#SambaCycle Revisited - the bandits of Maranh?o

Did I ever tell you about the time when me and Martin were accosted by bandits in Brazil?!

Wow, the State of Maranh?o, on the Atlantic coast 1,500 miles north of Sao Paulo…

The place where some of the best things — and the worst thing — of the #SambaCycle happened!

Here’s the story of that crazy week in May 2014, where for various reasons, the Smith brothers didn’t do as much cycling as we intended:

-Best: we entered Maranh?o by speedboat, then had to get a 4x4 towed by a tractor!

Our previous night’s fantastic couchsurfing host Wilson told us that the Parnaíba River estuary was flooded, and so the usually cyclable roads heading west could only be crossed by boat to avoid doing a huge detour. So he helped us find a speedboat to book and zoom across — so cool!

The following morning we quickly cycled 35km to catch the midday Toyota 4×4! A combination of grassland, sand dunes and more flooding meant the next 40km of ‘road’ could only be crossed in a big off-road vehicle, and thankfully we found one that could fit us and two bikes. But it still got stuck, and after much wheel spinning to no avail, we waited for another 4×4 to drive out to give a tow. But that didn’t even budge our now totally wedged vehicle. So onto plan B and the driver called for a tractor to get us moving again!

See the full story — with videos — of these stages on my SSC blog here.

- Best: the bedsheets of Maranh?o!

Near the town of Barreirinhas, vast white sand dunes create desert-like landscapes at Len?óis (aka “bedsheets”) Maranhenses National Park, where swimmable freshwater lagoons form during the rainy season. We were so fortunate to visit this stunning place on such a beautiful day!

More on the SSC blog here.

- Best: the kindness of strangers — Makarth!

In Humberto de Campos, during the evening we were wandering around looking for a place to eat when outside the local hospital a guy asked if he could help and then promptly offered to drive us to the best churrascaria (BBQ restaurant) in town!

He was called Makarth (a name inspired by his parents’ love of The Beatles!) and he was a junior doctor who was 36 hours into a 48 hour shift (?!), on a break and hungry. His English was a little rusty but he persevered in order to chat with us as best he could and we enjoyed a lovely meal, despite Makarth’s football team Palmeiras going 0–2 down in the live game on TV at the same time! Then to top it all he insisted on picking up the bill. Top guy!

- Worst: being hunted by bandits on motorbikes along a remote highway!

It started here (see photo) — which is almost exactly where the #SambaCycle revisited challenge team are right now (as I write this on Sunday 19th May 2024 morning) as we’re 1,600 miles into our virtual journey from Salvador to Belem:

I stopped at so many of these ‘postos’ along the highways all across Brazil, to take a break from pedalling, grab some food, a cold drink, and enjoy the surprised looks of people to see someone on a bicycle in (most often) such a remote place.

On this day, I needed some extra breakfast after we’d made an early start on the bikes, so had a meat pastry, again as I had done so many other times during this journey. But, uh oh, not far along the road my stomach began to do cartwheels — I needed a toilet, if you know what i mean — but we were on a rural road with nothing in sight. I really didn’t want to jump into the bushes as I had too much respect for Brazil to do such a gross thing! So I clenched my, er, teeth and pedalled onwards. Maybe half an hour later we saw some houses up ahead, so pulled in and I approached the people outside their door to ask in my broken Portuguese if I could possibly use their facilities. After experiencing so much wonderful Brazilian hospitality across the country, I honestly thought they’d say yes. I was wrong. It was a dismissive no. Ok, fair enough, and feeling unwelcome we turned to cycle off. As we did so, two of the guys hopped on a motorbike and drove off along the road heading west, giving us a disconcerting look as they passed.

Further along the road we found some friendly locals who thankfully let me use their outside toilet, which was flushed via water from a small well also in their garden!

We pedalled on for a while through the flat, open landscape, with only very occasional cars passing. Then some motorbikes appeared coming towards us. As they got closer we realised it was the same 2 guys from the previous house, now joined by two others and each on their own bike. They slowed to pass us and again each gave us that disconcerting look, as if checking out our bikes and bags. Martin and I sped up as we wanted to get far away from these guys ASAP, but moments later heard the motorbike engines approaching behind us. They rode past again, then stopped a hundred metres or so in front of us, blocking the road!

In that moment, I glanced at Martin and we both realised what was happening — so we nodded to each other and again sped up, Martin swerving to the left side of the road to go around them, while I had a red mist feeling of “you’re not stopping me now” (after 4 months on the road and so close to completing my 5,000 mile route) so charged straight at the middle of their group. In a blur I somehow sped through a gap between their bikes, then Martin swerved back next to me, we sprinted forwards seeing that there were some buildings ahead!

I can only assume that behind us the bandits were so shocked that we didn’t stop out of fear, that they took some time to react before riding after us, because we reached the village in time to jump into a garden full of locals drinking outside a bar, before the motorbikes again came past just a few seconds later, and now that disconcerting look had turned to something even more nasty.

So now we were safe for the time being, but trapped, as there was only the one road. Heading back east was going towards where these guys came from, with nothing much in between, while heading west was where we needed to go, but we’d seen them head off that way, plus had no idea what else was along that stretch of the road. So either way, we’d likely be sitting ducks for them to track down and rob.

(I can’t be sure of the exact locations, but this all took place somewhere along the rural BR-402 highway)

- Best: the kindness of strangers — Ayrton!

We must’ve looked scared, and the locals had seen the bandits pass by, so they kindly took us into their group and gave us drinks. One of them spoke some English, so we got chatting to Ayrton. After some explanation of the events he said “Yes, they want to rob you” — ok, great, so now what?! Ayrton had certainly had a few beers already, and seemed to be the life of the party with his mates, but then he became our saviour. Pointing to a utility vehicle parked next to the road, he said “That’s my truck, I’ll take you to the next town” — and despite his inebriation, we were very keen to accept the offer!

We loaded our bikes onto the back of his ute, Martin agreed to sit out the back with them, and I jumped into the passenger seat. It felt such a relief to be moving swiftly away from the site of the attempted ambush, so I started to relax. But then, as we sped along, we saw the motorbikes one by one stopped along the highway, clearly waiting for us in a new formation that we wouldn’t have been able to dodge so easily — and they clearly saw us go past. Ayrton laughed, looked at me, then said “It’s ok, we’ll drive further” — what a legend. I think we went about 50km along the road, not so easy to track when I wasn’t cycling with my trusty Garmin bike computer, and eventually pulled into a ‘pousada’ up an elevated driveway from the road. It seemed an ideal place to hole up for the night, albeit was still rural and quiet, just outside the town of Morros.

Thanking Ayrton with our utmost gratitude — he graciously refused our offer of money to cover his petrol cost — he waved as he sped off on the long drive back East. We checked into a room located amongst the trees as far off the road as possible, then went to grab some food from the onsite cafe. Could we now properly relax… no! Unbelievably as we sat and ate, who should drive past on the road below, yep it was the motorbike bandits — would they not give up! We ducked for cover, and unsure if they’d seen us, quickly got back into our room and locked the door. Our paranoia was not ideal for trying to sleep that night!

- Best: escaping into the tranquillity of Sao Luis and then Alcantara!

So having initially dodged the bandits thanks to some bullish cycling and then local legend Ayrton, we still felt like we were being hunted along the highway. The next morning we decided that cycling was too risky, and of course we wanted to be certain they wouldn’t catch up with us again. So with help from the British Consulate by phone — who again confirmed that “Yeah, that’s how people get robbed on rural roads”, I organised a taxi to take us all the way into the next city. We were gutted to have missed out such a chunk of the cycle route, but of course that was massively preferable to having our bikes and possessions stolen!

Arriving into the historic centre of Sao Luis was finally our escape after 24 hours of stress, as now we were surrounded by people in a friendly tourist area — phew! We could gradually unwind and enjoy being tourists, both in the dilapidated but beautiful city and then also, a short ferry ride later, at the Festina Divino Espirito Santo in Alcantara. Back into the joys of brilliant Brazil, as 99% of the #SambaCycle had been.

Once more, check out the SSC blog here for more.

- Next: onwards!

From there, we continued west across the remainder of northern Maranh?o, now feeling as though we were on the home straight towards Belém (then Manaus by boat), with ‘only’ 400 miles of cycling to go!

Looking back on all this a decade later in 2024, I think it’s about time we told our parents about the bandits, since we kept it to ourselves at the time as didn’t want to scare them — sorry Mum and Dad! But ultimately nothing actually happened, so was it really that bad? I loved my 6 months in Brazil so much, and felt safe on all other days, including passing through favelas, cities and everything in between. So I agree with the relatively few others who’ve cycle toured there, that actually — if you’re really up for it — then “get on your bike and get out and explore Brazil”.

- Now: #SambaCycle revisited — 2,000 miles for THF

Thankyou for reading this far! Now for the call to action :-)

To celebrate 10 years since the #SambaCycle and a ‘decade of difference’ made by The Huracan Foundation, me and Martin are currently part of a team retracing the route around the northeast coast of Brazil from Salvador to Belém.

-> Check out our progress here:

https://www.myvirtualmission.com/missions/177707/2-000-miles-for-thf

-> If you can, please support our efforts, and most importantly help this brilliant charity to deliver more incredible football and education projects:

https://www.justgiving.com/team/2000milesforthf

Obrigado, Andy