Two weeks of pictures

We have found that internet connection is a struggle while cruising.  When we settle into a port, one of the first things we do is check to see if we can connect to wifi based on land nearby.  Sometimes we even do this while still on the go before choosing our anchoring site.  Our system rates the strength of the connection. Often there is quite a list of Wifi systems available but most have the audacity of being password protected.  We check those few kind people who have left themselves and their banking unprotected.  A couple of times we have been able to get enough signal to connect and email from the boat.  Once or twice, we have even been able to go on websites.  If we can’t connect from the boat - most of the time - we write the list of password protected sites available and then go to land in search of a restaurant, cafe, bar or ice cream parlour that matches the name.  Peter checks the phone as we wander by to see if the suspected establishment has the internet we need.  If so, we go in, make a purchase, and ask for their wifi password.  We do some emailing etc. while we eat/drink and then go back to the boat to connect.  Sometimes the signal is still not strong enough.  So we eat a lot of ice cream.  The best places are yacht clubs where we moor or anchor and sit in their establishment, before or after a long shower, to connect, blog, email, catch up on world news etc.  

Publishing a blog post seems to take a lot of bandwidth.  Even at a yacht club, once the work day commences, the blog pictures take an eon to upload.  I go to the club early or late to beat the problem.

This is all to say that for the last many weeks we have not been able to access internet beyond weak connections for email - and that is a very lucky break.  We have KVH for internet via satellite - very cool technology for which I am grateful for easy connection to our children.  However, it is too dear to use for blog post creation and publishing.  We are now in Baia da Ilha Grande, reputed as one of the best cruising grounds in Brazil, if not the world.  Only the small hamlets facing the mainland get internet and that is lacklustre to say the least.  And so I am way behind on the blog.  I’ve missed it and hope you have not become disinterested.

The scenery here is spectacular, stunning, wonderful, fantastic, green, lush, gorgeous - all those kinds of adjectives.  Peter would argue, though, that although the anchorages are all of the above, the sailing is lacking - at least for the time we have been here.  We have motored almost everywhere.  The wind has rarely picked up above 4 or 5 knots….during the day.  It is a definite “must see” area but not a place to test your sails on a shakedown cruise.

Instead, we have been practising our anchoring technique and testing our anchor.  On occasion, the wind has picked up in the dark of night to gale force. Even Peter was roused one night - he is much more sound a sleeper than I who waken to the slightest change in wave noise - to sit at the helm in readiness to start the engines if we dragged.  Thankfully, our Rocna anchor has not budged and has probably set even more securely by the stress and strain on the chain.  Even I am sleeping better after several such tests have passed with flying colours.

The good part is that because we are motoring so much we have hot water every day - the motor heats our water.  And because we are exploring voraciously, we have made water whenever we need it - we have to be in the open sea to make water.  

More about water on the boat for another blog.  On with the picture narrative (Note: It is very difficult to self-censor our pictures.  Be prepared for too many.  Maybe take it in a few sittings):

Leaving Ilha Bella. Really was a beautiful island....

as they all were!  Approaching Anchieta.

Ruins of penitentiary where the prisoners rebelled in the 1950's and half escaped.  They set fire to their compound which was right on the beach but none too comfy looking.

Milly looking pretty at Anchieta anchorage

Spectacular view from hike to hilltop

A natural pool.  Sure beats the backyard.

Sorry.  Here's another one.

In our backyard at Sitio Forte on Ilha Grande.  The one and only farm we saw.  Hard to imagine clearing a jungle.  The cows had palms for shade.  Plenty of roosters woke us each morning.

Sitio Forte - front yard view.

Fishermans' pots hanging out to dry.

The only "beach restaurant" choice in Sitio Forte was so great we returned to enjoy it again.  Fried sardines were delicious!  

A snorkeling excursion from the kayak.

Angra Dos Reis

Our anchorage at Bomfim had a sweet little island church.  Almost beats St Peter's on the Rock at Stony.

Angra Dos Reis had a real working harbour.  Very busy, a bit smelly from the kayak.

Angra Dos Reis

Views as we sailed or motored along.

Portuguese church all on it's own in the rainforest.

Character selling his fish at the top of his lungs from his dugout canoe in La Macacos

Abraao on Ilha Grande.  

The police car, garbage truck, back hoe and fire truck were the only vehicles in town.  

The local specialty - fish and banana stew

Abram had only dirt roads.  Walking or bikes were mode of transport with goods hauled by pulled wagons.

Abraao harbour

Aqueduct apparently made from stone and whale oil.

After a 5 km jungle hike, we were rewarded with this waterfall.

but no bridges.

Steep hike!

We enjoyed clambering around on rocks to beach walking.

Rocky side of Lopez Mendes.

More clambering.

Lopez Mendes beach reputed as one of Brazil's most beautiful

A very nice home in Saco Do Ceu beside the outdoor hair salon.

Saco Do Ceu town dock.  A harbour almost completely enclosed.  The town had a myriad of trails up and down hills which we explored one afternoon.

Scaregull?

Stocking up at the fish market in Angra before our dear friends arrive from Canada.

Here we are - Brazilian Cruising Waters!

After 1,902 NM we have arrived in the Brazilian cruising territory.  Beautiful Ihlabela!  Our sail here was so fast that we arrived at the island at about 2:00 a.m.  Too dark to go into port.  And, of course, it was raining with very little wind.  Our sailing was over but motoring allowed us to dawdle and let the squalls roll over us as they would, without worrying about how much sail we had out.  

We came into port in the early morning.  For the first time, there were more recreational boats than fishing boats - although still plenty of those.  With the help of two smiling young men at Yacht Club Ilhabella who communicated with us through a translator on their phone, we picked up a mooring ball.  

Festive church spotlighted in blue at night

According to our guide book, the island is the holiday destination for the “rich and famous” who live in Sao Paulo.  It shows.  Compared to the cities and towns we have visited, this island is clean, very tastefully developed, especially where we are, with some lovely homes within view of the coast. The village shops sell expensive artisanal crafts and/or top notch casual clothing.  The restaurants are many and varied.  There are bike paths and cobblestone streets, even a pedestrian street, all in a village about ten blocks long.  It is a very pleasant place to be.  

The island itself is very steep volcanic rock mountains, again clad with the Atlantic Rainforest, I have previously generically labelled as jungle.  Across the channel are the lights of Sao Sebastio and more mountainous coastline.  Quite spectacular.  Squalls roll off the mountainsides of the island but very infrequently soak us.

The club is lovely and the people helpful and friendly.  We get three free nights at the mooring - a very nice perk in some of the sailing clubs in South America.

We have explored the village, reprovisioned - again - and done some boat work - again. 

Our driver knew everyone, constantly waving, shouting hello, even chatting to a motorcyclist as both drove on the main drag.

One day, we took a jepe adventura tour up and over the mountain in the middle of the island to a beach only reached by this road or by boat.  I use the word road very loosely.  It was a trail, as wide as the jeep, that wound up the steep mountain side with precipitous drops over the edge.

Rock

Washed out mud; the crevice is very deep, road very steep.

The rainforest growth was incredibly lush and thick.  My favourite were tall trees whose trunk was like a palm tree but the leaves were like huge ferns.  I wish we had a picture.  The “road” had deep crevices, washed out portions, fallen trees, mudslides, rocks, boulders, ruts etc. We forded two rivers. It took 90 minutes to go 17 km.  We bumped along sitting three across, three benches.  The others on the tour were all twenty-something.  We were the only English-speaking.

Where we are headed from near the top

The beach was long on a crescent bay with islands at both ends.  In the palms were three “restaurants” in a row with tables on the beach. 

In each of the four guide books we have, authors stress the need to use repellent against the “ferocious, little blood-suckers, the borrachados”. Peter and I noted the welts on our tour companions legs and smugly believed that living on a boat at a mooring had kept us itch free.  Nonetheless, for this hike, we lathered up with Off complete with DEET and set off up - and I mean “up” literally - a 2 km trail.  The ground is always sodden so slippery mud was a feature as well as rocks, tree roots etc. and the slope was steep.  There was much squealing with lost footing and two of the young went down but perhaps from practice balancing on a forever rocking boat, we stayed upright.

People pose for pictures in Brazil, especially the females.  When taking selfies, all take multiple posed shots.  

At the end of the trail we were delighted by a wide waterfall that flowed 45 ft down a boulder and then dropped vertically to a single, narrower pool below where we swam.  The water was cold! and the stream was so powerful that it swept us off our feet, knocking us back into the pool. 

As directed, we posed

The swimming hole

Peter went first.  Posed as directed.

Battling the torrent

Triumphant!  Posed as directed.

More DEET.  Then back down the path.  More slipping and sliding and yelps - again, none from the aged.  We walked back along the beach to the tables for lunch, fording a thigh deep river on the way. (No DEET reapplied.) And then sat at a table on the beach, feasting on freshly caught fish.  We noted there were insects smaller than black flies on our feet.  Hmm.  Sand fleas perhaps?  Of course, we had to return on the same one and only road.  The driver was just as able in the dark as in daylight. Great tour, stunning island.

The beach of "flies"

The next day we knew we had been attacked by the infamous borrachados.  We were covered in big, ugly red welts from toes to bathing suit line.  And Peter was itchy, me not so much.  We were no longer smug.  Instead, very sympathetic.  

Nonbiting beach critters

Another first was achieved at Ilhabela.  We hosted our first cruisers onboard for a beer.  One thing missing in Brazil is the cruising community we have read about and look forward to.  In Brazil, cruisers are few, at this time of year especially, and those that are around are local or perhaps from Argentina, not international.   So when we saw a Belgian boat in harbour nearby, we were excited and leapt at the chance to chat - not that we are tired of chatting to each other but other voices are welcome and, by this time, sought after.  We had a great evening.  They are headed north as well - we are bound to see them again.

Tomorrow we are head for Ubatuba.  With a name like that, it’s got to be good.

Stories from Paranagua; Another Passage

While sitting in Paranagua waiting for a weather window, it rained continuously, obscuring the mountains behind the city in cloud.  The city itself was a bit sad and made sadder by the gray weather.  Colonial buildings were falling apart, often abandoned.  The cobblestone streets and sidewalks were over grown with grass.  The only colour was in the fun local boats which were proudly painted and decorated so that each was unique.

 Over two days we (Peter, really.  Sailing is a man’s world here.  All questions are directed to him.  All comments are listened to if Peter makes them.  Granted, he is the skipper.  But he’s also the man.) cleared into Brazil, finally.  For various reasons we had not been able to manage it in the ports we had stopped in so we had been in Brazil for close to a month before checking in.  Our exit papers from Uruguay were dated in late March.  None of the three Brazilian officials with whom we had to complete paperwork questioned where we had been for the past month and none even looked at the Uruguayan papers.  Perhaps we were lucky but our clearing in process was easy, even without Portuguese.  And even if one of the offices required a two kilometer tramp through the industrial port which I did once but Peter had to do twice and in the pouring rain. Officials were friendly, polite and helpful, perhaps because they never see cruisers and we offered them some diversion to their usual bureaucracy.   Added bonus, our three month visa began on our clear in date in Paranagua, not a month earlier.

Drying out!

The yacht club in Paranagua granted us a one night stay at dock beside a diesel station and we used the opportunity to fill our six gerry cans of diesel twice.  Usually, this is a physical operation, requiring sweat and toil, as we knew from our experience in Santa Catarina.   Here, filling the cans was simplified for not having to transfer them in the dinghy, to and from the boat, with the balancing and leaning that requires.  This time, the guys at the club were anxious to help.  To transfer the six empty cans to the station, the easiest part of the task, we had a troop of five men assisting.  They walked us down the dock, opened the doors, and whistled for the gas guy to unlock his.  They sat at the pump waiting, unscrewing tops, etc and loaded the cans onto a trolley, one guy pushing while the others followed, then transferred them on shoulders to the dock all with gestures to us and chattering to each other.  Only one stuck around for the second round so only he received the tip which they had all been working for.

The satellite anchorage of the club.

Nights in Paranagua, both at dock and at anchor, were not particularly peaceful.  The tidal range is so great in the enormous bay, that the current runs like a river.  While at dock, there were rapids around the pilings.  At anchor the boat was twirled twice a day according to ebb or flood tide and for several days the wind was strong but the current was stronger turning the boat stern into the wind, opposite to usual.   Once the current slowed as the tide was about to change, the effect of the wind overpowered the current and we swung around again - a couple of additional swings a day.  Of course, I was a tad anxious about the anchor holding in all this twisting and turning of opposing forces.  But the Rocna did it’s job.  We didn’t budge, slip or slide.

The anchorage was a place of sad boats!

To stretch our legs on our last day at anchorage, we explored the satellite club site on the island nearby.  It consisted of a parilla, a place to sit, some showers that I wouldn’t choose to use, and a caretakers house complete with dogs, geese, very strange looking ducks with long necks and squat legs.  We explored along a path which led to a well manicured memorial site, one simple stone marking the “political emancipation” of slaves? 150 years ago and another 500 years after the discovery of Brazil.  A path leading from the site, through the rainforest had recently been swathed, perhaps for the Indigenous Day celebration we had arrived on. 

Bird of paradise marked the first step

It led to a very steep, staircase made of large individual stones and mud that led up and up and up through a tunnel of jungle.  There must have been at least 300. 

Why is it that pictures never show how steep the slope is?

At the top were the ruins of a small stone church with grounds around recently cleared.  Quite mystical and completely serendipitous.  Very cool. 

And out of the mist...

Going down was a bit more challenging

After a six day stay, the weather window opened for our final 48 hour passage north.  The sun shone on our last day but we were unable to enjoy Ihla do Mel only from anchor over lunch.  We left the giant bay late afternoon.

Leaving Paranagua.  The clouds still cover the mountains behind the city

Only enjoyed from anchor

The forecast for the 48 hour voyage was for light winds but in the right direction.  Of course, the winds were not light but moderate - we now add about 10 knots to the weather forecast.  However, moderate is the best in all things, including wind.  I can’t say that the sail was uneventful.  The waves were big enough to make me reach for the Bonine. 

Line squalls marched by all night.  Handily, they show up on radar as red blobs which make them easier to avoid or, at least prepare for.

And as we furled the screecher, the larger head sail, in mounting winds, we could not furl it completely.  There is an explanation for this but suffice it to say that we had not perfected the furling technique yet.  Instead of furling, we had to bring the sail down.  Large waves on the beam making the bow very rolly meant that Peter donned his life jacket while I worked the lines in the stern.  Peter with headlamp on had to bring the bowsprit in.  This required hanging over the bow and reaching with hands, bum in air.  I was sure he was going to dive into the brink.  But, no.  He managed the whole thing, jumping up occasionally to pull the PFD straps from around his knees - comic relief is always, well, a relief in stressful situations allowing me a chuckle between anxious moments.  We brought the sail down, Peter fixed the sail and then we raised the sail, properly and safely furled.  It would have been very bad to have the sail unfurl on it’s own during the night in high winds.  

Over Ilhabela.  Must be a good omen.

Being able to figure out the problem and fix it under duress in the dark was amazing!  I was so appreciative of Peter’s abilities.  But it also made me realize how much I have to learn. I’m very glad he is the captain.  

The yacht club in Ilhabela.  Very swish.

After a faster than expected passage, we arrived at the island at 2 a.m.  We moved exceptionally slowly until sunrise when the clouds cleared and the beauty of the volcanic island was clear.