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Published: March 9th 2007
Ilha Grande; A Touch of Paradise.
Ana Maria III, my boat for the day.Thursday 1st March to Sunday 4th March, 2007.
Having spent the night in the hot and sticky confines of Harmonia I finally managed to free myself from Rio´s shackles and escape, but only just. Having woken at 8.30 I was still waiting for my brain to start functioning properly when at 11.15 I sprang to life, took a cab to the bus station, bought a ticket to Angra Dos Reis a port town two and a half hours to the south of Rio and five minutes later was on my way. In transit I still couldn´t believe I´d finally got out, Rio as a City sure can get a grip on you.
Preparation and research are two areas of travelling that I wish I could improve on. Most of my decisions seem to be made blindly and at the last minute making for a stressful dash to meet the next deadline and this journey was no different. Call it stupidity or just sheer laziness, probably both, it sure adds a touch of excitement to the journey and other than people telling me how beautiful it is I yet again knew nothing of my destination, Ilha Grande.
Ilha Grande,
Ilha Grande; A Touch of Paradise.
Feeding the fish at the Green Lagoon. is the largest of a group of islands off the coast of Angra Dos Reis and home to Lopez Mendes, reputedly one of Brazil´s most idyllic beaches. I knew nothing of the geography or history of the island but a short cab ride later and I was boarding the 15:30 ferry, in this case more Cutty Sark than Royal Iris, to find out.
From the water the island reminded me of Kong Island from the movie I´d seen a few days earlier at the Lighthouse, steep forest covered inclines rising sharply out the torquoise waters with occasional tiny recesses of pure white sand dotted around.
One and a half hours later as we pulled in to Abraao, the largest settlement on the island I prepared myself for a hot and sweaty hunt for a bed. The heat out here really does knock the stuffing out of you and having waited patiently for most of the excited holiday happy Brazillian´s to retrieve their luggage from the hold I ventured down myself. I staggered as I hoisted my sack onto my back and braced myself for the steep ladder style climb to the deck. Just as my head reached daylight
the top of my bag caught on the underside of the hatch and I wobbled briefly before teetering backwards and entering freefall only being saved embarrassment and a probable broken spleen by the crew member behind who restored me to the vertical.
As I walked down the jetty still telling myself to pull it together I was approached by a negro youth on a mountain byke clutching a set of colour computer prints in a plastic folder. He asked me in very respectable English if I had somewhere to stay and when I replied in the negative he told me his name was Marcus and that he knew just the place only four minutes away. The thought of passing on all the trudging around from door to door was too good to be true so I told him to lead the way.
He lead me through the village and up a steep rise which caused the sweat to flood out of me in buckets to his family home which he and his brother had been left to run as a hostel by his parents who had returned to Rio to live. A small pool the size of a
Ilha Grande; A Touch of Paradise.
The moon appears as we journey home. snooker table looked very inviting as he lead me upstairs and opened the door to the first room. It was tiny, barely big enough for the two bunk beds and the small fan attempting to negate the stifling heat that were inside. He told me it would be 35 Reals a night (nine pounds) and I was just about to accept when almost as an afterthought he added ¨or you can have this one for forty¨.
He unlocked the wooden door across the landing and entered. It was obviously his parents room from days gone by, to the left was an en-suite bathroom, to the right a bunk and a huge double bed with room to swing a horse in between, straight ahead were a set of shuttered doors leading to a balcony overlooking the pool and from the ceiling hung a huge propeller like fan that shook and buzzed as it rotated filling the room with a cool refreshing draft. And it was empty. I had to double check, for thirty five Reals I could sleep in an overheated shoe box with three others or for an extra quid have my very own palacial en-suite suite.
My
main objective in escaping Rio´s clutches was to enjoy a few days rest and relaxation and thankfully that was just about all Ilha Grande had to offer. Abraao is approximately 80% visitors of which about 90% seem to come from either Rio or Sao Paolo and rather than venture down to the commercialised beach front area I dined in a small and cheap place that had just two things on the menu; chicken, rice and beans or meat, rice and beans. It was lovely.
I woke early after my best sleep for what seemed like years and headed down to the front. A visit to Lopez Mendez was a must but today I opted to take a boat trip to some of the more inaccessible parts of the island, Lagoa Verde (Green Lagoon), Blue Lagoon and two other beautiful spots, Japariz and Sac do Coen. I hired a snorkel and flippers and despite being the only English speaker on board had a wonderful day before returning for some more meat and beans.
The following morning I was all set to catch the boat for the forty five minute ride to Lopez Mendes when, for some reason that I´m
Ilha Grande; A Touch of Paradise.
Where d´ya think you are ? On yer daddy´s yacht. still searching for, I decided to walk understanding it to be a thirty minute trek. Abraao, like all the bays on the island is nestled between forested mountainous hills and it didn´t occur to me that these would obviously have to be scaled. I´m blaming the heat.
The trail, a well trodden narrow route through thick forest was immediately steep and taxing and although nature tried it´s hardest to assist in parts with natural steps worn into the rock and earth it also threw in the occasional red herring, tree roots that rose from the ground to provide the perfect tripping aid. Apparently there are six species of snake on the island but they were far from my mind, staying upright was my one and only priority.
After half an hour and sodden with sweat the terrain seemed to level out briefly and the woodland all but vanished providing a wonderful view of Abraao. An Argentinian couple who had paused for rest then told me the facts, that we weren´t even a quarter of the way there and that there were two more hills to scale and two more bays to pass before we reached Lopez.
When
Ilha Grande; A Touch of Paradise.
Floats were provided free of charge on the boat trip. And yellow snake like things that aided bouyancy ! I finally emerged from the Lemon trees after two and a half hours it felt as though I´d found the Holy Grail. Everybody tells of crystal clear waters but this really was just that lapping onto a wide expanse of sparsely populated white sand that uniquely crunched underfoot like freshly fallen snow and that was backed by banks of lemon trees under which I laid my towel and fell instantly into a sound ipod assisted sleep.
The previous day I´d been careless with my sun cream and had two large circular red patches under my shoulder blades to prove it and when I woke I was contorting myself like Harry Houdini trying to escape from his straight jacket in an attempt to cover my red bits when one of two Brazillian looking girls who´d moved under the trees for shade close by offered to assist. ¨Thanks, you´ve saved my life¨ I said, not expecting her to understand a word. ¨No, just your back¨ she replied in pure cockney twang. I could have sworn I was the only non South American on the beach but she and her sister, both Londoners of Armenian descent meant there were actually three of
Ilha Grande; A Touch of Paradise.
On the way to Lopez Mendes, hot and steep. us.
There was no way I was hiking back so after a twenty minute walk and a ten Real boat ride I was back in Abraao. It was 6.30pm and when I walked into my suite I was horrified to see another ruck sack propped against the wall. Honeymoon over.
An hour later I met my room mate, a 23 year old Israeli named Yusav who, after serving his three years national service was called back for a month´s action during the recent conflict with the Palestinians. You couldn´t blame him for fleeing his country.
Later that night I checked my e mails to find one from sis Helen telling me Russ, her husband would be in Sao Paolo from the 6th, two days earlier than I´d thought. It was time to leave Paradise.
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Donna
non-member comment
Nice rocks ;) xx