17/9/2014 Almeirim to Bituba Comunidade
D62, T8, Av13.07, Max57, 32265/6738
Fine, dead still, 33° and ultra high humidity
My room had air conditioning, though comfortable, for me it makes the outdoors seem so much hotter.
On the road about 0880, a trip along the promenade was made to see the fishermen at work. All the fish are transported in large polystyrene sealed tubs to Macapá and Belem.
Climbing from town some bread was bought.
The gravel commenced immediately and in the still air the dust hung when a truck passed.
Some 15km into the trip, a water hole was stopped at, here a good soaking and swim was enjoyed, all the dust was washed from my gear. Though it was clear, it was a lagoon with water lilies and lots of weed growth.
My back was only turned to the depths for short periods. I am a little paranoid about these jacaré. It is probably not necessary.
One is always reading about people being taken by crocs in Australia. Knowing Crocs are much more aggressive, I am still weary. I fit the description of the victims somewhat, that being not privy to local knowledge. Hence my caution when swimming or camping.
The road started getting sandy at the foot of some hills. This stuff is so dangerous. I always travel at a speed where I can run from the bike if I come off.
Any faster could hurt me and possibly twist the forks.
There were some incredibly steep little climbs. Thankfully, they were very short.
The terrain was vegetated with heavy forest and much had been cleared and all had been logged. Large trees were not to be seen.
A lanchonette was stopped at for half an hour, a lemon was added to icy water, so nice for a change. Coke was $2 a can.
From here, the road started passing through the most densest of jungle, in part the canopies reached across the narrow passage.
There were thousands of light yellow butterflies in a line flying down the road. The owner of the store told me that many plants were flowering.
The butterflies accompanied me all day. At one point, a huge storage pile of logs was seen. They had been here sometime. Each log had a tag with its dimensions and tree name attached. This interested me alot, a photo of each different tag was taken. I was later told these were the trees felled during the clearing process for the huge pylons carrying electricity through this wilderness.
The riding soon became some of the best so far this trip. There was almost no traffic, whip birds were calling, and occasionally macaques could be heard. The jungle was lush, there were even some old growth trees remaining though they were contorted. A feature that had spared their lives from the loggers.
My riding slowed down, time was taken to bathe in small streams and walk in the forest, the latter was not a good idea. Many insects and plants took a liking to me, biting and clinging.
The road surface now was a damp solid pack. It was easy going and the terrain was almost flat with a few gentle climbs. The butterflies were still my constant companions.
There was a regular frantic rustling of leaves as I progressed, lizards scurried away from the roads edge.
The humidity was unbelievable, this coupled with the still air ensured perspiration never stopped flowing. It is a good feeling knowing that my body is coping with these conditions.
The few cars that passed, stopped to offer me water, I always asked for an update on the next place to swim or get food.
Riding through this sea of green on the now flat road afforded me to let all around saturate my senses, riding became secondary.
It was luxury uptake. The sounds. The thousands of leaf shapes with all shades of green. The varying road surface. Just the sheer tranquillity of being here in the Amazon basin in a carefree state of mind on a bicycle was all ecompassing.
It was intoxicating, again at the time there was nowhere else I would have rather been. This passage so far had started putting the icing on the cake for my time here in the Amazon.
Soon I came to the intersection people had told me about, a right hand turn was taken, within 1km I was at the lanchonette at the Bituba community. The lady and her two sons that ran the place were great. They let me camp by the river. I was invited to eat dinner with them.
They offered a room to sleep in, it was just too hot indoors.
Theirs was a lifestyle, truly befitting of the Amazon. No permanent power, the house and a restaurant on stilts that for 4 months is underwater as the river rises. They said the catch fish out of the kitchen window during the rains.
There were cashew trees growing in their yard, four glasses of the juice from the flesh above the nut were drunk.
Over at the river my tent was set up, here I bathed and washed my day clothes. Walking down a submerged wooden boat ramp in the tannin coloured water, a leg went clean through a section where the timber was missing. I was lucky not to have hurt myself more.
Skin was damaged on my left leg above the knee.
Later in the evening, I went with one of the guys spear fishing. Within 50m, I stepped off a log straight into knee-deep mud. I was lucky to get my thong out of the quagmire. Following this mishap, I thought it was greatly in my interest just to restrict my movement to around the tent and the house.
This environment to the uninitiated can be a dangerous place and I was the uninitiated.
The generator was started after dark. Its diesel engine, having a minimal exhaust system penetrated the peacefulness like a bad music. Any calmness was gone.
I was incredibly worn out. This saw me in the tent at 2000, it was still 30°C, calm, though the humidity was coming off.
Soon asleep to the hammering of the generator, only to be awakened by the sound of rain. My fly was hastily pulled over the tent. Hoping it didn’t come down to hard, I feel back to sleep.
18/9/2014 Bituba Comunidade to Laranjal do Juri
D61, 7, Av12.33, Max42, 32326/6799
Fine, dead still, 33° and ultra high humidity
By the time I opened my eyes, a 10hr sleep had been enjoyed. Things were still damp outside. The family were already up and busy. My food pannier was taken over to the dining area.
Here the normal breakfast was enjoyed. I shared my coffee with them. They were impressed. I was offered breakfast but declined.
They had friends around, the guy had shot a Viado, a fruit eating animal. This had been butchered, and the meat was sitting in the sink.
The flesh had a very light pink colour. One son was rolling four for empanadas, the other Jose was preparing things in the restaurant.
Their friends had a little girl whose name was Emma, she was having a great time on my lap top using the drawing programme. By 0800 people, were already stopping to buy the fresh cake and empanadas. A bus pulled in and the occupants flowed out to buy food.
It was a good business well positioned on this isolated stretch of road.
My time spent with this family, miles from anywhere was for me a very special experience. Here an insight into life not totally impacted by our world.
They still hunted and gathered, fish was the main part of their diet along with bush animals.
No organised tour can offer these kind of experiences, firstly because it was unplanned and secondly no one had a predetermined role to play.
Saying goodbye, I rode off so much more informed about life out here. I hope I left them knowing a little about my life in Australia and NZ. I did my best to explain.
The guys had sat under a tree and watched me pack the bike. It is done slowly and methodically, everything has to be accounted for, there is no turning back after 5km for something forgotten .
They watched with great interest as each cargo net was stretched over the gear. In the end we all started laughing. All this is done in such a slow manner. A manner that now sees me leaving nothing at a camp or motel room.
Once on the road, my frame of mind was one that would see me take it easy all day.
Lunch of tomatoes, sardines and onions on 2 day old bread. Here the tent was dried in a sunny patch in the jungle. The bush around me was truly jungle, with vines everywhere, bromeliads in the trees, palms on the forest floor among a myriad of other species. There were some old growth trees about.
Incidentally, last evening there were no mosquitoes or even sandflies. It is quite amazing this absence of these pests.
Having had lunch and dried the tent, the scenery was enjoyed just ambling along. There were no swimmable water courses enroute. The terrain was varied some flat and then one large climb. It must have been 2km or more.
The water I had taken from the family needed to be poured through a coffee filter as it came from the tap. It had some colour and an earthy taste. Though being so thirsty at times this was no problem .
This climb tested me to my limits, at least 10 stops were made on the way up.
Often tucked under the tiniest bit of shade. I did not dismount but just dropped my head on the bars.
It was all I could do to reach the top. Exhaustion was causing me to lose the ability to ride in a straight line. I had to be aware of possible oncoming cars. The heat and humidity were sapping me. Each stop, the danger of not moving on was ever present.
Though this option offered absolutely nothing. The thought of what lay at the top was all that kept me going.
It was a situation where positive thoughts made even the seemingly unsurmountable easy. Oppositely and equally negative thoughts can make the seemingly unsurmountable, just that.
Having said this, I know the richness and happiness in our lives is always equal to our thoughts.
On the distant ridge, Eucalypt plantations could be seen. Each corner revealed more elevation ahead.
Yesterday at the first lanchonette, whilst chatting, we were talking about our ages, the guy guessed mine to be 60, his estimate did me no favours. This kind of riding in the stifling heat and wringing wet humidity, makes me feel every bit that age. Looking at photos taken of myself, at times I look positively stressed. All the colour goes from my face when in this state.
At least the road surface offered good traction and was not corrugated. Around another corner, revealed a levelling out, further on the sight of tall slender Eucalypt plantations greeted me. This was the top. They grew up here in the drier soils.
The shade they offered on the narrow track, though nowhere near as cooling as the natural forest was still a saviour.
The road, sandy at times levelled out for a few km. Then a descent began. Some great views of the surrounding heavily forest terrain was afforded.
Great care was taken to descent slowly, knowing all my faculties were not 100% due to exhaustion.
One fall is all it could take to crash a dream.
Nearing the bottom, my water was all but gone. A guy in a VW combi was hailed. He kindly gave me a 2L bottle of frozen water. There was a little liquid amongst the ice. This was eagerly sucked from the heavy bottle.
It was so kind of him to give me the whole bottle, I guess he could not give me some of it!!
However, it was subtle torture. The cold liquid was so invigorating. The problem was only a couple of mouthfuls were only ever available. The whole bottle could have been downed in two sessions had it been liquid.
So for the whole 8 km Monte Dourado, this rationing continued, every 10 minutes or so I was afforded a few mouthfuls.
I feel this heat and the effort required to ride in it is causing an afternoon bowel movement, the second of the day, the morning one is all good. This often emergency sitting comes on like a carbonated drink from a shaken bottle after opening.
On arrival in Dourado, the MSR fuel bottle was topped up at a gas station. On arrival into this small town on the border with Amapá at the river Jurí.
A Lider supermarket was surprisingly seen. It is part of the Walmart conglomerate. The last one visited was in Temuco in Chile at Gustavos place. They have many stocked items from the US not surprisingly.
Here a litre of yoghurt was drunk, along with bananas and apples.
Asking about , the locals told me that hotels were expensive here, they said to head over the river to Laranjal do Jurí in Amapá.
So, the ferry was caught across the river, a 5 minute free ride.
Onboard, chatting with a local he told me to go to the Hotel Arizona., a few km on the way to Macapá.
This was booked for 45R for the night, the cheapest lodgings for a time. The room was air conditioned and had a ceiling fan .
A wander into town saw me have beef soup for dinner and buy some honey and sardines at the supermarket.
The room had a fridge so a pineapple was bought to have chilled in the morning.
Such was the size of Pará, nearly 2000km were required to ride through it.
19/9/2014 Laranjal do Jurí to Comunidade Água Branca do Cajari
D65, T7, Av14.56, Max44, 32392/6864
Fine, dead still, 37° and ultra high humidity
00’ 53”00S of the equator
Without mincing words, todays ride was one that will always remain imprinted on my mind. In every aspect it was salubrious.
Another huge night’s sleep had been enjoyed. This heat is calling for long hours of rest to recover for the next day.
It was a comfortable room at the Arizona, in the air conditioning.
Breakfast was supplied, a walk was taken into town to get some porridge.
In no hurry to leave, my blog was updated. The internet throughout the Amazon has been slow. Though, in these towns it is impossible to upload info onto my website. Even instagram is nearly not worth the wait.
The pineapple was sweet and not over ripe. My skills at selecting the perfect specimen is improving. Some duds have been bought before this. Ones where the flesh thought not rotten, is necrotic, they get glassy inside.
Once on the road at 0900. At the Rodoviaria, I asked a business if I could use their wifi. It was ok. Here a couple of pics were loaded to Instagram.
Just out of town, the gravel commenced. It was good riding, a thin layer of sand on hard base.
The road was reliable from a surface point of view, so the bike was allowed to run down some of the hills. All day, few hills of any concern were encountered. The countryside now was more open with large trees in the forest. Many dead trees were seen above scrubby regrowth, here tracks led from the road to communites.
Many had little bus shelters at the point where the access track came out onto the road.
All the riding for the last few days has been within 1° latitude from the equator. Hence the still, incredibly hot, humid days. Like the doldrums at sea.
I have been using my neck warmer to protect my ears from the sun. Today it was put on differently, well after thirty km, my nose was aching something awful.
Having to pull over at a bus shelter, a rest was needed, they have thick fibro roofs which actually provide for some coolness beneath.
My nose pain settled down after 20 minutes, a guy got off a bus and sauntered past up to his village.
The riding was such a joy on the smooth sand road. Music was playing, things were as good as they could get.
Soon a bridge was spotted up ahead, with kids on it clad in swimmers. What perfect timing. The bike was parked up, and my body was in the water below within 5 minutes. There was a family group swimming. I really am amazed how cool the waters are in these creeks.
The kids were once again showing off their diving skills. Others turned up and dived into incredibly shallow water from an elevated log. They knew how to shallow dive, a belly flop was almost called for in the thigh deep waters.
It was so good. The first thing that always comes to mind when in these cooling rivers is how nice it would be to just hang in one all day.
Such is the extreme pleasure derived from their waters.
But, alas I wanted to move on. I rode to Martins comunidade with two young boys, we stopped on the way whilst one of them went into the jungle to get a pod like fruit. He cracked it open with a stone, it was tasty but dried my mouth, definitely an acquired taste.
At Martins, a bar come loja was stopped at, inside were six guys just hanging inside. All were seated around, most were in their mid to late twenties. One older guy knew some Español. Well, for an hour we sat around and talked about girls, football and all manner of stuff in between. Much was not understood but we all got the jist of the conversation. So many laughs were enjoyed.
They were talking about Onca Pintadas (jaguars). I had my big knife in with me cutting up a lemon to squeeze into some chilled water.
I told them I had already fought and eaten two Oncas whilst camping. The local school teacher pulled up on a moto for a beer, it was 1530 by now. He was a real character, a young cocky type of guy. There was a hen on the back of his moto under a cargo net. Every now and again, he would walk outside and pour some beer on its head. I suggested that it added flavour to the meat.
He wanted to know if I would swap my bike for his moto, sure, I said just as long as the chicken comes with the deal.
The whole encounter was so enjoyable with these good humoured guys.
They said another comunidade was 20 km on.
The twenty km was clocked up in just over an hour on the relatively flat terrain. Here I pulled in at a food stall set up where there was a bus full of people buying drinks among other things. Here a bag of fresh Brasil nuts was bought for a dollar a kilo.
I was intrigued as to how they grow see the photo below.
Here time was spent talking to the young girls in the stalls. They are so friendly once they know the conversation is light hearted and sprinkled with a bit of animation.
Their boyfriends were turning up to pick them up after the bus left.
We had a bit of fun with this situation. One of the guys turned up with just the cutest baby, Dallas. I could have sworn the girl looked only 15 or 16.
I loaded up with water here for the nights camp.
About 1km, on I got to the village proper, at the bottom of the hill was a substantial wooden bridge.
On the other side, like the bridge, a rather substantial hill.
There was no way I was going to climb this baby at 1700 in the afternoon. Stopping on the bridge to chat to a group of girls sitting on the wooden rail. I asked them about the solitary large trees near us.
They were Brasil nut trees. They are forest monsters. Though, these specimens were by no means fully foliated. They appeared stressed.
However, their size was awe inspiring. The brown bombs that carry the nuts were seen hanging high in the canopy.
Also up there were vultures roosting for the night.
Whilst with the girls, two men wandered onto the bridge, they were asked if I could camp in the church shelter by the nut trees. Sure, they said.
Parking the bike, I crossed the road to help a bunch of kids and their dad throw stones into a cashew tree to try and knock the ripening fruit from its branches. It has been a long time since I threw a stone. The cashews were always going to still be in the tree as my stones flew by a metre away covering all points of the compass. The kids were knocking them down every third attempt.
Just before dark I headed down to the river for a wash, here a guy was washing his moto, a common sight on all the accessible creeks and rivers. He let me use some soap to give my clothes an impromptu wash.
Once again, the river was so refreshingly cool.
The shelter was just the best. It had a small stage that sufficed as a table and desk from my stool.
All the moving parts on the bike were oiled. The breaks and gearing have been getting a little stiff to operate, the dust sees to this.
Dinner was just noodles and coffee. Food had been eaten earlier.
The tent was set up without the fly under the shelter. As said before, this road that is taking me from Almeirim to Macapá, the capital of Amapá, so far has been up there with the highlights in Brazil so far.
There is little traffic and the people that live here are so friendly and live such simple lives. There are only public phones in the comunidades and most definitely no internet.
Pliers were needed to break the Brasil nut shells. Tomorrow I will ask someone what is the knack to accessing a clean shell free nut. The best I could do was crush the enclosed delicious delicacy.
Again, the evening was relatively insect free.
People walking and driving past the shelter all stopped for a chat. Most didn’t stay long as the conversation headed towards “no intiendo” or in their case no intiendes.
The steep little climb out of the community will be a pleasure tomorrow, well rested and fed.
20/9/2014 Comunidade Água Branca do Cajari to an abandoned bush hut
5km past Macará
D84, T9, Av13.24, Max54, 32476/6948
Fine, dead still, 37° and ultra high humidity, easterly breeze
00’ 08”00S of the equator
Another undisturbed night of sleep was enjoyed, up early and on the road by 0730. The hill up out of the valley would have been a burden not coped with yesterday afternoon, it was so steep that a stop was made halfway up. Both brakes had to be applied just to stop the bike from slipping back down the hill.
Once at the top, the riding was as normal, just undulating and peaceful. Soon the forest stared to thin out.
Any vehicles passing were stirring up untold amounts of dust on the white powdery surface.
Before long I was in open country, the most prominent things in the environment were the 240kv pylons carrying electricity to Macapá and beyond.
The vegetation was low trees and the grasses very brown and dry. This was poor country. Like an area north of Coffs Harbour, Halfway Creek, where the locals say even a Kangaroo has to take a packed lunch for the day.
Here even a fox would have had to do the same. The road was wide, and exposed. Coming to a small bar in the middle of nowhere, a stop was made. The few guys there were not friendly. I asked them a few basic questions, their responses were less than enthusiastic.
Here a drink was bought and all bottles topped up.
Moving on the country got even more barren and dry. The occasional water hole or low spot contained diminishing brackish, black water with mud fringes, not inviting.
The federal elections are here in Brazil next month. The feeling is the president will get back in. Every second car has signage or flags all over it.
It is like the football all over again.
Riding on into a cooling easterly my reserves were dwindling as was my water supply. The road was deeply corrugated for much of the time. These have to be tackled positively as there is no escaping their presence. The whole road is covered with them. At the edges, it is too soft anyway.
At a speed of 6-7km on flat road, I just flow with them in the seat so as to minimise the jarring on my bum. Music helped immensely during this passage.
By 1330 my water was almost gone . The last drink from my litre bottle on the back was hot as shower water, it was wet. A car sped past, once again dust was eaten as desert. An energy gel was eaten with some very hot water from the plastic bottle on the back of hte bike.
The need to stop a vehicle for water was now a reality.
There had been no houses for miles. The only interruption to the landscape was log piles every 20km of trees that had been removed to make way for the power easement.
A fox was seen drinking from an evaporating water hole, even he didn’t have the energy to run away.
Still ambling along amongst the corrugations, a house was seen in on the left. It was a brick construction with mortar that had poured from between the frozen in time.
A table was under a tree and a hammock nearby with another ramshackle wooden hut. Pulling in I yelled hola. They were all resting. I felt a bit rude. Anyway, they got up and asking for water the young boy filled an aluminium jug from the house and gave it to me.
The jug was tipped skyward and the fluid was poured down my throat, some was not making the passage and spilled from my the sides of my mouth, such was my thirst. Another jug was immediately drunk in the same fashion. The people must have seen my predicament. They invited me to sit at the table.
There was a covered plate in the middle. It contained some meat from a wild pig in the area this was given to me to eat.
Along with the staple of crumbed dry mandioaca. These people were so friendly, our conversation soon lightened. The young girl, a mother was a character, she wanted to know if I could take one of the children with me!
Yeah, Yeah.... My excuse was I didn’t have room. Going to my bike, the multigrips and the bag of Brazil Nuts were retrieved we sat and ate these together. They also gave me three oranges which were quartered and devoured, all the while still drinking that oddly tasting ground water.
This family group, two men, 2 very young babies, one only 20 days old, two very young mothers 1 young boy and another woman appeared to be very poor. Importantly they had a great sense of humour. It was so enjoyable spending this time with these people.
It was amusing watching their mannerisms, it was nothing for the young girl to just spit on the ground infront of me . At one point, they were feeding both babies from the other woman’s breasts.
Their naturalness ease around me was my privilege. I really couldn’t thank them enough as I rode off with full water bottles.
Within 5km a creek was spotted, here kids were swimming, I joined them in the black log filled just flowing creek.
I swam fully clothed with my sandals on. The last thing needed was a cut foot.
My new pants are totally open in the crotch, luckily my boxers are black also.
A community was passed soon after here.
Amapá is one of the poorest states in Brasil, if not the poorest. I am seeing this first hand. That the terrain is so unforgiving partly explains this.
I knew Macará was 25km on. Today had been very tough, I had been taken to my upper limits of endurance. Nearing the community, my reserves were little. So thankfully much was gently downhill.
Seeing people on old pushbikes told me I was getting close. Then the bridge was seen. It was a case of I have made it. The water the people gave me had a terrible taste, indescribable though like acidy clay flavour. It helped keep me going but the pleasures normally afforded by water on a hot day were not complete.
On the bridge, I spoke to a young confident guy about things here. He was selling biscuits to passing motorists. This young boy of about 12 was to later provide me and others with much joy and amusement, he was a character to say the least.
He was my shadow whilst in town.
Pulling into the first loja, a bottle of water was boght and decantered into my stainless bottle where a lemon was squeezed into it.
Soon the well fed young boy turned up with his box of biscuits, he tried to sell me a pack for 2R. I had only just seen him sell some for 1R. This I stirred him about.
I asked if there was a restaurant here. Up the road the described place was stopped at. Chicken, rice and salad were ordered. The owners were lovely people, we sat and chatted, a table was dragged onto the side of the road out of the sun.
The meal was so nice. Soon Fernando turned up still with his box in hand. He was like a little adult, mannerisms, beyond his age.
He had been eating at the first shop, now he ordered a meal like mine.
He ate this like no tomorrow then to our amusement five minutes later ordered the same again.
We joked that he was eating all the profits. Other people turned up for the laughs. It was a great hour spent here on the dusty roadside.
People were telling me the local doctor is a woman from Cuba. Some 1500 hundred people live in the community and its surrounds. The river was a focal point, for relaxing, swimming, fishing and washing things.
The owner took me to a friends place for a room but it was upstairs. The last thing needed was stairs at 1800 after todays efforts. Anyway, I felt like a night in the forest. Just myself and the wilderness.
They said I could sleep under the outdoor area of the cafe. Being Saturday night, all the music and people were not needed.
I finally got away after 1800, riding was enjoyable in the cool evening air with a full stomach.
Many places were checked for a camp until a small open gate was seen, beyond a track, little used led to an abandoned hut.
A walk was taken down to a swamp to wash the dust from my face and legs, the water was warm and partly stagnant. My handle bar towel was soaked in the weedy brown waters, it was so nice to soak my dusty sticky body.
Today had been one of contrasts, both my well being and the countryside.
The latter had gone from lushness to arid rain shadow like conditions. The former from fully hydrated to a state of exhaustion.
This said, it was another day of the unknown, unexpected, but as ever wondrously, enjoyable days here in the Amazon Basin.
It was so nice to finish it inside my own little hut in the jungle, listening to crickets, birds and frogs as the day slowly drew to a close.
Nothing was eaten or drunk before climbing into the tent and onto to another world afforded by the airbed.
I can’t tell you about anything five minutes later.
21/9/2014 Abandoned bush hut 5km past Macará to Vila Nova on the Rio Vila Nova
D44, T8, Av12.36, Max56, 32520/6992
Fine, dead still, 37° and ultra high humidity
00’ 09”00S
The old hut provided for a great nights sleep free of any disturbances. I am getting used to sleeping well in these hot conditions that persist all night with little air movement. As long as mosquitoes are absent, all is well. Just one inside the tent can destroy a proper sleep.
Arising early and having a look around at my surroundings. The owner had cut and burnt a small patch of jungle and planted lemon trees, mangoes and pineapples.
He had obviously lost enthusiasm, the place appeared to have been unoccupied for a couple of years judging by the timber decay and regrowth.
Many timbers here are resistant to decay. Something very noticeable when picking up a chair, is the weight of it. These beautiful Amazonia timbers are so heavy and dense. Many have rich dark grains.
In no hurry to move on, my blog was updated, in a comfortable position using the bed as a desk.
As soon as the road was entered, it was noticed my rear tyre was half flat.
Some air was pumped into it just to keep going, it was a slow leak.
A few km on a great shady spot by a bridge was utilised to repair the tube. A tiny piece of steel wire from a belted tyre was the culprit. Having access to water makes finding these small holes easy.
Importantly the wire was removed from the tyre using the tweezers on my tiny Swiss knife.
A hole in my front pannier was also patched.
Many vehicles heading past were sporting flags of the various candidates for the elections on October the fifth.
Dilma, the president is from the left. The Brasileiros are very passionate about their politics, almost every vehicle at the moment is displaying some allegiance.
Back on the road an hour later, it was a day for reflection. My riding pace was such to just keep the flowing sweat at bay.
This was superb equatorial riding, in lush forest, the road had hills, that allowed for the cooling effect of an apparent wind on the descents. With classical music playing quietly on my speaker, my mind was occupied with only positive thoughts. Thoughts that again made even the steepest little climb, a pleasure, believe it or not.
By this, I mean leaving the chain in the lowest gear and rolling down the roller coaster terrain and only beginning to pedal when my momentum had almost ceased. This way, effort is kept to a minimum and there is no need to always be changing gears. This method saw me ascending many notable small climbs doing no more than 4.8km/ hr, just enough forward momentum to stay balanced. Over the background music the sound of gravel being disturbed by the front wheel always meant progress.
There were no flat spots at the crests, it was straight back down. The road was literally like riding a huge rolling ocean swell. Some of the small climbs were the steepest encountered to date.
At the trough of each descent was a palm fringed lagoon with lily pads floating on the surface. None offered opportunities for a swim.
Coming to one river, a bunch of young guys and girls were on the roadside drinking 51 R with salt and a sour fruit, they give me a few of the sour but delicious fruits used in salads.
After all, it was Sunday.
Once again, I was getting through my water, at the top of one ascent, a rest was required for 20 minutes, exhaustion and the heat at 1300 were having their effect.
The dust from the vehicles did not help.
Coming down the hill, a bridge was seen. There were a few cars parked on my side of the approach. There were people swimming in the river.
Elation describes my disposition at seeing this. Wandering down there was a group of people and kids swimming from the tiered timber decking on the riverbanks. The delicious smell of meat cooking on charcoal filled the air.
Like most vistas here the, forest always has an understory of palms, they alone represent the lushness and tropical feeling of the area.
Greeting everyone, my shoes were removed. With a lazy plunge into the dark tannin stained slowly flowing waters, the exhaustion 15 minutes ago dissipated. This was so, so, so........... good. At times like these, I wish could breath underwater, such was the pleasure of submerging my head in the unusually cool waters.
The kids were having a ball in the water diving and playing. They were all confidently swimming.
Once back on the decking, one of the woman asked if I would like to eat. I was given a plate of rice and spicy chorizo with melho.and a chilled drink of fanta.
The appreciation of food at these times is beyond describing the taste, it is my body wanting the food. Not my mind. The two are quite different. Much of the eating done in normal circumstances is to ease the mind, not nourish the body.
For two hours or more time was spent chatting with these people and just enjoying their company and the presence of the river.
The guys, all about 40 odd had such young wives. One told me he was onto his third marriage. His wife was olive skinned and very attractive only being half his age I guessed.
They all had young children, cute as could be.
It turned out one of the guys owned this property, unbeknown to me, it was private, he had a 2km road frontage that included the river. Hence the elaborate entertaining facilities, riverside.
So far, my experiences on this road, Ruta 156 have been the most enjoyable in Brazil to date, from a social aspect. The people are so friendly and hospitable.
The Trans Amazonica is the work horse of the Amazon. With, trucks, loggers, motos by the hundred and busy dusty working towns.
Whereas this road is one for the locals, it is peaceful, with clean rivers, few vehicles and friendly people along its length. I really don’t want to leave here to soon. Such is my enjoyment along its length so far.
My hosts told me Vila Nova was 6km on. The roller coaster continued.
At one section, road works were in progress, water had been sprayed on newly laid over burden. In the heat, mist could be seen due to the humidity above its surface.
It was like riding through a steam room. The road levelled out somewhat and Vila Novea came into view. There was a bar and cafe open. Here a bottle of water was bought and two of the little juice laden bush lemons were squeezed into the bottle.
This was an idyllic little community with the river Vila Nova flowing silently past with its occasional burden of floating water hyacinth, it was a large river that drained due south into the Amazon.
It too, contained dark waters. Small riverboats and canoes were coming and going from the dock in front of the bar. The owners said I could camp near the river for the night.
Fried potatoes with chilli, garlic, ground pepper and salt were enjoyed for dinner, followed by a hot milo and biscuits on the dock. A roadwork gang was staying here, they were a great bunch of guys, who bought me beer as the night wore on.
Camped right alongside the silent river, the sound of crickets and frogs saw me fall asleep amidst calming thoughts of the day just enjoyed.
22/9/2014 Vila Nova on the Rio Vila Nova to a grain silo 20 before Macapá
D63, T5, Av13.70, Max46, 32583/7053
Fine, SE wind, 34°
00’ 11”00S
Everything was soaked early in the morning, due to the unusually heavy dew.
Up at 0600, a walk over to the cafe was taken to have a coffee with the road guys who were already eating.
One of them bought me breakfast of a cheese and bread roll. They were a great bunch of guys, who spent a lot of time talking about women!!
A woman whom I met last night came over to the tent for a chat with her daughter. Her husband had just dropped them off at the wharf. They had a property up the river and one in Macapá. Their daughter Maria, went to school in Macapá.
Maria spent the morning slashing fruit to pieces on my phone for the morning. Their bus was running ever so late.
A shave was also had to spruce up for my imminent arrival in Macapá.
Me, I was in no hurry to leave this relaxed little community. The early morning was spent drying my gear in the rapidly heating sun rising across the river.
My blog was updated in the cafe. The woman I had met, asked me about Peter Blake, she knew of his demise. Had he not being carrying a gun from the saloon on his yacht, he may still have been alive today, I feel.
Finally, the spot was vacated at about 1100. Once over the bridge and on some 2km, the terrain turned into grasslands with few trees and palms. It was similar to the section earlier on.
There was little to see. By this time the heat of the day had kicked in. The hills started spreading out. A swim was enjoyed in one little stream in a hole just big enough to fit me.
Swimming is now done fully clothed, it cleans myself and my clothes at once.
The bus went past and gave a big toot. Continuing on, the plan was to camp somewhere before Macapá so I could get there early in hte morning.
The country had now changed to the point where there were fires burning along the side of the road, such was the dryness.
A stop was made in a small community for a drink and food.
There was thirty km to Macapá. Just down the road, a bridge straddled another big river heading toward the Amazon, the Matapí. No camp spot could be found here as it was all fenced. A full load of water was taken from the bar on the riverbank.
By now, it was 1630 and a campsite was needed. One community type area was explored, but no one could be found to ask permission. I soon got to the asphalt.
It was so nice to be back on a solid surface.
I was now getting close to Macapá and was on this busy road. Campsites could be difficult to find. Some 5km up the road, a grain silo complex was spotted. I crossed the rail track into the open complex. At the rear there was a man coming from a house. I went down to see him and ask if i could camp. He said that was fine. His three dogs were not impressed.
Anyway, it was a great spot, with my own private little veranda on the new toilet block.
So, I had a shower and hand basin with toilet. The place was fully lit all night, but that was ok. Just before dark, the man came over with his three dogs. I finally coaxed them into allowing me to pat and play with them .The scratch on their brisket subdues any pooch. They soon became familiar with me.
Dinner was pasta and tuna in a spicy sauce, with much hunger it was devoured at a rapid rate. The net was used for the first time a nearly a week. Just on my sim card, which soon slowed down after a few pics were posted on instagram, (username: browsinabout)
Washing was done as things would dry quickly in the lovely breeze funnelling around the little building next to the weigh bridge infront of the silos.
The bike was also hosed down .
It had been a fantastic 5 days from Almeirim. The Amazon basin became so much more familiar, facilitated by the warm welcoming of all the people met on this lovely stretch of road.
The security lighting was such that the site was like full daylight. Hopefully this wont halt a good nights sleep.
23/9/2014 Grain silo to Macapá
D34, T2, Av17, Max39, 32617/7087
Fine, SE wind, 37°
As expected, a poor nights sleep was had, it was so brightly lit around me, also the anticipation of getting to Macapá. This did not stop me from arising early and ready for the 20km into Macapá at 0800.
It was nice to be back on asphalt, a tail wind was aiding my passage. On arrival in town, directions to the river were obtained. On arrival there a man on a mountain bike who turned out to be a lecturer in law at the uni, stopped for a chat. He had toured for a couple of years at the turn of the century in SA.
Interesting guy.
A ride was taken along the dilapidated promenade in the old part of Macapá. Here the brown Amazon was off in the distance behind an almost flat, debris ridden mud flat. It was low tide. The promenade had been undermined in parts, the concrete had collapsed into the voids.
The housing here dated back to the settlement of the area when it must have been a port and nothing else, the streets were narrow. Most people present were of African decent.
Everything was made of crude concrete presently in all states of disrepair. All this was very interesting, it easily took one’s mind back to the heyday when all this must have been new,. A time when there was a buzz in this waterfront area.
Asking about as usual, a hotel was soon found. The moto taxi guys are the ones to ask.
The hotel Central was booked. It is quite new with AC in comfortable rooms.
A rest will be enjoyed here for a few days. Since getting back from NZ, I really haven’t stopped for more than a day.
Macapá is another significant waypoint on the way to French Guyana. Important food items will be bought in bulk, as much as is practical to carry. Especially,coffee, soups, milk powder. French Guyana is very expensive, most goods come from France. The Euro is the local currency.
I have a myriad of bites around my groin, somewhere along the way something has dined on my in a big way. Luckily, the spots are only slightly itchy.
The dock in town is dry at low tide, the passenger boats just sit in the firm sand whilst they are loaded.
It is off this dock, out in the waters beyond low tide that Peter Blake met his fate while at anchor in December 6 2001.
Having observed the quarters where people lived here on the river in the old part of town and seeing people sleeping on the foreshores and men encountered drinking on the promenade.
It is easy to see that his assailants had little to lose during their raid on his anchored yacht. Hence their use of firepower when confronted by Peter Blake carrying a rifle from the companionway.
D62, T8, Av13.07, Max57, 32265/6738
Fine, dead still, 33° and ultra high humidity
My room had air conditioning, though comfortable, for me it makes the outdoors seem so much hotter.
On the road about 0880, a trip along the promenade was made to see the fishermen at work. All the fish are transported in large polystyrene sealed tubs to Macapá and Belem.
Climbing from town some bread was bought.
The gravel commenced immediately and in the still air the dust hung when a truck passed.
Some 15km into the trip, a water hole was stopped at, here a good soaking and swim was enjoyed, all the dust was washed from my gear. Though it was clear, it was a lagoon with water lilies and lots of weed growth.
My back was only turned to the depths for short periods. I am a little paranoid about these jacaré. It is probably not necessary.
One is always reading about people being taken by crocs in Australia. Knowing Crocs are much more aggressive, I am still weary. I fit the description of the victims somewhat, that being not privy to local knowledge. Hence my caution when swimming or camping.
The road started getting sandy at the foot of some hills. This stuff is so dangerous. I always travel at a speed where I can run from the bike if I come off.
Any faster could hurt me and possibly twist the forks.
There were some incredibly steep little climbs. Thankfully, they were very short.
The terrain was vegetated with heavy forest and much had been cleared and all had been logged. Large trees were not to be seen.
A lanchonette was stopped at for half an hour, a lemon was added to icy water, so nice for a change. Coke was $2 a can.
From here, the road started passing through the most densest of jungle, in part the canopies reached across the narrow passage.
There were thousands of light yellow butterflies in a line flying down the road. The owner of the store told me that many plants were flowering.
The butterflies accompanied me all day. At one point, a huge storage pile of logs was seen. They had been here sometime. Each log had a tag with its dimensions and tree name attached. This interested me alot, a photo of each different tag was taken. I was later told these were the trees felled during the clearing process for the huge pylons carrying electricity through this wilderness.
The riding soon became some of the best so far this trip. There was almost no traffic, whip birds were calling, and occasionally macaques could be heard. The jungle was lush, there were even some old growth trees remaining though they were contorted. A feature that had spared their lives from the loggers.
My riding slowed down, time was taken to bathe in small streams and walk in the forest, the latter was not a good idea. Many insects and plants took a liking to me, biting and clinging.
The road surface now was a damp solid pack. It was easy going and the terrain was almost flat with a few gentle climbs. The butterflies were still my constant companions.
There was a regular frantic rustling of leaves as I progressed, lizards scurried away from the roads edge.
The humidity was unbelievable, this coupled with the still air ensured perspiration never stopped flowing. It is a good feeling knowing that my body is coping with these conditions.
The few cars that passed, stopped to offer me water, I always asked for an update on the next place to swim or get food.
Riding through this sea of green on the now flat road afforded me to let all around saturate my senses, riding became secondary.
It was luxury uptake. The sounds. The thousands of leaf shapes with all shades of green. The varying road surface. Just the sheer tranquillity of being here in the Amazon basin in a carefree state of mind on a bicycle was all ecompassing.
It was intoxicating, again at the time there was nowhere else I would have rather been. This passage so far had started putting the icing on the cake for my time here in the Amazon.
Soon I came to the intersection people had told me about, a right hand turn was taken, within 1km I was at the lanchonette at the Bituba community. The lady and her two sons that ran the place were great. They let me camp by the river. I was invited to eat dinner with them.
They offered a room to sleep in, it was just too hot indoors.
Theirs was a lifestyle, truly befitting of the Amazon. No permanent power, the house and a restaurant on stilts that for 4 months is underwater as the river rises. They said the catch fish out of the kitchen window during the rains.
There were cashew trees growing in their yard, four glasses of the juice from the flesh above the nut were drunk.
Over at the river my tent was set up, here I bathed and washed my day clothes. Walking down a submerged wooden boat ramp in the tannin coloured water, a leg went clean through a section where the timber was missing. I was lucky not to have hurt myself more.
Skin was damaged on my left leg above the knee.
Later in the evening, I went with one of the guys spear fishing. Within 50m, I stepped off a log straight into knee-deep mud. I was lucky to get my thong out of the quagmire. Following this mishap, I thought it was greatly in my interest just to restrict my movement to around the tent and the house.
This environment to the uninitiated can be a dangerous place and I was the uninitiated.
The generator was started after dark. Its diesel engine, having a minimal exhaust system penetrated the peacefulness like a bad music. Any calmness was gone.
I was incredibly worn out. This saw me in the tent at 2000, it was still 30°C, calm, though the humidity was coming off.
Soon asleep to the hammering of the generator, only to be awakened by the sound of rain. My fly was hastily pulled over the tent. Hoping it didn’t come down to hard, I feel back to sleep.
18/9/2014 Bituba Comunidade to Laranjal do Juri
D61, 7, Av12.33, Max42, 32326/6799
Fine, dead still, 33° and ultra high humidity
By the time I opened my eyes, a 10hr sleep had been enjoyed. Things were still damp outside. The family were already up and busy. My food pannier was taken over to the dining area.
Here the normal breakfast was enjoyed. I shared my coffee with them. They were impressed. I was offered breakfast but declined.
They had friends around, the guy had shot a Viado, a fruit eating animal. This had been butchered, and the meat was sitting in the sink.
The flesh had a very light pink colour. One son was rolling four for empanadas, the other Jose was preparing things in the restaurant.
Their friends had a little girl whose name was Emma, she was having a great time on my lap top using the drawing programme. By 0800 people, were already stopping to buy the fresh cake and empanadas. A bus pulled in and the occupants flowed out to buy food.
It was a good business well positioned on this isolated stretch of road.
My time spent with this family, miles from anywhere was for me a very special experience. Here an insight into life not totally impacted by our world.
They still hunted and gathered, fish was the main part of their diet along with bush animals.
No organised tour can offer these kind of experiences, firstly because it was unplanned and secondly no one had a predetermined role to play.
Saying goodbye, I rode off so much more informed about life out here. I hope I left them knowing a little about my life in Australia and NZ. I did my best to explain.
The guys had sat under a tree and watched me pack the bike. It is done slowly and methodically, everything has to be accounted for, there is no turning back after 5km for something forgotten .
They watched with great interest as each cargo net was stretched over the gear. In the end we all started laughing. All this is done in such a slow manner. A manner that now sees me leaving nothing at a camp or motel room.
Once on the road, my frame of mind was one that would see me take it easy all day.
Lunch of tomatoes, sardines and onions on 2 day old bread. Here the tent was dried in a sunny patch in the jungle. The bush around me was truly jungle, with vines everywhere, bromeliads in the trees, palms on the forest floor among a myriad of other species. There were some old growth trees about.
Incidentally, last evening there were no mosquitoes or even sandflies. It is quite amazing this absence of these pests.
Having had lunch and dried the tent, the scenery was enjoyed just ambling along. There were no swimmable water courses enroute. The terrain was varied some flat and then one large climb. It must have been 2km or more.
The water I had taken from the family needed to be poured through a coffee filter as it came from the tap. It had some colour and an earthy taste. Though being so thirsty at times this was no problem .
This climb tested me to my limits, at least 10 stops were made on the way up.
Often tucked under the tiniest bit of shade. I did not dismount but just dropped my head on the bars.
It was all I could do to reach the top. Exhaustion was causing me to lose the ability to ride in a straight line. I had to be aware of possible oncoming cars. The heat and humidity were sapping me. Each stop, the danger of not moving on was ever present.
Though this option offered absolutely nothing. The thought of what lay at the top was all that kept me going.
It was a situation where positive thoughts made even the seemingly unsurmountable easy. Oppositely and equally negative thoughts can make the seemingly unsurmountable, just that.
Having said this, I know the richness and happiness in our lives is always equal to our thoughts.
On the distant ridge, Eucalypt plantations could be seen. Each corner revealed more elevation ahead.
Yesterday at the first lanchonette, whilst chatting, we were talking about our ages, the guy guessed mine to be 60, his estimate did me no favours. This kind of riding in the stifling heat and wringing wet humidity, makes me feel every bit that age. Looking at photos taken of myself, at times I look positively stressed. All the colour goes from my face when in this state.
At least the road surface offered good traction and was not corrugated. Around another corner, revealed a levelling out, further on the sight of tall slender Eucalypt plantations greeted me. This was the top. They grew up here in the drier soils.
The shade they offered on the narrow track, though nowhere near as cooling as the natural forest was still a saviour.
The road, sandy at times levelled out for a few km. Then a descent began. Some great views of the surrounding heavily forest terrain was afforded.
Great care was taken to descent slowly, knowing all my faculties were not 100% due to exhaustion.
One fall is all it could take to crash a dream.
Nearing the bottom, my water was all but gone. A guy in a VW combi was hailed. He kindly gave me a 2L bottle of frozen water. There was a little liquid amongst the ice. This was eagerly sucked from the heavy bottle.
It was so kind of him to give me the whole bottle, I guess he could not give me some of it!!
However, it was subtle torture. The cold liquid was so invigorating. The problem was only a couple of mouthfuls were only ever available. The whole bottle could have been downed in two sessions had it been liquid.
So for the whole 8 km Monte Dourado, this rationing continued, every 10 minutes or so I was afforded a few mouthfuls.
I feel this heat and the effort required to ride in it is causing an afternoon bowel movement, the second of the day, the morning one is all good. This often emergency sitting comes on like a carbonated drink from a shaken bottle after opening.
On arrival in Dourado, the MSR fuel bottle was topped up at a gas station. On arrival into this small town on the border with Amapá at the river Jurí.
A Lider supermarket was surprisingly seen. It is part of the Walmart conglomerate. The last one visited was in Temuco in Chile at Gustavos place. They have many stocked items from the US not surprisingly.
Here a litre of yoghurt was drunk, along with bananas and apples.
Asking about , the locals told me that hotels were expensive here, they said to head over the river to Laranjal do Jurí in Amapá.
So, the ferry was caught across the river, a 5 minute free ride.
Onboard, chatting with a local he told me to go to the Hotel Arizona., a few km on the way to Macapá.
This was booked for 45R for the night, the cheapest lodgings for a time. The room was air conditioned and had a ceiling fan .
A wander into town saw me have beef soup for dinner and buy some honey and sardines at the supermarket.
The room had a fridge so a pineapple was bought to have chilled in the morning.
Such was the size of Pará, nearly 2000km were required to ride through it.
19/9/2014 Laranjal do Jurí to Comunidade Água Branca do Cajari
D65, T7, Av14.56, Max44, 32392/6864
Fine, dead still, 37° and ultra high humidity
00’ 53”00S of the equator
Without mincing words, todays ride was one that will always remain imprinted on my mind. In every aspect it was salubrious.
Another huge night’s sleep had been enjoyed. This heat is calling for long hours of rest to recover for the next day.
It was a comfortable room at the Arizona, in the air conditioning.
Breakfast was supplied, a walk was taken into town to get some porridge.
In no hurry to leave, my blog was updated. The internet throughout the Amazon has been slow. Though, in these towns it is impossible to upload info onto my website. Even instagram is nearly not worth the wait.
The pineapple was sweet and not over ripe. My skills at selecting the perfect specimen is improving. Some duds have been bought before this. Ones where the flesh thought not rotten, is necrotic, they get glassy inside.
Once on the road at 0900. At the Rodoviaria, I asked a business if I could use their wifi. It was ok. Here a couple of pics were loaded to Instagram.
Just out of town, the gravel commenced. It was good riding, a thin layer of sand on hard base.
The road was reliable from a surface point of view, so the bike was allowed to run down some of the hills. All day, few hills of any concern were encountered. The countryside now was more open with large trees in the forest. Many dead trees were seen above scrubby regrowth, here tracks led from the road to communites.
Many had little bus shelters at the point where the access track came out onto the road.
All the riding for the last few days has been within 1° latitude from the equator. Hence the still, incredibly hot, humid days. Like the doldrums at sea.
I have been using my neck warmer to protect my ears from the sun. Today it was put on differently, well after thirty km, my nose was aching something awful.
Having to pull over at a bus shelter, a rest was needed, they have thick fibro roofs which actually provide for some coolness beneath.
My nose pain settled down after 20 minutes, a guy got off a bus and sauntered past up to his village.
The riding was such a joy on the smooth sand road. Music was playing, things were as good as they could get.
Soon a bridge was spotted up ahead, with kids on it clad in swimmers. What perfect timing. The bike was parked up, and my body was in the water below within 5 minutes. There was a family group swimming. I really am amazed how cool the waters are in these creeks.
The kids were once again showing off their diving skills. Others turned up and dived into incredibly shallow water from an elevated log. They knew how to shallow dive, a belly flop was almost called for in the thigh deep waters.
It was so good. The first thing that always comes to mind when in these cooling rivers is how nice it would be to just hang in one all day.
Such is the extreme pleasure derived from their waters.
But, alas I wanted to move on. I rode to Martins comunidade with two young boys, we stopped on the way whilst one of them went into the jungle to get a pod like fruit. He cracked it open with a stone, it was tasty but dried my mouth, definitely an acquired taste.
At Martins, a bar come loja was stopped at, inside were six guys just hanging inside. All were seated around, most were in their mid to late twenties. One older guy knew some Español. Well, for an hour we sat around and talked about girls, football and all manner of stuff in between. Much was not understood but we all got the jist of the conversation. So many laughs were enjoyed.
They were talking about Onca Pintadas (jaguars). I had my big knife in with me cutting up a lemon to squeeze into some chilled water.
I told them I had already fought and eaten two Oncas whilst camping. The local school teacher pulled up on a moto for a beer, it was 1530 by now. He was a real character, a young cocky type of guy. There was a hen on the back of his moto under a cargo net. Every now and again, he would walk outside and pour some beer on its head. I suggested that it added flavour to the meat.
He wanted to know if I would swap my bike for his moto, sure, I said just as long as the chicken comes with the deal.
The whole encounter was so enjoyable with these good humoured guys.
They said another comunidade was 20 km on.
The twenty km was clocked up in just over an hour on the relatively flat terrain. Here I pulled in at a food stall set up where there was a bus full of people buying drinks among other things. Here a bag of fresh Brasil nuts was bought for a dollar a kilo.
I was intrigued as to how they grow see the photo below.
Here time was spent talking to the young girls in the stalls. They are so friendly once they know the conversation is light hearted and sprinkled with a bit of animation.
Their boyfriends were turning up to pick them up after the bus left.
We had a bit of fun with this situation. One of the guys turned up with just the cutest baby, Dallas. I could have sworn the girl looked only 15 or 16.
I loaded up with water here for the nights camp.
About 1km, on I got to the village proper, at the bottom of the hill was a substantial wooden bridge.
On the other side, like the bridge, a rather substantial hill.
There was no way I was going to climb this baby at 1700 in the afternoon. Stopping on the bridge to chat to a group of girls sitting on the wooden rail. I asked them about the solitary large trees near us.
They were Brasil nut trees. They are forest monsters. Though, these specimens were by no means fully foliated. They appeared stressed.
However, their size was awe inspiring. The brown bombs that carry the nuts were seen hanging high in the canopy.
Also up there were vultures roosting for the night.
Whilst with the girls, two men wandered onto the bridge, they were asked if I could camp in the church shelter by the nut trees. Sure, they said.
Parking the bike, I crossed the road to help a bunch of kids and their dad throw stones into a cashew tree to try and knock the ripening fruit from its branches. It has been a long time since I threw a stone. The cashews were always going to still be in the tree as my stones flew by a metre away covering all points of the compass. The kids were knocking them down every third attempt.
Just before dark I headed down to the river for a wash, here a guy was washing his moto, a common sight on all the accessible creeks and rivers. He let me use some soap to give my clothes an impromptu wash.
Once again, the river was so refreshingly cool.
The shelter was just the best. It had a small stage that sufficed as a table and desk from my stool.
All the moving parts on the bike were oiled. The breaks and gearing have been getting a little stiff to operate, the dust sees to this.
Dinner was just noodles and coffee. Food had been eaten earlier.
The tent was set up without the fly under the shelter. As said before, this road that is taking me from Almeirim to Macapá, the capital of Amapá, so far has been up there with the highlights in Brazil so far.
There is little traffic and the people that live here are so friendly and live such simple lives. There are only public phones in the comunidades and most definitely no internet.
Pliers were needed to break the Brasil nut shells. Tomorrow I will ask someone what is the knack to accessing a clean shell free nut. The best I could do was crush the enclosed delicious delicacy.
Again, the evening was relatively insect free.
People walking and driving past the shelter all stopped for a chat. Most didn’t stay long as the conversation headed towards “no intiendo” or in their case no intiendes.
The steep little climb out of the community will be a pleasure tomorrow, well rested and fed.
20/9/2014 Comunidade Água Branca do Cajari to an abandoned bush hut
5km past Macará
D84, T9, Av13.24, Max54, 32476/6948
Fine, dead still, 37° and ultra high humidity, easterly breeze
00’ 08”00S of the equator
Another undisturbed night of sleep was enjoyed, up early and on the road by 0730. The hill up out of the valley would have been a burden not coped with yesterday afternoon, it was so steep that a stop was made halfway up. Both brakes had to be applied just to stop the bike from slipping back down the hill.
Once at the top, the riding was as normal, just undulating and peaceful. Soon the forest stared to thin out.
Any vehicles passing were stirring up untold amounts of dust on the white powdery surface.
Before long I was in open country, the most prominent things in the environment were the 240kv pylons carrying electricity to Macapá and beyond.
The vegetation was low trees and the grasses very brown and dry. This was poor country. Like an area north of Coffs Harbour, Halfway Creek, where the locals say even a Kangaroo has to take a packed lunch for the day.
Here even a fox would have had to do the same. The road was wide, and exposed. Coming to a small bar in the middle of nowhere, a stop was made. The few guys there were not friendly. I asked them a few basic questions, their responses were less than enthusiastic.
Here a drink was bought and all bottles topped up.
Moving on the country got even more barren and dry. The occasional water hole or low spot contained diminishing brackish, black water with mud fringes, not inviting.
The federal elections are here in Brazil next month. The feeling is the president will get back in. Every second car has signage or flags all over it.
It is like the football all over again.
Riding on into a cooling easterly my reserves were dwindling as was my water supply. The road was deeply corrugated for much of the time. These have to be tackled positively as there is no escaping their presence. The whole road is covered with them. At the edges, it is too soft anyway.
At a speed of 6-7km on flat road, I just flow with them in the seat so as to minimise the jarring on my bum. Music helped immensely during this passage.
By 1330 my water was almost gone . The last drink from my litre bottle on the back was hot as shower water, it was wet. A car sped past, once again dust was eaten as desert. An energy gel was eaten with some very hot water from the plastic bottle on the back of hte bike.
The need to stop a vehicle for water was now a reality.
There had been no houses for miles. The only interruption to the landscape was log piles every 20km of trees that had been removed to make way for the power easement.
A fox was seen drinking from an evaporating water hole, even he didn’t have the energy to run away.
Still ambling along amongst the corrugations, a house was seen in on the left. It was a brick construction with mortar that had poured from between the frozen in time.
A table was under a tree and a hammock nearby with another ramshackle wooden hut. Pulling in I yelled hola. They were all resting. I felt a bit rude. Anyway, they got up and asking for water the young boy filled an aluminium jug from the house and gave it to me.
The jug was tipped skyward and the fluid was poured down my throat, some was not making the passage and spilled from my the sides of my mouth, such was my thirst. Another jug was immediately drunk in the same fashion. The people must have seen my predicament. They invited me to sit at the table.
There was a covered plate in the middle. It contained some meat from a wild pig in the area this was given to me to eat.
Along with the staple of crumbed dry mandioaca. These people were so friendly, our conversation soon lightened. The young girl, a mother was a character, she wanted to know if I could take one of the children with me!
Yeah, Yeah.... My excuse was I didn’t have room. Going to my bike, the multigrips and the bag of Brazil Nuts were retrieved we sat and ate these together. They also gave me three oranges which were quartered and devoured, all the while still drinking that oddly tasting ground water.
This family group, two men, 2 very young babies, one only 20 days old, two very young mothers 1 young boy and another woman appeared to be very poor. Importantly they had a great sense of humour. It was so enjoyable spending this time with these people.
It was amusing watching their mannerisms, it was nothing for the young girl to just spit on the ground infront of me . At one point, they were feeding both babies from the other woman’s breasts.
Their naturalness ease around me was my privilege. I really couldn’t thank them enough as I rode off with full water bottles.
Within 5km a creek was spotted, here kids were swimming, I joined them in the black log filled just flowing creek.
I swam fully clothed with my sandals on. The last thing needed was a cut foot.
My new pants are totally open in the crotch, luckily my boxers are black also.
A community was passed soon after here.
Amapá is one of the poorest states in Brasil, if not the poorest. I am seeing this first hand. That the terrain is so unforgiving partly explains this.
I knew Macará was 25km on. Today had been very tough, I had been taken to my upper limits of endurance. Nearing the community, my reserves were little. So thankfully much was gently downhill.
Seeing people on old pushbikes told me I was getting close. Then the bridge was seen. It was a case of I have made it. The water the people gave me had a terrible taste, indescribable though like acidy clay flavour. It helped keep me going but the pleasures normally afforded by water on a hot day were not complete.
On the bridge, I spoke to a young confident guy about things here. He was selling biscuits to passing motorists. This young boy of about 12 was to later provide me and others with much joy and amusement, he was a character to say the least.
He was my shadow whilst in town.
Pulling into the first loja, a bottle of water was boght and decantered into my stainless bottle where a lemon was squeezed into it.
Soon the well fed young boy turned up with his box of biscuits, he tried to sell me a pack for 2R. I had only just seen him sell some for 1R. This I stirred him about.
I asked if there was a restaurant here. Up the road the described place was stopped at. Chicken, rice and salad were ordered. The owners were lovely people, we sat and chatted, a table was dragged onto the side of the road out of the sun.
The meal was so nice. Soon Fernando turned up still with his box in hand. He was like a little adult, mannerisms, beyond his age.
He had been eating at the first shop, now he ordered a meal like mine.
He ate this like no tomorrow then to our amusement five minutes later ordered the same again.
We joked that he was eating all the profits. Other people turned up for the laughs. It was a great hour spent here on the dusty roadside.
People were telling me the local doctor is a woman from Cuba. Some 1500 hundred people live in the community and its surrounds. The river was a focal point, for relaxing, swimming, fishing and washing things.
The owner took me to a friends place for a room but it was upstairs. The last thing needed was stairs at 1800 after todays efforts. Anyway, I felt like a night in the forest. Just myself and the wilderness.
They said I could sleep under the outdoor area of the cafe. Being Saturday night, all the music and people were not needed.
I finally got away after 1800, riding was enjoyable in the cool evening air with a full stomach.
Many places were checked for a camp until a small open gate was seen, beyond a track, little used led to an abandoned hut.
A walk was taken down to a swamp to wash the dust from my face and legs, the water was warm and partly stagnant. My handle bar towel was soaked in the weedy brown waters, it was so nice to soak my dusty sticky body.
Today had been one of contrasts, both my well being and the countryside.
The latter had gone from lushness to arid rain shadow like conditions. The former from fully hydrated to a state of exhaustion.
This said, it was another day of the unknown, unexpected, but as ever wondrously, enjoyable days here in the Amazon Basin.
It was so nice to finish it inside my own little hut in the jungle, listening to crickets, birds and frogs as the day slowly drew to a close.
Nothing was eaten or drunk before climbing into the tent and onto to another world afforded by the airbed.
I can’t tell you about anything five minutes later.
21/9/2014 Abandoned bush hut 5km past Macará to Vila Nova on the Rio Vila Nova
D44, T8, Av12.36, Max56, 32520/6992
Fine, dead still, 37° and ultra high humidity
00’ 09”00S
The old hut provided for a great nights sleep free of any disturbances. I am getting used to sleeping well in these hot conditions that persist all night with little air movement. As long as mosquitoes are absent, all is well. Just one inside the tent can destroy a proper sleep.
Arising early and having a look around at my surroundings. The owner had cut and burnt a small patch of jungle and planted lemon trees, mangoes and pineapples.
He had obviously lost enthusiasm, the place appeared to have been unoccupied for a couple of years judging by the timber decay and regrowth.
Many timbers here are resistant to decay. Something very noticeable when picking up a chair, is the weight of it. These beautiful Amazonia timbers are so heavy and dense. Many have rich dark grains.
In no hurry to move on, my blog was updated, in a comfortable position using the bed as a desk.
As soon as the road was entered, it was noticed my rear tyre was half flat.
Some air was pumped into it just to keep going, it was a slow leak.
A few km on a great shady spot by a bridge was utilised to repair the tube. A tiny piece of steel wire from a belted tyre was the culprit. Having access to water makes finding these small holes easy.
Importantly the wire was removed from the tyre using the tweezers on my tiny Swiss knife.
A hole in my front pannier was also patched.
Many vehicles heading past were sporting flags of the various candidates for the elections on October the fifth.
Dilma, the president is from the left. The Brasileiros are very passionate about their politics, almost every vehicle at the moment is displaying some allegiance.
Back on the road an hour later, it was a day for reflection. My riding pace was such to just keep the flowing sweat at bay.
This was superb equatorial riding, in lush forest, the road had hills, that allowed for the cooling effect of an apparent wind on the descents. With classical music playing quietly on my speaker, my mind was occupied with only positive thoughts. Thoughts that again made even the steepest little climb, a pleasure, believe it or not.
By this, I mean leaving the chain in the lowest gear and rolling down the roller coaster terrain and only beginning to pedal when my momentum had almost ceased. This way, effort is kept to a minimum and there is no need to always be changing gears. This method saw me ascending many notable small climbs doing no more than 4.8km/ hr, just enough forward momentum to stay balanced. Over the background music the sound of gravel being disturbed by the front wheel always meant progress.
There were no flat spots at the crests, it was straight back down. The road was literally like riding a huge rolling ocean swell. Some of the small climbs were the steepest encountered to date.
At the trough of each descent was a palm fringed lagoon with lily pads floating on the surface. None offered opportunities for a swim.
Coming to one river, a bunch of young guys and girls were on the roadside drinking 51 R with salt and a sour fruit, they give me a few of the sour but delicious fruits used in salads.
After all, it was Sunday.
Once again, I was getting through my water, at the top of one ascent, a rest was required for 20 minutes, exhaustion and the heat at 1300 were having their effect.
The dust from the vehicles did not help.
Coming down the hill, a bridge was seen. There were a few cars parked on my side of the approach. There were people swimming in the river.
Elation describes my disposition at seeing this. Wandering down there was a group of people and kids swimming from the tiered timber decking on the riverbanks. The delicious smell of meat cooking on charcoal filled the air.
Like most vistas here the, forest always has an understory of palms, they alone represent the lushness and tropical feeling of the area.
Greeting everyone, my shoes were removed. With a lazy plunge into the dark tannin stained slowly flowing waters, the exhaustion 15 minutes ago dissipated. This was so, so, so........... good. At times like these, I wish could breath underwater, such was the pleasure of submerging my head in the unusually cool waters.
The kids were having a ball in the water diving and playing. They were all confidently swimming.
Once back on the decking, one of the woman asked if I would like to eat. I was given a plate of rice and spicy chorizo with melho.and a chilled drink of fanta.
The appreciation of food at these times is beyond describing the taste, it is my body wanting the food. Not my mind. The two are quite different. Much of the eating done in normal circumstances is to ease the mind, not nourish the body.
For two hours or more time was spent chatting with these people and just enjoying their company and the presence of the river.
The guys, all about 40 odd had such young wives. One told me he was onto his third marriage. His wife was olive skinned and very attractive only being half his age I guessed.
They all had young children, cute as could be.
It turned out one of the guys owned this property, unbeknown to me, it was private, he had a 2km road frontage that included the river. Hence the elaborate entertaining facilities, riverside.
So far, my experiences on this road, Ruta 156 have been the most enjoyable in Brazil to date, from a social aspect. The people are so friendly and hospitable.
The Trans Amazonica is the work horse of the Amazon. With, trucks, loggers, motos by the hundred and busy dusty working towns.
Whereas this road is one for the locals, it is peaceful, with clean rivers, few vehicles and friendly people along its length. I really don’t want to leave here to soon. Such is my enjoyment along its length so far.
My hosts told me Vila Nova was 6km on. The roller coaster continued.
At one section, road works were in progress, water had been sprayed on newly laid over burden. In the heat, mist could be seen due to the humidity above its surface.
It was like riding through a steam room. The road levelled out somewhat and Vila Novea came into view. There was a bar and cafe open. Here a bottle of water was bought and two of the little juice laden bush lemons were squeezed into the bottle.
This was an idyllic little community with the river Vila Nova flowing silently past with its occasional burden of floating water hyacinth, it was a large river that drained due south into the Amazon.
It too, contained dark waters. Small riverboats and canoes were coming and going from the dock in front of the bar. The owners said I could camp near the river for the night.
Fried potatoes with chilli, garlic, ground pepper and salt were enjoyed for dinner, followed by a hot milo and biscuits on the dock. A roadwork gang was staying here, they were a great bunch of guys, who bought me beer as the night wore on.
Camped right alongside the silent river, the sound of crickets and frogs saw me fall asleep amidst calming thoughts of the day just enjoyed.
22/9/2014 Vila Nova on the Rio Vila Nova to a grain silo 20 before Macapá
D63, T5, Av13.70, Max46, 32583/7053
Fine, SE wind, 34°
00’ 11”00S
Everything was soaked early in the morning, due to the unusually heavy dew.
Up at 0600, a walk over to the cafe was taken to have a coffee with the road guys who were already eating.
One of them bought me breakfast of a cheese and bread roll. They were a great bunch of guys, who spent a lot of time talking about women!!
A woman whom I met last night came over to the tent for a chat with her daughter. Her husband had just dropped them off at the wharf. They had a property up the river and one in Macapá. Their daughter Maria, went to school in Macapá.
Maria spent the morning slashing fruit to pieces on my phone for the morning. Their bus was running ever so late.
A shave was also had to spruce up for my imminent arrival in Macapá.
Me, I was in no hurry to leave this relaxed little community. The early morning was spent drying my gear in the rapidly heating sun rising across the river.
My blog was updated in the cafe. The woman I had met, asked me about Peter Blake, she knew of his demise. Had he not being carrying a gun from the saloon on his yacht, he may still have been alive today, I feel.
Finally, the spot was vacated at about 1100. Once over the bridge and on some 2km, the terrain turned into grasslands with few trees and palms. It was similar to the section earlier on.
There was little to see. By this time the heat of the day had kicked in. The hills started spreading out. A swim was enjoyed in one little stream in a hole just big enough to fit me.
Swimming is now done fully clothed, it cleans myself and my clothes at once.
The bus went past and gave a big toot. Continuing on, the plan was to camp somewhere before Macapá so I could get there early in hte morning.
The country had now changed to the point where there were fires burning along the side of the road, such was the dryness.
A stop was made in a small community for a drink and food.
There was thirty km to Macapá. Just down the road, a bridge straddled another big river heading toward the Amazon, the Matapí. No camp spot could be found here as it was all fenced. A full load of water was taken from the bar on the riverbank.
By now, it was 1630 and a campsite was needed. One community type area was explored, but no one could be found to ask permission. I soon got to the asphalt.
It was so nice to be back on a solid surface.
I was now getting close to Macapá and was on this busy road. Campsites could be difficult to find. Some 5km up the road, a grain silo complex was spotted. I crossed the rail track into the open complex. At the rear there was a man coming from a house. I went down to see him and ask if i could camp. He said that was fine. His three dogs were not impressed.
Anyway, it was a great spot, with my own private little veranda on the new toilet block.
So, I had a shower and hand basin with toilet. The place was fully lit all night, but that was ok. Just before dark, the man came over with his three dogs. I finally coaxed them into allowing me to pat and play with them .The scratch on their brisket subdues any pooch. They soon became familiar with me.
Dinner was pasta and tuna in a spicy sauce, with much hunger it was devoured at a rapid rate. The net was used for the first time a nearly a week. Just on my sim card, which soon slowed down after a few pics were posted on instagram, (username: browsinabout)
Washing was done as things would dry quickly in the lovely breeze funnelling around the little building next to the weigh bridge infront of the silos.
The bike was also hosed down .
It had been a fantastic 5 days from Almeirim. The Amazon basin became so much more familiar, facilitated by the warm welcoming of all the people met on this lovely stretch of road.
The security lighting was such that the site was like full daylight. Hopefully this wont halt a good nights sleep.
23/9/2014 Grain silo to Macapá
D34, T2, Av17, Max39, 32617/7087
Fine, SE wind, 37°
As expected, a poor nights sleep was had, it was so brightly lit around me, also the anticipation of getting to Macapá. This did not stop me from arising early and ready for the 20km into Macapá at 0800.
It was nice to be back on asphalt, a tail wind was aiding my passage. On arrival in town, directions to the river were obtained. On arrival there a man on a mountain bike who turned out to be a lecturer in law at the uni, stopped for a chat. He had toured for a couple of years at the turn of the century in SA.
Interesting guy.
A ride was taken along the dilapidated promenade in the old part of Macapá. Here the brown Amazon was off in the distance behind an almost flat, debris ridden mud flat. It was low tide. The promenade had been undermined in parts, the concrete had collapsed into the voids.
The housing here dated back to the settlement of the area when it must have been a port and nothing else, the streets were narrow. Most people present were of African decent.
Everything was made of crude concrete presently in all states of disrepair. All this was very interesting, it easily took one’s mind back to the heyday when all this must have been new,. A time when there was a buzz in this waterfront area.
Asking about as usual, a hotel was soon found. The moto taxi guys are the ones to ask.
The hotel Central was booked. It is quite new with AC in comfortable rooms.
A rest will be enjoyed here for a few days. Since getting back from NZ, I really haven’t stopped for more than a day.
Macapá is another significant waypoint on the way to French Guyana. Important food items will be bought in bulk, as much as is practical to carry. Especially,coffee, soups, milk powder. French Guyana is very expensive, most goods come from France. The Euro is the local currency.
I have a myriad of bites around my groin, somewhere along the way something has dined on my in a big way. Luckily, the spots are only slightly itchy.
The dock in town is dry at low tide, the passenger boats just sit in the firm sand whilst they are loaded.
It is off this dock, out in the waters beyond low tide that Peter Blake met his fate while at anchor in December 6 2001.
Having observed the quarters where people lived here on the river in the old part of town and seeing people sleeping on the foreshores and men encountered drinking on the promenade.
It is easy to see that his assailants had little to lose during their raid on his anchored yacht. Hence their use of firepower when confronted by Peter Blake carrying a rifle from the companionway.
Lots of enjoyment was shared with locals on the route to Macapá, Here in Maracá
The waterfront, Santarém, Almost At the Amazon proper. The River Tapájos is on the Santarém side.
Tapájos River in the foreground, the Amazon is the brown water.
Out the kitchen window at Bituba Comunidade
Cargill facility at Santarém, where all those trucks were going.
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It was busy on the dock where the ferry Breno was tied up.
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Downtown Santarém
Foreshores, Almeirin, on the Amazon.
Four or five of these log stockpiles were seen on the way. They were the trees removed to create the power easement
The riding environment couldn't get much better.
Caju, a sweet juice come from the fleshy part above the fruit, very popular here.
View from camp. The dreaded submerged boat ramp
Tapioquinhas and Coxinhas Frango do carnes
Eucalypts at the top of the climb growing in drier soils.
Typical bridge surface throughout the Amazon on the dirt roads, the gaps between the timbers are a challenge to stay out of.
Settlers in Amapá
Jacá, Martins
The Brazil nuts on the left fall to the ground in the "bombs" on the right. Up to 15 individual nuts can be in one bomb. Falling from such great heights some must shatter on impact.
Huge Brazil nut trees and my camp area at Agua Brancos
This fox was doing it as tough as me. You can see it in his face, his mind is not on the job at hand. It is miles away.
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Fisherman, Almeirin
settling in for the night on the lower deck, next to my gear.
Next seasons crop, last seasons crop is ready now.
Bush meat.
Land tortoise, they let it get bigger then eat it, notice all the ticks on the shell.
ready to leave Bituba Comunidade
camp at the lanchonette, Bituba Comunidade
Solid ice. Water administered by the mouthful, torture in the Amazon basin, near the equator in 37 degrees.
Larajal do Jurí, Amapá on the border with Pará
It was like entering another country after 2000km in Pará.
Downtown Laranjal Do Jarí
Another welcome swimming hole, if they are locals swimming, I'm in there, no questions asked.
On her way to dinner, problem was she was it!
shelter at Agua Branco
Open country on the way to Maracá
Their hospitality turned a dire situation into one of warmth and enjoyment.
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Such nice people, with a great sense of humour. Never mind the babe!!
How unsocial, have our daily chores become.
These long riverboats were close to folding in half due to the rough roads.
Another impromptu stop.
Early morning yerba mate and an update.
Superb lodgings for the night.
At the bottom of almost every hill one of these lagoons was located.
Large vessels were tucked away in seemingly small rivers, though all lead to the Amazon.
Huge marshlands.
Joaquin after a drink of Acai
Victim of the road, I was informed no one died, maybe the bus was just pushed down here to clear the road.
One of my hosts at the river, posting a right wing election placard. He was a grower of Acai, the palm fruit that makes the purple juice, most is exported.
Life on the Rio Vila Nova. School boat.
All that lushness to this nearing Macapá
Just a reminder of where I was.
Macapá is a city in Brazil and the capital of Amapá state in the country's North Region. The city has few land connections to other parts of the country, owing to Amapá's difficult terrain. The equator runs through the middle of the city, leading residents to refer to Macapá as "The capital of the middle of the world."
History Macapá is a corruption of the Tupi word macapaba, or "place of many bacabas", the fruit of the local palm tree. The Spaniard Francisco de Orellana claimed the region in 1544 and called it Nueva Andalucía (New Andalusia).[1] The modern town began as the base of a Portuguese military detachment, stationed there in 1738. On February 4, 1758 Sebastião Veiga Cabral, the illegitimate child of the military governor of Trás-os-Montes, Sebastião Veiga Cabral, founded the town of São José de Macapá, under the authority of the governor of Pará, Francisco Xavier de Mendonça Furtado. The fortress of São José de Macapá was first laid out in 1764, but took 18 years to complete, due to illness among the Indian workers, and numerous escapes made by black slaves.[1] Macapá gained international notoriety in December 2001 when international yachtsman Peter Blake, from New Zealand, was murdered while anchored on his explorer yacht Seamaster in Macapá port.[2] According to Business Insider, Macapá is the 45th most violent city in the world, with 32.06 homicides per 100,000 people.[3] Demography Macapá has a population of 499,166 in its metropolitan area, the third largest in the North Region. The city alone accounts for 60% of the population of state of Amapá and 3.50% of the population of the entire northern region of Brazil. According to the 2010 census, the city has a population of 397,913, of which 97.92% live in urban areas and 2.08% live in rural districts. With an area of 6563 km ², the population density of Macapá is approximately 60.62 inhabitants per km ². Transportation Macapá International Airport. Macapá is located 345 km from Belém, but is accessible only by boat or airplane. There are few roads[1] to mainland Brazil, although it is possible to drive to Georgetown, Guyana. The city is connected with the rest of the North Region via the following highways: the AP-010, linking Macapá to Santana to the southwest; the AP-030, linking to the city of Mazagão; the BR-156, linking to the south of Amapá and Laranjal do Jari; and the Ap-330, linking to the northern town of Oiapoque. In 2013, the Oyapoque River Bridge will open for traffic, linking Brazil and French Guiana for the first time. The city is served by Alberto Alcolumbre International Airport. Economy Macapá is the fifth wealthiest city in northern Brazil,with a GDP of R$ 2,826,458,000 (2005).[4] The city has a notably high rate of economic growth[citation needed] and a per capita income of R$ 7,950 (2005).[5] Education Portuguese is the official national language, and thus the primary language taught in schools. However, English and French are part of the official high school curriculum due to Macapá's proximity to French Guiana and Guyana. 
Foreshore near old Macapá. The Amazon river at low tide.
The ferry port at Macapá, low tide of course!!
Fortress, São José de Macapá
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One of these was enjoyed for lunch at the girls house.
The guys on their way delivering a couple of river boats
Just another day in the Amazon basin
Fernando was a person of many talents, he was one unique kind of kid. He was always cashed up from selling homemade milk biscuits. I finally got a bag at the locals rate of 50c.
Campaigning was and still is in full swing for October the 5th .
These how to vote cards littered most communities.
Heading down stream to spend Sunday with friends.
Another great swimming hole. Lunch was enjoyed here.
Kids being kids, made easy with water nearby.
At 1 year old he might have been nearly walking but had no fear of the water.
The road bridge over the Rio Vila Nova,these wooden bridges have so much character.
Rio Vila Nova.
Riverside camp Vila Nova
Another water hole stopped at to cool off.
Fishing a marsh area.
The last night before arriving in Macapá. I had all the facilities at the grain silo, including this much light all night.
Housing development on the outskirts of Macapá
Kite surfers out in the howling afternoon breeze here that comes in off the river from the south. It is so cooling, blowing about 30-40 knots. All the locals are out walking on the promenade in this more modern part of the river foreshores.
Out for a stroll in the cool evening breeze on the river walk, Macapá.
Log tow on the Amazon.
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So much more than a bike ride.
Symbolism in a bottle and a guiding spirit in the form of a bald Eagle feather. This was presented to me 3 1/2 years ago by a Native American Elder. On the shores of Lake Winnibigoshish, in the far north of Minnesota.
He said, "Nigel, don't ever let it touch the ground and it will look after you".
On many occasions good fortune has arisen in the most difficult of situations.
The states of well being!!!
Cycling in 35 plus degrees, no wind, high humidity at less than one degree south of the equator in the Amazon Basin, Amapá, Brazil.
I have no complaints. it is far to enjoying for that.
Spell binding, local mog.
These boats are home to many river people.
many of these were littered around the inside perimeter of the fort.
The evening breeze off the Amazon is is such a gift from nature at the end of incredibly hot humid days .
The 2 hours before dark are busy on the promenade with many people out enjoying its invigorating coolness.
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Lots of these are drunk and eaten, 3R each.
The waterfront Thursday night
That Macapá is hardly mentioned in Lonely Planet, Brazil makes it a relaxing place where the locals are tremendously friendly. Prices are not inflated.
I sat here with a beer just watching skateboarders, kite surfers, joggers, cyclists, families and lovers just enjoying the evening river breeze.
It was so relaxing, with the worlds most famous river complimenting the vista.
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My only real chore here in Macapá, was to let the waters from the Amazon join those from the headwaters and mouth of the Mississippi River along with those from the Beagle Channel in the deep south of this fascinating continent.
This symbolism is very important to me whilst on this adventure.
Tomorrow sees me heading north for the border with French Guyana, on Ruta ,which is largely gravel. Though not before visiting Marco Zero, 5km from my hotel. Here lies the equator. My riding here in the southern hemisphere is drawing to a close for some time to come.
The equator was last crossed in Ecuador on my bike.
The equator was last crossed in Ecuador on my bike.
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