On my first trip through South America in 2012-2013, I met Veronica, a Couch Surfing host for travelers. Posting on the website that I was headed to northeastern Brazil, and she invited me to stay at her house in the suburbs of Recife. Several years later, she was my guest in New Jersey. The first summer after retiring, I could finally take a long-planned trip back to South America with multiple planned destinations in Brazil, featuring a reunion with Veronica. As the years passed, Veronica bought land in the mountains near Parque Nacional da Chapada Diamantina Bahia and built a quaint two-bedroom house with a hammock hung on the porch.  Afterward, she added a pair of one-bedroom chalets next door as rentals. For a time, she was offering mountain hiking tours. She is quite the entrepreneur.

Over the next few days, we went on hikes to see and swim under local waterfalls, always accompanied by her faithful and energetic dog, Txai (an Indigenous name meaning “more than a friend, more than a brother.”) I planned the trip for the dry season in western Brazil, to reduce mud induced struggles on the Ghost Road (BR-319) to Manuas. The downside was that the dry season was the same for eastern Brazil, and the waterfalls were great to see, just less than spectacular. One day, I hope to return to Brazil in a part of the year with more rain.

Caeté-Açu is a hip mountain town with assorted artisanal shops. A weekly craft fair supported by Brazilian hippie vendors and a robust farmers market. We stocked up on avocados and more. One night, we went out for vegan pizza. Pepperoni is my go-to topping, so I was skeptical and ultimately delighted.  I slow-grilled chicken one night and whipped up a spinach, avocado, and pumpkin seed salad with lemon and oil dressing. It’s Tuesday, let’s have a caipirinha! I jumped at any excuse to whip up a batch of lime, sugar cane, and cachaça. I swear even a poorly mixed caipirinha is the solution to all of the world’s problems.

When staying in the same place for a few days, there is always a measure of maintenance to attend. While I don’t carry an extensive wardrobe, I never pass up a chance to machine wash clothes. Always a welcome break from hand-washing clothes in a hotel room.  With great fortune, Veronica has a friend down the lane with a sewing machine, and my riding gear needed a few repairs. The veritable wizard with needle and thread was, of course, rewarded with the nectar of the gods, a bottle of wine. Over a few trips, splits in the riding pants crotch had become a regular event, requiring attention no less than four times. I finally developed the habit of pulling my pants up before getting on the bike. This simple little step takes the stress off the pant crotch when swinging my leg over the seat. Old dogs can learn new tricks. For Star Trek fans, picture Jonluc Picard tugging on his jacket. 

At Rancho Arcturus, I learned Brazilians don’t keep appliances plugged in. Weeks later, I would see small appliances unplugged in Argentina. I suspect there is a history of fires caused by appliances short-circuiting. In the United States, we are accustomed to appliances being tested for safety by Underwriters Laboratories. The UL logo on the back of appliances is ubiquitous. My advice for being a good guest in South America is to unplug the device when you are done. Even if you know it is a tested accessory, like a phone charger.

There were a few consult emails with Glen Short back in Cusco in search of a solution to the ailing Garmin Zumo 550 that currently could not be charged while riding. The GPS was becoming more and more of a semi-functioning brick. The charging pins were shot, and the cradle lock was broken. Zip-ties were needed to keep the GPS in the cradle, a fussy affair to do and undo every freakin' day.  Before leaving Peru and again after entering Brazil, I tried inexpensive smartphone mounts that held the device between four rubber-tipped posts. The flimsy rig never inspired sufficient confidence to still my fears of the iPhone taking unscheduled flight. I would need to figure out a solution down the road.

During my stay in the mountains, I touched base with a friend of a friend who showed interest in buying my motorcycle at the end of the trip. I’ve known Paul for years, but only through texts and emails. We finally had a live conversation, and I shared all the details, including dropping the bike on the TransAmazonia. Paul is a dairy farmer, so cosmetic scratches and repairs didn’t concern him. We both have acquired motorcycles in Peru through Toby Shannon, a purveyor to adventure riders. Paul was lining up his second South American adventure. His timing was roughly when my trip was planned to end. Much can happen to a bike over months of travel that would crush a deal, but it was comforting to have a prospective buyer.

One of the built-in pleasures of travel is enjoying flowers that don’t grow back home.  I added several flora beauties to my digital collection. After several days of overdue visiting, solid rest, sweet swimming, and good food, it was time to get on the road. A long and uncertain road stretched ahead to the tip of South America, Ushuaia. At this point, I had been traveling for about a month and a half; at least a dozen places remained on my list of places to visit. Time to say much thanks and see you soon. I mounted the bike, careful not to split my newly repaired pants, and felt the familiar mix. Sad to be at the end of dear visit and eager to continue the adventure.

The crazy government buildings in the capital of Brasilia beckon.