An unexpected highlight was crossing the 120 km stretch through the Waimiri Reserve, a little way short of the Equator en route to Boa Vista. A lot of Brazilian countryside is disappointing. Obviously, the areas in proximity to roads are the first to be settled, and native vegetation makes way for the ubiquitous beef cattle. In other areas, particularly where sugar cane is grown, the sides of the road are constantly on fire, making for a spectacular display when riding at night - lorries swerve to avoid the flames, in fear that their cargoes will catch alight.

The Waimiri Reserve, however, brought home to me how this part of the world would really look if it were not for man's interfering hand. Forbidden from negotiating the road between the hours of darkness, I thought I might just have time to make it as the sun neared the horizon. My encounter was wonderfully atmospheric, almost mystical, as I flew through an enchanting primeval land. Every nook was crammed with different species of vegetation, towering into six separate levels. There were black pools presided over by white storks, whilst parrots chattered in the trees.

The experience was a little scary. Forbidden to stop, film or take pictures, because of "incidents", I almost expected to see an Indigeno crouched in the undergrowth, spear in hand. The indigenous people of this land objected strongly to the construction of the road, and they made those feeling plain. My thoughts raced, and turned to concerns over fuel, punctured tyres or mechanical breakdown.

To emerge unscathed just as the sun was setting was a relief, but depressing too as I caught sight of the "normal" Brasilian land that comprises desolation and beef pastures as far as the eye can see.