It was great to be back among the gregarious Brazilians.
As with all our other stops, it takes a while to get your bearings, but again we have had help. A lapsed participant in the BPO, a Brazilian boat, showed up here and it made all the difference. They have been here before, knew how the officialdom worked, and got us past the language barrier. The harbour master made sure we were plied with triple-X espresso before getting down to business. That done and we were off to see the police for immigration formalities. The office was in an untidy walled town square of the sort that could have been left over from the final scene in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The officers were relaxed and friendly. Next was the Brazilian navy who wanted our sailing plan and will track us while we are here; relaxed and friendly again, but firm that we should not change our plan without informing them. Then off to the ATM, and I do believe it was the one and only ATM, out at the airport. All this running around, courtesy of the harbourmaster, let us have a look at the place. As we had been told that this is a playground for well heeled I rather expected lots of chrome and glass sophistication. It is a lot more rustic than that. We did end up in a somewhat swish restaurant for dinner; not much chrome, plenty of glass and a corrugated roof. I was able to sate my longing for Caparhinia and get reacquainted with Churrascaria, that being meats barbecued on a spit and carved onto your plate right off the spit skewers that resemble fearsome swords. Excellent cuts served piping hot, perfectly cooked and as flavourful as you could wish for. It is served continuously in small quantities so the eating doesn't interfere with the table chatter and it keeps coming until you plead for mercy. We were out of there after three hours, just as locals flowed in. The youngsters (Those under fifty and under fifty wannabes?) were not ready to call it a night, so off we went to a nightclub in the Old Village. Open air, perched on a cliff overlooking the beach, reed roofed, generic gassy beer and a band whose energy made up for their singing flat. What made it all worthwhile was the dancers; there was none of your Club Euro Disco Amphetamine Fueled Dubstep Poseur Shuffle crap going on here. It was a young crowd strutting their disciplined flamboyant stuff and dressed to suit. Anyone over thirty would mourn their lost youth here. We flopped back onto the boat sometime after 1:00am and I suspect the club was just warming up.
Thursday was almost a write off due to getting groceries, trying to sort out the rental cars and attempting to get local SIM cards for some of our phones. You can't get a SIM here if you are not a Brazilian citizen, or something close to it. Our pal rode to the rescue again, but getting everyone sort of sorted was a trial. It shouldn't be that hard.
In the mid afternoon we all drove over to a beach down a long dirt track. It was quiet, free and to die for gorgeous. Warm clear water, soft sand, scenic off shore small islands, a set of large rock rimmed tidal pools. Just as I was settling in, it was time to go. Our two companion boats left for Cabadelo at sunset. There is something poignant about watching friends leave by sea, shrinking away over the horizon, dissolving into the twilight.
Friday morning was spent preparing for our departure at 6:00pm, as we had committed to the navy. That included getting into the water with a stiff brush to scrub off whatever had decided to tag along. It is an unrewarding task hanging onto a line with one hand, scrubbing off recalcitrant growth with other while trying to avoid swallowing too much sea water, being bounced around by the waves and being startled by schools of dolphin passing within a few feet. I envied their breathing arrangement. Two hulls are not an advantage in this work, but at leased they are narrow and shallow.
After a short nap, well it felt like a short nap though it was three hours, Nora & I headed ashore to look around on foot. There was a tiny fishermen's chapel close by on a low hill, that would accommodate about sixteen seated devotees. If I had been smarter I would have photographed it from a distance and you would see it standing alone, an isolated, windswept, whitewashed speck on open ground surrounded by the sea.
I'd planned to go up to the northernmost headland, but Nora spotted a sculpture park which looked like a better option. There we found level grassed ground, a collection of whimsical steel sculptures and a shark museum cum bar cum souvenir stand. Having a good internet connection, we settled in with espresso and cakes. It was a lovely spot to while away an hour or two overlooking the sea.
We got back to the boat, stowed the dinghy, packed stuff away, weighed anchor and got away into a fine evening just after sunset. We had a good breeze on the beam under a waxing half moon. It's about 36 hours to Cabedelo.
Link to Wednesday, December 7th, Fernando de Noronha pictures
-360° view from the chapel
- Nora & James at the restaurant. James owns the ~40ft Blue Wind, built to his design at his company in Brazil. Next year he will take delivery of a 54ft Moody being built in Germany.
- Zeke & Ruy. Ruy is James' fulltime crewman who did a lot of running around for us
- Nora all gussied up at the club with Sam, the very entertaining crew member on Tahawus.
- A denizen of the night club
- Claudia surveying the competition at the night club
- Beach scenes. It was a lot sunnier than these four pictures show. Buggies are the de rigeur rental vehicle choice usually seen with four or more folks perched up on the back.
- Pretty and breezy bar perched up above the harbour
- Our best sunset so far
- Free lunch for the frigate birds. I'd be alarmed to have these monsters hovering over my shoulder fighting for the discarded fish guts.
- A Greek ship that sank in the harbour in 1929. It is just below the surface and poorly marked.
- Interior of the chapel
- The "Wind Flute", cut and shaped bamboo that whistle eerily in the breeze
- The Brazilian boys love to pose and photograph their girlfriends
- A poster in the shark museum showing the Island's configuration
- A local's impression of Ron Burgundy?
- The island as shown in Google Earth
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