(CNN) — Just beyond the edges of one of the largest cities on the planet, a stretch of ancient rainforest and coastline lies mostly unknown to international travelers.
The roughly 370 miles of São Paulo state’s pristine, mountainous coastline is nestled beneath the canopy of the Atlantic Forest, or Mata Atlântica in Portuguese — the second most biodiverse region in the Americas, after the Amazon.
Greater São Paulo holds more than 21 million people, with the wider urban sprawl pushing past 30 million. Yet a two- to three-hour drive from this megacity in Brazil delivers tumbling waterfalls, deserted beaches and welcoming fishing villages where the pace of life is still dictated by the moon and the tides.
“Travelers who make it out here tend to come back,” says Adriano Camolez, a guide on the breathtaking island of Ilhabela, located on the northern part of the coast, the Litoral Norte. He grew up on the Baixada Santista, roughly 65 miles south of Ilhabela as the toucan flies, and has spent a lifetime crossing back and forth to the island.
The scenery along the Paulista coast is tropical and dramatic, and for most of the year, it’s surprisingly empty. Outside of Christmas, New Year’s, Easter or the July school holidays, it’s entirely possible to have a waterfall, or even a beach, to yourself. The main visitors are weekenders from the city of São Paulo, dedicated surfers chasing a swell, and a steady trickle of international birders drawn by the region’s rare and migratory species.
It’s a vast area, but dipping into a segment of the coast means standing underneath 60-foot-tall giant fern trees, jumping into waterfalls and swimming in crescent-shaped bays and clear rivers, or admiring resilient orchids that seem to smile at the morning sun.
Three coasts, one forest
The state’s shoreline breaks into three stretches.
The Litoral Norte, running through the towns of Ubatuba, Caraguatatuba, São Sebastião, Maresias and the island of Ilhabela, which is almost completely covered by Atlantic rainforest, is where the Serra do Mar mountains drop straight into the sea, with secluded coves to discover and a renegade surf culture.
The Baixada Santista, the middle stretch anchored by the port city of Santos, is the most urbanized section, but still with its charms like the laidback surf town of Praia do Tombo in Guarujá, one of the closest beaches to the city of São Paulo.
And further south, the Litoral Sul, encompassing Iguape, Cananéia and Ilha Comprida, is even less frequented than the northern stretch, and a lot quieter than the middle. The Litoral Sul is a landscape of mangroves and estuaries protected within the Cananéia-Iguape-Peruíbe Environmental Protection Area.
Together, the three regions hold some of the best-preserved fragments of Brazil’s Atlantic Forest left in the country, largely because the region’s steep terrain made large-scale colonial plantations – the sugar and coffee estates that reshaped much of the rest of Brazil – impractical here from the start. The land is too difficult to clear for the agriculture or urban sprawl that consumes inland São Paulo.
The forest that holds it together
The majesty of the hidden beaches isn’t possible without the Mata Atlântica, the biome that once blanketed nearly the entire Brazilian coast and now survives in scattered remnants covering roughly 7% of its original range. São Paulo state protects about half of its remaining Atlantic Forest under some form of conservation status, a notably higher share than most other Brazilian states.
What remains is still staggeringly rich: scientists have documented more than 20,000 plant species within it, close to 8,000 found nowhere else on Earth, and researchers working a single 2.5-acre parcel in southern Bahia state once counted more than 450 different tree species.
The forest also holds hundreds of species of birds, amphibians, mammals and fish found only within its borders. Conservation groups rank it among the world’s most critical biodiversity hot spots.
Hiking its many trails is a naturist’s dream: the canopy shelters toucans, colorful tanagers and birds of prey. And golden lion tamarins, small russet-colored monkeys and hummingbirds found only in this biome remain a prized sight for anyone happy to quietly saunter.
Offshore, the waters host dolphins, migrating whales, sea turtles, rays and seabirds, making the Litoral Norte one of the more reliable places in Brazil to see marine wildlife without a specialized expedition.
Ilhabela: An island between forest and sea
At the heart of the Litoral Norte is Ilhabela, an island municipality where more than 300 waterfalls drop through its mostly protected forest. Some falls are reachable in a short walk, others requiring a strenuous hike.
The island doubles as the sailing capital of Brazil, hosting some of Latin America’s largest regattas each year. Ilhabela is accessible by private boat, water taxi, or more commonly, the free ferry that leaves from São Sebastião.
Camolez, who runs Buenaventura Turismo, still makes that crossing nearly every day.
“I grew up alongside the island, keeping a piece of my own story in every beach and every waterfall,” he says. Camolez is a caiçara, part of a traditional coastal people found along the São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro and Paraná shorelines, descended from a mix of Indigenous, Portuguese and African ancestry, and defined by a deep relationship to the sea and to knowledge passed down through generations.
Bonete beach, on the south edge of Ilhabela island, is reached by a five-hour trail or an hour-long boat ride over open swells, expertly navigated by caiçara sailors. The beach is famous for stargazers, with zero light pollution, and the little town itself has only 300 people and just a handful of hammock-swinging accommodations. The community runs entirely on solar power and prides itself on a volunteer-led jiu-jitsu camp, Dojo Bonete.
Ilhabela’s history runs deeper and darker than its waterfalls, Camolez says. Portuguese royalty, including Dom João VI, passed through the island during the imperial period, and Ilhabela was also home to the last two ports in Brazil used for trafficking enslaved people, at Praia da Fome (accessible only by boat) and Praia de Castelhanos (accessible by boat, trail or specialized vehicle), both closed only after abolition in 1888.
Just offshore, the wreck of the Príncipe das Astúrias, a transatlantic luxury liner that sank in under three minutes in 1916, still draws divers into waters where more than 500 people lost their lives. That same wreck is only one stop on what local dive shops call the “shipwreck capital” of Brazil.
Ilhabela alone holds dozens of dive sites, from the shallow, peaceful waters around Ilha das Cabras, an easy dive thick with coral, sponges and sea turtles, to deeper, more technical sites like the wrecks of the Aymoré and the Velásquez, sunken cargo ships now completely taken over by fish and coral.
Divers who venture toward the open water around São Sebastião’s Alcatrazes archipelago have a decent shot at swimming alongside marine life, while calmer sites nearer Ubatuba’s islands are popular for beginner certification dives.
The beaches and a trail that strings seven together
Scattered along the Paulista coast are beaches that rarely appear on an international itinerary.
There’s Praia Brava do Camburi, reached only by trail near the Rio de Janeiro state border. About a half-hour drive from there, you can reach Itamambuca, near Ubatuba, which is considered one of the most consistent waves on Brazil’s nearly 5,000 miles of coastline.
The most straightforward way to get a taste of this coastline in one push is the Trilha das Sete Praias, the Trail of Seven Beaches, near the town of Ubatuba on the Litoral Norte. The roughly 6-mile route links seven white sand beaches, each with its own enchanting features, by climbing and descending nearly 2,000 feet of elevation over terrain that most guides rate as genuinely difficult in places, with slick, narrow stretches that call for sturdy shoes.
But experienced hikers can do it without a guide. Most hikers should reasonably plan on five to six hours to complete it at a steady pace, though slower groups or those stopping to swim at each beach can expect closer to seven or eight.
It’s hard to say which is the biggest reward, though the dramatic overlook onto Praia do Cedro, where clear water tidepools invite snorkeling and lounging, could be the star of the trail. Most hikers walk it in both directions, though it’s possible to arrange a boat back instead. The cooler, drier months from May through August are considered the best window to attempt it.
Another nearly three winding hours down the coast from Ubatuba is Maresias, near São Sebastião, which has a livelier surf scene. And Praia do Tombo, near Guarujá is a bit more than two hours farther south.
Beyond Guarujá, and farther south, the steep inclined mountains are a bit more spread out, and home to small towns that aren’t quite surf towns, but where seemingly everybody surfs anyway. Visitors gather on the beach at Peruíbe to watch the full moon rise, or wander the remote community around Praia do Guaraú, the Juruvaúva dunes, and Praia do Marujá on Ilha do Cardoso, where the rainforest opens into mangrove estuary and empty beaches.
Waves and ancestors
Surfing arrived on this coast in the late 1960s, when a family on Praia do Tenório imported one of the region’s first boards. By the 1970s, Ubatuba was hosting Brazil’s earliest national surf festivals.
Ubatuba has carried the title of the country’s surf capital ever since, its wave quality shaped partly by how Ilhabela breaks the swell offshore.
Inland, in the hills behind these same beaches, are some of the state’s quilombos, communities founded by formerly enslaved people who fled and built free settlements that, in several cases, have endured since before abolition.
Ubatuba alone has four recognized quilombola communities, including Caçandoca and Camburi. Farther south and more inland into the forest, in the Vale do Ribeira, a formal Quilombola collective welcomes visitors into communities like Ivaporunduva, where guests can stay overnight, eat a home-cooked meal, and hear the region’s history of resistance firsthand.
What’s on the table
The fish on a caiçara table comes straight off the boats that morning: tainha (mullet), especially prized during its winter run when whole communities turn out for the harvest; garoupa (grouper); cação (a small shark, usually breaded or stewed); and robalo and pescada (snook and weakfish, both common in restaurant kitchens up and down the coast).
The signature dish of the Litoral Norte is peixe azul-marinho, fresh fish, often garoupa or cação, simmered with green banana in a broth that turns a deep blue as it cooks, served with white rice and pirão, a thick porridge made from the same fish stock. Caldeiradas, hearty stews combining several kinds of the day’s catch, are just as common, and built around whatever the tides brought in that morning.
The forest also has a flavor. Backyard trees and forest edges here produce fruits that rarely make it beyond a local market stall: jabuticaba, a grape-like fruit that grows straight out of the trunk of its tree; pitanga, a tart red fruit often served as juice or ice cream; araçá and uvaia, both tangy and floral; and guabiroba, a tender cousin of the guava.
Along the coast, small ice cream shops, sorveterias, turn these same fruits into scoops of locally made dessert, often served alongside Brazil’s beloved açaí, which is blended thick and topped with granola or banana.
Getting there and where to stay
Buses run down the coast from São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, but the more flexible option is BlaBlaCar, a ride-sharing platform pairing travelers with drivers already heading the same direction for a shared cost. But renting a car allows the most freedom to chase empty beaches.
Whatever the transport you choose, beware that the coastal road is narrow and cliff-hugging, with curves that come up fast, so drive with care, especially after rain. Also, watch for borrachudos on Ilhabela and nearby, tiny black flies whose bite itches for days. They’re persistent enough to have spawned their own cult repellent, Citroilha, arguably as in demand around here as an ice-cold Brahma.
Lodging options range widely to suit every budget. Davila Hostel on Ilhabela is a bohemian and party-seeker’s delight and a great place to meet fellow travelers to share an adventure. Solar-powered Canto Bravo, tucked on Ilhabela’s Bonete beach, offers a simpler stay in a remote setting.
Pousada Pitaya in Maresias serves the surf crowd, each room with a hammock for lazing while looking north to the mountains. For something more polished, Pousada Picinguaba, set in a converted fishing village near Ubatuba, ranks among the region’s more celebrated small hotels.
Tombo Beach Hostel in Guarujá, near Santos, suits budget travelers looking to relax a bit closer to the city.
Farther south, near Ilha do Cardoso and Guaraú, Pousada Villa dos Golfinos offers a simple but comfortable base with direct access to the boat launches reaching an island of only about 500 inhabitants.
These secluded jungle beaches remain one of Brazil’s best-loved road trips from São Paulo, making memories for many of the city dwellers who spend every vacation here. But international tourists are still few and far between and English is rarely spoken.
While the caiçaras are welcoming, there’s a strong sense of pride and ownership that reminds you that you’re a visitor.
You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but you’ll have to adapt: to the thick caiçara accent, to the close-knit communities, to the tides and the winding roads.
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