Didn't post yesterday – we took a beach buggy trip down the coast to the next town, Tatajuba, a place whose telecoms mast can just be seen on the horizon downwind. The done thing is to perch on the back of the buggy holding on to the bar at the back of the roof. It was extremely windy and very sandy. There were a few “sights” on the way – dunes you could slide down (really windy, sandy) a river crossing by raft, etc, but the main destination was a freshwater lagoon.
This is obviously quite a popular resort, because there were a number of makeshift restaurants by the edge of the water. They make it special by placing the plastic tables and chairs just in the water, so you are up to your ankles. The water is grey. It is very windy. And sandy. There were white horses on the flat water and they have to keep wetting the sand behind the tables so the diners don't get covered. It looks like an interesting place to sail - the run seemed to be a couple of miles long.
The menu options were fish, langoustine or prawns, all which looked very good quality, but which cost a good three times what you would pay anywhere else. I might splurge on a 25 pound lunch in London on a special occasion, but I think I would expect starched table linen and a decent white wine, not wind blasted ears and wet feet. There seemed to be a good few student-age Brazilians happy to tuck in, though. Must be quite an elite around somewhere. We made do with toasted mozzerella on a stick, a bizarre snack which was new to me. On the way back I wimped out and sat inside the buggy with my sarong wrapped round my head to keep the sand out of my ears. I was completely shattered.
Back in Jeri I fought off a siesta to take a solitary lunch at one of the less well-sited restaurants and had a huge plate of garlicky prawns, rice, beans, salad and farfofa (ubiquitous manioc flour thing) with a beer for the princely sum of seven pounds as mine host watched Brazil play Egypt on his little TV. Superb. one of those meals I will remember for a long time.
Later on I went up the dune for the sunset, for the first time in a while. It was very busy, because apparently it was a Brazilian four day weekend. On the beach on the way back I watched some capoeira starting up. Gollito was there, taking pictures, which I thought was sweet. He's obviously a very keen capoeira fan. There was also a jolly samba band, who I followed through the streets for a bit. All Brazil-ed up, I met the others for dinner and we went for ... sushi. But it was very good.
So, refreshed, today was the day to get back on the water and start making some progress. I was determined to get in two sessions – I did that all right. I wish I could tell you that I had a storming day... but it was all a bit lacklustre. Morning I was underpowered; didn't get going at all till I worked out I should have the boom higher, a bit higher than the mid point. Then I flew. But my companions very firmly told me that was the wrong thing, and there was only one boom setting for my height. Er... I think if you are stuck for sail size you should tune it optimally for the wind you find yourself in, rather than spiriting an exactly correct sized sail from somewhere. That's my real-life sailing, anyway.
By the time I worked it out I was already losing my waterstart. I struggle a bit to get on the board and I'm afraid it's connected to the hamstring injuries I gave myself earlier in the year; you know the story. I can't easily drag the board under me with my back foot. and when I do get it there, I struggle to push up with that leg also.
Afternoon was the opposite to the morning; took a slightly bigger sail but the wind had got up and I found myself floundering immediately, not exactly overpowered, but too much for my enfeebled state – rubbish waterstarting again. Also, the tide had come in, so when I tried to beat the windshadow on the inside I found myself at the bottom of the bay, game over. One measly run, long walk.
Better luck tomorrow.
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