From the city of Cascavel we trekked south towards the state of Santa Catarina. The once flat terrain bustling with corn and wheat plantations transitioned into rolling hills and rugged mountains home to beef and milk cattle farms.
As we climbed and climbed and climbed, the weather seemed to do just the opposite. Plummeting lower and lower with each kilometre. Most mornings I swore in Portuguese and English as my fingers throbbed in pain from the piercing cold. Still early into the winter, I wasn’t prepared for the temperature to hit negative numbers and found myself with no gloves.
The weather was not the only challenge we faced in the southern tip of Parana. The roads also became unridable. With twists and turns winding up and down the mountains, the mares and I faced off against our biggest rivals out here – massive transport trucks. Mixed with Brazil’s horrible roads, our lives were in danger every single day.

On a chilly and grey morning, as we climbed yet another mountain, I saw my life flash before my eyes. The road going up had two lanes and no shoulder due to a rock face on our right hand side. Forcing me to ride on the second lane with the mares. When we were about halfway up the beast, I saw a massive transport truck flying up with a small red car right next to it. The car was moving the same speed as the truck, and didn’t allow the truck to move over to the left lane and out of the way from myself and the mares. Looking back in panic I prayed for the trucker to take his foot off the gas as he approached Doll’s back end. No luck. The devil kept coming quickly, each second closer to the mares and I. I looked to my right and there was nowhere for me to move the animals. I could touch the jagged, rock-face wall to my right. I swallowed hard. My mind went blank. Not a thought existed at that moment.

Seconds before hitting Doll, Life and Myself, as I tightened my muscles for the impact, the car seeing the disaster about to unfold sped up and the trucker yanked the large vehicle onto the left lane just enough to miss us by mere centimetres.

I yelled a few “expletives” at the top of my lungs as the truck’s large engine drowned me out.
The smell of burned oil permeated the air as I tried to catch my breath. My heart trying to punch its way out of my rib cage. Life and Doll not missing a beat, trekking up the mountain as if nothing had happened.
If we plan on arriving in the state of Santa Catarina and the end of the world alive, we will have to find an alternative route. Something not easy to do in Latin America.