I have always been an island enthusiast. Nothing beats physically detaching from a mainland to mentally check out of a hurry-up, get-it-done life, and check in with one’s self.
So when the motorboat docked at Vila do Abraão on Brazil’s third largest island of
Ilha Grande, I stood on the platform pier with my roller bag and took a full, unadulterated breath. After 15 hours of air travel from the States, 3 hours of daredevil car travel through horrendous traffic from the Rio airport, and 2 hours of precarious boat travel, I was ready to hit my refresh button.
Located approximately 100 miles from Rio de Janeiro by car and ferry, Ilha Grande is where one of the world’s richest ecosystems exists-a remnant of Brazil’s Atlantic rainforest. The isle is home to a bevy of wild monkeys, rare sloths and tropical bird species, and boasts a colorful history. For many years it was a pirate hideout, then a Brazilian slave trading post, and most recently, home to a notorious prison that closed in 1994.
Nowadays the island and the surrounding seas are a government-protected nature preserve, and a tourist trade is flourishing. Adhering to stringent development regulations, a limited amount of commercial business exists, mostly in the main village of Vila do Abraão. What you will not find on Ilha Grande is a Four Seasons Hotel or a Starbuck’s (nor a bank so come prepared), only charming pousadas (bed and breakfast-like inns), eco-minded hostels for young backpacker types, and simple beach shack bars and cafés.
I was staying three full days on this glorious island, and was eager to explore its nooks and crannies. On the morning of our first full day on the isle, my travel companions and I headed out the bamboo gates of our sweet pousada with backpacks and cameras in tow for an all-day, self-guided discovery hike. With no cars or roads, Ilha Grande offers a system of well-marked hiking trails that cut through the vast jungle interior and connect to beaches on all sides.
Our trail (T10) commenced at the base of the main beach in Abraão, and immediately led us up vertical rocky terrain, snaking around thick jungle mass. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes when I found myself standing in the heart of a fertile and feral jungle system. The air was humid and damp, and I could really feel it was healthful – like atmospheric vitamins. I wanted to breathe it all in, and jar it to bring back home.
Towering above us were thick trees with the massive, melon-like fruit ‘jaca’ growing up and down their trunks. Giant clusters of green and yellow bamboo stood strong along the trail, while ripe banana trees grew wild all around us. The unfamiliar whistle of birds had me looking upwards in hopes of spotting a Brazilian parrot, though I never saw one. Through the canopy of the trees I caught a delightful glimpse of the island’s second highest peak, Pico de Papagaio standing tall at 3,200 feet.
The first 1.5 hours of the hike continued like this until the rocky path began to descend, and we came to a fork in the trail. We had been given a tip to go left at this fork, where only locals knew about an intimate, secluded beach called Praia Brava (‘brave’ in Portuguese).
Well they should’ve named it Bliss Beach because if ever one needed to unwind and feel rejuvenated, this was the spot to do so. My companions and I made fresh foot tracks through untouched sand down to the water where we dipped our feet into the aquamarine-blue water lapping onto shore. The tropical Brazilian sun was shining down, a pleasant warm, blissful heat that kissed my face. One small motorboat was tied to a buoy a few yards out in the ocean, swaying left and right to the dance of the sea. Not a single person was here. As a reward for the first leg of our hike, we ordered a chopp bem gelado-large, cold bottle of Brazilian beer-from the only shack on the beach, and sat under a palm tree to absorb the view. Camping teepees ran along the jungle’s edge behind the beach. I genuinely felt true contentment, inner peace – all of that stuff you read about in Yoga Journal. I sat there, pondered the notion that simplicity and ease were in fact the keys to happiness, and took a full Buddha belly breath.
We finished our beer and parted ways with Praia Brava, and walked the narrow, rocky trail to the next beach, Praia Palmas, a quick 10-minutes away. Palmas was another lovely, uncomplicated piece of shoreline, although much longer and wider than the previous. By now we had worked up an appetite, and lunch on the beach seemed the perfect excuse to relax. There were a couple of bar shacks situated along the beach, and we randomly picked one. I had a specific objective for this lunch: freshly-caught, grilled fish. As our fish was being prepared, we served ourselves from the salad bar set up in the back of the shack, a typical Brazilian way to eat. I loaded up my plate with hearts of palm, rice, and mandioca, an indigenous root plant served as a finely shaved topping for fish and other Brazilian dishes. We sampled two types of white, delicious, flaky fish, each served on its own platter with bones in tacked. We drank another ice-cold chopp, delighting in the present moment and this bit of paradise we were lucky to discover. Inhale … exhale. Contentment.
Sipping a cafezinho (little coffee) after lunch, we mapped out the rest of the afternoon. We decided to hike another hour over to world-famous surfing beach Lopes Mendes, and then on to our final beach Praia Prouso where we would catch a ferry boat back to Abraão. Home to many surfing championships, Lopes Mendes was vast and long, stretched out like a whale in comparison to the other minnow-like beaches we visited.
We stood here long enough to snap a few photos, and headed on to our final destination of Prouso. An amusing encounter with a pair of island monkeys topped off the final leg of our hike. Small in size, like that of a large cat, social and tame – they sat perched in the tree above the trail, and studied us with fixed glares as we stared back and smiled in delight.
Soon thereafter we would be boarding a ferry back to Abraão. My knees were aching, but I was pleased. It was approaching dusk and the sun had faded behind the clouds. Our boat pushed off from the dock and ventured out into the billowing, dark waves to round the sharp edges of this jungle isle back to our village. Sitting there on the rickety wooden boat, I studied my fellow passengers, and noticed a baby who couldn’t have been more than three months old. She was nestled in a pink baby blanket, sleeping there in her mother’s arms, riding out the rock and roll and jerks of the boat, which were at times very violent. She looked utterly vulnerable, but so peaceful. I inhaled a giant breath of fresh sea air, closed my eyes, smiled, and exhaled.
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