While resting in Jose Bonifacio, my host Marco Antonio explained to me how much farming has changed during his lifetime.
“When I was a kid I used to come to the farm with my grandpa almost everyday,” the 56-year-old said looking out at the sugarcane fields which surrounded us.
“In those days we harvested coffee and raised cattle and everything was worked on mules. From working the land to hauling the coffee from the fields to castrating and vaccinating the cattle, we used mules everyday, there were no machines or tractors.”
Today, Marco Antonio plants sugar cane like all of his neighbours and uses large state of the art tractors to harvest the crop. Today Sao Paulo has a total of 4.68 hectares of the state planted with sugarcane. It’s insane.
After a day off, Marcos Antonio and his son rode out of their farm with me. Together we continued south towards the small town of Planalto where once again I was welcomed with open arms.
“Filipe it’s so nice to host you at our farm,” Imbraim Toloy, a short team roper said from under the brim of his stained cowboy hat.
In good Brazilian fashion, Mark and I were hosted with a huge Barbecue and way too much beer. Friends and family from town sat around a large wooden table in the middle of the horse stalls laughing and chatting. A large pot sat open with yuca and ribs, another with rice and a third with wild boar meat. On a large barbecue at the back of the building sat several juicy pieces of Picanha, the Brazilian steak.
The next morning, in a food coma, I awoke to sinister clouds. A cold wind blew as the temperature dropped drastically. I thought about putting on my rain poncho, looking up at the dark clouds, but decided to wait until the first rain drops began to fall.
We left the ranch with Doll feeling too good for her own good. In heat, the mare called out repeatedly and waved her head from side to side in search of a non-existent stallion. Her tail lifted up as if she had Arabian blood.
“Relax Doll, there are no studs here,” I said trying to calm the excited mare down.
Just an hour into the ride a light drizzle began to fall. Mark stopped the van 5 kilometres up the road and as I rode up to it, I asked him to pass me my poncho.
I placed the poncho on my lap but as I went to open it, Doll took off to the right like a cat. Her quick movement ripped Life’s lead rope out of my right hand and the spooked mare ran into the road. I panicked, worried she would get hit by a vehicle, I tried to throw the poncho off the saddle but Doll bucked and it slipped under my left leg. I tried to step off and Doll swooped the other way throwing me down hard. I held onto the reins with all my might but my attempt to hold her was futile. Doll ripped the reins out of my soggy left hand and took off after Life like a derailed train. I scrambled after them. Luckily they both stopped in the middle of the asphalt as if nothing had happened. Not a car insight.
Letting the heavy rain drops hit my face I looked up at the grey sky above and thanked the Universe. My back throbbed in pain but my girls were okay, and that’s all that mattered.
