Save the Last Dance For Me

Often seen soaring high in the blue gliding effortlessly on the thermals, or close-up prancing in gangs on the beach, squabbling over whatever may have washed up that day.

Admittedly not the most endearing of birds, and just about everyone feels a deep down sense of revulsion towards them, whereas in fact they are nature's recyclers:

Sand

 














Unlike the Inuit, who are reputed to have many different words for snow, the Brazilians have only the one word for sand. 

This is strange for there are many different types: there’s wet sand; dry sand; coarse and fine sand; soft wet sinking sand; compact sand I can ride my bicycle on; soft sand you can leave your footprints in; sand with ripples on from an outgoing tide; sand blown into dunes which encroach on human habitation (reminiscent of JG Ballard stories); crumbly sand; the cool sand underfoot in the morning, and the burning midday sand; moonlit sand; sand with thousands of tiny craters from the rain; sand with a crusty layer; compacted sand with a fine layer of wind-blown sand on top which squeaks when you skim your feet over the surface (one of my favourites); sand patterned by seagulls’ webbed footprints; sand full of sand crabs’ burrows, their spoil-piles and their skittering claw tracks; and the sand which is full of bottle tops, plastic cups, straws, cigarette butts, bits of lime, chips, tomato sauce and mayonnaise sachets, fish bones and cocktail sticks, which is a very common variety around the beach bars here, especially during the Temporada.

The Fishing dogs of Ponta das Canas

Tired of burgers and chips? Leftovers and scraps? Waiting for handouts or raiding dustbins? These guys are, and presumably that's why they took up fishing. Working as a team and highly focused on the task in paw, they patrol the shallows at Ponta das Canas beach until they find a likely contender, who has strayed in-to their depths, and then pounce.

Amigo Mike recons they've been at it at least a year, and they are looking pretty good on it. I suppose that if they get a little bored with their diet, they could always find a few chips scattered in the sand near the restaurant tables, squeeze a dribble of mayonnaise from an abandoned sachet, maybe even a little tartar sauce…

Fish Supper Anyone?

Every so often all the effort pays off. Tainha (red mullet), a few expectant locals, and some happy fishermen.

This is a low tech fishing method. A canoe casts off from the shore, makes an arc whilst paying out a net, returns to shore, and everyone helps pulls in the net, the fishermen, and anyone who happens to be nearby on the beach.

Sometimes there is nothing, sometimes they are lucky.

Tainha boat ready to launch . . .

Swimming with the dolphins

Daniela — a beach on the north west side of the island facing the continent. The sort of day you would need your head examined if you had anything to complain about.

The fishermen load their net into a small boat called Mane da Ilha, then row out in an arc, paying out the net into the water as they go. Returning to shore, and the horseshoe trap set, the two ends of the net are gradually pulled in, hand over hand. Simple, but effective, and no doubt this method has been practiced for many years.

As the guys are sorting their catch — a few tainha, some sardines, crabs, jellyfish and seaweed, someone spots a dolphin out in the bay, and for a short while we’re all on board the Pequod, scrutinizing the water, shielding our eyes from the glare of the sun, and pointing.

There are several dolphins, arcing lazily through the water — and dolphins mean fish! The fishermen hurriedly reload their net into Mane da Ilha and set off again in anticipation of a larger, dolphin-aided catch.

Meanwhile I slip into the water, the dolphins are a couple of hundred yards away, but at least I can now say that — once I went swimming with the dolphins.

The Melon Man

The Alfred Wallis of Floripa, perhaps . . .