Madagascar isn’t one destination—it’s many. Over the next few posts, we’ll take you from the spiny forests of the south to the rainforests of the east, ending on the idyllic islands of the north. But first…the lemurs.
If Madagascar has celebrities, they’re lemurs.
We came hoping to see a few.
We left having seen more species than we could remember, hiked through forests chasing them, and developed a newfound appreciation for trackers who can somehow spot a furry animal perched 100 feet above us in the trees.
Madagascar is home to more than 100 species of lemurs, nearly all found nowhere else on Earth. During two unforgettable weeks, we met an astonishing variety—each with its own personality, quirks, and remarkable survival skills.
Lots and Lots of Lemurs
Every species seemed to have its own personality.
Ring-tailed Lemurs
The Ring-tailed Lemurs have tails with 14 black rings. (Once in a while, there’s one with only 13 rings, but he’s an anomaly.)
Those spectacular tails aren’t just for show. They use them to communicate.
“Let’s move.”
“Back off.”
“Something’s not right.”
In other words, they invented a messaging system long before humans.
Ed could have spent the entire day photographing his new friends.
One chilly morning we found them piled together in what looked like one giant family hug. We were more than a little jealous.
Sifakas
The white and golden sifakas are affectionately known as “Dancing Lemurs.”
The nickname makes perfect sense once you see them move.
Unlike most animals, sifakas maintain an upright posture and hop sideways across branches using their powerful hind legs.
Imagine a ballet dancer, a kangaroo, and a toddler on a sugar high. That’s a sifaka. This one even performed with a common brown lemur.
Indris
And then there was the Indri, the largest living lemur.
Since they stayed high in the canopy—and the lighting wasn’t exactly cooperative—we never captured the photos or video we wanted. So we’re including this portrait from a research site.
Source: www.thegreatprojects.com
The Indri has one of the most unforgettable voices in the animal kingdom. Fortunately, we did capture their sound. Click below and imagine standing in the rainforest when this suddenly echoes through the trees.
Not Exactly a Walk in the Park
Finding lemurs isn’t always easy.
National parks may have trails, but the lemurs generally prefer locations nowhere near those trails.
Naturally.
The trackers would disappear into the forest while Ed and I waited.
A few minutes later we’d hear a whistle or see a hand signal.
That was our cue to follow.
The trackers made it look effortless.
Five minutes later, we were sweating. We found ourselves ducking under branches, stepping over roots, and scrambling through dense vegetation while attempting to maintain some degree of dignity.
The lemurs, meanwhile, effortlessly bounded through the treetops overhead.
Show-offs.
Lemur Island
We also visited Lemur Island, a sanctuary for rescued lemurs that had previously been kept as pets or trafficked. Although the project has a conservation component, the experience is clearly designed with tourists in mind. Some visitors hand-feed the animals, something we chose to skip. After tracking lemurs through the rainforest, seeing them in the wild felt far more rewarding than posing for close-up photos.
Things That Shine in the Night
Some of our most memorable wildlife encounters happened after dark.
Night walks revealed an entirely different cast of characters, including the tiny mouse lemurs.
… and countless other nocturnal creatures that seemed perfectly happy to let us stumble around in the dark.
We also learned that scientists are still discovering new species of mouse lemurs. In fact, researchers from Duke University identified a new species as recently as 2020.
Imagine discovering a new primate species in the 21st century.
Madagascar continues to surprise scientists—and visitors.
Why Madagascar Is So Special
Madagascar broke away from mainland Africa about 160 million years ago.
It’s as if evolution got stranded on an island and decided to experiment.
More than 90% of the island’s wildlife exists nowhere else on Earth.
And as much as we loved the lemurs, they turned out to be only the beginning. Madagascar’s bizarre plants, towering baobabs, colorful chameleons, and welcoming people deserve stories of their own.
And then there are places like Gorongosa National Park that make you glad that one person really can change the world.
Gorongosa has experienced quite a journey over the last 80 years. In the 1940s, 50s, and 60s, it was considered one of Africa’s premier wildlife destinations. Then came the Mozambique Civil War, which lasted nearly 20 years and devastated both the park and the surrounding communities. Wildlife populations collapsed, infrastructure disappeared, and many local families struggled simply to survive.
Today, Gorongosa is one of Africa’s great conservation success stories.
More than 300,000 people now live in the “buffer zone” surrounding the park. Twenty years ago many families lived in extreme poverty. Today there are schools, healthcare clinics, clean water systems, economic opportunities, and over 100 free preschools serving local children.
The wildlife has made an equally remarkable comeback. Scientists have documented hundreds of species of plants and animals, and the park is once again teeming with life.
The driving force behind much of this transformation is Greg Carr, an Idaho native who made his fortune as a young entrepreneur by helping pioneer voicemail technology and investing in Prodigy long before the internet became part of daily life.
Rather than retiring to a yacht somewhere, Greg chose a different adventure.
Twenty years ago he established the Carr Foundation and partnered with the Government of Mozambique to restore Gorongosa. Recently, he committed to another twenty years of support.
The results are extraordinary.
Becoming Gorongosa Groupies
Ed and I have been unofficial Greg Carr groupies since 2015.
That year we attended a presentation at the Community Library in Ketchum, Idaho. Local filmmaker Bob Poole had created a National Geographic documentary about Gorongosa’s transformation. It aired on PBS and both Bob and Greg came to discuss the project.
We left the presentation inspired—and determined to visit someday.
As it turned out, “someday” took a while.
We planned trips in both 2020 and 2025. One was cancelled by Covid. The other was cancelled by political unrest.
Apparently Gorongosa wanted us to prove our commitment.
Finally, in June 2026, we made it.
And it was worth every delay.
Glamping, Safari Style
We visited Gorongosa with our friends Grace Harvey and John Bailey from Sun Valley and spent our first three days at Chicari Camp, the park’s luxury wilderness safari lodge.
This was technically camping.
The kind of camping where someone else makes your bed, serves gourmet meals, and brings you coffee.
The best kind of camping.
Each day we explored the park in an open-air jeep driven by our guide, Agness.
Agness is a 29-year-old dynamo from Malawi who speaks English and Portuguese and seems to know absolutely everything about Gorongosa. She could spot wildlife hidden hundreds of yards away while the rest of us were still trying to locate it after she pointed directly at it.
“Over there!”
“Where?”
“Next to the tree.”
“What tree?”
“The big tree.”
“There are 500 trees.”
Meanwhile, Agness had already identified the species, gender, approximate age, and likely mood of the animal.
She introduced us to baboons, elephants, impalas, warthogs, and countless other species.
Following the civil war, scientists supported by the Carr Foundation carefully studied which species had disappeared and developed a long-term plan to reintroduce animals from neighboring countries.
The strategy has worked.
Elephants now roam the park in large family groups. We learned that some can still be aggressive because generations of elephants experienced intense hunting pressure during the war.
Fortunately, our elephants seemed content to ignore us.
Mostly.
At one point we heard a very loud trumpet blast from somewhere behind our vehicle. Agness immediately accelerated while the four of us suddenly became very interested in moving quickly in the opposite direction.
Thankfully, we never saw what was making the noise. Sometimes ignorance is comforting. We were content at viewing these magnificent creatures from a distance.
Love was clearly in the air. We witnessed a private moment for two lions and two nyalas, both of whom seemed focused on helping Gorongosa’s wildlife recovery one baby at a time.
The most successful comeback story may be the waterbuck, which now seem to be everywhere.
Our Favorite Animal
Without question, our favorite animal was the endangered pangolin.
If you’ve never seen a pangolin, imagine that an armadillo and a pine cone somehow had a baby.
They are among the most trafficked mammals in the world and are carefully protected in Gorongosa.
We visited a special conservation program where pangolins are monitored and cared for while still being allowed to forage naturally.
The pangolins spend several hours each day searching for ants and termites.
They also appeared perfectly content being carried around in what looked remarkably like a baby sling.
It was hard not to fall in love with them.
Sun and Moon … Together!
During one magical sundowner, we witnessed the sun setting in the west while the moon quietly rose in the east. It was one of those rare moments that makes you stop talking and simply soak it all in.
A Visit to a Village
One day we crossed a river in a traditional boat to visit a nearby village.
The village preschool was one of the highlights of our trip.
More than 100 preschoolers were outside playing games, laughing, and preparing for snack time.
Within minutes we found ourselves playing soccer, jump rope, and hopscotch.
The children were far better at all three activities than we were.
Inside the classroom, colorful learning materials filled the ceiling and walls.
Our favorite lesson?
“P is for Pangolin.”
Not many American preschools can say that.
We were also delighted to see banners highlighting women pilots, judges, doctors, and other professionals.
The future looks bright for these students.
Snack that day consisted of porridge fortified with moringa and peanut butter. Nutritious meals are a major incentive for parents to send children to school, and attendance rates have increased dramatically as a result.
At the local health clinic we met a woman who had given birth just the night before. Mother and baby were doing well, while other women arrived for prenatal care and well-baby visits.
The village also had access to clean water through several boreholes.
A simple thing.
A life-changing thing.
Education Changes Everything
Education (especially for girls and women) is one of the pillars of the Carr Foundation’s work.
We met several students who had received scholarships to study abroad, including Gabi, a Boise State graduate who now oversees the preschool program in Gorongosa.
Agness mentors young women who are rising in the ranks at the park.
We also met a team of professors from Boise State who are developing a study-abroad program in Mozambique.
It’s amazing how often Boise State appears in conversations nearly 10,000 miles from Idaho.
Science in the Bush
One of the surprises of our visit was Gorongosa’s E.O. Wilson Science Center.
Nestled in the middle of rural Mozambique is a sophisticated research facility equipped with advanced scientific equipment including DNA analysis tools, high-performance liquid chromatography systems, scientific freezers, and specialized laboratory equipment.
Scientists can collect specimens in the morning and begin analyzing them the same afternoon.
During our visit, researchers from Poland were studying micro-vertebrates, while graduate students from the region were pursuing advanced degrees.
The late Harvard biologist E.O. Wilson was instrumental in promoting biodiversity research in Gorongosa, and his influence remains evident throughout the center, including in the lab where they store specimens of the biodiversity of the park.
We learned that Greg Carr has achieved a level of conservation fame that most of us can only dream about: scientists named a species after him. Gorongosa carri, a cricket-like katydid found on Mount Gorongosa, now permanently carries his name. Most people are lucky to get a park bench dedicated in their honor. Greg got a bug.
A Hospital on the Horizon
As if all of this weren’t enough, Gorongosa recently announced plans to partner with the University of Pittsburgh to build a state-of-the-art hospital serving the region.
Greg is currently assembling support from major donors, and construction is expected to begin soon.
The impact on healthcare throughout the region could be transformative.
Our Small Attempt to Give Back
As a tiny contribution to all that Gorongosa has given others, we conducted a Design Thinking workshop for fourteen community development managers from the park.
Jan presented the Stanford Design Thinking curriculum while Jacob, a park employee, simultaneously translated into Portuguese.
Ed handled technology support, answered questions, and occasionally rescued the PowerPoint presentation.
The participants were enthusiastic, engaged, and full of ideas.
We plan to translate the materials into Portuguese so they can continue using them with their teams.
It was a small contribution, but one we hope will be useful.
Obrigada, Greg!
Visiting Gorongosa was one of the most uplifting experiences we have had in years.
The park demonstrates what can happen when conservation, education, healthcare, economic opportunity, and local leadership all work together toward a common goal.
Greg Carr is remarkably humble and unassuming. Yet the impact of his vision is visible everywhere—in the schools, the clinics, the villages, the wildlife, and the opportunities available to thousands of families.
It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the problems in the world.
Gorongosa is a reminder that progress is possible.
And sometimes it starts with one person who decides to do something about it.
PS: Our next four days will be spent chasing vultures across the African bush with a scientist known locally as ‘The Vulture Lady.’ Stay tuned…
At the end of March, Ed and I spent a wonderful week at Rancho Las Cruces — a private resort on the Sea of Cortez in Baja California. The setting did most of the heavy lifting: pristine waters, blue skies, whales breaching off the shoreline, dramatic sunsets.
The most magical part was spending time with our grand kids – Eloise (5) and Beau (2 ½), and their parents – Emma and Ben.
Part of the joy was being unplugged. Ed and I hadn’t gone a week without our laptops in longer than either of us cared to admit. Instead, we splashed in the pool with Eloise, received a comprehensive education from Beau on the intricacies of Paw Patrol and — more importantly — construction equipment, built sandcastles, read books, and remembered what it feels like to do absolutely nothing on purpose.
Activities Abound
We were definitely not sedentary.
A kayak trip to a remote beach turned up new treasures and great swimming.
Eloise added several specimens to her shell museum (curatorial standards: high).
Ping-pong was fast and furious.
Mini-golf and croquet became prime pre-dinner sports.
We played pickleball, and made up stories by the pool. Beau was often a rocket ship who was cruising the galaxy. He would run around the pool upon lift off.
Snorkeling revealed a vast underwater world of fish and urchins. The ocean floor, however, was rocky enough that I am now the proud owner of water sandals, purchased the moment we landed back in California. Lesson learned. Feet noted.
Speaking of feet: Ed acquired an intense sunburn on his feet and calves on day one. Turns out the parts of you that have never seen the sun are the parts that take it personally.
The pool was shallow and perfect for play. The kids invented new games, the runaway favorite being “Let’s Dunk Nana and PopPop!” — pure, joyful chaos, with Eloise as ringleader. There is nothing quite like watching a five-year-old discover the feeling of power.
A Hike to the Chapel
A small open-air chapel sits on a hill overlooking the sandy beaches. Newish-looking mosaics of the Stations of the Cross adorn the walls. Emma’s brother Tim was married in this church in 2013. We weren’t at the wedding (Ben and Emma were early in their relationship, and we hadn’t quite crossed into “family” territory yet), but between photos, videos, and stories, it felt like we had been there. Standing in the church, it was easy to picture Ben on the balcony with his guitar as the bridal procession passed below.
Dorado, Anyone?
Ben caught a 5-kilo dorado (Mahi Mahi to friends) on a fishing trip in a rustic, traditional boat. It happened fast — Ben did all the work, with the captain offering oversight rather than rescue.
The captain helped him reel it in, and he was able to pose for the proud photo!
That night, we ate the freshest imaginable ceviche and sashimi. Delicious!
Private Dancing Lesson
On our last evening, Eloise was presented with a dress made for her by the Las Cruces staff. She’d half-expected it — her older cousin Maelyn had the same experience on a previous visit — but the magic held. A local professional dancer, accompanied by a guitarist, taught her traditional Mexican steps, and then gave us a personal performance.
And then — without warning, without preamble — a belly dancer appeared. Who knew that belly dancers were popular in Mexico? It was strange and wonderful, completely out of place and entirely fun.
History Around Every Corner
The Las Cruces resort just celebrated its 75th anniversary. Emma has been visiting since childhood — her parents were members starting in the ’80s — and many of the staff still know her. There was something sentimental about watching her watch her own kids run around the place where she’d run around as a kid.
The history goes deeper. Soon after the resort was founded, it became a Hollywood escape — Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz built a home on the property. Their house has a guitar-shaped pool out front, a nod to Desi’s other life as a musician and bandleader (the comedic actor and producer hats came later).
His tombstone sits just outside the side of the chapel, which got Ed wondering whether future generations will even know who Lucy and Desi were, or carry the indelible image of Lucy and Ethel at the chocolate factory conveyor belt, stuffing candies into their mouths, hats, and shirtfronts as the line sped up. Some cultural touchstones don’t survive the handoff. We hope this one does.
But the deeper history dates to 1536, when Hernán Cortés landed here. He thought he’d found an island and named it Santa Cruz. Three crosses were planted on the hill — Las Cruces — and the replicas stand in the same spot today. (Ed nearly slipped while climbing to the these crosses in flip flops. Next time, he’ll wear shoes.)
Thankful for Everything!
We were grateful for the chance to unplug and be together. No TSA drama, no flight chaos, no immigration adventures — just good food, good times, and memories we’ll keep coming back to.
