Heeeyho Readers! Coming back with another trip somewhere in Brazil.
André and I met back in university times, in a wild drunken night out in Porto Alegre, if memory is not failing me. Our friendship is a kind that just happens and persists, despite us not living in the same city anymore. We’ve been traveling together whenever time allows: Uruguay, trails, several waterfalls, more drunken nights out, and other adventures to name a few.
Last year, in October, André called me as soon as the Coronavirus pandemic gave us all a break.
“I’ve got some days off the bank,” he said right away, “and we have to do something epic.”
Our trips are never planned. We throw ideas at each other until we find a match. After scooping the options, we finally concluded our trip should involve bicycles and mountains. Who the hell doesn’t like this combination? Anyways.
“Urubici?” he asked.
“Urubici,” I agreed. Our plans were set, so I began to gather the camping equipment.
Urubici
Urubici is a bucolic town atop the mountains in the state of Santa Catarina, in southern Brazil. It's one of those hideaways for nature-addicted people. The chilly temperature of a mountain town seduces—the lowest temperature in Brazil was registered there (-17° C). However, what caught my eyes was indeed the famous Serra do Corvo Branco (route SC-370). This road links Urubici and Grão-Pará, for about 56.5 km, and the difference in altitude between the two cities is 805 meters.
The Serra do Corvo Branco is part of the Serra Geral, whose extension originates in Paraguay and cuts through three southern Brazilian states. Corvo Branco means White Crow, but the name was mistakenly given. The locals thought a bird of white plumage (Urubu-rei) was a crow, which wasn't true. The name continued though.
I was eager to conquer that road on a mountain bike, all of its numerous 180° bends.André and I aimed to the north, following the coast until we reached Santa Catarina. A northwest route guided us towards the mountain range. To the great wall.
We spotted the great green wall from far away. A thin layer of mist covered the peaks on that morning. We shivered. How come someone built a road up there? We couldn't yet picture the magnitude of what we were about to climb. We found refuge at a campground named Terras do Sul, where a bunch of other like-minded dudes and girls gathered near the river. Homey, if I had to define in one word. Everyone shared the same kitchen in a frenzy to use the stove. André and I shared a bottle of wine. The next morning promised a round of epicness on two wheels. Breakfast consisted of a heck ton of eggs and other calories we'd need for the climb. Plans for that day involved a series of up and downs to reach the range from the top. From there, I planned to race down the bends and then climb the 800 meters back in a fight between mind and muscles. I had gone over the Alps in Slovenia the year before, so the pain remained engraved in my soul. André observed the bends from the railing and scratched his beard. "I'm not going down," he said. "If I cycle down there, I won't be able to come back. You can go." I waited no more and released the brakes. Vruuuuum. My bicycle raced at the speed of light, plowing over rocks and holes where the asphalt ended. Thankfully I'd replaced the brake pads before that trip; they did whistle at each touch of the lever before those 180 bends. It must've taken me about fifteen minutes to race all the way to the bottom. I took a breath, turned the bicycle around, and proceeded to climb back up. The gears helped me at first; elevation wasn't severe. Then the road took a sharp left, followed by a steeper section before another right bend. The road grew steeper with each turn of the pedals. I stopped at a stream that dripped from the rock. "Come on, let's go!" shouted a driver who saw me on the descend. I jumped on the bike and continued. Left and right. Memories from Slovenia came to mind—the endless turns. I saw André at the top. "Five more," he shouted. That meant five more 180-degree bends. I continued, riding out of the saddle. André greeted me with a passoquinha when I finished. Finally, I'd conquered Corvo Branco. I have no idea how long it took me. We spent the rest of the day cycling around. Night came fast, and the last thing I remember is that I ate and crashed as a rock in the tent. The next day we planned to visit some waterfalls (that I plan to bring in another post.) Disclaimer: The author of this post is a convict broke backpacker, who has travelled more than 10.000 km hitchhiking and more than 5.000 km cycling. Following him may cause severe problems of wanderlust and inquietud. You've been warned.
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I'm Arthur. I blog about Adventure Stories, Brazil, Travel, Camping, & Life Experiences.
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Woow, what an adventure!!
This place looks amazing and nature is like heaven.
Looking forward to your next post about waterfalls. ☺️🌳
Yoo, I'm glad you like it. The whole Serra Geral is amazing, with the canyons and all; a paradise for mountain biking.
Daily Travel Digest #1228.
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What a trip you had. That scenery looks amazing!!
It dooooooes! No pictures are able to make justice to how massive those canyons are.