Rio is the kind of city that looks like it was drawn by someone with a taste for exaggeration. Granite domes rise straight out of the sea and the streets, Sugarloaf at the entrance to Guanabara Bay, Corcovado with Christ the Redeemer on top, and between them are beaches, lagoons, favelas climbing the hillsides and a forest in the middle of town. The Tijuca Forest, replanted by hand in the nineteenth century after coffee farming had stripped the slopes, is one of the largest urban forests in the world. UNESCO recognised Rio's setting as a cultural landscape in 2012.
The Portuguese arrived in January 1502 and mistook the bay for a river mouth, hence the name, which means River of January. The city grew as a port for sugar, gold and coffee, was the seat of the Portuguese court for a time when the royal family fled Napoleon, and then the capital of Brazil until 1960. Its sights are famous, but the rhythm of ordinary life is what makes it work: coffee at a corner stand, a juice bar, football on the sand, people who treat the beach as a public living room.
For a rider, the city is a test of nerves and a reward for patience. Traffic is dense, lanes are loosely observed, and motorcycle couriers weave through gaps with total confidence. Ride defensively, leave space, and watch for potholes, wet paint and the occasional manhole cover. The seafront avenues, from Flamengo along Botafogo to Copacabana and Ipanema, are the pleasure of the city, especially on Sunday mornings, when part of the road is closed to cars.
The Rio-Santos Highway, which starts from here and runs along the coast, is the route this ride follows, with the Serra do Mar mountains on one side and the Atlantic on the other. Fuel is plentiful in the city, with stations everywhere, and there are countless places to eat, from a plate of rice and beans to a fine dinner. Leave early on a weekday to avoid traffic, and be careful about where you park and leave luggage. The best months are from May to September, when it is drier and less humid.