May 2017: To celebrate my 40th birthday, I flew to Medellín, Colombia, with a few close friends—Johnny, Jimmie, Dan, and Frank. This was my second visit to Colombia– Colombian Cocaine Labs, Indians and Hiking to the Paramilitary Controlled Lost City of Tayrona | Venture The Planet but my first time in Medellín.
Beyond experiencing the city, I had another goal: to visit Los Llanos, a vast, wildlife-rich wetland known for having the highest density of anacondas in the world. Seeing an anaconda in the wild had long been a dream of mine, and if I could spot one on my 40th birthday, it would be the ultimate gift.
Los Llanos of Colombia
Los Llanos
Until recently, Los Llanos in Colombia was too dangerous to visit due to the presence of FARC guerrillas. Evidence of the region’s violent past was still visible—during our trip, farmers at a ranch showed us bullet holes left behind from past conflicts.
Los Llanos is a vast tropical grassland and swamp, forming the floodplains of the Orinoco River, one of South America’s largest rivers. It stretches across eastern Colombia and western Venezuela, ranking among the largest wetlands in the world, rivaling even the Pantanal in Brazil in terms of biodiversity. Herds of capybaras, deer, anteaters, caimans, and an endless variety of bird species roam its landscapes. Jaguars prowl the more remote areas. But what truly fascinated me was the anaconda.
Los Llanos is home to the highest density of anacondas in the world, with some areas containing one every few square meters. As the world’s largest snake, anacondas can grow to hundreds of pounds and over 20 feet long—massive, powerful creatures that I had long dreamed of seeing in the wild.
The only problem? I was visiting in May, still part of the rainy season. Water levels were high, making wildlife more difficult to spot. Anacondas, which prefer to conceal themselves in water, had plenty of places to hide—making my search for them far more challenging.
To reach Los Llanos, Jimmie and I flew from Medellín to Yopal. (The rest of our group had no interest in hunting for anacondas and stayed behind in the city.) In Yopal, we met our driver, who took us to Hato la Aurora, a traditional cattle ranch turned eco-lodge deep in the Llanos.
Unlike national parks, most of Los Llanos is privately owned by cattle ranchers, yet surprisingly, wildlife and livestock coexist harmoniously. Many ranch owners have embraced eco-tourism as an additional source of income, allowing visitors to experience the region’s extraordinary biodiversity firsthand.
The drive to the ranch took 4-5 hours, crossing through swamps, muddy trails, and even dodging crocodiles that had taken up residence in the middle of the road. By the time we arrived at night, we were greeted with live guitar music, dancing, and flowing rum. A few Colombian tourists were also staying at the ranch, and Jimmie and I joined them—dancing to Colombian country music, drinking rum, and embracing the wild spirit of Los Llanos on our very first night.
The wildlife, as expected, did not disappoint.
Common cattle in Los Llanos
Los Llanos Rancher
Semi-Wild Horses
Semi-Wild Horses
Horseback Riding
One of the highlights of Los Llanos was horseback riding—a deeply ironic experience for me. The last time I rode a horse was in Colombia in 2006, and after my near-death experience in Tayrona National Park, I had sworn off horses forever. Yet, here I was again, back in Colombia, riding through the flooded grasslands of Los Llanos.
The water reached up to the horses’ knees in some areas, and on occasion, my horse would get spooked, suddenly bolting in fear—sending a wave of regret through me for having decided to mount another horse. However, unlike my runaway horse in Tayrona, this one actually listened to my commands, stopping when I pulled the reins instead of launching me into a full-speed jungle sprint. Small victories.
Jimmie and I, along with our local rancher guide, spent most of the day on horseback, winding through the swamps, open grasslands, and rivers, stopping along the way to observe wildlife and enjoy a well-earned lunch in the heart of this vast, untamed wilderness.
Me Horseback riding
Wildlife
Wildlife was everywhere in Los Llanos, and the experience reminded me of being on safari in East Africa. The vast swamps and grasslands teemed with life, making every moment an opportunity to spot something new.
Herds of capybaras—the world’s largest rodents—gathered in the wetlands, lounging in the mud or grazing along the water’s edge. Small caiman crocodiles lurked nearby, their eyes just above the surface, waiting patiently for prey. Iguanas were everywhere, some perched high in the treetops, and as we approached, they would launch themselves from branches, plunging 20 to 30 feet into the water below with an impressive splash.
We even had the chance to feed caiman crocodiles by hand, offering them small bits of fish meat, while the capybaras allowed us to get within just a few feet before suddenly bolting for cover into the swamp.
One of the most memorable sightings was a pair of burrowing owls, their piercing yellow eyes watching us from the grasslands. But the real highlight was spotting a small anteater, its hooked forelimbs perfectly adapted for tearing into ant nests. Watching it methodically dig and forage, completely undisturbed by our presence, was a rare and fascinating encounter—one of many that made Los Llanos such an unforgettable place.
Los Llanos-capberbera herd
Anaconda Tracking
The ranchers assured us that anacondas were plentiful, even showing us photographs of their captures—typically five or six men standing side by side, holding up an enormous snake stretched across their shoulders. However, the rainy season posed a challenge. With high water levels, most anacondas remained concealed beneath the surface, making them nearly impossible to spot.
Determined to find one, a local rancher led Jimmie and me into the swamps, where we waded through knee-deep water, armed with rubber boots and wooden sticks. With each step, we probed the water ahead, hoping to disturb an anaconda into moving so we could catch it.
Jimmie, however, was less enthusiastic about the plan. “I’m not exactly a fan of snakes,” he admitted—a fact that became even more evident when, after hours of searching, we came up empty-handed. The closest we got was when I unknowingly stepped on a four-foot caiman. It lunged upward, thrashing against my stick in a mutual moment of panic that startled us both.
Then, on one fateful morning, one of the Colombian tourists casually mentioned over breakfast that he had seen a massive anaconda the previous morning, sunning itself on the shore of a nearby swamp.
I raced to the swamp, but by the time I arrived, the anaconda was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, one of the ranchers was determined to help. He climbed high into a tree that hung over the swamp and, from his lofty vantage point, spotted it—a colossal anaconda, possibly 15 feet long, coiled on a muddy patch inside the swamp.
I scrambled up the tree limb after him, leaving my camera behind—there was no way I could navigate the branches while carrying it. Perched beside the rancher, I peered down. And there it was—the giant snake I’d been searching for. Its thick coils lay half-submerged in the mud, its reptilian eyes fixed on us, watching with an ancient, dinosaur-like intensity.
I borrowed the rancher’s binoculars for a closer look, ignoring the fire ants biting my legs and the thorns digging into my skin. At that moment, my sunglasses slipped off my head, tumbling straight into the swamp below, nearly landing on the anaconda itself.
Unbothered, the massive snake allowed us to observe it for a few minutes, then slowly slithered away, disappearing into the dark, murky depths of the swamp.
I had come to Los Llanos in search of an anaconda, and I had found one—a moment I would never forget. But without my camera, I left with only the memory, not the photo I had hoped for.
Los Llanos-capybera herd
Los Llanos-caiman crocodile
Los Llanos-anteater
Attacked by a Deer
There were plenty of wild deer roaming Los Llanos, but one morning, while exploring the ranch, I stumbled upon a fenced enclosure with a warning sign on the gate that read:
“Cuidado.”
The gate was slightly open, and from where I stood, I could see nothing but tall grass inside—no sign of any animals. My curiosity got the best of me, and I stepped inside to investigate.
A few feet in, I noticed a pair of small, friendly female deer approaching, their heads lowered in a submissive, almost tame manner. They seemed harmless, so I instinctively reached out and patted the tops of their heads.
That’s when, like a velociraptor ambush, something moved behind me.
I turned and froze.
A small buck had materialized from the tall grass, blocking the exit.
What he lacked in size, he more than made up for in antler mass. His antlers were absurdly enormous—almost as tall as he was—and razor-sharp.
That’s when it dawned on me:
The warning sign was there for a reason.
I had unknowingly wandered into a deer breeding enclosure, where local farmers were raising rare deer to help repopulate wild herds. And I had just walked into the territory of a fiercely protective and territorial buck—who was not at all pleased that I had been petting his females.
With zero hesitation, the buck lowered his antlers and attacked, goring me in the leg, puncturing my skin, and drawing blood.
Suddenly, I realized—if I didn’t act fast, this little psycho was going to disembowel me.
I grabbed his antlers, using all my strength to keep him from stabbing me again. I was stronger, but he was furious, thrashing violently, trying to drive his dagger-like points into me.
Still gripping his antlers, I pivoted him around, forcing him away from the exit just enough for me to lunge toward the gate and escape.
Even after I got out, the furious little buck kept charging the fence, trying to get at me.
Later, when I told the rancher where I had been, he shook his head and simply muttered:
“Muy peligroso.”
(“Very dangerous.”)
Los Llanos Deer
Los Llanos capybera
Los Llanos capybera
My Frog Friend in my shower
Iguana
Cabybera
Tropical Hawk
Borrowing owls
Los Llanos Swampswith a wealth of wildlife,capyberas, caimans and colorful birds
Medellin and Its Pablo Escobar History
The city of Medellín sprawls across a mountain valley and the ridges surrounding it, making it one of the most beautiful urban landscapes in Central Colombia. However, its dark past—dominated by drug violence and crime in the 1970s and 80s—was anything but beautiful.
At the heart of this history was the Medellín Cartel, led by Pablo Escobar. At the peak of his empire in the 1980s, Escobar was one of the richest men in the world, possibly the wealthiest criminal in history. My interest in visiting Medellín was sparked after watching Netflix’s Narcos—the gripping series detailing Escobar’s ruthless rise and fall in his drug war against the Colombian government and the U.S. DEA.
To win the loyalty of the poor masses living in Medellín’s barrios, Escobar built houses, schools, and donated millions of dollars. Even decades after his death, many people in these neighborhoods still revere him, viewing him as a Robin Hood-like figure. In return for his aid, the residents of the barrios worked for him, served as lookouts, and remained fiercely loyal to the Medellín Cartel.
But like all powerful figures, Escobar went too far. His greed and violence spiraled out of control. He was responsible for the deaths of thousands—police officers, government officials, rival cartel members, and anyone he perceived as a threat. Innocent bystanders were often caught in the crossfire. He bombed a courthouse, ordered the assassinations of politicians and judges, and even blew up a commercial airliner full of civilians.
Eventually, Escobar lost his war against the DEA and the Colombian government. While on the run in Medellín, he was tracked down and shot dead on a rooftop. His grave, adorned with roses and offerings, has become a pilgrimage site for those who still admire him.
To explore this infamous history, I arranged a private tour with a local guide well-versed in Escobar’s past. My friends and I piled into a minivan, and our guide took us on a tour through Medellín’s most notorious cartel locations—including the sites of legendary shootouts, abandoned buildings once used as cartel hideouts, a prison where rivals were tortured and executed, the house where Escobar was killed, and even the barrio he built for the poor.
It was a fascinating yet chilling journey, seeing firsthand the remnants of one of the most violent eras in Colombia’s history.
Medellin City sitting in the mountain valley
Barrio that Pablo helped to build and finance
Barrio that Pablo helped to build-grafitii praising pablo
Grave of Pablo Escobar
Meeting the Brother of Pablo Escobar-Roberto Escobar
As a bonus stop on our tour, I managed to make contact with Pablo Escobar’s brother, Roberto, also known as “Osito” (Little Bear)—the accountant and co-founder of the Medellín Cartel.
Before I left for Los Llanos, I had one last night in Medellín, where a hotel manager casually mentioned that he knew a guide who had connections to Roberto. Intrigued, I asked if he could arrange a visit. It took a few days for Roberto to agree, but eventually, we secured a meeting. The final stop of our tour would be one of Roberto’s houses, which he had converted into a small museum dedicated to Pablo.
In exchange for his time, Roberto requested a $20 donation per person to a Colombian organization for the blind—a cause personal to him. Years ago, while imprisoned, he was nearly killed by a letter bomb, sent by the Cali Cartel. The explosion destroyed most of his vision, leaving him partially blind.
When we arrived at Roberto’s house, he was waiting for us, flanked by a small entourage of armed men. He claimed that he still had enemies, pointing to bullet holes in the walls from a recent assassination attempt. Whether the attack came from rival cartels settling old scores or petty gangs believing he still had access to hidden Medellín Cartel millions was unknown. Many speculate that as the cartel’s accountant, he knows where the money is—a mystery that continues to fuel speculation and greed.
Meeting Roberto was a strange, unsettling experience. He was distant and cold, his demeanor completely devoid of warmth. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy, and we were careful to avoid asking anything that might offend him. This was a man who had publicly threatened the producers of Narcos, claiming they misrepresented his brother—and, perhaps even more offensively to him, never shared any of the show’s profits with him.
Despite his stone-cold presence, he posed for photos with us in front of his old wanted poster, standing tall, proud of his criminal past, with no signs of regret. At one point, I asked him if he had any regrets at all. His response was immediate:
“Absolutely not.”
For a brief moment, his hardened, dull eyes sparked with excitement as he reminisced about his cartel days. He spoke of the power and thrill of that life, spinning stories that painted his past as an adventure rather than a reign of terror.
He also spoke highly of Pablo, insisting that his brother only did good for Medellín and had been slandered by the government.
As our meeting ended, I tried to thank him for his time, but his hearing had deteriorated, and he misunderstood me. Turning to our guide, he snapped in Spanish:
“What the fuck did this gringo just say to me?”
It was the perfect, bizarre ending to a visit that was equal parts historical, surreal, and deeply unsettling.
Pablo’s car with bullet proof windows and bullet holes in it
Pablos jet ski
Roberto escobar-Pablo Escobar’s Brother
Me and Pablo’s Brother, Roberto Escobar on my 40th Birthday