Other things than rain
Praia Grande Travel Blog› entry 28 of 86 › view all entries
Deamons and trenchfoot-worries or not we still had to cover about 400 km pr week. Generally we´ve been setting off about 10 am in a steady drizzle; We both get soaked, rest in busshelters when the rain becomes torrential and then carry on. Luckily it´s not cold. 26 degrees celcius, just very wet.
Expanding our comfortzones is one way to deal with this; Really though it´s just being very stubborn and persistantly ignoring the fact that it´s actually really really uncomfortable, until your body and mind finally get used to feeling like a wet dog in a 24 hour shower. We´ve tried to adapt; Our new riding style works well and the traffic has eased off a bit now. But the main change is that we´ve accepted that this coast has no space for wild camping. Imagine the wet dogs face if you asked him to put a tent up in his bath! Each night we sleep on either a campsite -wich mostly have tents for the tents- or in homestays. The knowledge of a hot shower at night and shelter from the elements takes away a lot of stress.´Damn the hotels and campsites´the deamons cried, now all trimmed down and hungry.
One night in a campsite i woke up around 3 am, scratching endless bites. scratch, scratch, scratch... But outside it was all silent but the crickets doing their thing and the waves crashing onto the beach. No rain! It was beautifull. But then, inbetween all the difficulties Brazil happens to be quite beautifull:
Alongside our coastroad the landscape consists of impenetreable rainforrest, straight cliffs towering up or water tumbeling down through layers of green into trickeling wells somewhere deep down. Mostly the actual ground is nowhere to be seen appart from when it all opens up to amazing waterfalls crashing down from almost 100 meter above. To our left below the jungle there are yellow beaches, some wild and desolate, some dotted with brazilian tourists doing the brittish rainy-day-on-the-beach-thing. The coastline is jagged; Steep slopes reaching straight up as if the mountains are trying to cool their imaginary feet in the atlantic and further out mountainous islands seem to be drifting off back to Afrika.