We boarded the Insignia in Miami on May 4 and set sail for Lisbon.
South Beach
Our first stop was Bermuda, sitting in the North Atlantic about 650 miles east of Cape Hatteras, NC. It took us three days at sea to get there.
Bermuda is made up of around 181 islands. Most are tiny and connected by bridges, so it feels like one continuous island stretching across bright turquoise water.
Insignia (top left) is the smaller ship. 650 passengers.
Color is everywhere in Bermuda. Brightly painted houses dot the landscape, and the beaches are just as striking. The famous pink sand comes from crushed coral and tiny marine organisms mixing with white sand.
It”s more pink than pic shows. Blame it on photographer!
We also found what’s believed to be the world’s smallest drawbridge. When a sailboat with a tall mast approaches, a friendly pedestrian manually lifts the bridge and guides the mast through. Only in Bermuda.
Of course, we had to stop at the Whitehorse Pub to try the local specialty: a fried fish sandwich on raisin bread. Fresh wahoo surrounded by coleslaw. Delicious.
After a day of exploring Bermuda, it was time to set sail once again.
Next stop: the Azores … after four more days at sea.
Our pilot’s voice echoed through the cabin as our charter flight from Egypt touched down at JFK on Friday afternoon.
And then…
Nothing.
Dead silence.
Not a clap. Not a cheer. Not even a cough.
I’ve been on flights where touching down after a little turbulence brings cheers and applause. This landing brought something very different—an eerie quiet.
I’ve heard louder reactions when Costco opens a new checkout lane.
Relieved? Thankful? Disappointed? Embarrassed? All of the above?
After canceling the remainder of their Egypt tours, our tour company arranged a charter flight for roughly 250 tourists. Just a few days earlier, we had expected to be sailing down the Nile.
Instead, we were flying home.
Before leaving for Egypt, Kris and I had moved out of our house of ten years. I had mentioned in a Facebook post that when we returned to Florida we would technically be homeless. We had a condo rented in Jacksonville Beach starting March 17, but now we were back ten days early.
This homeless couple needed a place to stay.
The response was incredible.
We received offers from friends in Pennsylvania, Virginia, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Kansas, Idaho, Washington, South Dakota, Maryland, Florida, North Carolina, and California.
Pretty amazing, huh?
Fortunately, we were able to check into our rental unit early, so we won’t be doing a barn-storming tour across the country. But it’s nice to know we could if we wanted to. One advantage of having moved around as much as we have is that we’ve built friendships in a lot of places.
While our Egyptian adventure didn’t end the way we expected, we still had a fantastic experience.
We saw everything we hoped to see in Cairo. The Great Pyramid was great, and the new Grand Egyptian Museum was truly grand.
What we missed was the Nile portion of the trip—sailing south through Luxor and the Valley of the Kings. Will we go back to Egypt someday to see those sights?
Quite possibly.
But for now, there are still a few places higher on our list.
After all, we’ve never been to South America… or Antarctica.
Over the next few days I’ll share some photos and stories from the incredible historic sites we visited in Cairo.
Our next adventure will be a little less glamorous. Kris is scheduled for her second hip replacement on April 2.
After that recovery, we’re planning to head to Europe for about six weeks starting in May. We don’t have the entire itinerary nailed down yet, but I’ll keep you posted—both on the hip and the travel plans.
Thank you to everyone who reached out with concern for our safety. It means more than you know.
The remainder of our Egyptian tour has been cancelled, and Kris and I will be leaving on a charter flight to JFK in a few hours.
The decision affects the 20 people in our tour group, and we’re all disappointed. The strange part is that none of us feel unsafe here. Quite the opposite—our experience in Egypt has been wonderful.
Egypt has been Level 2-Exercise Increased Caution for quite some time. That has not changed.
So why was the tour cancelled?
Because of an X post (tweet).
Someone at the U.S. State Department lumped Egypt together with the rest of the Middle East. That single post changed the liability landscape overnight. Once the advisory went out, tour operators had little choice but to cancel remaining tours. From a legal standpoint, the risk suddenly became too great.
I’ll admit that before visiting Egypt, I also tended to lump it in with the rest of the Middle East.
But I don’t work for the State Department.
Let me share a few realities about Egypt.
Egypt’s last major war was in 1973. That conflict—the Yom Kippur War—ultimately led to the Camp David Accords in 1979. Since then, Egypt and Israel have maintained peace for more than four decades.
Today, Egypt often plays the role of diplomatic middleman in regional conflicts, including the ongoing tensions between Hamas and Israel.
In many ways, Egypt functions as the Switzerland of the Middle East—maintaining relationships with multiple sides and working behind the scenes to keep the region from boiling over.
Geography also works in Egypt’s favor. Nearly 95 percent of the population lives within a few miles of the Nile River. Beyond that narrow green corridor lies mostly natural protection: the Sinai Desert and the Red Sea to the east, the Mediterranean to the north, and the vast Sahara Desert to the west.
After spending time here, one thing has become clear to me: Egypt deserves to be judged on its own merits—not lumped into a regional headline.
Unfortunately, one tweet was enough to end our tour.
Before leaving, I told a few people I was heading over to bring peace to the Middle East. We landed Friday… so clearly I haven’t had enough time to pull that off yet.
For those who’ve asked — yes, we feel safe. If you didn’t follow the news, you honestly wouldn’t know anything unusual was happening. Life here feels normal. The people we’ve met have been welcoming and gracious, focused on their families and their work — not politics.
We’re heading to Aswan this morning to spend a week floating down the Nile before returning to Cairo. Being out on the river, surrounded by desert and ancient history, feels like a pretty good place to be.
We’re trusting our American-based tour company to monitor things and make any decisions if plans need to change. For now, we’re focused on the experience.
Egypt is extraordinary. The history is overwhelming in the best way, and the scale of what these civilizations built thousands of years ago is hard to comprehend.
I’ll save the full storytelling for when we’re home — or when the world settles down a bit — but for now, here are a few photos from our first three days.
Someone asked why lions let the jeeps get so close. Fair question—especially if you remember the time one flopped down in the shade of our jeep like it was a poolside cabana. The short answer? They’re used to the jeeps and don’t see them as a threat.
The longer answer? To animals, a jeep isn’t a vehicle full of humans—it’s just one large, weird-smelling, non-threatening blob. As long as you stay seated and keep your limbs inside like you’re on a Disney ride, you’re basically part of the furniture.
Going back through the animal photos I saved, I noticed that lions and elephants made the final cut more than anything else. This was a bit ironic, considering we saw hundreds of elephants… and “only” six lions.
Apparently, I’m a sucker for a dramatic stare and a good mane.
Here are a few of my favorite lion photos, set to the soundtrack of an incredible a cappella group we heard in Victoria Falls. Make sure your sound’s on—you won’t want to miss it.
🦁 Cool Lion Facts
Lions can sleep up to 20 hours a day. Since most of the action happens after dark, they spend their days flat on their backs, perfecting the art of doing absolutely nothing… with style.
A lion’s roar can be heard from up to 5 miles. It’s how lions mark their territory, warn rivals, and let everyone know they’re not in the mood.
The lionesses do all the hard work, hunting in coordinated groups while the males often hang back and supervise the grass. But come mealtime? The males stroll in and eat first. Kris said, “Kind of like home.” I’m pretty sure that was an insult.
A male lion’s mane gets darker and fuller with age. Females tend to go for the dark-maned guys (tall, dark, and dangerous ?). Bonus: the mane also works like a natural helmet during fights. Functional and fashionable.
Victoria Falls is one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World—and during peak flow (February to May), it becomes the widest curtain of falling water on Earth.
Victoria Falls sits on the Zambezi River, which forms the border between Zimbabwe and Zambia.
The Scottish explorer, Dr. David Livingstone, documented the falls in 1855, becoming the first known European to lay eyes on the mighty falls.
There are eight named sections of Victoria Falls, carved by flowing water over thousands of years. Even now, Mother Nature is shaping a ninth. Geologists estimate it will be complete in about 1,500 years.
Rainbow Falls is the tallest section of Victoria Falls, plunging 354 feet. True to its name, it’s famous for the dramatic rainbows that arc through its mist.
We walked the Rainforest Trail, which winds past 16 different viewpoints. Despite the sunny skies, we were soaked to the bone—drenched by the constant mist blowing off the falls. In some spots, the spray was so thick you couldn’t see a thing from the viewpoints.
Most of the intelligent people in our group bailed somewhere between viewpoints 12 and 14, wisely retreating from the relentless soaking mist. One idiot—me—kept going all the way to the final viewpoint: the Victoria Falls Bridge.
Hope you enjoyed Victoria Falls—next stop: Cape Town!
We set out on our final morning game drive with one goal in mind: wild dogs. They usually hunt at dawn and dusk, so we were hoping to catch them in action before the day heated up.
The term “wild dog” carries a negative stigma for many people. Because these unique predators are highly endangered, conservationists have begun using the name “painted dogs” instead—a nod to their striking, patchwork coats.
Although we didn’t catch the painted dogs in action, we did come across plenty of other wildlife.
Our drive shifted focus when our guides, Dima and Smarts, got word of a lion sighting nearby. We didn’t spot the cat, but its tracks led us uncomfortably close to the village of Mababe. It’s got to be a bit unsettling knowing a big predator could come knocking at your door—invited or not.
Mababe’s 7-11Tuck owner’s house to right
That afternoon, we returned to the painted dogs—a pack of fourteen. Unbothered by our presence, they dozed in the shade, conserving energy for the evening hunt. While most lounged in loose clusters, the alpha female was alert near the den, guarding the pups hidden below.
Then, all at once, they stirred—some silent signal had called them to the hunt.
We tried to follow them as they slipped into hunting mode, but they soon outpaced us and vanished into the bush. As the sun dipped low, our guides asked whether we wanted to keep tracking the dogs or pause for a sundowner.
While I wanted to keep after the dogs, majority ruled. I joked to Kris that maybe the pack would bring the chase to us while we watched the sunset with a beer and some snacks. Honestly, that didn’t exactly suck.
As darkness settled over the landscape, we climbed back into the jeeps to return to camp. We had parked just ten feet from the water when, out of nowhere, two impalas burst past—racing between us and the riverbank. We’d seen plenty of impalas on safari, but never this close, and never moving so fast.
As the jeep moved forward, the reason for the impalas’ frantic sprint became clear—the painted dogs had set an ambush. One impala slipped through. The other… not so lucky.
WARNING: This video contains graphic footage of a real animal attack. Viewer discretion is advised.
Watching the kill felt like something straight out of National Geographic—raw, real, and electrifying. Even those who felt for the impala couldn’t stop talking about what we’d just witnessed.
I came away with a much deeper respect for the painted dogs. I knew they were skilled hunters, but I hadn’t realized how effective they were at keeping hyenas at bay. Despite being significantly larger, the hyenas were no match for the pack, which held its ground and left them with little more than scraps.
Hungry hyena.
Our 2 days and 3 nights in the Okavango Delta were unforgettable. We saw lions feeding on a Cape buffalo they’d killed right in our camp, witnessed a mating lion pair deep in the bush, and watched a pack of painted dogs take down an impala—leaving nothing behind for the vultures. It was an incredible way to end an already remarkable safari.
While our days in the bush may be over, we’re not heading home quite yet. A trip to Victoria Falls and 4 nights in Cape Town, South Africa await.
After watching the lions’ all-you-can-eat buffet on Sunday evening, we retreated to our tent for the night. And yes, it was an actual tent—not some glamping fantasy like we’d been in before. We’re talking canvas walls, canvas floor, and a zippered door that probably wouldn’t stop a determined squirrel, let alone a lion. It sat on a wooden platform, which felt reassuringly solid—until you remembered lions can jump. Thankfully, there was a bathroom attached at the back. Lions in the camp and peeing in the bush didn’t seem like a smart combo.
As darkness fell, the night erupted in a cacophony of sounds. Hyenas whooped and cackled, circling for a chance at the Cape buffalo carcass. Lions roared and bellowed their warning, staking their claim and keeping the scavengers at bay. Even the hippos grunted from the riverbank, adding their voices to the wild chorus.
After breakfast Monday morning, we set off on our early game drive—though “drive” might be a stretch. We barely rolled out of the parking area before the action began. The carcass, after all, was sprawled just 50 yards from the main lodge
After 30 hours of feasting on their kill, the lions were finally getting close to licking the plate clean.
As we left camp, a pair of dejected hyenas slunk off in the same direction. Their midnight heist had failed, and it was time to cut their losses and sniff out the next opportunity.
Early morning and late afternoon are prime times for spotting big cats—and that’s exactly what our guide, Dima, had in his sights. We crossed the aptly named OMG (“Oh My God”) bridge and picked up the trail of a large male.
After two hours of scanning the bush for the elusive lion, we hadn’t seen so much as a twitching tail. So we pulled over by the riverbank for a well-earned mid-morning break—complete with coffee, tea, snacks, and hippos.
I’d only met Dima 24 hours earlier, but it already felt like we’d known each other for much longer. In our first conversation, he told me they always saved the best guide for last—meaning him, of course. I loved his confidence. He could laugh at himself just as easily, and his laugh was the kind that made everyone else join in.
I could sense Dima’s frustration as he quietly discussed plans with our other guide, Smarts. Reports had come in about a mating pair of lions spotted in another area, so the group agreed to take it easy for the rest of the morning—and go all in on finding that pair during our afternoon drive.
Wildebeest
The afternoon drive started no better than the morning. Three jeeps fanned out, scanning the area for any sign of the earlier lion sighting. Still no luck. Dima’s frustration was easy to read—he knew the lions were close.
Then, he spotted a mane low in the grass on the far side of the water. Without hesitation, we bounced across the bush in that direction—an area we’d already visited a couple of times that afternoon.
Jackpot!
WARNING: This video contains graphic, albeit brief, sexual content.
Talk about ending the day with a bang.
We have one more day on safari. Nothing could possibly top that… right? But what if I told you the final day was even better? I wouldn’t have believed it either—except I was there.
The Okavango Delta, located in northern Botswana, is one of the world’s largest inland deltas. Unlike most river deltas, it doesn’t flow into the sea—instead, the Okavango River fans out into the Kalahari Desert, creating a lush, seasonally flooded oasis teeming with wildlife.
We arrived in the Okavango Delta just before noon on Sunday—perfect timing for lunch and a serene glide through one of the delta’s narrow fingers in a traditional dugout canoe. The shallow, slow-moving water was alive with color and sound: water lilies carpeted the surface, amphibians darted amongst the reeds, and birds called from the trees.
After our cruise, we headed to camp—Mogotho Safari Lodge—with my new best friend and guide, Dima, leading the way. We scanned the horizon for wildlife as we drove, spotting zebras and giraffes that, by now, felt almost routine. But then came something decidedly not routine: our first ostrich.
Mogotho Safari Lodge was the largest place we’d stayed so far, with a spacious dining hall and an expansive deck with a small pool overlooking a flowing river.
First order of business: the lodge briefing. This one came with a few extra precautions—after dark, we had to be driven to our tents, and the whole place was wrapped in an electric fence that started at 6’. Why 6 feet? That’s the magic number to keep out curious elephants. Anything shorter—lions, hyenas, whatever—apparently gets a free pass.
The drive to our tent turned out to be an adventure in its own right. We had barely made it 50 yards from the main lodge when we encountered two young brothers.
Around 1 a.m., 15 hours before we arrived, the two young males and a pair of females took down a Cape buffalo. Given the buffalo’s size and strength, the struggle was loud, violent, and unfolded entirely within the camp’s boundaries. It was surreal to think how close it all happened—one tent stood just 20 yards from the chaos.
Here’s a one-minute glimpse of the aftermath—the feast in full swing.
The Okavango Delta is absolutely teeming with wildlife. Dogs, cats, zebras, giraffes, elephants—you name it. If it walks, flies, charges, or lounges in the shade, it’s probably here. Honestly, the only thing missing might be Budweiser.
I originally planned to write one blog post per stop, but the Okavango Delta had other ideas. There’s so much happening here, it’s getting at least two more posts. Buckle up—I promise you’ll be entertained, amazed, and maybe even a little jealous.
In show business, I believe this is called a tease.
We haven’t even been in the Okavango Delta for 24 hours, and already it’s showing off. If you like lions—and I mean really like lions—you’re going to enjoy what’s coming. Think of this as the trailer before the feature presentation.
Here’s a sneak peek to whet your appetite (and possibly make you want to pack your bags).
Just Pete Adventures 