Oh, how sweet it was!
Today, I visited the third and final crown jewels on Rio's tourism "must-see" checklist: Sugarloaf Mountain. The sprawling beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema, Christ the Redeemer and Sugarloaf are essential stops on any stay here in this magnificent metropolis whose population has exploded to over 6 million in the last decade. The beaches were handily located, thanks to my agent's skillful placement of my hotel, and O Christo Redentor, with its outstretched arms calling to me from the distant heavens, had to come second in line. Sugarloaf Mountain could wait a few days.
Referred to as "Sugarloaf", its name is said to refer to its resemblance to the traditional shape of refined, concentrated loaf sugar, which is how sugar was produced and sold up until the 19th Century when granulated and cube sugar wer introduced. I had honestly always thought it referred to (and appeared like) a large loaf of sweet bread until I did my research. Ah...the many wonderful, unexpected things we learn when we travel!
Again, my personal chauffeur in Rio, Carlos, transported me in his fancy, state-of-the-art mini-limousine (complete with two televisions on board as well as a killer sound system) and whisked me down the long boulevard, the parade route with permanent bleachers installed on both sides designated as the official "Carnival" route and delivered me to the Pau de Acucar (Sugarloaf Mountain in Portuguese) Visitors' Center. As always, especially with such a world-famous tourist trap such as this, there were hundreds of black and yellow cabs, looking like a swarm of bees, deftly buzzing about dropping off and retrieving thousands of sightseers like me. Today, however, Carlos had no ticket "express lane" tricks up his sleeve, but he had performed the ultimate miracle previously when it really counted. So no tip was forthcoming for him on this day, and I could sense he was a bit disappointed. But really, today it was just a simple taxi ride.
Back into "queue up" mode I went, hopefully today for the last time on this trip with the exception, of course, for the long airplane rides home later this week. Into the cordoned off section, herded like sheep, we all formed lines to the ticket windows to pay our R$44 (about 22 US dollars) to get into yet another line to wait our turns in groups of 65 to load into the bubble-shaped, Italian-made cable cars that would scoop us up and take us to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain.
There are several cable cars, which were first installed to take passengers to the summit back in 1912 (which I found astonishing), and one must make two seperate lifts. The first stop along the 4600 foot-long route is to Urca Mountain, Pau de Acucar's little brother, where you can stop, enjoy the already-splendid views of the surrounding largos (bays) and beaches and where Sugarloaf is "ready for its close-up, Mr. DeMille." This respite also allows the faint-of-heart to catch one's breath before embarking onto to the next cable car for the final ascent to the pinnacle, everyone's destination.
Lifting off the ground and dangling over the thick, forested jungle of Urca Mountain and then ultimately 1,400 feet over the Atlantic Ocean at an estimated 45 degree angle (I felt sorry for anyone with acrophobia, and it sounded like there were several inside the gently-swinging cable car with us), the hanging, human conveyor belt ascended quickly and confidently to the crest of Sugarloaf. The ride, which provides a 360 degree view, the most incredible vistas - even better than Corcovado Mountain, which I thought was impossible. The landscape all up and down the entire region is dotted with dozens and dozens of towering morros, monolithic outcroppings of granite and quartz, the largest of which is Sugarloaf, and much to my surprise there were many more than just the ones I'd seen surrounding the city of Rio de Janeiro. They are extremely impressive, and a sight to behold! Never in my life have I seen anything like them.
Once atop the crest of Sugarloaf, there is not much to do but stand in awe at the beauty of the surrounding region, take as many pictures as possible to record the magic, breathe in the fresh, cool air, and watch the hundreds of giant, circling and almost-menacing frigate birds (also known as "man-o-war" birds for their buzzard-like presence overhead and wing spans of over 4 feet). There are some small shops, bars and kiosks atop the mountain, and I scratched my head trying to figure out how all those building materials, let alone the gigantic steel structures for the cable cars themselves, were transported to such perilous heights. Oh, what a wondrous world we live in, and how amazing we as human beings are when we make up our minds to get somewhere or build something.
After an hour or so of lounging on top of Sugarloaf and taking a big bite of this delicious site, I queued up again for the trip back to sea level and to Carlos, who had waited patiently at the base the entire time. For his loyal patience this time, I did tip him handsomely at last. Back to the hotel we went.
Today, I visited the third and final crown jewels on Rio's tourism "must-see" checklist: Sugarloaf Mountain. The sprawling beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema, Christ the Redeemer and Sugarloaf are essential stops on any stay here in this magnificent metropolis whose population has exploded to over 6 million in the last decade. The beaches were handily located, thanks to my agent's skillful placement of my hotel, and O Christo Redentor, with its outstretched arms calling to me from the distant heavens, had to come second in line. Sugarloaf Mountain could wait a few days.
Referred to as "Sugarloaf", its name is said to refer to its resemblance to the traditional shape of refined, concentrated loaf sugar, which is how sugar was produced and sold up until the 19th Century when granulated and cube sugar wer introduced. I had honestly always thought it referred to (and appeared like) a large loaf of sweet bread until I did my research. Ah...the many wonderful, unexpected things we learn when we travel!
Again, my personal chauffeur in Rio, Carlos, transported me in his fancy, state-of-the-art mini-limousine (complete with two televisions on board as well as a killer sound system) and whisked me down the long boulevard, the parade route with permanent bleachers installed on both sides designated as the official "Carnival" route and delivered me to the Pau de Acucar (Sugarloaf Mountain in Portuguese) Visitors' Center. As always, especially with such a world-famous tourist trap such as this, there were hundreds of black and yellow cabs, looking like a swarm of bees, deftly buzzing about dropping off and retrieving thousands of sightseers like me. Today, however, Carlos had no ticket "express lane" tricks up his sleeve, but he had performed the ultimate miracle previously when it really counted. So no tip was forthcoming for him on this day, and I could sense he was a bit disappointed. But really, today it was just a simple taxi ride.
Back into "queue up" mode I went, hopefully today for the last time on this trip with the exception, of course, for the long airplane rides home later this week. Into the cordoned off section, herded like sheep, we all formed lines to the ticket windows to pay our R$44 (about 22 US dollars) to get into yet another line to wait our turns in groups of 65 to load into the bubble-shaped, Italian-made cable cars that would scoop us up and take us to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain.
There are several cable cars, which were first installed to take passengers to the summit back in 1912 (which I found astonishing), and one must make two seperate lifts. The first stop along the 4600 foot-long route is to Urca Mountain, Pau de Acucar's little brother, where you can stop, enjoy the already-splendid views of the surrounding largos (bays) and beaches and where Sugarloaf is "ready for its close-up, Mr. DeMille." This respite also allows the faint-of-heart to catch one's breath before embarking onto to the next cable car for the final ascent to the pinnacle, everyone's destination.
Lifting off the ground and dangling over the thick, forested jungle of Urca Mountain and then ultimately 1,400 feet over the Atlantic Ocean at an estimated 45 degree angle (I felt sorry for anyone with acrophobia, and it sounded like there were several inside the gently-swinging cable car with us), the hanging, human conveyor belt ascended quickly and confidently to the crest of Sugarloaf. The ride, which provides a 360 degree view, the most incredible vistas - even better than Corcovado Mountain, which I thought was impossible. The landscape all up and down the entire region is dotted with dozens and dozens of towering morros, monolithic outcroppings of granite and quartz, the largest of which is Sugarloaf, and much to my surprise there were many more than just the ones I'd seen surrounding the city of Rio de Janeiro. They are extremely impressive, and a sight to behold! Never in my life have I seen anything like them.
Once atop the crest of Sugarloaf, there is not much to do but stand in awe at the beauty of the surrounding region, take as many pictures as possible to record the magic, breathe in the fresh, cool air, and watch the hundreds of giant, circling and almost-menacing frigate birds (also known as "man-o-war" birds for their buzzard-like presence overhead and wing spans of over 4 feet). There are some small shops, bars and kiosks atop the mountain, and I scratched my head trying to figure out how all those building materials, let alone the gigantic steel structures for the cable cars themselves, were transported to such perilous heights. Oh, what a wondrous world we live in, and how amazing we as human beings are when we make up our minds to get somewhere or build something.
After an hour or so of lounging on top of Sugarloaf and taking a big bite of this delicious site, I queued up again for the trip back to sea level and to Carlos, who had waited patiently at the base the entire time. For his loyal patience this time, I did tip him handsomely at last. Back to the hotel we went.
The trip to Sugarloaf Mountain today, a the last in a series of mountains I've stood atop, completes my official trifecta of tours of Rio. Tomorrow is beach day, a day to do nothing but sip coconut milk right out of the shell, bask in the absolutely flawless weather here, work on deepening my Brazilian tan and enjoying the waning day or two of my extraordinary trip to this wonderful city, which I learned today is appropriately named "The Magnificent City". Please, everyone, start making plans to come here!
It's going to be very hard to say "good-bye" to Rio on Wednedsay....
It's going to be very hard to say "good-bye" to Rio on Wednedsay....
Sounds like this has been a great trip. I am anxious to see your pictures. Your blogging has been wonderful and I have enjoyed traveling with you.
ReplyDeleteIsn't that a frigate bird in black in this picture??? Maybe a buzzard??
ReplyDeleteYou had a lovely vacation indeed! Did I miss the parasailing adventure... or is that planned for tomorrow...
ReplyDeleteQuint- you make me laugh. Actually besides the frigates overhead, I have seen large numbers of turkey buzzards circling overhead. They are enormous- the size of eagles. And Fishcop, the parasailing was scheduled for Lima- but the wind conditions both times I were there were not conducive to flying. Somewhat disappointing, but everything happens for a reason I believe- so I just let it go and rested instead.
ReplyDelete