We reach Sâo Francisco do Sul and explore the small, colorful coastal town. Many artists sell their pieces here or combine their exhibitions with a café. A thunderstorm looms on the horizon. Due to severe storms and flooding, we’ve already deviated from our course.

We were actually planning to get to the coast further north and follow it south past Pontal do Sul. But the local news says to stay away from the area.

Severe thunderstorms force us to take a different route!

We’re staying at a campsite on the northeastern tip of the peninsula, which bears the same name “Sâo Francisco do Sul” as the pretty town we were in earlier. It gets dark early, and by the time we’re eating something, it’s already thundering, lightning, and raining heavily. Our Brazilian SIM cards send us severe weather warnings and requests to stay home.

It rains a little more during the night, but we suffer most from the mosquitoes again, which invade us in large numbers and find their way through the bodywork, through the mosquito net, and past the Autan spray on our skin to our veins. Perhaps in the world of mosquitoes, a memorial will be erected for all the brave biters who lost their lives that day in a hard-fought battle.

Frigate birds and black-and-white gulls fly overhead. At sunrise, the beach at Praia do Enseada is still peaceful and empty. There’s no sign that there was a storm here last night, and that this place will soon be full of Brazilian and Argentinian beachgoers. I deeply detest the campsite where we’re staying, which resembles a classic caravan park, exclusively occupied by rich Brazilian and Argentinian retirees in their enormous luxury vans. I’m at least impressed by the massive solid wood tables that fit into such a vehicle.

But on the one hand, I suddenly feel old, and on the other, out of place here. I’d love to be somewhere wild not far from here, on a long beach where there aren’t any ice cream carts or pedal boats for rent.

On the other hand, we’re all still suffering from a bad cold from the arctic air conditioning in Curitiba and are blowing our noses with piles of tissues. How annoying is that? We’re deliberately not in winter, but in the heat!

Leon is happy about the beach, and we splash in the waves together. The little man quickly makes friends with a Brazilian boy, even though he doesn’t understand him. And I don’t understand the father either.

While during our first stay we constantly met people who spoke English very well, this time we found no one. No one speaks any language other than Portuguese!

We stay two nights in this tourist hell. A stage is set up between the parasols on Friday, and the entertainers rehearse their routine. On Saturday morning, chaos erupts! It’s not even 9 a.m. and all the parking spaces and square meters of beach are full. The lady at the campsite repeatedly asks us how long we’re staying. As we’re packing the last of our things into the car, a new, huge camper van is already waiting behind us for our spot, which it still needs to park.

Our Dusty really does look small and pathetic among all the huge mobile apartment buildings. If I had such a monster, I wouldn’t park at a campsite where all the amenities are already available. Instead, I’d combine the solitude of Patagonia with the comfort of a mobile home!

I take the fastest route out of the tourism apocalypse and head for the path I wish I had taken earlier. Praia Grande is a long, long sandy beach that runs along the entire east coast of Ilha Sâo Francisco do Sul, and only a bumpy sand road leads there.

Apart from a few anglers and us, there’s no one here! The reason is the high waves. It’s not good for swimming, but it would be great for surfing. Why surfers haven’t discovered this place yet is a mystery to me.

Here, too, I play in the waves with Leon again and launch the drone for the first time. Sara conjures up some delicious pasta in the field kitchen.

I’m taking my time. This is the most beautiful stretch of the entire trip so far.

I creep along the track in second gear. Ultimately, we still have to get to the city of Joinville today. Since Sara is still not feeling well and her friend Shima is meeting us there tomorrow, we’ve organized accommodation again.