- When I wake up, my look wanders towards the west, towards Pedra da Gávea. My plan is to climb the monolith, but when I see a layer of clouds, I decide to wait it out a little - also because the light seems to be better in the afternoon. A few hours later, I'm on my way to the foot of the mountain, and the taxi driver lets me off at a fence. From here, my legs will have to do the work. The beginning is easy: I walk up a narrow road, pass the entrance where I leave my name in a notebook, and continue on a stone path through the forest. The path turns into a trail, gets steeper, and I push on through the forest, without seeing any other person. I know that I don't have much spare time. When the trail finally reaches an open section, I get my first views. Clouds swirl around the massive rock ahead of me, but sometimes, part of it reveals itself. A little higher, I arrive at a crowded place. The infamous Carrasqueira.
- It turns out most people have started climbing hours before me, and many are making their way up or down. Most on ropes. I walk to the edge, for some sweeping views of Barra da Tijuca far below me. The view makes me realize how much I have already climbed. I feel a little weak - did I eat enough? Do I carry enough drinks? My card gets rejected and a friendly Brazilian buys me a drink. I decide to not take the easy way, and to climb without rope. On the right side of the rocky section, I see others climbing. I study the different possible routes, and then get going. Carefully placing my feet, and looking for grip on the gneiss rock, I work my way up the 35 metres. There is one section which looks challenging, and I get some advice from a fellow climber. And then, I am back on the trail! In the back of my mind, I realize I still have to get down the Carrasqueira later on.
- But first, I want to reach the summit. The sun is finally burning away the clouds, and I hurry up the rest of the trail. At one point, a narrow plank attached to the steep rock would be a hurdle for those afraid of heights. Then, the trail turns and makes its way straight through the forest, over roots. When I get out, I find myself on the top of this monolith, at 844 metres one of the highest mountains rising straight from the sea. The name translates to the Rock of the Topsail, a name given by Portuguese sailors who arrived here on January 1, 1502 as it resembles a sail on a carrack from a distance. I walk to the far end, where I sit down to eat and drink. I am extremely lucky: the cloud cover opens up, giving me great views of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. After twenty minutes, the clouds are back, reducing the views to almost zero. I start my way back, and the Carrasqueira comes back to mind. When I arrive at the top of the rocky section, there are noticeably less people around. I start making my way down, and around halfway, a barefoot Brazilian woman shows up next to me and tells me exactly where to place my feet. She has obviously done this many times, and guides me down. In return, I give her a pack of biscuits I took from home, and get a grateful smile in return. The way down is easy, except that at the section with a chain, there is a long queue of people who are scared to go down. When I reach the gate and sign out of the notebook, I see that I have done the return climb in around four hours. I walk towards a nearby roundabout where I find a pharmacy selling drinks, and I down one of the bottles almost at once. Time to get back to the hotel for a good shower. On my way back to the city, I look up at Pedra da Gávea once more, and feel a deep satisfaction.
