Day 9 — BETWEEN THE MANGROVES AND THE FOREST: TANQUE ISLAND, CAMAMU BAY
- Mar 23
- 3 min read
If you’re searching for what to do in the Maraú Peninsula beyond the beaches, you may need to enter the mangroves.
If you search “what to do in Maraú Peninsula, Brazil,” you’ll mostly find beaches, natural tide pools, and speedboat tours across Camamu Bay.
They exist. They are beautiful. They photograph well.
But there is another Maraú.
I only began to understand the Maraú Peninsula after entering the mangroves.
And not on a speedboat.
Is Tanque Island worth visiting?
Tanque Island is close.
From the small Jobel Port — yes, Jobel constructed the wooden structure that now organizes many local crossings — it takes about 30 minutes by catraia, a small traditional wooden boat used for daily transport.
Access happens through the Saleiro community, near Lagoa do Cassange.
Geography you don’t find on travel brochures.
The route cuts through the mangrove ecosystem of Camamu Bay — one of the most important estuarine systems in the state of Bahia, in northeastern Brazil. These mangroves sustain artisanal fishing practiced by local families and provide the main protein source for the native population of the region.
The mangrove is not scenery.
It is sustenance.
And that changes everything.
What exists between the mangroves and the forest?
On Tanque Island, we are welcomed by Cida Félix.
Cida is a local leader, a political activist advocating for basic rights for riverside communities, a public health agent — Brazil’s universal healthcare system (SUS) is not abstract policy here, it is survival — a mother, a grandmother, and a guardian of the island’s paths.
And because everyone here is somehow related, Cida is the aunt of Adriano, husband of Toinha from Bar Santo Antônio, parents of Alice — my six-year-old friend.
Even the trees here seem to share a surname.
But that’s another story.
She takes us to the old casa de farinha — the traditional cassava flour house — currently inactive but still central to the island’s food memory. Cassava here is not a culinary trend. It is structure.
The flour house needs maintenance. It needs public policy. It needs to function again.
Around it, small agricultural plots grow inside preserved Atlantic Forest. Agroforestry happens without workshops or branding.
If the mango tree is heavy, there are mangoes. If the banana tree produces a large bunch, there are bananas. If it is breadfruit season, recipes multiply.
At the local market, you learn quickly: you eat what the land decides to offer.
It is not scarcity. It is seasonal intelligence.
Manzuá: labor before craft
Manzuá originated as a woven trap used in the mangroves to catch crabs and shellfish. It was a working tool — part of daily fishing practice.
Today, besides still being used in artisanal fishing, it is also sold as local handicraft.
But its origin is labor, not souvenir.
Few young people want to learn the technique. Construction is booming across the Maraú Peninsula, commerce is expanding, and money speaks loudly. Still, fishing masters insist on passing the knowledge forward. Between mangrove and forest, tradition and market negotiate every day.
Catado and the region’s food base
And there is catado.
Shellfish cleaned by hand and prepared by Cida with tomatoes, cilantro, and chili peppers. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Lunch at her house teaches more about Camamu Bay than any boat tour ever could.
But not everything is contemplative.
Need cooking gas? It comes by boat.
Need medication? By boat.
Need hospital care? Boat first, then a car ride to Ilhéus.
High school? University? The same.
Infrastructure here follows the tide.
Every August, during the festivities of Bom Jesus, Tanque Island the Sail Canoe Regatta. Traditional sail canoes compete across the bay. Later, as in many rural festivals in Bahia, loud music — often arrocha, a popular Brazilian rhythm — carries the celebration into the night.
Religion, maritime competition, and sound systems coexist without existential crisis.
For those planning what to do in the Maraú Peninsula in August — or at any time of year — the answer may not lie only in the most photographed beaches.
It lies between the mangroves and the forest.
Because understanding the Maraú Peninsula begins with understanding what sustains the Maraú Peninsula.
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