The Colonial Road to Petrópolis

We were amazed to hear that one could still go up that side of the valley on foot, indeed only on foot, since the road was long since impassible by horse and buggy, let alone by car. At most one might be able to go up it on a motorcycle, and even then there would be difficult stretches – you would have to be not only skillful but macho.

As neither my boyfriend nor I are "bikers," and what we enjoy is going up mountains on foot, we decided to return once again to Vila Inhomirim and walk up the colonial road. By now of course, the trek by train was old hat. Subway to the Central Station, electric train to the station at Saracuruna, and finally a diesel train with four passenger cars to Vila Inhomirim. From Rio to Vila Inhomirim is two hours.

We got to Vila Inhomirim by 11 AM, amidst an incredible din of students from a local elementary school; they were returning from a parade down the line which had been celebrating, a few days late, September 7 – Independence Day for my beloved Brazil. We had craned our heads out the windows to see the parade of school bands on the street which ran parallel to the railroad tracks.

It is always a pleasant surprise to arrive in Vila Inhomirim, a real oasis and easy on the eyes and other senses, after the train has passed through so many poor and frankly ugly spots. It puts a smile on your face, and gives you a mystified but happy feeling. We made a point of refueling with lunch at the Pensão da Vovó Dui, where we had stopped on our last trip; we had heard that there was no place to eat on the road (or that if there were, our innards would regret it).

Replete, we set out on our expedition – intrepid explorers carrying two bottles of water, two sandwiches, and full of curiosity, and a certain amount of irresponsibility, since, in fact, we had not talked with anybody who had actually walked up the whole road, and could give us details on the trek. We had no idea of exactly how long the road was, nor of how long it would take to walk it. I was psychologically prepared for something like seven hours on the trail. We started up a little before noon, the sun high in the sky, the eternal mountains before us, and a rather steep climb beginning to unfold.

Just a few minutes up the road we had the good fortune to meet Antônio, a guy about fifty or so, in enviably good shape. He was born and raised in Raiz da Serra (the original name of Vila Inhomirim). He knew the road well, went up it to Petrópolis frequently, and offered to accompany us to the point where it crossed the old cog railway. Being a city girl, a suspicious carioca, I was more than a little skeptical, but Tom is "peace and love" kind of guy who believes in the good will of others (of course he is right about this). He thought meeting Antonio was a stroke of luck and happily accepted his offer.

Smart and sensible, as it turned out. The road, which started out as a broad thoroughfare well-paved with ancient stones, got narrower and narrower. After a few kilometers, it became little more than a trail with an occasional paving stone peeping out. All through dense Atlantic forest, damp and cool. We were going up past breathtaking walls of stone, with an impressive variety of trees. Our guide was continually showing us one medicinal herb after another - arnica, good for bruises and contusion; assa-peixe, for treating bronchitis and respiratory problems; azedinha, a sort of clover good for the heart and circulation (tasted good - tart yet agreeable); wild raspberries (I confess, as a total urban paranoid, I was scared to eat one lest I drop dead on the spot. But I did: they were delicious!), cipó-cravo (clove-vine); and so forth. He knew a lot – not only about herbs but also about the road’s history. He told us about torture and arrests made in the forest during the military dictatorship. He told us about bandits. He showed us the remains of slave quarters from the plantations during the Empire, the graves of slaves who died during the construction of the road (stones marked with a simple cross). He also told us some tall-tales – like the one about the forty-foot long snake which swallowed whole a little girl; passing through the forest, her father, who had been searching for her, suffered the same fate. The "monster" was said to have been captured, killed, and then sliced into steaks of 40 cm in diameter. I couldn't help asking: "Did you actually see the snake, or did you hear about it?" Antonio answered: "I saw it!"

Well, I didn’t believe the story for a minute. But better safe than sorry. Antonio reminded us to keep our eyes out to avoid encounters with snakes. They could be painful and poisonous.

There were three spots on the trail where we might well have taken a wrong turn without our guide. The first was about 30 minutes up the trail, where the road seems to divide; there it is hard to figure out which way to go (take the hill to the right, rather than down to the left). The second is much farther up, where the trail emerges into a clearing. Turning right, as we did following Antonio's lead, we came to a little water fall, with a series of pools of cool and crystalline water - good to drink, refreshing if you want to take a dip. With some distance from the trees, it was here that we got our first really good views. A very nice spot, with lots of greenery and plenty of rock faces, vertical walls almost oppressive in their size and strength. A place of striking beauty.

Heading back in the opposite direction (where we would have headed turning left), on the way up the hill once more, we were treated to more marvelous views. We began to get a glimpse, beyond the peaks, of the Baixada Fluminense and parts of the city of Rio de Janeiro.

After about two hours on the road, we came to our third turning point, an almost civilized (though unpaved) road through which you could drive a car; it had once been the bed of the cog railway that went up the hill to Petrópolis. The train consisted of a little locomotive fueled by a wood-fed boiler and two relatively light cars, made of wood, with benches for passengers. Once we arrived in Alto da Serra, a neighborhood of Petrópolis (the highest point on our trek) we passed by a park with decorative planters in the shape of a train. It even included two of the original cogs. Without the cogs (gears which pulled the train up the mountain) it would have been impossible to ascend such a steep stretch (the little train that goes up Corcovado is an electrically-powered cog train). Even with the cog, said Antônio, a terrible accident took place about forty years ago: the train fell off one of the bridges and shattered below.

Now all that’s left are memories of the old train, making its smoky way up amidst spectacular vistas.

A few more minutes up the old rail bed and we came to our first bridge, quite a long way up over the stream that passed below. We were already in the city of Petrópolis, and a long way up. We could see practically the entire city of Rio laid out beneath us in a panorama – Sugarloaf, Corcovado, Tijuca Peak, Gávea Rock, and almost all of the Baixada. I had never had such a widescreen view of the city.

Shortly we came to the second bridge, longer, and much higher up. Looking down it was impossible not to feel vertigo – or think about the fall to the bottom. The second bridge looks quite old – stone with arches, it made us wonder whether it dated to the period of the colonial road rather than the railroad. It was impossible not to stop for photos and admire the scenery and bid farewell to the forest as we passed by the first houses, and made our way into Petrópolis.

With our arrival at the outskirts, we made a quick stop to have a refreshing sacolé. If you have never had one, it is a sort of home-made Popsicle frozen inside a little plastic bag. Technique: bite off the end of the bag, and suck out the frozen liquid as it thaws. The sign by the house announced a huge variety of flavors (only a few were really available), and we opted for chocolate – a little watery, but at 25 cents each we could hardly go wrong; they were cold and tasty.

Having arrived at a paved road (cobblestones, not asphalt), it was time to bid farewell to our guide and continue into the center of the city. We gave Antônio a tip. He was happy to accept. He had shown us the way without a mention of lucre, but it was certainly welcome. A great guy!

We made our way up the steep and curving streets toward the center. But first we sat for a few minutes gazing back down the valley, legs tired, a sense of victory in our hearts. In another hour we would be in a restaurant in the center, enjoying a well-deserved strawberry ice cream sundae. Our trip had been rewarding, with stupendous views, exuberant nature, waterfalls, and stories. But my body was ready to take it easy, and I was happy to sink into the padded seat of an air-conditioned bus back to Rio.

Tips for the Road to Petrópolis

- Buy the combined ticket for the Metro and Train for R$3.30. From Rio to Vila Inhomirim is a two hour trip.
- Lunch at Vovó Dui is only R$3.50. Rua Fábrica de Papel, número 7, Vila Inhomirim (Raiz da Serra). Telephone: 3666-5151.
- Bring energy munchies (chocolate bars, granola bars) and isotonic beverages. Even though you are not mountaineering, you’ll still get a good workout. You don't want to get dehydrated – perhaps dangerous, and disagreeable to say the least.
- Sacolés are for sale at one of the first houses on the left after the second bridge, for only 25 cents. The menu included flavors such as doce de leite, leite condensado, avocado, pineapple, mango, etc., but when we passed by not all of them were available. Not the best sacolé in the world, but after a hike up hill something sweet and cold hits the spot. Recommended.
- For the trip back, buses from Petrópolis to the Novo Rio bus station leave every thirty minutes, on the hour and half-hour. Tickets range from R$11-12,50 (11-12.50 reals) - with air conditioning if you shell out a bit more - a comforting luxury after 4 hours hiking.

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