Bikepacking The Estrada Real (Video)

Words, photos, and video by Leonardo Brasil and Adam Pawlikiewicz

Brazil isn’t typically thought of as a cycling destination. International media often portrays the country as either a year-long party or a warzone. Still, on a typical weekday in Rio de Janeiro, between four and seven in the morning, the streets are alive with cyclists of all kinds, from racers to commuters and everyone in between. Blinking lights and lycra-clad riders contrast beautifully against the ocean backdrop. It’s a sight to behold.

I grew up in Rio, a vibrant city on Brazil’s southeast coast, surrounded by mountains and the sea. Although I’m a carioca, most of my family is from Minas Gerais, where I spent much of my childhood. My vacations were filled with long rides on gravel roads with my trusty yellow 26-inch hardtail mountain bike—no helmet, no spare inner tube, just pure freedom. It was a world away from the chaos of the big city: cleaner air, friendlier people, and food that was simply out of this world. A true escape.

Adam and I met in Colorado a few years ago—although sometimes it feels like decades—and we’ve been on countless adventures around the US since then. So, when he called needing some inspiration after he lost his job, I knew exactly what to suggest. 

The Estrada Real

Situated in Southeast Brazil, the Estrada Real (Royal Road) is one of the oldest roads in the Americas. It cuts through the states of Minas Gerais and São Paulo, leading to the port cities of Paraty and Rio de Janeiro. The Royal Road thrived during the diamond and gold rush of the 16th to 18th centuries, connecting some of the region’s most historic towns. Its past is marked by the brutal history of the slave trade, as it was built to transport precious minerals from the interior to the coast, then on to Lisbon, Portugal. Over 400,000 Portuguese and 500,000 African slaves came to the region to mine, and in the 18th century alone, an estimated 800 metric tons of gold were sent to Portugal.

Today, this largely unpaved 1,600-kilometer track—comprising four separate routes—seamlessly blends history and adventure. Endless gravel roads, cascading waterfalls, jungle singletrack, river crossings, gate barriers, and the occasional hike-a-bike challenge make for an unforgettable journey, perfect for any bikepacker looking to venture off the beaten path.

The Caminho Velho (Old Path) was the first of these routes, connecting Ouro Preto in Minas to Paraty in Rio. A few years later, the Caminho Novo (New Path) was developed to expedite and safeguard the gold transport. In the 1730s, the Caminho dos Diamantes (Diamond Path) was built to connect the diamond-rich town of Diamantina to Ouro Preto after the discovery of precious stones reshaped the economy. The Sabarabuçu is the shortest of the four, created roughly 300 years ago when Portuguese explorers, known as bandeirantes, mistakenly believed they had found gold glistening atop a mountain, only to discover it was iron ore.

Reconnecting with Brazil on Two Wheels

My goal on this trip was to reconnect with the country I’m lucky to call home. Bicycles were the ultimate tool for this. Arriving at a rural village in a car makes you just another tourist in search of a meal or a waterfall. But on a bike, you’re a different kind of traveler: an intrepid soul who’s been pedaling amid the elements for hours, someone far from home, someone with stories to tell. A bicycle breaks down barriers and fosters human connection in a way few other things can.

Our plan was to start in Diamantina and end in Paraty, linking the Caminho dos Diamantes with the Caminho Velho. We woke up early to pack our bikes. “Are you bringing sandals?” “How many pairs of socks?” “Is two liters of water enough?” This would be my first time on a “credit card” tour, staying in hotels rather than camping, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was somehow cheating. Would I get the same satisfaction from this trip if I had daily showers and a bed? Bikepacking, for me, is about immersion. It’s about stripping away comforts to appreciate life’s simple pleasures, like a hot shower and blankets. That said, in Brazil, especially along this route, camping spots were scarce, and accommodations were far more affordable than in the US.

The Journey

Our first day took us 45 miles from Diamantina to Serro, a perfect introduction to the trip’s terrain: endless steep and rocky hills, loose red dirt, and breathtaking views. I quickly regretted not having a 32-tooth chainring like Adam. While he spun effortlessly up 14-percent grades, I was grinding my way up, punishing my knees and quads. “Extra training,” I kept telling myself. A week later, we arrived in Ouro Preto, marking the end of the Caminho dos Diamantes and the start of the Caminho Velho.  

In 1730, Ouro Preto was the most populous city in Latin America, home to about 40,000 people—twice the population of New York at the time. Today, it’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, celebrated for its stunning Baroque Portuguese colonial architecture. Like many nearby towns, including Mariana, Minas Gerais’ oldest city, Ouro Preto is dotted with grand basilicas, colonial mansions, and ornately painted ceilings. It was the perfect place to rest and recharge before setting off on the Caminho Velho toward the coast.

On the 13th evening, we rolled into a town called Rocinha around 7 p.m., searching for a place to stay, but according to Google Maps, there were no hotels until Cunha, 25 miles away. Just as we prepared for a long night ride, someone introduced us to Daniel, a tall, bearded man with tattoos, a nose piercing, and a heart the size of an elephant. He welcomed us into his humble home, shared a homemade guava cake, and offered us a bed for the night. This brief but profound act of kindness became one of the most memorable moments of the journey.

Day 14 was our last. While we were eager to return to “civilian clothes” and use a washing machine, the thought of going back to “normal life” was daunting. But before that could happen, Mother Nature had one final test for us. Fifteen miles from Paraty, we reached the São Paulo – Rio de Janeiro state line, and from there it was all downhill: 5,000 feet of elevation loss in just 15 miles. Easy, right? Not quite. A torrential downpour reduced visibility to nearly zero. Somehow, we navigated the treacherous descent without incident, rolling into Paraty soaked, exhausted, and exhilarated.

My parents met us in town that afternoon to celebrate our journey and gave us a ride back to Rio the next day. That same night, Adam flew back to Denver. Just like that, the adventure was over.

This trip originated from negative events in both our lives that freed up our calendars; Adam lost his job, and my US work visa was denied, but as we came to realize while pushing our bikes over some very steep hills, these events were the universe telling us to pursue our dreams. To go out and tell stories. We left the Estrada Real with a clear, albeit rocky, path as to what to do next, and Chase Regrets Media was born.

Further Reading

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