Saint Laurent lies only at 14 miles of the mouth, and the influence of the ocean is strong : tides, currents, and also the acoupa, the fish our indian friend Marius fish, like the salt water. We will use the tide to beach our boat, using the legs, and make a repair on the hull. In fact, when lowering the boat in Salvador a link of the planking, below the water line, was damaged. Of course we tried to close the gaps when this appear at sea, but with no great results. So, in the time of one tide a new link was installed, with stainless steel bolts, the end of pumping. All this only with our own means, sailors job…
With the dugout we will sail up the river until Apatou, go trough the Hermina rapids, visit the villages of the bushi nenge, descendant of the escaped slaves, where we will participate in making the couac and the casave, basic foods made from the manioc, discover the roucou, this so stubborn colorant. Then the indian villages, of the ethnia kali’na, descendant of the fearfull caribes. In T+merin, near the petrogliphs, Iris was waiting for us, a small ball of hair, poorly fed, full of vermin. She found at once her own place on Skoiern, born near the water she was already a sailor. We wanted a small dog, she is bigger day after day…
The river it’s also the dugouts, built everywhere in angelique and grignan woods, wonderfull, they can rech 20 meters. Up Saint Laurent it’s quasi the only way of transportation, used as well for the feast as for the smugglers with Suriname. With these dugouts and our boatman Richard we will enter the cricks, quiet at day time with the sloths and acrobat monkeys, populated at night with caïmans and anacondas.
Saint Laurent it’s also the market, the feasts, the birthdays, marches, a life we couldn’t think of in this corner of Amazonia.
When leaving for the ocean we will wander in the criks, the tributaries of the river where you sail in the trees, but with meters of water under the keel ! Except for the eyes ofthe caïmans seen one night we will not enconter ferocious animals, only the birds, ariel toucan, herons and egret go with us. At the turn of Malakami Crick (Coswine river), Ayawande, kali’na village, where somme families, guardians of traditions, Frederica and his son roger, Alphonsine and her sister. A comunitary carbet is being built, it will be used essentialy for the villagers, as the few tourist can only reach the village by the river. No internet here, only the mail, we will then write letters.

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The crossing from Salvador has been fast, in less than 13 days we drop the anchor under the “Royale “island, in “Baie des Cocotiers”, “Iles du Salut. Post card scenery in a cursed place, with ignominy as cure for infamy. Now nature reassert itself, the coconut palm, planted by the convicts have changed these rocks into islets of greenery. Nevertheless, these places, full of a past not really brillant are now peacefull, the tourist are plentiful, the policemen frendly, the spider monkeys impertinent, the agoutis run around.
One night at sea and we are sailing up the Maroni river. The tide is pushing us, we hug the mangrove up to Saint Laurent du Maroni, another place of expiation for those France considered as unwanted. Here again all were melted, small delinquents, criminals, political opponents…. Only the courage of great mens, like Albert Londres, will put an end, in 1954, at this excessive treatement.
Once more, time and nature did their work. St Laurent is a crossing, the Suriman is on the other bank of the river Maroni, constantly crossed by wonderfull pirogues. Here one speaks all kind of lenguages and the french presence don’t succeed in diminish this culture melting : amerindians, noirs marrons, brazilians, chineses, surinameses…That Guyana, the amazonian guyana, the one of the great rivers.

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From Rio to Salvador the track go trough the Abrolhos archipelago, were we went 5 years ago, and this time we are sure to see whales.And the whales, we saw them, and very, very close ! First the australs, the ones we prefer, inquisitive, quiet, who like to stay head down, the tail right out of the water. Then the humpbacks, who came here to mate and breed their calves. And here, during the day, a first collision. A tremendous shock, then the whale alongside, groggy but aparently not wounded. Then a second one with her baby. After the collision she will erect herself out of the water, overlooking Anne Marie, her calf stuck to her, as afraid as ourselves. There will be a third one, at night that time. We decide then to start the engine, even if there was a good wind, but we are worried for our boat and we can bear to hurt these poor animals, tired with their long journey from Antarctica. They don’t seem to hear us and we will discover later, in Salvador, the marks left on the hull by their fins, always deep, that leads us to think that they are also surprised by the draft of Skoiern. We will try to diffuse music in the water, to wake them….Perhaps they will love Mozart ?

Salvador, once again in Bahia Marina to drydock. This time Daniel will help us we start to be old….

We will see the solar eclipse, just before the sunset on Itaparica. Poor Itaparica island, at the eve of our departure a “lancha”will upset in the bad weather, making numerous victims. All Salvador is in mourning.

Manon and Enzo. 3 years ago , we made the promise that they will join us in Rio, and now they are here with us, at the root of the Pan de Azucar, anchored in front of Urca beach ! Rio , they have enjoyed : the Corcovado, where the Christ Redemptor overlook the rich districs and the favelas, the Pan de Azucar, the beaches, Copacabana and Ipanema….One day of sailing to reach Ilha Grande, its beaches, anchorages, trails without cars, meet the hauling monkeys we can hear as sunrise, and also the mischievous makis in the woods.
Back to Urca we will meet again the friend Anderson, who sleep on the beach, Giovani on his yacht “San Antonio”, the Fernando brothers who visit us with their kayak, a whole little world it will be difficult to leave.
Manon and Enzo are going back, we are full of reunion, of cards games ( do you know “La vache” ?), of bathings, of memories, just enough to wait next year, in the Azores Islands.

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