Closing In On Brasilia

 I checked last night and we are 183 miles from Brasilia the artificially created capital of this vast country and our destination for this leg. 

The drive from the Amazon to the capital has been what you have seen, a highway of varying qualitythrough countryside of no great account touristically speaking among Brazilians who are not used to seeing foreigners in their midst.

Yesterday was more of the same as we continue to balance making miles with not wearing out our travel companion.

The day started with the usual extraordinary breakfast buffet in the hotel. In Brazil breakfast is called cafe de manhá, which literally means “morning coffee” and is a lavish spread.

We usually see scrambled and fried eggs, hot dogs in tomato sauce, cold cuts, cheese breads, sandwiches, cakes, pastries, fruits and juices and elaborate selections of cakes. 

It sets you up for a day of driving if you stick to proteins and avoid a carb coma I find. Lunch is a snack when we buy dinner to go so we can collapse in our room in the evening. 

I know foreign travel is always exciting and remarkable but unfortunately we are on a mission to get to the capital to get our second alternator, the one that charges our house batteries repaired or replaced which we hope to do in Brasilia. If we succeed we will drive for the coast and spend December at the beach. If we fail - unthinkable- we will have to plow on to Uruguay where we eventually want to rebuild GANNET2’s well worn electrical system. 

Besides all that we had to get away from equatorial Brazil and try to find our way back to more interesting destinations in this vast country. As it is these are the agricultural flat lands of Brazil. Imagine driving I-80 across the Midwest.

This, folks, was the reality of our Saturday. 

And of course the ever present random speed bumps: 

And unstaffed Federal Highway Police Checkpoints.  

Check out the quality of the surface.

The parade of trucks northbound was endless. 

Huge doubles hauling I can’t imagine what fill the highway. 

This is not the Brazil you hear about and the locals who prove to be quite friendly under the surface are perplexed by our presence in their self contained world. Gas pumps covered in protective plastic…Regular with 30% ethanol is about $4:20 a gallon. 

Exempt vehicles and motorcycles use manual booths I think is the meaning of the road sign as we approach the toll booth.  

Not speaking  Portuguese has been a lesson for me struggling with Spanish and Italian to understand rapid fire gibberish. A $1:75 toll seems like an insult on these stretches of poorly maintained highway. 

If you think Spanish and Portuguese are similar check this warning not to toss trash roadside: 

Three bucks? Daylight robbery. Grrr. 

No clue what this means:

We saw no more tropical vegetation. 

A hill: 

All good things come to an end and just after five we arrived at our reserved hotel, pet friendly with off street parking. 

We fit… just about at the Rio de Ouro (“River of Gold”) hotel parking lot. 

I will start the final leg to Brasilia by reversing out of this narrow lot, round the corner and into the street.

Walk Rusty, unload the luggage and turn up the a/c as in Porangatu, this odd little stop astride the highway we find it unnaturally hot and humid once again.  

For dinner it so happens a man is grilling meat right outside the hotel and it was delicious.

Our hotel clerk looked like a movie extra.

And can any engineer explain why the a/c controls have 15 buttons? I had to get the clerk’s help to get the room cool. 

For evening entertainment they put on a parade for us.

The town of Porangatu rang to the sounds of fire crackers horns and yelling, none of which disturbed our dog fast asleep on Layne’s side of the bed. 

Actually it was in celebration of a soccer victory. 

How banal; did no one tell them there were foreigners in town?

Central Brazil

Our truck stop hotel in the north end of Tocantin State did the job and we got a good night’s sleep.

But I’ll tell you it was an odd place. The fuel pumps were in front and it was alongside the trucking company maintenance shops. 

They had a few inside spots with a high roof which would have been good for us but they had low roof cars parking in them so we had to park outside where our van was perfectly safe for the night outside. 

We have found in these little visited areas of Brazil that locals are mostly rather intimidated by us which has been odd as traveling Brazilians are incredibly friendly. At breakfast we did get waylaid by some curious guests who wanted a picture as we communicated as best we could. 

Rooms on the right with pet friendly rooms at the far end. Truck repair on the left. 

It was eccentric but it worked. We got on the road with a full tank and a plan to make the ride better fit Rusty.

Regular gas hovers around $4 a gallon and diesel is close. 

We passed through a couple of federal police checkpoints where everyone dutifully slows down but we saw no cops out in the street pulling people over. 

Most of the federal highway south was smooth pavement with no patches and not many potholes so we made good time.

It’s a commercial route with a lot of truck traffic and we saw some hairy passing techniques and no wrecked even though a few oncoming cars had to get on the shoulder from time to time. 

No one uses brakes even if a head on collision looks possible. No one except the gringo in the gold van. I passed too but I stuck safe areas with long sight lines and clear lanes ahead. I also let a lot of impatient traffic pass by tapping my brakes when the road opened up.  

As you can see from the photos it was an overcast day with gray light leaching the color from the countryside. A city limits sign for Campo Alegre (Happy Field): 

We have left behind the tropical foliage of the Amazon and temperatures have dropped to acceptable levels. It’s like a pleasant day in the Keys but not with sweat inducing humidity. 

It is rather monotonous but as long as the road is smooth and easy to drive I’m happy. 

Brazilian truck stop, showers, food, the usual facilities in one place. We often spend our nights on the road here when we have power for our camper. Free and safe. 

They don’t even have bus shelters here.  We’ve been waved down more than once by people thinking we’re a bus because they use Fiat Ducatos here as buses which have the same body as our Promaster. 

I saw a big shade tree and pulled over. Rusty wandered around then sat and watched the world. 

I walked around and took a few pictures. 

Tocantin State in all its glory. 

GANNET2 rolling along. 

Hills of the Tocantins. Not that high, around a thousand feet. It’s a bit like Texas Hill country that people make such a fuss about. 

Can you imagine living in a town called President Kennedy? 

We stopped for lunch but first Rusty got a walk and some time to sit and watch.

Lunch was a buffet and it was cool enough we could take outside eating with Rusty. 

You go in, pick up a plate and help yourself. Then you go to the cashier and they weigh the plate of food (subtracting the weight of the plate which is shown on the wall) and they give you a card with a number. That’s your account or tab. A server will come to take drinks orders and every time you go back you repeat the process and finally your wife pays your tab. 

Like everything here once you know you know and it’s simple. You don’t even need any Portuguese but the cashier here spoke English, we suspect he was the owner’s son. Rusty enjoying not being left in the van.  We’ve learned our lesson. 

We stopped for gas and as usual caused a small sensation asking for gas for an obviously diesel powered van. The discussion up front was powered by a classic Brazilian burrito. It’s actually a tortilla made of tapioca which has a flavorless rubbery consistency and is gross. But it’s a staple at breakfast buffets in Brazil and they put eggs or ham slices or cheese in it which doesn’t help make it appetizing to non Brazilians. Trust me. 

We also stopped so Layne could buy a couple of ears of roast corn for dinner.  

The honey capital of Brazil. Now you know. 

Our destination was a hotel  in Paradise of the Tocantins. 

The last stretch of highway was crap. 

I bit my tongue to avoid grumbling but it was a pain. 

We got to the hotel around 4:15 and Rusty licked my face to pieces when he saw we were done for the day. 

We’ve been lucky with the high garage parking at the hotels, tall enough to get GANNET2 safely off the street. 

The pool is out of order but the room is comfortable, Rusty had a big dinner and is snoring happily.