The snake winds itself beautifully around the tree trunk. Another poses on a lush green leaf, with the Arenal Volcano in the background. Simply incredible, the perfect coincidence – or is it?

We have often wondered how it is that animals in photos always pose so beautifully – mind you, wild animals.

The answer? It’s sobering: the animals are placed exactly where people want them.

The methods behind the photo

With cold-blooded animals, there are particularly questionable methods: when they are chilled, they hardly move. There are even reports of limbs being suspended by threads. A famous photo of a frog riding a beetle was likely staged this way, as the two species are not active at the same time of day.

Bringing a jaguar into the right position in the wild is difficult – if not impossible. To give tourists a guaranteed sighting, providers resort to aids. Feeding stations are far more common than one might think.

We have also been offered a guaranteed sighting of a “wild” ocelot, or taken to a feeding site for tapirs; even the Orinoco crocodile is fed regularly so that it remains within the national reserve and isn’t killed outside its borders.

Feeding stations for birds are found almost everywhere: Bananas and sugar water are popular choices.

As long as tour operators can guarantee sightings, their income is secure. This leads to a dangerous set of expectations. Tourists want “wildlife photos”. In Costa Rica, the practice went so far that sloths, for example, were taken down from trees just for a “wildlife selfie”. The government launched an awareness campaign in 2019. Perhaps it helped. We didn’t experience anything of this sort ourselves, but we read about it.

With snakes, however, we witnessed a different side of the story.

The business of “perfect” nature

In Costa Rica, we came across a particularly negative practice: a photographer told us about providers who carry snakes around in boxes to position them in the perfect spot. We also came across a post on Facebook denouncing this exact practice.

And why? Simply to offer tourists the perfect picture. It would quite frankly be too exhausting to spend the night in the jungle without a guaranteed find – plus, you can’t see the volcano at night.

Unfortunately, this practice is quite widespread – even in countries like Costa Rica, where animal welfare is supposedly a high priority. What can then be expected from other countries that hardly care about it at all?

Looking back on 2025: a year full of adventures.

In 2025, we were on the road for the entire year. There were no quick flights back to Europe and no visits to see family – although that’s not entirely true, we visited Michael’s sister living in Costa Rica and his other sister came to visit us.

We experienced a great deal, mostly good. Nevertheless, there are moments when homesickness creeps in.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe we had the time to live all these things. The year went by so quickly. Here is a brief look back to remind ourselves of all the wonderful things we saw and experienced.

Peru

Things got off to a great start in Colombia with the world’s smallest monkeys, the pygmy marmosets. Then the itinerary included a drive through guerrilla territory for Cora’s birthday, followed by a few weeks helping out on a cocoa farm and searching for anacondas in the Llanos. During the search, we were surprised by an Orinoco crocodile coming our way.

We also went on a hippo safari on the Magdalena River – we couldn’t stop marvelling at it all. Afterwards, Michi did his dive instructor training. For once, we stayed in one place for an entire month and were able to do some repairs on the car, such as fixing our window. Only the Airbnb host was peculiar; we definitely don’t want to go back there.

Venezuela

Venezuela – our favourite! Finally, a real adventure! Right at the start, we were met by the secret service and asked into a white container for a three-hour interview. That wasn’t exactly great. But once we were allowed in the country, everything went like clockwork.

Maracaibo was like a journey back to the 1970s. The food and service were good—a blessing after Colombia. And the people were exceptionally kind – everyone. They invited us into their homes for barbecues and rum. They organised diesel whenever things didn’t go smoothly.

Only the amount of driving was exhausting. Unfortunately, our container ship to Panama departed from Colombia, so we had to do a round trip through the vastness of Venezuela. We sat in the car for hours and had the occasional row. However, prospecting for gold in the Wild South of Venezuela put everything right again.

The food was mediocre. The last day was lovely, though: we visited local weavers, walked through a colonial town, and bought cowboy boots for Michael. Finally, we went to the thermal baths to relax. One week was enough.

The road ends at the impenetrable jungle. It is impossible to get through by vehicle. The Pan-American Highway, the longest road in the world, simply ends in Colombia.

This is a fact that surprisingly many people are unaware of. The road, which connects the American continent over a distance of 30 000 kilometres, is an interrupted project.

106 kilometres separate the north and south, between Panama and Colombia. In between lies an impenetrable jungle that repeatedly makes headlines on migration and drugs.

A chaotic shipment

We have been in contact with Ana, our logistics coordinator, for weeks. Everything is organised and agreed via WhatsApp. It’s just a bit tedious because, as everywhere in Latin America, you have to ask several times about every detail. A document with the most important information? No chance. A contract with a list of costs? Wishful thinking. In the group chat, we only occasionally get a useful answer to our questions.

Ana is considered chaotic, but also reliable. We have no other choice anyway, because organising things directly with the authorities is even more tedious.

So we wait for information that always comes at the last minute, and then it has to be done quickly. One example is the power of attorney they need to complete customs formalities. This has to be certified by a notary and could easily be prepared in advance. But it arrives one day before the weekend, and everything has to be cleared through customs by Monday. Great.

But that works too. We drive the Landcruiser to the port, everything is clean and tidy, the gas bottle emptied in the park the night before. The tank is not quite on reserve.

We simply ignore a few of the rules. Let’s see if they check.

The car stays in the port overnight. They assure us that it is safe and that someone will keep an eye on it. Nevertheless, we prefer to leave our surveillance camera running. Then we have to wait until the police announce the date for the inspection. In our case, it takes two days.

The Darien Gap is not transitable by car. The road was never built due to the difficult terrain, and now economic and political interests as well as nature conservation are preventing its construction. It is possible to walk through the jungle, but there is no real path for pedestrians either. In addition to the dangers of disease and accidents, armed groups are also a huge problem. It is very dangerous for everyone.

You can also get to Panama by boat, but then you either have to cover the last stretch by plane or still hike through the jungle. We opt for the comfortable option: a flight from Cartagena to Panama.

Container shipping is expensive, especially for such a short distance. The price is so high because the entire procedure incurs standard costs, i.e. port and container fees as well as the transport itself. Around 4600 US dollars for two parties. And that’s still the cheapest option.

The route would actually be very suitable for a ferry, as the crossing takes less than 24 hours, since it is only about 540 kilometres. There used to be one, but it was uneconomical and was therefore discontinued.

Everything takes longer with the container ship. Ten days after loading the container we can pick up the car at the port of Colón on Panama’s Caribbean coast. On the journey, we have only two backpacks and the cash to pay the agent.

Here, too, we only receive confirmation the day before. Boris, the agent, will be waiting for us at the port of Colón. We take the bus from Panama City and get off at a petrol station. We meet him in the café, hand him our passports and vehicle documents, and he disappears with them. For us, it means waiting again.

Five hours later, he picks us up and says everything is ready. The containers are on the trailer in a muddy field. A ramp? No such thing. Instead, there is a tow truck.

How does the unloading work? You drive onto the tow truck, which moves forward a little, puts the ramp at a steep angle and lets the car roll down. This isn’t a problem for us, as our car has high ground clearance. For cars with lower ground clearance, however, it’s very, very tight. But in the end, they all land safely in the mud.

The customs officer comes by, checks the chassis numbers and gives the OK. We are handed all the papers, hand over the money, wave briefly, thank you. Quickly fill up with water, do some shopping and refuel, then it’s time to set off on our Central American adventure!

At seventy, Picopando is finally enjoying his retirement in his own pond – together with his partner. This is what the guide at Hato Masaguaral in Venezuela tells us. In front of us, a large, somewhat distorted, pointed snout, more reminiscent of a fossil than a living animal, rises out of the water. But suddenly the crocodile moves, hoisting itself heavily yet nimbly onto a mound of earth. It’s feeding time.

Only now does its size become apparent: this male weighs 380 kilograms. You can see its age, but we would never have guessed 70 years; it could just as easily be 700 years old.

An endangered species with a tiny population

Estimates suggest that there are only 250 to 1,500 individuals left in the wild. At Hato Masaguaral, a kind of ranch, young animals are bred, raised and later released into the wild. The eggs are incubated – with the ambient temperature determining whether females or males hatch from a clutch. The young are then cared for for about a year, because in their first year they are easy prey to other animals and few survive. Only when they weigh six kilograms are they allowed to discover the Llanos, their original habitat in the Orinoco River basin.

With a length of up to 6 metres, the Orinoco crocodile is one of the largest crocodile species in the world. We saw it live on a safari in the Colombian Llanos Orientales:

As we do often, we drove to a remote area, to Hato La Aurora. The ranch has a huge protected area where many different species can be seen: jaguars, tapirs, caimans, capybaras and anacondas. The latter were also the reason for our stay, although we ended up seeing them elsewhere.

But we went on the safari anyway. We set off in a small yellow open-top Toyota. We hoped to see the crocodile at some point, but we also knew that it was very unlikely. Our driver was not very talkative, but he stopped next to a pool without comment.

Suddenly, a five-metre-long, eight-year-old male swam elegantly towards us and plopped himself onto the bank. Michael looked at me in amazement and simply said that it didn’t look like a caiman. And it wasn’t: we were standing just a few metres away from an Orinoco crocodile. In the other pool, we saw the female, his former partner. When we asked, our driver told us that the male had escaped. They feed the animals from time to time to keep them there. They are not locked up, they could leave, but outside the reserve they are hunted. Besides, it’s good for business.

Humboldt saw millions, but today you have to search for them

There are several projects in Venezuela and Colombia aimed at ensuring the survival of this species. Every year, around 150 animals are released from Hato Masaguaral. But only a fraction of them survive long enough to reproduce. Shortly before our visit to Hato La Aurora in Colombia, they had released 50 young animals – we didn’t get to see any.

Historical reports, including those by Alexander von Humboldt, describe the banks of the Orinoco River as once infested with crocodiles. Today, their population has shrunk dramatically.

At the beginning of the 20th century, the population was estimated at three million animals. The animals were killed, but not systematically hunted. People were afraid because there were stories of killed specimens in which jewellery and human bones were found. Fishermen and washerwomen in particular were in danger of being killed by crocodiles. Then the fashion industry emerged and with it the demand for high-quality leather. And its decline began.

From 1930 to 1960, the population was decimated. The profession of caimanero, or caiman hunter, emerged and hunting operations were organised. The animals were hunted until not a single specimen could be found in the area. According to official figures, 790 tonnes of crocodile leather were exported in 1931. Some scientists estimate that 2.5 million crocodiles died in the early years.

Today, the animal is threatened with extinction and strictly protected. There are hardly any documented cases of smuggling, but in poverty-stricken Venezuela, crocodiles and their eggs are occasionally used as a source of food. Or they are killed out of fear. However, there are so few specimens that they are hardly ever seen outside protected areas.

Where hippos became American

We are sitting in a small boat in the middle of a huge river. The heat is stifling, there is not a breath of wind. The afternoon sun is merciless, and we seek shelter as best we can in the sparse shade of the trees near the bank. This is how we imagine a safari in Africa. But actually, we are somewhere else entirely.

The heat should be perfect for observing these animals. On the first day, however, luck is not on our side. Not a single pachyderm appears. ‘Huh, aren’t you in South America?’ you may ask. Yes, that’s right, and this text is based on true events. No, we’re not at the zoo either. We’re on a hippo safari on the Magdalena River in Colombia.

Free roaming hippos in America?

We contact Yamit from Tortugario. He is one of the few who sensed a business opportunity and we book a hippo safari in Colombia with him.

The village of Estación Cocorná is located on a tributary of the Río Magdalena. It once had a railway station that connected the agricultural region with Medellín. The area was dominated by Escobar and the people were not doing too badly. They worked in agriculture and livestock farming as well as coca cultivation, and Escobar paid for the school supplies of the local children. It was just better to keep quiet.

Yamit’s family lived with this reality and adapted; but they were still a little different. The mother followed an education in biology and environmental protection. One day, while travelling on the river, they noticed that there were almost no turtles. Their eggs were stolen by poachers and their meat was considered a delicacy. So she decided to save the turtles. Her project envisaged a breeding and protection station: the Tortugario in Estación Cocorná.

More than ten years later, it has been a complete success. The turtles are back. We have seen them swimming in large numbers along the shore. But species conservation alone does not bring in any money. So, the family has set up a tour company and offers river trips along the Río Cocorná down to the Magdalena River. Exactly at the point where the two rivers meet a small hippo colony has also settled.

Coliving in the area

On the second day, we are lucky. In the morning, we drive to the vicinity of Hacienda Nápoles. There are small lagoons outside. At one of them, the landowner has a small shop and, in exchange for a Coke, he lets us visit the hippos. There are four: three adults and a baby. They lie in the pond and don’t let themselves be disturbed. That’s just as well, because there are few trees nearby where we could have sought refuge. And hippos are fast and dangerous – at least in Africa. In Colombia, Yamit claims, they have not yet killed anyone, but there are repeated attacks on humans.

In the afternoon, we decide to go down the river again. Again, a long wait. The sun is about to set. The light refracts in the water, which looks beautiful.

There, we see a hippopotamus! It keeps popping up briefly at the surface and then diving back down into the murky water. It seems curious, or maybe it wants to defend its territory. It keeps turning towards us and then diving abruptly. Yamit pulls on the gas and drives off – you never know if it’s planning an underwater attack. The locals nearby don’t seem impressed at all. Without batting an eyelid, they drive onto the beach and collect sand. The hippo must be somewhere under their boat, but it leaves them alone. Hats off, I wouldn’t have that kind of courage!

A little further up the river, we discover a second specimen. It is slowly getting dark, but we enjoy the sight. We keep a safe distance in the boat with the engine running because this hippo keeps jumping out of the water and we are clearly in its territory.

Projects worth the journey: between threats and hope in the Putumayo region of Colombia

We leave Ecuador – a country full of inspiring projects and definitely one of the most impressive on our journey through South America.

In Colombia, we venture across one of the border crossings that are considered ‘dangerous’ into the Putumayo region.

We don’t want to minimise the danger – it exists. Right at the border crossing, a policeman asks us if we don’t want to help him. He is standing in the rain and a little money for a drink would be welcome. We kindly say no – and he lets us into the country anyway. Welcome to Colombia, we think.

Caution and prejudice

There are hardly any other sources of income. Cattle farming, the timber industry and oil production drive the economy – and at the same time the destruction. The jungle hardly stands a chance.

In addition, there is drug trafficking and organised crime. This border area is a central gateway in the cocaine trade to Ecuador – and from there to the big, wide world.

The guerrillas held sway here for a long time. Despite the peace agreement, they have never completely disappeared. Although there are initial attempts to build a tourism network, the movement in the region, and in the country as a whole, is currently heading in the wrong direction: more fighting, more violence, more drugs.

In general, Colombia is changing again – unfortunately for the worse.

That’s what the roads in South America are like. There are huge differences and conditions often change with the seasons. But on the whole, the countries are passable with any type of vehicle. You just have to choose your routes accordingly.

Motorways and toll roads

The main roads are paved and there are usually good motorways. You will make good progress, especially around the big cities. You usually pay a toll, depending on the country, a few cents as in Bolivia (although their tariffs were very opaque) or always a dollar as in Ecuador.

Tolls are usually charged on the motorways, but they’re in good condition. Only the speed bumps used to limit speed are a major hazard. Most local drivers, even those with the best off-road vehicles, brake very hard just before them, so you run the risk of hitting them from behind – it pays to keep your distance. And don’t forget that you have to expect everything on a motorway: walkers, cyclists, horse riders, cows, llamas, simply everything.

Mud and potholes

Country roads are different, they may have just been resurfaced or they may be full of potholes. The mountain roads are always a surprise – even if they’re supposed to be national roads, don’t expect to drive faster than 50km/h.

The smaller roads can have potholes and you have to be prepared for anything. But this is true everywhere. That’s where a high-riding car comes in handy. It doesn’t have to be a 4×4, but a two-wheel drive without a lift is definitely limited. And above all, every pothole (and there are many) becomes a major bump in the road.

Then there are the unsealed roads: some are brilliant, others almost impassable. This mainly depends on when they were last maintained and whether it is the rainy season. This means that conditions can change within months or from one day to the next.

The mountains slide, and there are places that are known for this. After a slide there is not much left of the original road and you can forget about getting through. However, the local bus drivers usually know what the situation is like. It helps to ask or just turn around when the road ends.

Is 4×4 compulsory?

Most routes can be done without 4×4; though if it’s very muddy or steep we’re happy to have it, but there are often alternative routes that are easier.

In our experience, your own driving ability is more important than whether you have 2WD or 4WD. Some drivers get further with their 2WD than any other driver of an off-road vehicle. So it’s worth investing in a good off-road driving course before you start your travels, as you’ll also get to know the car better.

We got stuck three times

We only got stuck three times: once because it had rained so much overnight that we couldn’t drive on the muddy country roads. We had to wait a day for it to dry. The other time it was also raining and we were going up a stretch where there wasn’t really a road – but we wanted to get to that bridge. Once we had deflated the tyres and put our recovery boards in place, we got out. Another time the road was completely washed away and we had to wait until another road was built. Luckily we were never in danger.

In Bolivia, we were stuck for a while because of protests and road closures, but we got to meet a lot of the locals in the town. In Argentina we had to turn back 200 km because we couldn’t cross the river – too much water.

So actually RAIN is the deciding factor. When it rains, you often have to wait for it to stop and the road to dry out a bit or find another route.

Road works and schedules

Roadworks are an often forgotten detail. Here, unlike in Europe, they like to close the road completely, without providing a diversion and without being able to keep traffic flowing in one lane. Then the road is closed either for the whole day – as happened in Ecuador from 9am to 6pm. Or by the hour, like in Peru when we went to Machu Picchu. That means they work for 2 hours and then take an hour break to let the cars through.

The many signs with the schedule would be great – if they kept to the time on them. Sometimes they work an extra hour – or two – or they don’t work at all, in which case ‘lucky you’. As a reminder, schedules in South America are only a guide and are never binding.

As I’m writing this, I’m waiting in line again. They need to fix a pipe and everything has stopped. All day long, from 9am to 6pm. Even though only one excavator is working. But they had already announced it at the crossroads. Two women stood there with a handwritten cardboard sign – just like the ones you draw in primary school. They told us that the roadworks had been announced on the Ministry’s website a week ago, but no one had thought to put up a sign.

We just laughed and knew that we’d be waiting for 4 hours (until 6pm) or 6 hours anyway. The detour takes twelve hours and is 300 kilometres longer.

We soon leave the land of the Incas behind us. Their culture was our constant companion – from Argentina to Colombia, we stumbled across Inca stones.

But before we say goodbye to this empire, let’s look back at what this advanced civilisation meant for the region. And why we learn so little about it in school in Europe – except that it was great, built Machu Picchu and had a lot of gold.

Tawantinsuyu – The land of four parts

The name ‘Inca’ often stands for an entire people. In fact, the Incas were originally a small tribe in the neighbourhood of Cusco, that believed they descended from the sun god Inti. However, within just 100 years – roughly between 1438 and 1533 – they created the largest contiguous empire that ever existed on the American continent: Tawantinsuyu.

This ‘land of four parts’ stretched from what is now the southern border of Colombia to Chile and Argentina. The empire covered over 2 million square kilometres. It was characterised by a multitude of indigenous peoples, languages and landscapes – connected by a central administrative system and a gigantic road network.

They conquered areas where other impressive peoples lived, who are even less well known in Europe. The Chachapoyas in northern Peru adopted the quadrangular architectural style of the Incas, the Uros fled from the Incas to their reed islands on Lake Titicaca and in Samaipata they took over a sacred stone. The course of expansion was immense – until the Spanish conquered the entire area.

A road network that still exists today

One of the most impressive legacies of the Incas is the Qhapaq Ñan, the Royal Road System. It is estimated that it comprised more than 40 000 kilometres of roads that meandered through the Andes, along the coasts and into the jungle. Many of these roads are still passable today, some are still used by locals, others are hidden and forgotten next to modern roads.

We also came across Inca trails ourselves – in search of snakes in the cloud forest in Ecuador, we travelled through deep gorges, known as chaquiñán, which were created by centuries of walking. Of course, the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu is one of them. Although we didn’t walk it. Instead, we marvelled at the extremely precise architecture of the Incas in Pisac.

Unity through administration, not language

The empire was multicultural, but the Incas created a unified administration that held the empire together. In contrast to Europe, they knew no money, so no taxes were levied. However, the people had to perform hard collective labour. Especially the peasants, as the nobility and clergy had privileges. Nevertheless, they were well organised and distributed their goods and services throughout the empire so that disasters could be relieved and everyone was fed.

Quechua was made the administration’s language, although it was not spoken by everyone. However, it was so widespread that Quechua is still spoken today in many parts of the Andean region – not only is it an official language in many countries, but the number of speakers is even increasing.

The fact that an empire of this size and efficiency could exist without writing is a remarkable aspect – and could be one reason why the Inca Empire is often only dealt with superficially in European history lessons. The first written sources come from the conquistadors. Without written sources of their own, without chronicles from the perspective of the Incas themselves, much has only been preserved from Spanish reports – often distorted and incomplete.

The focus in European history lessons is on the fall of the Inca Empire, as the Europeans left their traces behind up until today, and not its rise.

A legacy that remains

On our journey through South America, the presence of the Incas was not always obvious – but it was constant. We continually learnt more about what ‘Inca’ actually means. We drove through the valley of the Incas’ last resistance, we walked along an old Inca trail, and we constantly saw the agricultural terraces that are still being cultivated 500 years later.

What remains is the impression of an empire that has not simply disappeared. It was defeated, yes – but it never completely dissolved. It lives on in the language, the paths, the architecture and the people.

The Inca Empire was more than Machu Picchu and gold. It was a complex and well-organised network in a huge region. For us, it was an immersion into the living history of a culture that seemed conquered and forgotten, but which still strongly characterises everyday life.