Gramado & Canela
Even though we’d had very little sleep, the fact that we had completely run out of water pushed us to move on. We didn’t want to risk another stormy night at the cliff edge, and the weather forecast was looking rather unstable. By the time we were ready to leave at mid-morning, the clouds had already come down again.
It was that time of the month when money was running out, so we decided to find a nice spot for a couple of days and wait for the rent to come in. Then we could continue on and enjoy Gramado. The spot was still a fair drive away — a bit of a detour — but it promised to be another nice, peaceful place on the edge of a reservoir. Unlimited water sounded like a great plan, so we retraced our steps up the dirt road to Cambará. Here, we joined a nice tarmac highway heading towards Gramado, but in sticking to our plan, we were soon turning off down more rough, rocky roads.
After a couple of hours, we reached the dam. The road continues across the lower part here — which is underwater if the sluice gates are open — and keeps going as it follows the edge of the reservoir. The place we were heading for is marked as a free campsite; the only facilities are a few overflowing bins, but we didn’t need anything except the water anyway. Access to get there is via a short, steep dirt track that takes you off the road and up and over the hill to the water's edge. It runs between eucalyptus trees and is mostly clay. After a very heavy night of rain, I walked up to check if we could make it. It was that kind of mud that coats your shoes in huge, sticky clogs after just a few metres. Not only that, but the track was pretty rough — clearly, when it rained, the water ran down it and gouged a huge trench out of the surface. I reckoned we could do it, though. I walked back, explained the best route to Lee, and let him at it. I watched as Ruby slithered up the slope, nearly lost it on a lumpy, bendy bit, and then successfully emerged on the other side of a large puddle. This was excellent news. We could now relax for a couple of days — there was only one other car there.
That night, our decision to move was validated: the wind returned. It tore through the trees behind us, but luckily the hill we had climbed and the forest on it gave us enough shelter that we didn’t so much feel it as hear it. We were very glad we weren’t on the cliff edge anymore; the only thing we had to worry about here was a tree falling on us, and if they hadn’t come down already, I was pretty sure we’d be safe for now.
The next day was sunny again. We used the easy access to water to wash all our clothes and empty the compost toilet. For nearly the entire day, no one came. In fact, we were already in bed when we heard a car. We heard it revving and slipping, and we could even see its headlights pointing up at a ridiculous angle through the darkness. We lay there and desperately hoped they wouldn’t come and ask for a tow. Eventually, though, they made it up, and silence fell again.
In the morning, we saw the car in question: a small, nondescript hatchback. It was parked on the other side of the small beach where we had parked. A bit later on, its occupants drove it right onto the beach itself and set up camp on the far side. We had considered moving there ourselves, as it would have had better sun, but we weren’t completely sure about the access; if it kept raining, we didn’t want to get stuck in there. Our batteries were full when we arrived, and with the help of the Bluetti, we could manage another day in the shade. In the end, the other car took the spot anyway. They mostly kept themselves to themselves, only popping over at one point to borrow our salt for their barbecue.
That night, it was just our two vehicles. It had been a lovely, quiet spot, especially considering it was the weekend. We were going to stay one more night, but the other car was getting ready to leave. They packed up their things and tried to drive back up the hill. Someone had built a stony access path to the beach, but it was rough and slippery with mud. Being in a small hatchback with low clearance, they couldn’t really get a proper run at it. After a lot of engine revving and the smell of burning rubber, we went over to offer a hand.
Four of us pushed while one of the guys drove. It was a little dangerous — the car was prone to slipping, and we were trying to push on slick rocks. It was easy to see a scenario where one of us slipped and the car rolled over us. After several attempts, the tyres just couldn’t climb over some of the larger rocks. After trying to reposition it a few times, the driver gestured to me, asking if I knew how to drive. This often happens as I’m the smallest, the least strong to push but the lightest weight to sit inside. Of course I know how to drive, but it’s a bit different when you get into a car that’s already stuck in a tricky spot. You're not used to any of the controls, how sensitive the accelerator is, or how the clutch feels — and it’s quite important to get it right the first time. I shouldn’t have worried, though; this looked right up my alley. The handbrake wasn’t attached, and the dashboard was falling off piece by piece. The seat slid around like a budget roller coaster as I climbed in. I asked him where reverse was ("push down to engage" — got it). The three blokes braced against the front grille. "Three, two, one!" They pushed, I dipped the clutch, and as if it were nothing, the wheels gripped and the car bounced back up the hill and out. Easy peasy. We were all thrilled — they were happy to be freed, and we were very happy we didn’t have to try and bring Ruby over to tow them out. We left them to finish packing and hoped we’d have a less eventful exit the following day.
The morning brought another dry day and, more importantly, the rent. The clay track was a bit drier now, so we reckoned we’d be able to leave without any issues — we certainly didn’t want to go sliding uncontrollably down the hill with locked wheels. After a bit of shuffling, we managed to turn around in our spot and head back out. Ruby’s suspension squeaked appallingly; it was really starting to drive me insane. I made a mental note that I would not drive her again until I'd actually had a proper look, before bouncing down over tree roots and hitting the main track out.
Now that we had some cash, we set off to spend it. Our first stop was Canela, a popular tourist spot. While the area is mainly known for its hiking and waterfalls, the weather wasn’t really on our side for that. Instead, we opted for a quick stop to see the famous Cathedral of Stone. Funnily enough, it’s quite a blend of cultures: the building style is English Gothic, while its carillon (a musical instrument played with bells) comes from Italy. It was completed in 1987 (making it the same age as Lee) and stands at an impressive 65 metres tall. The clouds that partially obscured the spire from time to time definitely added to its English Gothic atmosphere.
As it was lunchtime and we were in town, I decided I needed some pão de queijo. Truth be told, I always need some pão de queijo. These had become my absolute staple — little breads made of cassava flour and cheese that were utterly addictive. They were sold everywhere in varying sizes. They are much better eaten fresh, as that’s when they have a slightly stretchy, chewy texture (sounds gross, but it isn't!). By the next day, they get a lot drier and more cakey. I’ve been known to chomp my way through an entire bag of small ones, and if I’m out and about, I’ll definitely end up buying some. This time, we found them in another blend of cultures: at a local Irish pub.
We only had a quick snack, though, as we were going out for dinner in Gramado tonight. Will and Stacey had stopped there for fondue and recommended it to us. We’d actually never had fondue before, ever! So we were pretty excited to try it.
Gramado is just a short distance from Canela. It’s another Bavarian-style town, hence the fondue scene. It’s very popular with tourists for its European vibes, and sitting at a pleasant 830 metres, it’s a cooler escape in the summer months — though that wasn’t something we needed to worry about right now. We arrived in thick, heavy fog. We wanted to stay in the car park of the local leisure centre, but found the access road was under repair. A diversion sent us down some rather interesting side streets, and we ended up in the exact same predicament as the other day when we were climbing the mountain pass in the fog. The only difference this time was that instead of me doing the tricky pedal manoeuvre on the hill start, it was Lee. Needless to say, he was very glad to park up after that.
The weather was so dreadful that we booked a taxi to the restaurant. It was called The Beck Restaurant, and apparently the owner is famous for being incredibly friendly, chatty, and persuasive. He didn’t need to persuade me — I was already sold. In a matter of moments, we went from the taxi to our table. The waiter brought our menus, and when we mentioned our friends had recommended the place, he said he remembered them; funnily enough, we were sitting at the exact same table! We ordered a bottle of wine and two set-menu fondues.
The first course was the vegetables. They brought over a huge pot of melted cheese accompanied by plates of various items to dip: potatoes, carrots, broccoli, polenta, and bread, as well as a type of set fruit jelly whose name I was told and promptly forgot.
To be honest, that would have been more than enough for me. But then they brought out the meat course. It’s not really my thing, but it came as part of the set menu that included everything else I wanted. First, they brought us an individual grill, complete with a burner, followed by a huge plate of raw meat so you could cook it to your liking. Leaving Lee to handle the enormous pile of food, I just picked at a few sausages on the side.
Naturally, by the time the dessert course arrived, he was absolutely stuffed. He doesn’t have as much of a sweet tooth as I do anyway, so I did the heavy lifting for this round. They brought out chocolate and dulce de leche fondues alongside another array of dippers: a selection of fresh fruit, marshmallows, and wafers. I did my absolute best, but by the end, we both admitted defeat and ordered another taxi to carry us and our enormous food babies back home.
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