The FT Expedition
April 2024 | Serra do Espinhaço, Minas Gerais
Field notes, photographs and musings from our 14-day expedition across the Serra do Espinhaço with Paul Richardson of the Financial Times.
The Road Home.
Diamantina, Day 13
I.
Sign of an epic Time
It’s been nearly a month since Elisa and I got back from our expedition with Paul, and not a day goes by that we don’t think about him or our time on the trail together.
My experience tells me this will probably be the case for a long time to come.
Unforgettable.
Santa Rita, Day 11
Racing sunset #1. Inhacicão, Day 6
Racing Sunset #2. Lamarão, Day 8
The Fellowship.
Vale do Rio Preto, Day 12
Aquele Abraço. Diamantina, Day 13
Tractor/Bean Field/sky.
Braúnas, Day 6
II.
Numeros
Over the course of fourteen days, Paul and our crew traveled 1,066 kilometers, including 509 km of little-known trails, backroads, and rivers. We trekked during nine days of the expedition, covering 224 km and gaining and losing 13,711 meters of elevation in the process.
We traversed eight conservation units in two biomes (the Cerrado and the Atlantic Rainforest); visited sixteen communities and fourteen waterfalls; and climbed two peaks (we were forced to abandon a 3rd due to weather).
We forded dozens of creeks, streams, and rivers; crossed paths with four deadly snakes (two pit vipers, one coral, and the largest rattler that any of us had ever seen); and got stuck in the mud twice while overlanding.
We saw one other person on the trail during the expedition: a local horseman, on Day 4.
Man on horse. Covão, Day 4
Rio Preto Crossing #1.
Sempre Vivas, Day 10
Stuck (again). Taquaral, Day 8
Cachoeira da Sempre Viva.
Rio Preto, Day 5
“Gift of go Face”.
Catraia, Day 12
III. 1
Fellowship: The Owls
Paul was the protagonist of our Story; our guest in the Espinhaço and our brother on the trail. The journey was his, but dozens of individuals, from cooks and hosts, to guides, horsemen, boatmen, drivers, porters, and support personnel participated in our quest to bring him into the Story of Brazil.
Four of us “owls” accompanied him full-time. There isn’t a crew on earth I’d rather bushwhack, off-road, or kick back on the trail with. #hoothoot
The Naturalist. Rio Preto, Day 4
The Driver. Braúnas, Day 6
The Producer. Inhacicão, Day 6
The Narrator. Taquaral, Day 8
The PRotagonist. Fundão, Day 7
Dorico & Zekinho.
Vale do Rio Preto, Day 12
III. 2
Fellowship: The MESTRES
Far from being props or even professional tour guides, the men and women who aided us during our crossing are real people, as well as our friends, mentors, and heroes.
Masters of the backcountry and gatekeepers of the region’s forgotten ways of life, they were our expedition’s keys into the history and culture around us.
We Owls can navigate the surface of the Espinhaço all we want, but we can only go so deep into the Story of Brazil without the Mestres.
João. Vale do Rio Preto, Day 12
Zekinha. Vale do Rio Preto, Day 12
Noêmia. Capivari, Day 3
Dorico. Vale do Rio Preto, Day 12
Santo. Chapada do Couto, Day 4
Barbosa. Inhacicão, Day 7
Maria. Bica d’Agua, Day 3
Gomercindo, Inhacica. Day 7
Zé. Covão, Day 4
Halfway to Macacos.
Vale do Rio Preto, Day 12
IV.
Trust, alignment and delivery
Paul had come to write a story, but he was here by his own accord. In fact, another well-known writer who had requested to join us—and who had secured commissions from prominent publications in Europe and the UK—backed out less than two weeks prior to the expedition, citing apprehensions about the difficulty of the itinerary and the remoteness of the region. Unlike that writer, who is specialized specifically in adventure travel, Paul had never taken part in an expedition of this duration or scale.
Standing outside of the airport, just moments after he’d arrived, I asked him why he’d come. “Honestly,” he began before pausing thoughtfully, as if to make sure the feeling he was about to express was real. “I think I’m hoping for something cathartic.” He could have picked any of a million words; none would have been more perfect.
We ask a lot from the travelers who come with us. Without time, resources, and a certain level of fitness, our expeditions could never leave the page. Without trust, our explorations would be confined to a single comfort zone. Without open-mindedness, we’d never truly be able to immerse in the world around us.
When all are given, we can do anything, because we’re in this Story together.
Paul, Seeker. Vargem da Cobra, Day 3
“Let’s get in this.”
Fazenda Lamarão, Day 8
V.
All Hail April
Prior to this expedition, Elisa and I had never attempted a multi-week crossing during April before—the thought of late spring storms had kept us home for three years straight.
While we did catch a few brief showers on the trail, the rewards were absolutely spectacular: glowing green vegetation, flowers in full bloom, gushing waterfalls, starry skies, and deliciously cool high savanna evenings.
We came away so inspired that our guiding season is now thirty days longer.
Evening colors. Day 6
Capão de mata.
Sempre Vivas National Park, Day 8
“Chuverinho” (Paepalanthus).
Capivari, Day 2
Her Majesty. Santa Rita, Day 11
Daybreak. Inhacicão, Day 7
Feijão + cast iron.
Couto de Magalhães, Day 5
VI.
MEal of a Lifetime
I took nearly 2,700 photos during our expedition, but I somehow managed to miss arguably the most memorable moment of the trip: Paul, renown luxury travel writer—and author of multiple gastronomic titles—sitting in the front seat of our 1989 Toyota Bandeirante, nervously scarfing down a lukewarm, homemade marmitex of rice and beans with a camp spork in between swigs of fresh mango juice from a plastic jug, as we bounced violently in unison along the rocky, vista-blessed trails of Sempre Vivas National Park, laughing at the absurd beauty (and beautiful absurdity) of it all.
Honestly, if that sounds like the meal of a lifetime for all of the wrong reasons, you’re normal, and our trips aren’t for you.
If it sounds perfect, well, you’re perfect, and you should contact us soon to apply (really—our trips are limited).
Feijão #2. Inhaí, Day 6
Queijo Caseiro + blue bench. Covão, Day 4
Queijo two ways. Curimataí, Day 9
“Carne de Lata”. Diamantina, Day 13
Doces! Santa Bárbara, Day 9
Frango caipira.
Couto de Magalhães, Day 5
New Luxury / true luxury. Day 10
VII.
What is luxurY, Anyway?
It was both a recurring topic and fruitful inside joke during the expedition, and a discourse destined to take place within the travel industry in the near future as terms like “adventure of a lifetime” and “once-in-a-lifetime journey” continue to lose their meaning.
Elisa and I have spent a lot of time over the years ruminating on luxury: its conventional meaning, its existential meaning, and its meaning within the context of our own lives. Paul’s thoughts on the matter may vary, of course, but after fourteen days alongside of us deep within the Story of Brazil, I think he would agree that our philosophy on the subject shines through in every single thing we do.
Namely: when it comes to travel, nothing—nothing—is more precious, more compelling, or more enriching than being able to experience a place the way it is even when we’re not around to see it.
What is luxury no. 1.
Cachoeira dos Crioulos, Day 5
what is luxury no. 2.
Santa Bárbara, Day 8
what is luxury no. 3. Santa Rita, Day 8
what is luxury no. 4. Rio Preto, Day 5
All To ourselves.
Rio Preto, Day 5
River Road. Rio PReto, Day 5
vereda. Fazenda Burití, Day 7
Cotton Sunrise. Inhacicão, Day 7
Hidden Valley. Bica d’Agua, Day 3
Our own little universe.
Campos João Alves, Day 7
Safe & Sound. Mozart’s house, DAy 4
Dinner for 3. Quartel do Indaia, Day 12
Waterfall Day. Curimataí, Day 9
Old Friends. Fundão, Day 7
VIII.
Rediscoveries, ReUnions, reconstructions, Realizations
One of the most profoundly gratifying products of our trips—and one that we’ve only recently begun to identify and understand—is how they connect people in the places where we work in meaningful and sustainable ways.
A century ago, the communities of the Espinhaço were connected economically (via mining, the flower trade, and agriculture), logistically (via a vast network of trails between Diamantina, its districts, and the surrounding agricultural communities), and culturally.
In recent decades, however, the end of the diamond-mining boom, the proliferation of roads and automobiles, and the systemic creation of conservation units has caused those communities to drift increasingly far apart, to the point that today Elisa and I often refer to the Espinhaço Meridional (the geomorphological name for the mountainous area around Diamantina) as not a single region, but as various microregions, each with its own distinct economic and cultural traits.
Our guides on Days 6–8, Gomercindo and Barbosa, have been friends for forty years, having been born and raised on adjacent ranches along the Inhacicão River, north of Diamantina. Today, their homes sit just 20 km apart. Even the shortest distances can be challenging in the Espinhaço, though, and prior to our final research trip in preparation for this expedition, Barbosa hadn’t visited Gomercindo for thirty years.
Meanwhile, Gomercindo hadn’t visited his family’s old ranch in the flowery fields atop Sempre Vivas National Park (where we slept on Day 7) since his son Esdrah (a porter for us on Days 6–8) was born, despite being located just 12 km away from his front door.
Our guide on Days 11 and 12, Dorico, hadn’t been visited his friends Pê and Nica (our hosts on Days 10 and 11) in the community of Santa Rita for four years prior to our expedition.
The list of these small, but meaningful reunions go on and on…
There’s a balance to be stuck between the work we do with travelers and the people and places who we visit. Elisa and my bandwidth, while significant, is limited. We want to build a better Espinhaço—especially if it involves reconnecting the region with itself—and it needs to be done like this, naturally and in harmony with our trips.
It’s not just that we’d be ashamed if our trips weren’t every bit as good for the communities and individuals who work alongside us as they are for the travelers who make the journey with us. We simply wouldn’t do them at all.
All of us, including Paul, Elisa, and myself, were there because of Gift of Go. Being thanked by an emotional Gomercindo on Day 8 was one of the most rewarding moments of my life.
Father & Son #1. Taquaral, Day 8
Husband & Wife. Bica d’Agua, Day 4
Neighbors. Vale do Rio Preto, Day 12
Sisters. Inhaí, Day 6
Father & Son #2. Lamarão, Day 8
Legs / Who would pay for this.
Campos São Domingos, Day 8
IX.
Day 8 was… everything.
Day 8 was always going to be the most challenging day of the expedition. Even on paper, the logistics were daunting (no one ever accused us of being unambitious), and the reality on the ground was sure to present even more challenges.
Júlio and I had scouted the most difficult portion of the route—and cleared some of the thickest stretches of bush—a few weeks prior to the trip, but we’d agreed afterwards that it would still be too difficult to attempt with Paul.
At some point, though, I changed my mind.
The logistics were delicate, but they made sense, and the alternatives would be nowhere near as rewarding.
With 9 km of bushwhacking, 6 km of hard-fought trekking, 25 km of precarious off-roading, and a 20-km golden hour descent on horseback, it was the kind of day where everything would need to go right in order for us to make it to our destination by nightfall—and for the first half of the day, it did. Then reality hit and our support vehicle got lost, then stuck in the mud, then stuck (even deeper) in the mud again, all in the remote high campos of Sempre Vivas.
Xaxau blamed himself for the events, but there’s literally no one on earth we’d have rather had behind the wheel. In the end, it was his heroics under pressure that allowed us to continue our journey westward, culminating in a thrilling, once-in-a-lifetime ride down the western escarpment of the Espinhaço beneath the stars.
Day 8 was always destined to be the climax of our expedition.
It ended up being one of the most epic days of our lives.
Inspecting the road. Day 8
Quick Thinking. Day 8
A Legend is born. Day 8
Victory!
Pico Dois Irmãos, Day 4
X.
What remains
There were hours of arduous bushwhacking, long days of hard riding, tense stretches of off-roading, and exhilarating, unplanned night treks. All of that action and motion is fleeting, though.
Even now, just a month removed from Day 14, the things we’re left with are the relationships, lessons, and stories; the happy memories of camaraderie and triumph; and the profound satisfaction that comes with having done exactly what we set out to do.
welcoming party.
Couto de Magalhães, Day 5
“Holiday!”
Sempre Vivas National Park, Day 8
Waiting out the rain.
Serra da Bicha, Day 3
“gregos”. Rodeador, Day 10
Kindred spirits.
Chapada do Couto, Day 5
Janta! Capivari, Day 2
LOL. Diamantina, DAy 13
crew. Macacos, Day 12
XI.
Indescribable.
Paul had come to write an article for the FT, and I had agreed to provide the photography (I also had a hunch that I would end up writing this long-form Journal entry that you’re reading now). At some point during the expedition, though, we both dutifully acknowledged the limits of our respective mediums in conveying, with any real semblance, the experience we were having.
If the trip had been about a destination, we agreed, the assignment would be much easier—both for us to portray, and for others to digest. Conveying such an eventful, layered, and emotional experience through words and photos, though, is a daunting task...
I’d like to tell you how the warm wind feels against your wet skin at 2 pm on Day 8 as you ascend into the flowery high campos where our rescue vehicle awaits, having finally emerged from the dark and daunting forests of Taquaral.
The feelings of relief, triumph, safety, exhaustion, pride, excitement, apprehension, and duty converging and coursing through you in waves, set to an endless tickle of high grass.
An itch around the waistline here and there, the faint pain of hunger (or is it thirst?). The constant, comforting tug of 15 kilos against your back.
A new, dull ache at the palm of your foot.
The burn of the boot rubbing against the patch of skin just below your ankle.
The stench of sweat (old and new) emanating from your baseball cap or shoulder straps or somewhere else you can’t quite pinpoint.
The high savannah sun peering through the space around your lenses, warming your head and neck and arms.
The rhythmic thump of your well-tread soles striking the rich red soil underfoot at approximately 4.5 kph, causing white quartzite pebbles to shoot up here and there, and leading you to stumble briefly forward towards the next firm step.
Now, a high-pitched chirp of a small white songbird.
A murmured shout from one guide to another.
The thought of ice-cold beer in tiny drinking glasses awaiting us at Gilma’s house tonight (it’s going to be an epic night…).
The feeling of your tongue clicking nervously against the back of your teeth as you recall the sucurí-sized rattler you nearly stepped on just 10 minutes before.
All backdropped by 1,000 unnamed shades of green; the lazy, poetic half-circles of a large brown hawk overhead; and the weary smiles of these friendly faces around you—people who were strangers just days before, but who you now engage with as siblings, and whose emotions, ambitions, and decisions you are depending on even at this very moment…
This was never supposed to be a vacation, you remind yourself, smiling.
It’s a journey.
A privilege.
The road is long, but it is glorious.
And my god it’s all so beautiful.
New Body. Macaos, Day 12
Table Wine + Good Times.
Catraia, Day 11
Abençoada. Capivari, Day 2
The Best is yet to come. Lamarão, Day 8
Happy Place. Rio Preto, Day 5
Galera. Chapada do Couto, Day 4
