Life's a Beach (again)

A relatively similar day to the one before, breakfast enlivened by check-in-related chaos (the hostel had somehow managed to overbook, so the nice Spanish couple in my room were being moved on, to be replaced by a trio of Israelis - this was at least better than the any of the horde of very loud Yanks who had also descended on the place). I lounged around for a bit, Paula being off looking for another hostel and Marija having headed into town to feed her insatiable appetite for coffee, before deciding I really needed to do something with the day, getting my things together and heading off to Praia Lopes Mendes. In this, I was guided by Paula's assertion the previous day that the walk to Lopes Mendes beach had been easier than the one we did to the falls.

Well, by the time I eventually reached the top of the first ridgeline, it certainly didn't feel like it. When my infamous knee from my adventures in China gave a twinge partway down the hill, I had reached the point where I was running out of curse-words. Luckily, stopping for a bit and giving the offending area a quick massage got the knee back in line, and I made it safely down to the first beach stop, where I wasted no time in starting on the next trail, over the next ridge, to the next beach, reasoning better to get it all out of the way. And on this part of the trip, my salvation arrived, in the form of a group of young Brasilians, also doing the trek, and some of whom were suffering about as much as me. Bolstered by company and moral support, I made it down ok to the second beach, where I promptly threw myself in the sea to cool down.

After assuring my new-found friends that I was not actually crazy (and reassuring them by applying sunscreen to my now-even-more-obviously-really-pale skin), we headed on, over the last and lowest of the hills to get to Lopes Mendes beach. Which is, it has to be said, really rather beautiful. Nearest comparisons I can think of in terms of places I've been would be a less-developed version of Oarsman's Bay on Nacula in Fiji, or a slightly less groomed version of Whitehaven in the Whitsundays in Australia. It's white-powder sand, clear blue sea, and trees backing down pretty close to it. It's also rather busy with Brasilian families on their summer holidays (or it was when I was there). And no, they hadn't all done the hike, most of them got the boat-taxi service to the previous beach and then just did the last bit of the walk. Sensible buggers.

After a thoroughly pleasant couple of hours on the beach, enlivened by a brief, light rainstorm (look out to sea and it's clear blue skies except maybe the odd fluffy cloud, and suddenly there's this rumble of thunder and a black cloud floats menacingly over the island...), it was back to the previous beach, onto a boat and back to Abraao. My final evening there was spent partly escorting the girls around shopping at the markets again (no, I don't know how I ended up doing it, either) and then sitting around at the bar at another of the hostels, listening to Reggae, drinking caipirinhas, and marvelling as more rain finally arrived.