CNN Traveller, July/August 2010
‘Here we have three families of poisonous snake,’ Ivan our host explains, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. ‘In the UK you have poisonous snakes right?’ ‘Urm, maybe one or two,’ I reply, apprehensive about slipping on the leather garters I’ve been handed to fit over my ankles, thus protecting me from attacks of the serpent kind.
‘Ah,’ he smiles, pausing for breath. ‘Only hooligans, yes?’
I’m deep within the sub-tropical rainforest of southern Brazil, one of the country’s most isolated spots. The eco-lodge I’m staying at is the only inhabited place for miles. It’s a breathtakingly beautiful area where nature is at its rawest and the mosquitoes are at their most potent. Despite my surroundings, the exploits of the English have penetrated even this last bastion of wilderness.
Southern Brazil and its lush rainforests often lose out to the country’s big ticket destinations like Rio de Janeiro or Bahia. The state of Paraná, sandwiched between São Paulo to the north and Santa Catarina to the south, isn’t overrun with visitors like other parts of the country. Yet it’s a fascinating region that feels a little more European and ordered than its more northerly territories, thanks to large numbers of Germans, Polish and Ukrainians who settled here in the 19th century. Unlike the sweltering tropics above, Paraná actually gets a chill in winter. And the mosquitoes, potent as they are, don’t carry malaria.
I’ve been lured here by tales of virgin jungle and the chance to visit the vast Atlantic backwaters only an hour’s boat ride from the nearest major town. But my introduction to the state is through its capital city, Curitiba. Despite a pretty old town of salmon pink and lavender-coloured colonial houses, it’s not the most immediately beautiful place, clinging to its accolade of being one of South America’s cleanest, most functional cities. But I’m not in town to hang around, for it’s from here that I’m catching a train into the surrounding pictureperfect train rides on the continent, and certainly one of its most ambitious.
As the train stutters and chugs its way out of town, waved off by a few curious locals, the immediate landscape spreads wide and flat around us, reminiscent of the Argentine pampas. Then, as we exit the first of a series of tunnels, the scenery suddenly changes beyond all recognition. Rocky hillocks jut up dramatically around the train as thick rainforest vegetation clings to the mountains like giant heads of broccoli. In the distance, araucaria trees stand tall, their elegant branches curving skywards whilst giant, electric blue butterflies float past the train windows.
Our destination is the pretty town of Morretes, where the train terminates after several hours slowly working its way through the jungle. It’s a sleepy place, nestled in a valley. As we pick up our transfer to the coast where we’ll be visiting the evocatively named Ilha do Mel (Honey Island) and then onto our eco-lodge, the driver jokes that in Morretes you can bake bread outside. Temperatures here regularly peak at over 40°C in summer.
Reached by a rickety 20-minute boat ride from Pontal do Sul, Ilha do Mel is a haven of tranquillity. Here cars are banned, and most of the island is an off-limits nature reserve. The remainder is sprinkled with small environmentally aware pousadas (historic hotels) and lodges, with several excellent seafood restaurants. At night, small groups huddle around candlelit tables as the sound of laid-back reggae em português wafts out of battered speakers. The island isn’t a place for action, but somewhere to unwind walking around the inland tracks, swimming in the warm ocean or trying your luck alongside Paulista (native São Paulo) surfers showing off on the waves.
As relaxing as island life is, the final stop on our trip holds the most allure for me: two nights spent in the middle of Sebui Natural Reserve, a private national park owned by an Italian couple. Made up of four eco-huts and a communal eating area, Sebui is actually on the mainland, round the bay from Paranaguá. But such is the thick jungle and lack of road access, the only way to get there is by boat. We’re picked up from Ilha do Mel by my namesake Ed (although he goes for a slightly different pronunciation: ‘edge-ee’), a young man with piercing green eyes who skippers the speed boat to the reserve.
The trip over is so picturesque it sounds like a cliché: pink flamingos wading in the shallow waters near isolated islands; water the temperature of a tepid bath thanks to the protection of the bay; dolphins rising in the water for a split second to show off their fins, and once – just once – their faces.
The lodge is reached by walking along a raised wooden platform that winds past mangroves on the edge of a river inlet, where roots of trees look like twisted feet sticking into the muddy, saline soil below. The accommodation is basic but comfortable and, true to its eco credentials, all the power is generated by solar panels, while endemic plants filters waste before it’s flushed into the river.
At the base camp we meet the rest of the team, including host Ivan and Joãozinho, the only member who lives there permanently. A small man, with a slight lisp, Joãozinho is a sort of Mr Fix It of the jungle. He single-handedly constructed the wooden decking that leads to the lodge. Our nights are spent eating homemade fried fish with rice and feijão (black beans), listening to his tales of the mythical puma that lives in the jungle nearby – Joãozinho has only seen it twice – and recalling the guitar strumming of one of Brazil’s last true fandango players (the local folk music) who lives in a secluded hut downriver.
Between them, Joãozinho and Ivan – an eccentric middle-aged man who likes to break into song – know everything there is to know about the jungle. Sebui is situated in one of the last remaining swathes of Atlantic rainforest; only seven per cent of the jungle that used to cover most of Brazil’s coastline remains.
Through them we learn of the medicinal plants used by the mestiço fisherman and local Guaraní indigenous populations to cure stomach upsets and headaches. We learn about the incredible diversity of the mangroves and dart-shaped seeds that are designed to stick into the sediment once they fall from trees. We learn about the way vegetation grows in the jungle, with pineapple-like bromeliad plants sprouting from tree branches and vines growing down to the jungle floor where they try and form a root. Aside from our jungle education, we go trekking through the rainforest, stopping off at waterfalls to cool off swimming. Another day we go canoeing around the mangroves and out into the bay.
We’ve only been here a few days, but the full jungle immersion makes it feel like months. Even the small town of Paranguá, where we get dropped off by Ed and say our goodbyes, feels like a thriving metropolis compared to the isolated enclave we’ve just been staying in. Back to civilisation it is, but with a head full of tales from Joãozinho and Ivan I think I’ll be all right.