Cristo

Cristo is someone everyone in Rio want to meet up-close.

Cristo -- aka Christ the Redeemer -- is the symbol of Rio, if not the entire country of Brazil. The 100-foot-tall statue is the highest point of the city, and can be seen from almost anywhere in the region. At night, he's illuminated with bright floodlights so he sometimes looks like a man floating in the clouds.

Tourists usually take a tram up the 2,300-foot granite peak to meet him. Locals save some money and drive themselves to the taxi point just below the summit. But Ben and I, we decided to do things a little differently when it was our turn to meet Cristo. We were going to hike to him. Our Brazilian friends told us it couldn't be done, that they've never heard of anyone doing it. But a small sentence or two in my travel book noting the path, as well as a tiny painted sign I'd seen pointing up the mountain, gave us all the confidence we needed.

Our adventure started in Parque Lage, the amazing gardens/natural jungle sprouting at the foot of Corcovado mountain. We'd seen the trailhead before: a tiny wooden post nailed to a tree with "Corcovado" written in paint. Sunday, we finally walked where the arrow was pointing, into the dense jungle of the Atlantic Rainforest.

The sign that started it all.

The first half of the hike -- which was described as "strenuous" in my book -- wasn't bad at all. It carried us on a slight incline, but nothing to put me out of breath. Plus there were beautiful and serene waterfalls trickling all along the way. The only obstacles at this point were a few fallen trees across the path, which we climbed over before carrying on our way. All the while we continued following the sporadic wooden signs, which soon became just spray painted arrows on trees.

About halfway up the mountain, we came to a steep rock with an arrow pointing up right next to it. With a few heaves I was able to get myself up the mini cliff, and expected to continue on the pleasant path. Oh, little did I know that climb marked the end of easy on this adventure. Soon we were climbing mountain sides that were so steep we had to crank back our necks to see where we were going. The tree roots made natural steps, which were giant strides apart. It pretty much became an endless stair master up the side of a cliff.


Needless to say, I was having my ass handed to me. Ben, who has been working out this entire trip, stood ahead of me trying to be encouraging. But my I-don't-want-to-workout-in-Brazil attitude had caught up to me, and heaving my Brazilian beer belly up the mountain was proving to be quite the challenge.

I'd stop to take breaks whenever Ben would let me ... but he said pain comes in waves and I just have to power through ... or something. Luckily there were a few natural stops along the way, including when we were followed by a troupe of monkeys. We'd heard something in the trees, and I was paranoid it was the robbers (which my book had warned me about). After freezing in place to listen, we realized the sounds were coming from overhead, made by monkeys dropping fruits and sticks around us. We said hi to them and took a few pictures. They must have liked it -- or liked making fun of us -- because they followed us all the way up a portion of the trail, literally jumping from vine to vine through the trees.

Later, another kind of smaller monkey provided a welcomed break for us, too. We came across a group of guys hiking back down the hill who had stopped to feed the little monkeys some fruit. They could see we were into the "mikos" too and offered us from fruit to feed them. Now I know you're not supposed to feed wild deer or racoons or bear ... but I think monkeys are OK, at least just once. Ben was even brave enough to reach out and pet one of the little guys, who didn't even seem to care. (I, on the other hand, resisted petting the monkeys with words like "rabies" and "outbreak" and "clawing your face off" flashing in my head).




When the monkeys scampered away, Ben and I continued to summit the side of Corcovado. Right when I was really starting to complain, cuss and generally hate nature, we reached a clearing in the jungle. It was the tram railway -- a supposed tell-tale sign we were getting close to Cristo. But just because we'd reached some civilization didn't mean the hike got any easier. Instead of dirt, we were now scaling a mountain of loose gravel as we continued trudging toward the peak.


Finally, after spiraling around the top of the mountain, we saw the end of the trail: the tram platform. Suddenly it seemed very unauthorized for us to be on the tracks where we were, but we didn't really have much of a choice at this point. We hopped up on the platform right after a tram pulled into the station. We'd made it to civilization!

It was a very strange transition, moving from the exotic and solitary trail to the concrete jungle of tourists and cameras. I told Ben I felt like a castaway who'd just washed up on Cancun beach during Spring break. We were panting and sweating and probably smelly, I'm sure they wondered what was wrong with us.



But soon, all the hard work and awkward moments were worth it when we saw Cristo outstretched above us.



It was amazing seeing him up-close, being able to decipher the details in his face and hands, which are usually just a silhouette in the sky. We also got to see tiny details that can only be discovered in person, like a thin Mohawk of spikes coming out of his head to keep the birds away. The statue towered in the center of platform that you can walk around to get a 360-degree view of Rio. I would have liked to spend a lot longer admiring the statue, view and park ... but the sea of tourists was making me queasy. There were so many people and outstretched cameras it was hard to move at all. After taking a tour around the statue, we ate our packed lunch and started heading back down the mountain.


I wasn't really sure how we were supposed to get back down. The limited literature and advise on the hike did not elaborate on the return. I assume most people hike back down the way they came, but we were too tired, and it was getting dark. So we began trudging back down the paved road of the mountain. About a half hour later we reached the point where public taxis were permitted to drive. We asked for a ride, but they wanted something like $50 just to get down the mountain. I stubbornly said no and told Ben we would just walk. Poor guy.


Well sure enough we started getting tired of walking and nervous about the cars whizzing by. But what choice did we have? That's when Cristo smiled upon us. Out of nowhere two men on motorcycles pulled up next to us. They said they could give us a ride back down the mountain for just $20. Usually, taking rides from strangers is a no-no, especially in a country like Brazil that's known for violent crimes. At first Ben said no and kept walking ... but I was so tired, and the men we persistent in trying to convince us they weren't going to kill us (the did this by lifting up their shirts to show they didn't have guns, and later showing us their taxi licenses). Finally, Ben gave in. The drivers gave us each a helmet before we hopped on the back of their motorcycles.

At first I regretted my decision, and figured they were going to take us down a dirt road and indeed kill us. But after a few more turns, once we started reaching the city again, I figured we would be OK. Then I could enjoy the winding ride down the cobblestone street. After watching the sun set on the city, we reached Lapa at the bottom of the mountain. The guys let us off right where we asked them, and even let me take a picture before whizzing off on their merry way.


As Ben and I sat down at a bar for a celebratory beer, we could not believe the adventure we'd just had, and all we conquered. It was a feeling better than any air-conditioned tram ride or taxi could ever give.