How many cachoeiras can one take?
Door: Geiske
Blijf op de hoogte en volg Geiske
04 Februari 2013 | Brazilië, Serro
How many cachoeiras can one take?
Crucial fact #1
When touristing around Brazil, thou shalt visit every single cachoeira (waterfall) around. Who needs architecture or ethnic ceremonies after all?! So after having ticked off all of Ouro Preto's surrounding cascades, there was nothing left for us but to go look for bigger and better. And did we stumble upon a little gem: Tabuleiro's 273 m high water chute. Conveniently located close to an Eco Hostel that offered scores of other outdoor activities. Great! Mission at hand: bussing our way via Belo Horizonte and Conceiçao do Mato Dentro to the village of Tabuleiro.
Crucial fact #2
Things rarely turn out as advertised. Or promised or indicated. Or all of the previous. So we chartered a Portugese speaker to call the bus company to confirm bus times and availability. And the bus station for a double check. As you may understand, great was our disappointment - yet small our surprise - that bus nr. 2 didn't run as promised. Resulting in four sweat pasted hours on plastic bus terminal seats. Despite finding ourselves city of 5.5 mln souls, we must have been the only tourists around. Unveiled staring sessions from the locals accompanied our every move. Transport durability by now our middle name we made it in the end, all the way into the Brazilian hinterlands. Where the promised English/Spanish speaking staff had disappeared for an unknown amount of time. Where the wifi was so temporarily out of order the sign had been plastified. The advertised multiple restaurants of course didn't exist. And neither did the horseback riding, kayaking, and climbing. The plentiful nearby hiking opportunities consisted of a single trail. There was nothing left for us but to drown ourselves in ill-prepared caipirinhas while discussing life's events on the wooden veranda. Slapping buzzing jungle mosquitoes on the go. Grrrr....
Never defeated
But defeated we will never be. So after a breakfast of fruit, cake, coffee, and more mosquito slapping we set off for the fabled Tabuleiro cachoeira. Not even the stiff ninety minute walk uphill to the trailhead was holding us back now. Blistering heat or no blistering heat. Red soil solidly caking our shoes. To our great disappointment we had to sign a disclaimer making us declare not to pet any snakes or scorpions, or set off the fireworks we had - naturally, duh! - brought along. After that we could finally hike and stone hop our way to the towering waterfall plus swimming pond. Which we shared with hand sized spiders that could walk on water, eeks! As the promised shops didn't materialize - surprise, surprise - we had to resort to pouting faces to gather some lunch. Being in begging mode anyhow, we continued to secure a lift back to our one-street civilization. Where a "don't park your horse here" sign betrayed the village was hiding a restaurant after all. Serving up the most mouth-watering rice and beans ever, mjam!
Evil spirit
Having ticked off the only waterfall, we decided to try our luck in nearby Serra do Cipo. Where we found some reasonably priced lodging despite skyrocketing prices. That is, up until the second our Brazilian friends disappeared and evil Fatima the hostel owner quickly backed out on our agreement. Oh, don't mess with the Dutchies woman! Without delay we set out on a mission to beat this unsavory spirit at her own game. And if I may say so, we excelled. Leaving Fatima fuming in ill-placed indignation. As a bonus our mutiny got us into the gory village gossip on the fly. Also, we befriended tourist office dude, who happily convinced everyone Hanneke and I were officials from the Dutch government, who should be allowed in for free without further ado. Got to love Brazil sometimes.
Things they'll never forget
Having reached our lying quotum, we decided to honestly pay for the kayak tour with nature guide. The obligatory safety statement requesting blood type and emergency contacts immediately put me in high spirits. But alas, no rapids, no blood flustering our cheeks in excitement. And, worst of all, no capybaras. The only water chutes we saw, were the raindrops pummeling our boats. Well, at least we managed to greatly entertain the locals by singing many a Dutch song. Especially since we quite frequently lacked the full lyrics and had to resort to shameless lalala-ing. Our performance was continued the next night, when Hanneke and I decided that the only way to learn how to make caipirinhas was to make caipirinhas. And oh boy, Hanneke likes her caipirinhas as she likes her coffee: very strong indeed. Thus outpartying the poor Brazilians. All reputation, no endurance, I'm telling you.
Fish pedicure
On the subject of climbing: our kayak guide turned out to be a climber as well. So I finally got a climb in, albeit only one. Woohoo nonetheless. He also was low on work and miraculously materialized the next day, as Hanneke and I were hunting down yet another waterfall. Did he know his cachoeiras or what! First we needed to circle a clump of bamboo bushes, then wade through a tanin stained river and negotiate a vague trail through some abandoned fields. Deciphering nature facts in Portugese on the go. Some final bush whacking brought us our well-deserved Jungle Jane points and up to an arrangement of meter-high waterfalls, stacked on top of and next to each other. Framed by crazy tropical plants and flowers. Bonus jet stream massage, yay! Plus fish pedicure, ouch! Somewhat hungry and thirsty after so many adventures we picked ourselves juicy, yellow mangoes and ate to our hearts' content. If this wasn't paradise...
The local cachoeiras taken care of, we were ready for our last stop. One week of beach relaxation in Paraty, before Hanneke would abandon me for her boyfriend and new job. Little did we know about the hell they call Brazilian night bus. Airconditioned to twenty degrees lower than the outside world, stops every hour, lights, shouting, urine stenched toilet. Luckily everything comes to an end, and so did our trials. Paraty, here we come!
Crucial fact #1
When touristing around Brazil, thou shalt visit every single cachoeira (waterfall) around. Who needs architecture or ethnic ceremonies after all?! So after having ticked off all of Ouro Preto's surrounding cascades, there was nothing left for us but to go look for bigger and better. And did we stumble upon a little gem: Tabuleiro's 273 m high water chute. Conveniently located close to an Eco Hostel that offered scores of other outdoor activities. Great! Mission at hand: bussing our way via Belo Horizonte and Conceiçao do Mato Dentro to the village of Tabuleiro.
Crucial fact #2
Things rarely turn out as advertised. Or promised or indicated. Or all of the previous. So we chartered a Portugese speaker to call the bus company to confirm bus times and availability. And the bus station for a double check. As you may understand, great was our disappointment - yet small our surprise - that bus nr. 2 didn't run as promised. Resulting in four sweat pasted hours on plastic bus terminal seats. Despite finding ourselves city of 5.5 mln souls, we must have been the only tourists around. Unveiled staring sessions from the locals accompanied our every move. Transport durability by now our middle name we made it in the end, all the way into the Brazilian hinterlands. Where the promised English/Spanish speaking staff had disappeared for an unknown amount of time. Where the wifi was so temporarily out of order the sign had been plastified. The advertised multiple restaurants of course didn't exist. And neither did the horseback riding, kayaking, and climbing. The plentiful nearby hiking opportunities consisted of a single trail. There was nothing left for us but to drown ourselves in ill-prepared caipirinhas while discussing life's events on the wooden veranda. Slapping buzzing jungle mosquitoes on the go. Grrrr....
Never defeated
But defeated we will never be. So after a breakfast of fruit, cake, coffee, and more mosquito slapping we set off for the fabled Tabuleiro cachoeira. Not even the stiff ninety minute walk uphill to the trailhead was holding us back now. Blistering heat or no blistering heat. Red soil solidly caking our shoes. To our great disappointment we had to sign a disclaimer making us declare not to pet any snakes or scorpions, or set off the fireworks we had - naturally, duh! - brought along. After that we could finally hike and stone hop our way to the towering waterfall plus swimming pond. Which we shared with hand sized spiders that could walk on water, eeks! As the promised shops didn't materialize - surprise, surprise - we had to resort to pouting faces to gather some lunch. Being in begging mode anyhow, we continued to secure a lift back to our one-street civilization. Where a "don't park your horse here" sign betrayed the village was hiding a restaurant after all. Serving up the most mouth-watering rice and beans ever, mjam!
Evil spirit
Having ticked off the only waterfall, we decided to try our luck in nearby Serra do Cipo. Where we found some reasonably priced lodging despite skyrocketing prices. That is, up until the second our Brazilian friends disappeared and evil Fatima the hostel owner quickly backed out on our agreement. Oh, don't mess with the Dutchies woman! Without delay we set out on a mission to beat this unsavory spirit at her own game. And if I may say so, we excelled. Leaving Fatima fuming in ill-placed indignation. As a bonus our mutiny got us into the gory village gossip on the fly. Also, we befriended tourist office dude, who happily convinced everyone Hanneke and I were officials from the Dutch government, who should be allowed in for free without further ado. Got to love Brazil sometimes.
Things they'll never forget
Having reached our lying quotum, we decided to honestly pay for the kayak tour with nature guide. The obligatory safety statement requesting blood type and emergency contacts immediately put me in high spirits. But alas, no rapids, no blood flustering our cheeks in excitement. And, worst of all, no capybaras. The only water chutes we saw, were the raindrops pummeling our boats. Well, at least we managed to greatly entertain the locals by singing many a Dutch song. Especially since we quite frequently lacked the full lyrics and had to resort to shameless lalala-ing. Our performance was continued the next night, when Hanneke and I decided that the only way to learn how to make caipirinhas was to make caipirinhas. And oh boy, Hanneke likes her caipirinhas as she likes her coffee: very strong indeed. Thus outpartying the poor Brazilians. All reputation, no endurance, I'm telling you.
Fish pedicure
On the subject of climbing: our kayak guide turned out to be a climber as well. So I finally got a climb in, albeit only one. Woohoo nonetheless. He also was low on work and miraculously materialized the next day, as Hanneke and I were hunting down yet another waterfall. Did he know his cachoeiras or what! First we needed to circle a clump of bamboo bushes, then wade through a tanin stained river and negotiate a vague trail through some abandoned fields. Deciphering nature facts in Portugese on the go. Some final bush whacking brought us our well-deserved Jungle Jane points and up to an arrangement of meter-high waterfalls, stacked on top of and next to each other. Framed by crazy tropical plants and flowers. Bonus jet stream massage, yay! Plus fish pedicure, ouch! Somewhat hungry and thirsty after so many adventures we picked ourselves juicy, yellow mangoes and ate to our hearts' content. If this wasn't paradise...
The local cachoeiras taken care of, we were ready for our last stop. One week of beach relaxation in Paraty, before Hanneke would abandon me for her boyfriend and new job. Little did we know about the hell they call Brazilian night bus. Airconditioned to twenty degrees lower than the outside world, stops every hour, lights, shouting, urine stenched toilet. Luckily everything comes to an end, and so did our trials. Paraty, here we come!
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