go to A&E once. Due to a severe flu and low oxygen saturation, Cora insisted he see a doctor. We also had some routine dental appointments, one of those things that are just part of life.

People often ask about police checks and corruption. So far, we’ve got off lightly. In Central America, we didn’t have a single police check, except at the borders. That was quite unusual for us as in the South we had many.

We’ve visited all seven countries in Central America – at least the mainland part, for the Carribbean we’d need a boat. There are still more places to discover in every country. But we simply can’t do everything.

Now it’s time to discover North America. Endlessly long, straight roads await us there, and once again we’ll have to make lots of decisions about exactly what we want to see and what we can manage..

Chronicle of a journey through Nicaragua

When crossing Nicaragua, something hits the traveller’s eye immediately. It’s not the volcanoes, the jungle, or the beaches, but enormous trees in garish colours sprouting in the middle of roundabouts. Officially named “Trees of Life”, though they possess none: they are inert metal structures.

It is almost absurd. In a country with enviable biodiversity and jungle, the monument chosen by the government to represent them is an iron skeleton without a drop of sap, yet painted in a riot of colours: red, yellow, green, blue, pink.

Today they are known as Chayopalos (Chayo’s sticks) or arbolatas (tin tress). There are 150 or more of these trees scattered across the country, each illuminated by more than two million light bulbs. Why they were erected is not known, there are theories of them being purely artistic or purely esoteric, reflecting the spiritual beliefs of a Vice President famous for her colourful outfits laden with amulets.

What is not theoretical in the slightest is the cost: each tree costs between 25 000 and 40 000 US dollars, not including the astronomical annual electricity bill. In a country with Nicaragua’s pressing needs, that money could clearly be invested in more urgent matters.

For those of us living in a vehicle with all our belongings, this is a logistical challenge. We had to prepare thoroughly: we hid everything we could to keep it out of sight, including the machete—an indispensable multi-tool for any Latin American, one would think. As for the drone, we preferred not to risk it: we left it at Michael’s family home in Costa Rica, and his brother brought it to us in Guatemala weeks later. Many travellers opt to send them directly via DHL to avoid confiscation at the border.

The war on Word

The fear of rebellion has silenced the country. Independent newspapers no longer exist; information is hijacked by the official channel, and journalists work under the constant threat of imprisonment—at least the few who still dare to remain in the country. The censorship has bordered on the surreal: the entry of bibles and any text that might pose a danger to the regime has been banned.

A brief lament about the less pleasant moments of a trip

Travelling is not a holiday. If only it were! Then we wouldn’t have to deal with all the hassle. It wouldn’t be as exhausting – or rather – as predictable as it can be at home. However, problems arise when they want to, and sometimes we wish we had the problems at home, because then they wouldn’t be problems at all.

Replacing a simple screw

Or the endless search for a keder rail. A common van part in Europe. No one in Latin America knows what that is! At least we now know all the aluminium profiles from Ecuador to Costa Rica that are on offer, but we haven’t found a system similar to the keder rail.

And how about placing an order? One might think that’s the solution. Yes, if the delivery times weren’t so long – the goods usually come from the USA – and if we had an address where they would arrive safely. It’s possible, we’ve done it before, but it takes a lot more planning. The best thing is when friends come to visit.

They are happy to see us, but they don’t know that this usually means they get to play pack mule. Especially those who fly with checked baggage. The list is always long: diesel filters, V-belts, a mobile phone (it’s hard to believe, but they are better quality and much cheaper in Switzerland than here), new credit cards, travel documents, letters that urgently need a signature but are not accepted when scanned, gummy bears, chocolate!,…

Back to the mould

Don’t worry, it won’t just disappear.

Cleaning vinegar (and normal white vinegar) has become our great ally (there are no specific mould removers available). We also use cleaning alcohol for things that don’t tolerate acid. The rest goes in the washing machine.

What sounds so simple means ‘a lot’ of work. The washing machines here are not fully automatic. You have to fill them with water, drain them, fill them again, drain them again, and so on until they are clean (not sure about their cleaning standards here), and then you have to centrifugate all the clothes. Only then comes the great luxury in this household: the dryer. We throw almost everything in there and it is definitely cleaner afterwards.

But all the cleaning (today for the third time the lower edge), airing and constant drying are still not enough. That’s why we bought an ozone machine. It’s not a cure-all, but if it works even 70% as described, we should be almost mould-free by the end of the trip. No, just kidding, the air should at least have fewer spores.

Only the mildew stains will still be a problem, but we can deal with that after we return. We don’t want to get bored, after all.

How we experienced Venezuela quite differently than expected

‘Very dangerous.’

‘You’ll definitely get mugged, only criminals live there.’

‘They’ve locked up foreigners again, one disappeared at the border.’

That’s how people warned us about Venezuela.

We are quite nervous and our preparations are more intensive than for the other countries we have visited before. We research as much as we can, but there is not much information online. And we also contact other travellers.

‘The nicest people.’

‘Everyone is friendly and helpful.’

‘Wonderful hospitality and beautiful nature.’

That’s what we hear from travellers who were in Venezuela shortly before us. And they give us contacts in the country. We write them. Everyone helps us, answers our many questions and gives us some encouragement. But a certain uncertainty remains.

Venezuela – yes or no?

Venezuelan hospitality

There are two toll booths along the way. They cost 30 bolívares everywhere in the country, which is about 30 US cents at the exchange rate when we were there. You can only pay in cash, which is why we had to exchange money beforehand. At the second toll booth, we give the money to the young worker. He asks us if we are foreigners and gives us the money back. ‘Bienvenidos a Venezuela, disfrutad del país’ – ‘Welcome and enjoy Venezuela’. That was our first experience of Venezuelan hospitality. Could it be true what all travellers say?

The next day, we arranged to meet up with a friend we got to know in Colombia. He wants to show us his city. The drive through Maracaibo is special: it feels like being in a US film from the 1970s. Old V8 Ford models rattle through the wide streets. The avenues are lined with shopping centres that were once modern, some of which are closed and close to falling into disrepair, while others are full of life and goods. This is completely unexpected.

The city seems empty; it was built for many more people than live there today. Tourism is rare, but there are still a few souvenir shops and street vendors. They curiously ask us where we come from and how we like it. They seem to not really want to sell us anything.

We escape the heat and take refuge in a café. The whole city runs on air conditioning because it is simply too hot. But this only works as long as the power is on. Everyone has access to it, and the electricity is free. It comes from gas turbines where excess gas is burned. There is nowhere else for it to go. But the systems are overloaded, the turbines are old and spare parts are difficult to obtain. So the power goes out sometimes, say the residents.

The café has electricity, it is pleasantly cool inside and there is delicious coffee and fruit juices. The prices are a little more expensive than we are used to in South America, but we can even pay by card.

Afterwards, we visit the Casa de la Capitulación museum next door. The official who works there gives us a guided tour free of charge. He is proud to be able to tell foreigners about the magnificent history of Gran Colombia’s independence from the Spanish Crown.

A green glowing lake

In the evening, we once again enjoy the view of the impressive 8.6-kilometre-long bridge – the second longest in South America. The green-glowing Lake Maracaibo, on the other hand, is not inviting for swimming. Beneath it lie some of the largest oil reserves in the world. Venezuela sits on immense riches. From 1929 onwards, Venezuela became the world’s largest oil exporter. Oil companies flocked to the country to extract oil, erected towers in the lake and the Orinoco Delta, and sold the oil all over the world. Until the 1970s, the whole country benefited from the money it brought in.

After the oil crisis, there was a wave of nationalisation, and PDVSA, the Venezuelan oil company, was founded. PDVSA generated such high profits that the money was distributed to the entire population. Young Venezuelans, they told us, received a budget from the state to travel around the world. However, this proved to be their undoing, as no one learned how to manage money. In addition, the oil company repeatedly had to contend with fluctuating oil prices. The recessions since the 1980s left the highly indebted company struggling. On top of that, maintenance was neglected.

When Venezuela changed its politics, it became increasingly isolated and its infrastructure began to rust. No one is maintaining it, and spare parts are nearly impossible to obtain due to international sanctions and mismanagement. Engineers from the oil company are now driving taxis, or those who can are leaving the country. However, the oil continues to seep out – and flow into the lake.

685 days in figures – a review

A ship arrived in the port of Montevideo in Uruguay on 1 October 2023. Another ship set sail from Cartagena, Colombia, on 3 August 2025. Both times, a car is on board – the Land Cruiser, of course. In between, there are many kilometres on land, criss-crossing the South American continent.

We have travelled a long way, and still only saw a fraction of what is possible. But at some point you have to decide whether you want to do another loop or continue travelling north. For us, it’s time to head north.

Six hundred and eighty-five days ago, we started our journey in South America. There was a longer break in Switzerland and Michi’s time out as a tour guide in the Bolivian Amazon. We experienced so much during this time, some things we write about them here and on our social media accounts. And yet there’s a lot more that we don’t post. At least not on the internet.

Among many things, we seldomly share, is all the hours driving – thousands of kilometres, to be precise: 34 164 kilometres. That takes a lot of time and diesel. Now is the right time to take a look at the figures.

How far?

We travelled a total of 34 641 kilometres in 204 drive days. From Montevideo in Uruguay to Cartagena in Colombia. That corresponds to an average of 170 kilometres per driving day. The longest distance in one day was of 560 kilometres in Venezuela. Michael once rode 550 kilometres from Brazil to Peru on his own. Both times we were pressed for time. In Venezuela we had to get back north to the ship and in Peru Michael had to catch the plane to Switzerland.

Note: After the maps and statistics, there is an empty space that I could not remove. Just keep scrolling.

It’s said so quickly, but here the few hundred kilometres per day equal many hours on the road. We must have spent over 14 hours behind the wheel on these individual days.

Bolivia holds our record of kilometers. We know the country quite well by now, but there are still a few places we had to skip. We covered a total of 8 417 kilometres in the country. Brazil is in second place with 6 997 kilometres. The country is simply huge; we didn’t have enough time for the whole of it and stuck to the south and west of the country. In third place is Venezuela, where we spent the most days driving. We had too much to see and too little time – what a pity. It shows clearly on our average kilometres per drive day: a whole 260.

Attentive readers will have noticed that we hardly travelled in Argentina and Chile. That’s true, at least on this trip. As we both already knew Patagonia, we skipped this part. We weren’t travelling together back then and the data would have been much older to allow a meaningful comparison. But that region would add around 20,000 kilometres.

Brazil was generally expensive, the more remote the area, the more so. In Peru, prices change a lot. Near the Amazon, where petrol is extracted, it is quite cheap. In northern Peru, for example, we didn’t have to fill up once as we filled up in Pucallpa for just under 0.88$ per litre. After that, we drove until Ecuador, where we knew diesel was only 0.50 US$/litre at every petrol station.

The price fluctuations in the statistics are due to the exchange rate. We felt this very strongly in Argentina after Milei’s election, when petrol became 100% more expensive within 3 months. The dollar, for its part, lost a lot of value during this time. That was (and still is) a big advantage for us.

And what else?

All these data is our own that we collected over the course of the journey. Every time we filled up, we had to convert the price into francs and often also from gallons to litres. Every evening, we reset the odometer to zero and noted the departure and destination points as well as the distance. The result is the figures here.

If we look at the summary now, it’s incredible to see what we’ve done. Of course, this includes countless stories. We couldn’t always fill up at a petrol station. Sometimes it was a barrel or a bottle, like in Peru. Sometimes we had to haggle hard to get a few litres. Often we had to insist that we wanted diesel and not petrol. Here in South America, all Land Cruisers are petrol-powered.

We usually drove long distances in a day because it’s not worth packing up the car for a few kilometres. It’s far too much effort. We’d rather take a taxi or have a rest. But a short 100-kilometre trip has also turned into an all-day trip because the road was so bad or so steep. In general, we didn’t have to rescue ourselves very often, but a few times we had to let the car cool down at altitude or patch a few tyres. Mostly in the garage, fortunately, and not in the middle of nowhere.

In Argentina, we pulled a policeman’s car out of a river, in Colombia a guerrilla car with a box of ammunition out of the mud and in Bolivia a tourist. In Venezuela, we helped a policeman start his car with the jump starter.

We went to the hospital or doctor in almost every country, not always because of us, but often to accompany and to translate. It was an adventure every time, because hospitals work differently here and doctor-patient communication doesn’t seem to be part of the medicine curriculum.

Another question we get a lot is about police checks and corruption. So far we have got off lightly. In Bolivia we met a corrupt policeman. We also paid him, otherwise it would have taken forever, and we actually took the wrong turn, except that another 10 cars took exactly the same turn. There were four controls in Colombia, two in Peru and 209 in Venezuela. Venezuela is famous for this among travellers, but they were all nice, and we sometimes got a coffee, water or tips about the country.

We visited ten of the 13 countries on the continent. Only the three small ones – Guyana, Suriname and French Guyana – we didn’t. It’s a shame really, but travelling also teaches you to do without things. Who knows where we’ll be travelling to in the future. For now, however, we are taking many wonderful memories with us as we head north.

Everyone knows Africa’s famous Big Five: lion, leopard, buffalo, rhino, and elephant. Spotting all of them on one safari is a challenge — and that’s exactly what makes them special.

After months of traveling across South America, we thought: why not make our own version? Our South American Big Five is a personal list — based on animals we were most excited (and struggled!) to see in the wild. This wasn’t about ticking off mammals or checking boxes at a zoo. As one traveller suggested we best go see jaguars in the Manaus’ Zoo, we laughed. That’s not why we’re here.

We’re here for our South American safari. And what an adventure it turned out to be.

Here’s our list:

Jaguar, Tapir, Spectacled Bear, Anaconda, Orinoco Crocodile… and one surprise guest you’ll never guess.

1. Jaguar

In the south of the Pantanal, Brazil — the best place in the world to spot jaguars — we searched high and low. No luck. Same in the north, even on dedicated tours. We were about to leave when we stopped by a river for a break… and there she was. A young female jaguar, watching us from across the water. Frozen, curious. A moment we’ll never forget.

We turned around, drove back the 147 kilometres of the Transpantaneira, and gave it another shot. That decision paid off: we saw seven jaguars on our second safari. Bororo, a big male, even let us follow him downriver for three hours. Unforgettable.

2. Tapir

The largest native herbivore in South America (after cows, if you count those!). Tapirs play a key role in seed dispersal — they’re the gardeners of the rainforest.

Like jaguars, they’re notoriously hard to spot. But remember that lucky river spot? It came through again: two tapirs in a few days. One surprised us during a jungle hike — blink and you’d miss it. The other was more relaxed, grazing and bathing by the roadside at dusk. Calm, majestic, and completely unbothered by our presence.

The Andean or spectacled bear is the only bear species native to South America. Elusive and shy, it roams the Andes.

We searched from Bolivia to Ecuador. Our second last try in Maquipucuna Reserve was mistimed — the bears only show up in autumn to feast on wild avocados. But we had one last hope: a village near the Colombian border, where bears visit year-round (thanks to, you guessed it — avocado plantations).

And finally, there they were. Early morning black dots moving on the opposite slope, and again in the afternoon, foraging. They were distant, but awe-inspiring nonetheless.

4. Anaconda

The heaviest snake in the world. Legendary. Mysterious. Hard to find.

We searched in Brazil, Bolivia, and Ecuador — nothing. We were ready to give up when Michael, staring out the window on a muddy road in Colombia, suddenly shouted, “Stop!”.

5. Orinoco Crocodile

Want to spot an animal of which only about 250 remain in the wild? Now that’s a challenge.

For my 30th birthday, we did something special. We headed to Colombia’s Llanos, near the Orinoco basin. The reason? Our last chance to see anacondas. But we kept joking that it would be great to find an Orinoco crocodile — South America’s only true crocodile species (the others are caimans).

What we didn’t know: the reserve was involved in a rewilding project and had recently released 50 young crocs. Survival is tough — many fall prey or get hunted, people are afraid and see them as a delicacy. But some endure.

At a small lagoon, after turtles rushed toward our safari car, we saw something bigger move… a large, 8-year-old male Orinoco crocodile, approaching us. Likely used to being fed to keep him within the reserve — a bittersweet reality, but perhaps a necessary compromise for survival.

The Galapagos. Is it paradise on earth, or a little hell, as the first seafarers thought? The mostly barren landscape made survival difficult for humans, but it was a true paradise for the animals. Consequently, an enormous variety of endemic species developed on the Galapagos Islands — species that only exist there.

The Galapagos Islands inspired Darwin’s theory of evolution. He found inspiration in the famous finches with their adapted beaks, the iguanas that feed on sea algae and the renowned Galapagos tortoises, of which 12 subspecies are still alive today. Each tortoise specialises in a particular island or volcano and is visibly different from the others.

The wildlife in the Galapagos is overwhelming, not because of the diversity of species, but because of the sheer number of animals and how unafraid they are of humans. Sea lions lie in the middle of paths and benches that they have reserved for themselves, even throwing tourists’ belongings aside. It’s impertinent of tourists to think they can use them – probably thinks the sea lion.

Arriving in the provincial capital

We fly to San Cristóbal, a small provincial capital. The islands were discovered in 1535 and have belonged to Ecuador since 1832. Before that, they were a pirate stronghold, as the poor access to drinking water made the islands an unattractive place to live.

We spent a long time on the archipelago to make the most of the entrance fee. The Galapagos are expensive – unless you stay long enough. Entry to the national park is paid for directly at the airport, and thee doubled to 200 US dollars in 2024. It doesn’t matter how long you stay, but you must show proof of a return flight.

The small airport is ideal: after the strict controls (everything that goes in or out is checked), we walked five minutes to the village.

The main attraction is the cruises: small cruise ships that allow you to visit uninhabited and remote islands. However, these cost several thousand dollars for a week. This was beyond our budget, so we had to organise our own trip.

We rented a small holiday flat. It was all about switching off and enjoying ourselves. That worked quite well. Everything is within walking distance, the promenade is full of sea lions – which are a bit smelly, but it’s worth watching them play, dive, sleep and suckle.

A holiday routine: snorkelling and eating

We swim every day – even when it rains. We stay in basic AirBnBs and eat at the market: fresh fish, rice, vegetables, soup and lemonade for just 5 US dollars. We have rarely eaten so well. Over time, we also found our favourite restaurant – of course. We often reminisce about this food, as we do now in Colombia, where it’s slightly cheaper but not very good.

There are more tourists on the islands than we are used to, but it’s not overcrowded. And we quickly realise that an organised tours cost a small fortune. It’s easy to spend a lot of money here. But there isn’t actually that much more to see. The sea is like an aquarium everywhere, with sea lions, sea turtles, lobsters, tuna, iguanas, penguins, eagle rays, stingrays, sharks, octopuses and starfish, not to mention countless other species of fish. You can see all of these from the shore with just some diving goggles and snorkel. It’s indescribable.

What about sustainability?

The Galapagos Islands are also full of contradictions. While it presents itself as sustainable, there is hardly any investment in renewable energies. Solar panels would be very expensive (the locals say), so there are hardly any, but there is a diesel generator for electricity. The airport is an exception, as it has its own solar park.

Most vehicles run on petrol. Although some Chinese electric cars are already in use, the taxi drivers claim that they are inefficient. After a 70-kilometre round trip across the island, the battery is apparently half empty and a full tank lasts three days. Their explanation is that there are too many hills. Their calculations make no sense to us, but we soon understand why.

We treated ourselves to a short trip across the island, taking a taxi up the volcano and back down to a beach. The whole journey took four hours and covered less than 60 kilometres. We got out of the car several times to visit various places. The driver stayed in the car with the engine running at full speed for the entire journey.

It’s obvious that the battery would be empty if you left the car running for hours with the AC on.

Then there are the exorbitant prices. The island has a monopoly, which they maintain quite well through price agreements. A half-day excursion quickly costs 100 dollars, and the service is mediocre at best. The real luxury is on the cruise ships, which don’t cost much more if you’d take a tour every day.

Time is money

The sales strategies of the tour operators are interesting, too. They advertise lots of different animals, but you can actually see them too if you simply snorkel from the beach. All you need is time, but, as we all know, time is money.

As we had time, we visited three of the islands. San Cristóbal is full of sea lions that play with you in the water. We only briefly stayed in Santa Cruz, the tourist capital, where we watched baby reef sharks from the shore. We stayed on Isabela for 10 days and saw many animals right by our beach.

Nevertheless, we treat ourselves to one experience: diving with hammerhead sharks.

The dive is expensive, but impressive. Michael has done it twice, so it must be worth it. Before the dive, the dive guide scares everyone a little: strong currents and mistakes mean death. That sums it up.

The dive itself wasn’t that challenging afterwards. The strong swell kept rocking us back and forth, but everything went quite well. We saw eagle rays and swam with three-metre reef sharks and hammerhead sharks. They didn’t come too close, but they looked rather curious.

Then we swam through a shoal of mackerel. The fish stayed close together without touching us or each other, forming a kind of dark bubble. Suddenly, everything split apart as a shark swam through. It gets dark again, and the game starts all over — only this time, it’s a sea lion! It was spectacular and unforgettable.

For us, the Galapagos Islands were a break from travelling. We enjoyed the animals, the sea, and the delicious food. We were also glad that it didn’t rain every day and that we didn’t have to fix anything on the car. We put all of that off until afterwards.