Starting Out On BR 319

 To wake up cold in a large tiled room was pleasant for me but it was a joy for young Rusty who got off his bed and sprawled in the floor and didn’t move. We went downstairs to breakfast, a lavish buffet of hot and cold foods of all descriptions, and he was still sprawled when we got back to room 409.

As a general rule we are happy in the van but the heat especially in the city has been intense, not humid but up to 107 degrees under a powerful unobstructed sun. A rest just seemed indicated for all of us  and we enjoyed it. We even had room service for dinner, hotel food but luxurious with no washing up. Anyway Sunday morning saw us back at work first order of the day food shopping on a chain supermarket we’d never heard of; par for the Brazilian course. 

Apparently Sunday morning is everyone favorite time to shop at Irmãos Gonçalves a supermarket chain prominent in town but invisible on line unless you want to order for delivery.  The stores are vast with lovely covered parking lots in homage obviously to the terrible heat but with roof tall enough to accommodate a Promaster. 

Then we had a problem and it took two hours to sort it out.

To get to Manaus almost 500 miles away we have to cover 260 miles of unpaved road with the additional complication of 300 miles between gas stations.  On dirt at ten or 15 mph our mileage drops from 16mpg to ten.  Simple math says we need to supplement our 24 gallon tank to at least give us peace of mind. The problem was finding two five gallon (20 liter) jugs on a Sunday afternoon. 

We tried all sorts of stores looking for jugs. Açouge in Portuguese means butcher I found out. It is unlike any Spanish word I can think of so if you think Spanish and Portuguese are “close enough” I invite you to visit Brazil and have a go. 

We got to drive around Porto Velho, capital of Rondónia State looking for fuel jugs. This is what it looks like on a blazing hot Sunday afternoon. 

Lixo means garbage, which I managed to figure before I checked with Google translate, however the voice pronunciation on my phone does not work so I have only a best guess as to how to say it. 

It doesn’t always work either. 

It’s a 130 feet tall and is an advertising gimmick for a department store apparently. It was pretty cool to see it as we sped past on another boulevard. 

This bus advertised reclining seats to Manaus on the side and I have to say it looked tempting. An overnight drive laying flat, not heroic but not bad. 

Eventually we found the jugs we needed at a gas station and by 2:30 we were on our way over the Madeira River. 

The road starts out paved cutting through ranch country for a couple of hours. Then you turn right and there you are driving into the Amazon. 

And there’s the bus on its way to Manaus. It turned off to pick up some passengers because after we stopped for night it drive on by. The driver waved as Brazilians do, they are really friendly. Perhaps because we can’t talk to each other! 

State agriculture checkpoint ahead; I can read that. 

It’s listed on iOverlander as not staffed and so it was, we drove straight through. 

It all seems ridiculously elaborate for nothing. 

It looked like south Florida to me. 

More police posts happily accomplishing nothing. 

Ranches line the highway out of Porto Velho. 

The turn off into the jungle. It looks very suburban thus far. 

Plans are in the works to rebuild the highway ahead: 

45 miles to the next gas at the village  of Realidade while Manaus is 408 miles from here. 

For 15 miles we had crappy asphalt but that we better than what was to come. 

And here endeth the pavement for 260  miles. 

This truck was broken down and we stopped to offer his girlfriend  some water. They declined and later he limped into our parking area, turned back and headed for home under low power to get the truck sorted. Self sufficiency I admire. 

Traffic rolled through the dusk and into the night, just a few trucks rumbling by. They waved and tooted when they saw me photographing them. I was on the phone with a friend when a truck stopped and he thought I was being attacked. No threat, the driver took a discreet whizz, waved and when I gave him the thumbs up he smiled and drove away. I can’t talk to them but I like Brazilians. 

iOverlander came through with the ideal spot for us offering shade before the sunburnt down. 

Rusty loved being out of the van especially as dusk was not too hot and he could scamper  at will. There were no insects and no humidity. It was surprisingly comfortable. 

I aired down the tires by twenty pounds each to make a more comfortable ride on the dirt ahead. 

We had roast chicken from the supermarket and strawberries for dessert and watched some television. Suburbia in the Amazon. Weird huh?