Barcelos do Sul
Author: Shirlz
Saturday, 21 May 2011
Yesterday I motored a short way along to anchor at the mouth of the small stream that goes up to the village of Barcelos. Sand banks extend quite far out so I maintained a respectful distance. The inlet looked inviting and this morning, after waiting for a heavy rainshower to pass, I rowed ashore to get a closer look.
I crept in close to the mangroves hoping that the current might be less there but it still needed some energetic rowing to get to the landing. Very muddy and shallow. Plenty of dugouts tied to poles mid-mud. A bigger boat aground a bit further out. The oars were touching the bottom as I reached the steps at the small concrete dock. Nothing to tie the painter to, so I dragged the dinghy up the steps and left it on a patch of grass – safer than letting it bang around against the rough concrete posts. Found a place to leave my garbage and started climbing up an imposing stairway which seemed to lead up the steep hill to the town. Wild gesticulating from the guy who’d been keeping an eye on me, indicated a narrow, muddy path leading straight up the steep, slippery slope, that I should use instead.
Didn’t really understand why until I was half way up the hill and looked across to the steps which ended abruptly in mid-air like an unfinished flyover. OK. It started to rain as I reached the top of the hill and made my way up the raddled road between some houses. The rain had gouged deep furrows and it was tricky going in my flip-flops.
People in one of the houses invited me in to shelter from the downpour. We had the usual chat about where I’d come from, was I alone, and so on. When the rain eased, a little boy was designated to escort me to the mercado. Not much on offer but I managed to get a few basic things. It was Saturday morning but the place was deserted. Maybe everyone had gone shopping in Camamú.
From the top of the hill I had a wonderful view of the Rio Maraú winding through the mangroves and coqueiros. Speedwell looked magnificent anchored in lonely splendour off the mouth of the small river leading to Barcelos. The rain had stopped, the tide was still falling and two fisherman stood by ready to lend a hand as I slid the dinghy back down the steep steps into what was left of the shallow muddy water. Barely floating, we just managed to get away. It was a quick row back to the boat going with the flow.
Back on board, with a sustaining cup of coffee, I watched as two fishermen laboriously dragged a net around in the shallows trying to catch something. It didn’t look as though they were having much success.
Tags: cruising
May 26th, 2011 at 09:35
Hi Shirley
Keeping an eye on your progress you see! Hope you got my birthday email and had a good one. Gearing up here for Spring fete on Saturday and have booked a Tuba Quartet to play during the afternoon! Now i just have to hope it doesn’t rain….
Love from
Ian