Ilha Grande v1 03.13.11

Ilha Grande is definitely for the tourists. I actually find it a bit too touristy for my liking right now. Maybe at another time, it might appeal a bit more? But I’ve managed to experience some really intense and beautiful moments in the one full day I’ve been here. This morning, I left my hostel to trek through the mountainous jungle to find a waterfall inland from the beach that defines the town of Vila do Abrao. The guidebook mentioned that trekkers should let their hostels know where they’re going as hikers can easily get lost or trapped or, well any number of things as I’ll share as this blog entry will reveal. I had already forged quite a ways past the trailhead when I realized that I forgot to tell my hostel that I was hiking the trail to the waterfall. Oops.

It was hot… and muggy… and sweaty. The weather on Ilha Grande has vacillated between hot and wet with intense humidity and hot and cloudy with intense humidity. Put a jungle on that and you have a natural sauna of epic proportions. As soon as I was enveloped by the jungle, I was wet. I had this sensation that I was reverting back to my evolutionary roots in the ocean, getting my oxygen through the primordial soup. Lush is a laughable term for the jungle here – the jungle completely dominated. Humans just another little creature, trying to move our way through the verdant throng, ridiculous in our beliefs that we’re at the top of the food chain. Ha! It honestly makes me laugh out loud! I love the feeling that I’m just another ant crawling around on the surface of this ball hanging in space, so even though I was drenched within the first few minutes of entering the jungle canopy and my clothes were sticking to my skin in this uncomfortable way, I was blissed and small, just another part of the continuum of life on planet Earth.

The hike was a rigorous one, more rigorous than I was planning on. But at least I was smart enough to wear hiking shoes, unlike most of the other trekkers, who wore… flip flops? Really? The trail was slippery from all the recent rain, steep, and pocked. More than a few times, even in my hiking shoes, I slipped and almost bit it. On the way to the falls, I saw the arched walls that demarcated the aquaduct, still in use by the town. The jungle made the stone arches look like ancient ruins – covered in lichen and eroded to a mottled black-brown stone. The trail stopped being quite so kind and started uphill… and then more uphill… and then more. The grade started getting really pronounced, and the clay earth more slick. I had to watch just in front of me to make sure I chose the best foothold I could so I wouldn’t take a fall. And because I was looking just ahead of me, I didn’t see what was just beyond that.

I have a phobia of snakes.

The guidebook mentioned that even on this well-forged trail, there are things that live in the jungle that don’t take heed to a human-made trail.

In my attention to not slipping and falling, I came terrifyingly close to stepping on a snake sunning herself on the trail. A lightning-fast motion came out of the lower left corner of my vision – she was six feet long, maybe a little longer, black as night with bands of yellow-orange wrapping around her lithe body. She moved quickly but not far, and I yelped and moved quickly in the opposite direction as fast as my adrenaline-infused body would take me. Despite the intense heat, a massive shockwave of goosebumps electrified my body, making my skin highly sensitive to the jungle – the moisture, the heat. I was breathing rapidly, shallowly. I started to get light-headed and realized that I was beginning to hyperventilate. I called on the most useful credo that I’ve ever learned, and taught to me as I underwent my SCUBA certification “Don’t panic.” After a couple of really nice, long, deep breathes, I finally had a well-reasoned thought, “No one is around. If I was bitten and she’s poisonous, I’d be in serious trouble.” I held tight, wondering if I should turn around and forget the whole thing, or wait then forge ahead, or wait and see if anyone brave enough shows up to move forward and see if she’s there. There was no way I was coming this far and not seeing the falls, and waiting for someone to save me might have me waiting past my patience, so I decided to ind some large rotting branches and throw them ahead of me on the trail to scare her off. After some lame tosses and some well-aimed ones, I slowly advanced, again with rapid breath. She had made her way back into the jungle… and so I made my way deeper, too.

After an 90 minutes of uphill, slick trail, I came upon the clearing that help the waterfall and the natural pools that gathered around the falls. The falls was about 40 feet high and lovely, cascading into a pool, then more rocks, then another pool, and then another. The canopy of the jungle had opened so that the sun was kissing the top of the falls and a corner of the primary pool. Large boulders lay haphazardly throughout the pools so that you could perch on one and simply relax in the cool water. I sat and watched the water pounding the rocks beneath the falls, the spray... glitter like diamonds in the reflecting sun, the jurrasic-like leaves and plants growing and reaching toward the light, and the large butterflies, black and violet and lapis, waving their wings in flight, exploring and then alighting on some chosen spot to rest.

I took pictures, of course, which will never do the scene justice.

After spending a good long while in the pool, cooling myself down after the strenuous hike, and after really drinking in the experience of this beautiful scenery, I headed back. On my way, I saw a series of large boulders going down a steep grade, rivulets flowing quickly between the boulders. I went to take a picture and maybe do some exploring when I heard behind me an alarmed voice, “It’s dangerous!” A guy of about 28 stepped out of the shadows to then tell me that his girlfriend and he were just trying to explore these boulders and she just slipped down the boulders and split open her head above the eye. She was apparently bleeding quite badly. I asked how I could help but he told me he’d already found someone and they were rushing down the steep trail to get the park rangers. He called down to her in German and she called back. She as conscious so that was good. Soon after, the two men who’d fetched the park rangers arrived back, covered in sweat from their fast run through the slippery trail, and we exchanged concerned glances and words about the situation. I continued to offer the help, but there wasn’t really anything I could do except to say that I’m sure the rangers are on their way and everything would be ok. More bodies in the way weren’t helping, and I knew help was on the way, so set out.

I just kept thinking, “This is the jungle. This is not my natural environment. Anything could happen to me at any time.” Top of the food chain? Choking on a sardonic laugh.

After my adventures on the jungle trail, I decided that a change of pace was in order and made my way to the beach to lounge and read and listen to the waves. While I still contend that the main town of Ilha Grande, Vila do Abrao, there’s a reason why tourists have flocked here and the tourist trade has developed. The coves are idyllic, massive black boulders pepper the coves close to the beachfront, breaching the surface of waves by six to 12 feet or more. Lush foliage: palm trees, bamboo, and a immense diversity of other plants crowd the beachfront and back into the jungle. The waves gently lap at the black and tan sand beaches. You can feel the time when there was no person here, just the rhythm of the waves and the sounds of the plants growing and the animals singing and living out their existences as part of the much grander scheme of things.

Home to the hostel, a beer or two, reading and sleep.