Brazil > The Saco Bravo Waterfall

I wake up at six o’clock to the alarm. I have slept like a log. There were a few mosquitoes in the room, though. Hopefully, the DEET did its job. I put my clothes back on. Everything feels damp. Because of the high humidity, nothing dries. Probably it dries better by just wearing it. In one of the cabins, breakfast is ready. Toasted rolls, scrambled eggs, and lots of fruit. Especially the fresh pineapple is excellent. At quarter past seven, I set off again for the second day of hiking. The group has thinned from fifteen fellow travelers yesterday to just eight enthusiasts today. The others are staying in Punta Negro. At this early hour, it’s not so warm yet. Just outside the village, the climb up the first mountain begins. “The killer mountain,” Philippe emphasizes. The mountain has quite a steep gradient. The summit is 250 meters high. The ground is still damp from the morning dew. I look anxiously at some steep and slippery sections. This afternoon, I’ll have to go down this too. I decide to save this problem for later. I walk up at a steady pace. Occasionally, Philippe waits until the group is complete again. After fifty minutes, I reach the top. I start the descent of the first mountain. The second mountain is a bit easier, predicts Philippe. At the end of the second descent lies the Saco Bravo waterfall. I descend cautiously. Sometimes I have to step from rock to rock or slide a bit on muddy earth.

Brazil - The route to the waterfall on the second day

I notice that I heavily strain my right knee. I try not to always step on the natural steps with the same foot. Still, I’m happy when I reach the valley and start the second climb of the day. After two and a half hours, I arrive at the waterfall. From the path, I can already see the water flowing. The last part turns out to be the most challenging part of the route. I have to descend via large boulders to the pool below. Philippe gives instructions on how to step from stone to stone. In the last gorge is a tree trunk with notches carved to place my feet in. A rope is also hanging to help me lower myself down. I am on the plateau by the waterfall. To my left, seawater crashes violently against the rocks. To my right is a natural pool into which the waterfall flows. I take a refreshing dip in the water. Meanwhile, Philippe is cutting fruit for lunch. What an incredibly beautiful place to be. This was definitely worth all the effort. The downside, of course, is that I have to walk the same way back. After spending half an hour at the waterfall, I climb back up the rocks.

Brazil - The endpoint of the trek the Saco Bravo waterfall

Some Brazilians who have just arrived give me a hand to get up on the rocks. I start the return trip with the first climb again. It’s warmer now, and it feels harder. The humidity in the forest makes the hike tough. Much tougher than I expected. Slowly, I climb up and slowly descend again. Philippe has found a stick for me in the forest. I use it when descending. It helps relieve some pressure on my knee. Around half past one, I’m back in Punta Negro. Slightly later than Philippe had predicted. Quickly, we head to the beach. I settle the beers from last night’s tab and get into one of the waiting speedboats. In twenty minutes, they bring me back—where yesterday it took three hours to walk. The view from the water is beautiful. Philippe looks visibly nervous about catching the bus. The bus only comes once an hour. He really wants to catch it to be back in Paraty on time. Philippe had told us about a special natural phenomenon in the town. Due to the full moon and spring tide, the water at high tide rises very high. The low-lying streets of Paraty’s old center flood at high tide. A remarkable phenomenon. When I arrive at the bus stop, the bus still has to come.

Brazil - The Santa Rita church in Paraty

After just two minutes, the city bus arrives. I ride back to Paraty via the same route as yesterday morning. Back in town, Philippe immediately takes us to the old town. The tide reached its highest point around three o’clock, and it’s now already half past three. We walk briskly to the historic center. Although the water is already receding, I still see several streets flooded. The historic houses reflect beautifully in the seawater. Also, near the old Capela de Santa Rita, the ocean water reaches right up to the church door. I stroll through the town to soak up the atmosphere. The streets are busy, mostly with tourists. I pass the bridge to the northern part and the fort. Boys jump off the bridge into the water. The road to the fort climbs steeply. It is also much quieter here. I decide I’ve walked enough today. I return to the center and settle at one of the cafés. The outdoor terraces are still in the bright sun, so I sit inside. When I pay the bill, there is an extra nine real charge per person next to the service. That’s for the live music, the waitress explains. Strange that a beer costing twelve real nearly doubles with all the surcharges. Should we perhaps pay the music fee for just one person? We had a great day and pay the requested amount.