We’re getting close now—I can almost smell the salt in the air. Just one more day and we’ll reach the coast. These long driving days don’t bother us; they seem to slip by surprisingly quickly.

It’s been a few days since I last wrote. Part of that is the ongoing blog dilemma. It’s been really nice to hear from those of you who are reading along. I never planned for this to be anything more than a diary and personal record, so I’ll just keep posting when I can. I can’t imagine how much more work it would take to “monetize” it—probably like adopting a third child: special needs, high-maintenance, and demanding all of our attention. No thanks! But knowing someone is enjoying it makes me want to keep at it.

4-9th September. So, here’s a little catch-up with some photos from the past week.

A Balneário Welcome

Our first balneário stop was in the middle of nowhere. The water was crystal clear, the perfect temperature for cooling off. A local family welcomed us and insisted we join them for dinner. They spoke Portuguese slowly, which helped—we recognized some words from Spanish. Add in pantomime, and Google Translate did the rest. That said, I’ve learned to choose my English words carefully with those apps. Sometimes the translation comes out humorously way off, (and unintentionally) wrong.

Dust, Cows, and Open Windows

The next morning we were rolling again by 8 a.m. Windows down for “air conditioning,” only cranking them shut when a vehicle thunders by past in a storm of red dust – or worse, when the breeze carried in the unmistakable stench of a large dead animal baking on the roadside.

The roads themselves don’t make things any easier. They’re an endless patchwork of repairs, bits of asphalt slapped together in uneven strips that have us bouncing along uncomfortably. It makes you wonder why they don’t just resurface the whole stretch at once—surely it would save nerves, tires, and suspensions in the long run.

Even so, the long drive gives us little glimpses of daily life along the way. Dusty streets, general stores, fresh coconuts stands. Barefooted kids kick soccer balls in rough dirt fields and chickens wander freely. Weathered homes quietly in the sun. On a roadside wall sit sentinels, old tv’s that watches over the town. Every turn of the road brings more scenes of life—simple, colourful, and alive.

Birding, bugs and Other Beasts

Late afternoons are prime bird-spotting hours. Our hefty South American bird book is proving its worth: owls, woodpeckers, kingfishers, hawks, anis. Vultures aren’t exactly inspiring, but I did spot a King Vulture—rare and impressive. Parrots, toucans, and plenty more have been ticked off the list.

Not all the wildlife is welcome, though. We’ve seen spiders big enough to make my skin crawl, so we’ve learned not to leave anything on the ground for them to hide in. But the worst are the fire ants—tiny but vicious. They grab on with their pincers and sting again and again with their tails. Pure misery in miniature form. We found a Sloth trying to cross the road. A local stopped and picked him up by the scruff of his neck and a stick, carried him to a tree.

The Farm with Three Faces

Another stop brought us to a beautiful family farm turned tourist spot, cleverly divided into three zones.

• The Hotel – polished perfection with poolside dining, water fountains, and a rotunda strung with colored lights where live music plays.
• The Day-Use Area – grey concrete pools, worn white plastic chairs, and music blaring from giant speakers.
• The Camping Oasis – our side. Shady palms surrounded the water, there was a zip line into the pool, and lounge chairs scattered about. Parrots and toucans flitted overhead, while a tarantula kept watch from the trees.

The next balneario was outside the town of Morros. It was so nice, we stayed two nights, catching up on schoolwork, cleaning the truck, and simply enjoying the water. Charley connected with the eldest daughter, Lizzie, and the two spent the afternoon together. Between Charley’s growing grasp of Portuguese and Google Translate, a friendship bloomed. Lizzie showed her the farm’s birds—a blue macaw and a red-and-green macaw. They were wild and free, though the blue macaw had arrived with a broken wing and could no longer fly. The red-and-green macaw friend, dropping by whenever he pleases.

Bearable Heat

The closer we get to the coast, the more bearable the heat becomes. I wouldn’t call it cool exactly, but it’s no longer the kind of suffocating heat that leaves us sleeping in a pool of sweat. The constant breeze keeps the air moving just enough to let us rest—though it’s still not top-sheet weather.

River Breaks

Every so often, we stop to cool off in rivers. If the water is moving and clear, it’s safe enough for a dip without worrying about crocodiles (or “swamp puppies,” as the kids call them). One spot was just a quick splash to freshen up; another was so lovely we decided to spend the night by the water’s edge.

Next Stop…

And tomorrow, we trade the red dust for white sand dunes and set out to explore another of Brazil’s national parks. Something tells me this one will be unforgettable.