Camamu
Author: Shirlz
Campinho, Camamu
Sunday, 24 April 2011
Left Ilhéus just before sunset on Friday planning an overnighter to arrive at the entrance to the bay of Camamu approximately midday round about slack water. I was happy with the improvements to the sail and the bandaged boom showed no signs of stress. Once again I thanked my lucky stars for being able to get in to Santo André to do the repairs. Such a calm, protected, friendly and beautiful place. The moon was still a little more than half full and the squalls were not too frequent. Wind F4 – 5 SE had us racing along. Rather frustrating really as I had worked on an average speed of 3 knots. So we arrived off the shoal entrance with the tide still running out. Not a strong spring-type tide at this phase of the moon so I decided to have a go at getting in anyway. I could see some breaking waves and there was quite a big onshore swell as the wind had backed and become more easterly. By the time the tide was in my favour, the onshore wind would most probably have strengthened as it normally does in the afternoon, increasing the swell and making the entrance ‘ruin para navegação’ as warned in the guide. I went ahead and soon found myself in an exhilarating roller-coaster ride too scared to look behind me and relying on peripheral vision and the feel of the tiller to avoid a broach or, heaven help me, yet another destructive gybe. It reminded me somewhat of keeping my glider’s wings level on a turbulent winch launch in the Free State. Of course the winch launches only lasted a few minutes (possibly more stressful minutes) whereas maintaining a balanced course on the big and sometimes breaking swells went on for more than an hour. I was happy to reach the shelter of the bay itself.
Soon I was at the anchorage off Campinho looking for a good spot. Just then the peace was shattered by a squadron of about 20 two-up monster jetski’s. A deafening, crazy invasion of aquatic hell’s angels and their chicks. They ripped up the placid water for a while and then thankfully roared off.
I anchored in a pretty spot off a beach edged with coconut trees and started catching up with the sleep deficit.
Sunday, 8 May 2011
Yesterday I made an early start to go shopping at the Saturday morning market in Canamu and a toque-toque came over to the boat to pick me up. It was one of the smaller ones which made it slightly less potentially damaging to the sides of my boat. The local boats are all massively built and use old car tyres as fenders. I shouldn’t really worry when they come alongside, as they are handled with amazing precision. The engine is normally a big old diesel which has to be hand-cranked to start. The throttle operated by a string which gets fastened to a nail or hook to maintain the setting. Gear lever, a long metal rod operated by foot from above. No matter how basic the rest of the accommodation might appear the engine is usually immaculately clean. The ride to Camamu takes about an hour and a half. Sometimes longer if the tide is against one. When it rains tarpaulins drop down to cover the open sides – cutting out the view as well as the rain. We sit on long benches running along the sides. A teenage girl with her mother wraps herself like a mummy in a white sheet and settles down for a sleep stretched out on the bench. Her head resting on the old lady’s lap. Two teenage boys on the opposite bench are absorbed in sharing a music experience on their MP3 player. They sing along, each with one ear bud connected to the machine. The man opposite me also settles down for a sleep. The engine drones on. We stop at two other jetties to pick up shoppers. The tide is high and there are no problems getting through the shallows.
When we reached Camamu I tried to hand the driver my R$5 fare before getting off but he said I should wait and pay him on the return trip. I’m so used to money being grabbed out of my hand that I was impressed.
I wandered along the water front to check out the market. It looked good. A big under cover area with stalls overflowing with fresh produce. Great bunches of enormous plantains. A table covered in heaps of hot chillies and bunches of fresh herbs. Mountains of pumpkins. Bottles of dende oil. Separate area for meat which I chose not to go into. The sight of two black vultures squabbling over a bloody cow’s pelvis lying on the ground near the entrance sent me scuttling along. Decided to first get a cafezinho and do the Internet banking before loading myself down with stuff.
Had more luck with the Internet this time as I discovered a really fast cyber-café with new equipment and a knowledgeable owner. Got everything done for 50c.
I was soon shopped-out so I lugged my bags down to the dock to leave them on the boat. Had to clamber across three or four others to get to the right one. The tide was way down by now and the boats were barely afloat. Away from the jetty most boats were sitting in the black mud.
By 11:30, our scheduled departure time, the boat was heavily loaded with shopping. Others hadn’t been squeamish about entering the meat market. A repaired TV set. Many slabs of beer. Branches of plantains. We set off on time. Had to make an unscheduled stop next to one of the bigger boats still tied to the dock as we passed to pick up a late straggler and her shopping. Low water meant that the sandbanks were exposed and the roots of the mangroves all along the banks looked impenetrable. Not enough water to get through the shallows between Ilha Grande and Ilha Pequena so we followed the longer route. Everyone seemed to be sleeping. Including the driver when I glanced back. Nothing untoward happened and soon we had edged up alongside the rickety jetty at Sapinho to offload most of the stuff. Engine off. It was a longish stop. Chugged off again and I was the last passenger to be disposed of. My boat was admired by the driver as we approached. Sinbad was there to meet me.
Tags: cruising