At noon on Saturday, we set off for a 150 mile trip to our furthest destination, Cumuruxatiba. On the map page, our entire journey took up less than three inches, but we soon discovered a) that there were no signposts and b) that the distances on the map bore no resemblance to the actual distance. The scenery was quite stunning, going through verdant valleys, climbing steep hills (behind way too many buses and trucks) and past strangely shaped mountains, the likes of which I have never even seen illustrated.
When it came to turn off the main road, we wisely decided not to take the road that should have been a short cut to our destination, choosing instead to take the long route. It turns out that the short cut is not even marked on local maps, probably having been destroyed in bad weather. Neither Alison or I were prepared for the "better" road, a double wide cart track made of dirt and sand, which traversed creeks and gullies with the help of some wooden planks on top of the sand! This was no short trip: from the main road it stretched for 32 miles--all the way to the ocean. I'm someone who always asks the question "what if". But, as Alison says, I need to abandon that kind of thinking if I'm to enjoy being here in the middle (or edge) of nowhere!
At the end of the road, we found a small town where all the local children appeared ot be swimming in a pool made from a dam, with older youths riding bikes or crowded into the back of a pick up truck. We finally found Pousada E, with about half an hour before dusk, and after a five hour drive, gratefully accepted double dose caipirinhas from our hosts, Hans and Esther.
Once again, our pousada was at the water's edge, with miles and miles of sandy beach and virtually no one on it. The wind has been blowing a 60 mile an hour gale from the equator all day, so despite the temperature, it's been remarkably cool. I'm still giving my number 50 sunblock a pretty good test.
The location may be remote, but the friendliness of the pousada owners and fellow travellers means you never feel alone. We tend to make friends over the extraordinary breakfasts that are included in the price (about $35 for a double room). Today we tried an amazing round, knobbly fruit from the Amazon, name unknown. Its sweet fruit flakes like fish, and is absolutely delicious. Hans, the pousada owner, recommended a local restaurant for lunch--Catamara--and he was right about the quality of the food. We had a moqueca (fish stew) made from freshly caught tiny shrimp, which must have taken hours to peel. I'm not a fish stew kind of person, but this was special. Other guests had also taken Hans' culinary suggestion and it turns out they will also be on the boat trip we plan to take tomorrow to an even more remote place, Corumbau, along the coast. By the time our food arrived, we'd also started talking with another group of people whom we thought were Brazilians, but turned out to be a combination of Bahian, French and Italian locals. They'd all found their version of paradise, and the lack of a decent road out didn't faze them in the slightest.
We are now at a different pousada 100 yards down the road, having gone from Pousada E to Pousada Uai (Y). Although right at the beach, there are no ocean views here. No one understands English, either, but it doesn't seem to matter. The manager set up an internet connection for me, so a few special people got messages! Our next location, Caraiva, only got electricity last year, so I suspect I'll be out of contact with the real world for a while. Somehow I don't miss the news about financial crises or the American elections. It's time for another beer.
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