The Brazilian Coast – Driving North from Bertioga to Rio de Janeiro

Bertioga

On July 7th, 2025, Mark took a cab to São Paulo’s airport for his annual visit to Massachusetts, our official state of residence in the US. For almost three weeks, he visited doctors, family, and friends, while Maya and I stayed at the Jorai Campground in Bertioga.

(As always, click on or hover over photos in galleries to read their captions.)

My illusion of a three-week beach vacation—just my dog and me—quickly evaporated. The weather was chilly and rainy, the environment basic, I had to be extremely careful with our fresh water since Bertioga’s city water isn’t potable, ultralights took off multiple times a day creating frequent noise, and paid work arrived almost daily.

Still, I made the best of it and settled into a routine: morning exercises, laundry, shopping, cleaning, working, long beach walks with Maya, chatting with my fellow UK camper, hot showers, cooking and cleaning, nightly phone calls with Mark, and catching up on writing, Portuguese practice, and online interactions. I also prepped the camper and took photos for our upcoming “camper for sale” ad.

Mark eventually returned with a clean bill of health (yay!), and the three of us looked forward to driving north along the coast while checking out Brazil’s sights and beaches. A slower pace awaited—or so we thought.

Jureia Beach

Before leaving Bertioga, we washed the car. Near Jureia, we filled the tanks with fresh water and settled in at our favorite beach spot. We repaired a few things with parts Mark had brought back from the US and enjoyed slower days.

A storm soon swept through, toppling trees and wires across the pretty neighborhood, cutting off electricity and internet. Sometimes it’s good to be self-contained!

It remained damp and chilly—more condensation and salty air than rain—and by the end of July, we were ready to head further north in search of sunshine.

Caraguatatuba

Our plan was to stay a few days at several stops between Bertioga and Rio de Janeiro, depending on what we found.

Caraguatatuba promised quiet nights and good beach walks according to our free camping app iOverlander. But we’ve learned that “quiet” is relative. To me, it means “no sound.” To others, it ranges from “not very quiet” to “somewhat quiet.”

From the moment we left Bertioga, it became clear: the Brazilian coast—at least in the states of São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro—is packed and tough to explore in a big camper.

Everywhere was busy, especially on weekends. The roads were narrow and windy, full of speed bumps, overhanging trees and cables, with aggressive drivers. Parking was elusive. The skyline was dominated by high-rises.

Locals recommended spots like Juquehy Beach, Ilhabela Island, and Ubatuba, but conditions reminded us once again that traveling with a camper and a dog is very different from the typical tourist route.

We only spent one (noisy) night in Caraguatatuba. We initially enjoyed the hidden bay nearby, a beach walk with Maya, and the bustling fish vendors, but after not sleeping much, we moved on.

Mococa Beach

Another weekend arrived, and we desperately needed a quiet place to sit, work, and sleep. We found adequate Mococa Beach. Busy during the day, when the kiosks (beach shacks) overflowed with visitors, peace returned at sunset. The waves muffled the traffic noise from the main road.

Dogs were tolerated on the beach, especially early mornings and late afternoons, so we enjoyed exploring the coastline with Maya.

Ubatuba

In bustling, narrow Ubatuba, we found a place to refill our propane tank. Since that took most of the day, we killed time with a shopping spree, a walk along the boardwalk with Maya, and a quick stop at the Tropic of Capricorn.

Ubatumirim Beach

After one sleepless night at a noisy beach nearby, we moved to Ubatumirim Beach and finally found a slice of paradise.

We could camp right on the hard-packed sand, beach walks were easy and fun, a scenic bay lay just over the hill, and we met Larry, a fellow overlander from Australia.

The open sky gave us perfect Starlink coverage, tourists were scarce, and nights were quiet. But then I was offered a massive translation project I couldn’t refuse. It required constant computer power and internet. Being winter here, the sun was weak and low, often hidden by clouds. Our solar panels wouldn’t cut it.

We reluctantly left Ubatumirim for a proper campground where we could plug in. I gave my manager a deadline that allowed three travel days to Rio, where we knew of a suitable base. During those travel days, I worked just a few hours daily. Sadly, we had to leave paradise much sooner than hoped.

Paraty

Our schedule allowed only one day in historic Paraty, which quickly became my favorite Brazilian town. On the way, we stopped at a charming waterfall where Maya splashed happily—we could have lingered longer.

Paraty is best explored on foot. Driving on uneven cobblestones is another story, but we reached our campsite just in time.

Unbeknownst to us, part of the waterfront floods at high tide—apparently one of Paraty’s tourist quirks. Our friend Larry was stuck in his van until the seawater receded.

That first stroll into town was to buy bread for lunch, but it was hard to keep my phone in my pocket with all the photo opportunities.

After lunch, we wandered colorful streets, admiring the architecture and atmosphere. We also did a cachaça tasting and dropped by our friend Ana’s coffee shop/café, Alte Mare. We had met Ana in Ushuaia when she and her boyfriend, Alex, were traveling in their van; now she runs a cozy café in the cutest corner of Paraty.

In the evening, we followed Ana’s recommendation to eat at a fish restaurant. Larry joined us, and the three of us splurged with a relaxed dinner. Exploring with Larry always feels like vacation—he’s a generous, easygoing companion.

The next morning, our little family hiked to a fort for panoramic views. Afterwards, Mark and Larry joined a “free” walking tour while I worked. We had our first hot and sunny day. Migraine time!

Mambucaba

We left Paraty 24 hours after arriving and headed to Mambucaba Beach. I managed to work, but sleep escaped us that Friday night. A church event nearby was followed by a neighborhood party across the street from where we’d parked. The festivities lasted until 2 am. Just our luck.

Coroa Grande

The next day brought rain, hiding the coastal views and spoiling plans for a swim in the bay by the nuclear plant. We did stop at its museum, but with most signage only in Portuguese, it didn’t hold our interest.

When not driving, I worked, usually managing a walk with Maya wherever we were parked.

Coroa Grande was supposed to provide electricity at the town square, but we found no outlets. We moved on after another restless night filled with traffic noise, karaoke blaring until 4 am, and honking trains.

Itanhangá, Rio

On August 10th, we braved Rio’s chaotic traffic and impatient drivers, and squeezed in a few errands before reaching Fritz House, on the outskirts of the city. To our surprise, the camping area was limited to an uneven dirt patch by the driveway, and Starlink reception was blocked by trees. That was a first!

That afternoon, I dove head-first into my ten-day project while Mark tackled camper chores—cleaning the roof and solar panels with a low-pressure hose. Nothing is ever easy.

Fortunately, plugging into electricity wasn’t an issue, Fritz offers decent WiFi, the shower was hot, and Uber made Rio accessible—even with a dog.

For the next eleven days, we called Fritz House home: working, doing laundry and projects, meeting other travelers, and venturing into the city a couple of times. But Rio de Janeiro deserves its own story. That blog will come next month.

Curious about a previous ten-year chapter in our nomadic lives, which includes eight years aboard a 35-foot sailboat in the tropics with dogs, check out my compelling, inspiring, and refreshingly honest travel memoir: