You leave Sao Paulo when the sun is hours away. Weekend bags, a case of Dados, and sleeping bags in the backseat, headlamps and packs in the front. You drive northwest along the highway until you’re tracing the margins of BR-262 west of Campo Grande in the Pantanal. This tropical ecosystem rivals Wisconsin in size and takes the throne for the largest freshwater wetland in the world. From December to February the rivers and streams flood the mangroves and submerge into an aquatic world. A dramatic season of inland tidal pools and turquoise lakes. The sun is close to setting over the Paraguay River, a macaw starts harmonizing with a maned wolf, you pull out the last of the Dados. Over 1,775 kinds of birds are here, 623 mammal species, and the largest concentration of Caiman crocodiles in the world. There are 266 miles between “El Campo” and Corumbá on the border with Bolivia. You’ve driven for 11 hours and what can you say- each mile is as unexpected (and better) than the last.
A jangada is an elegantly planked boat used by local fishermen only in northern Brazil. It has been claimed the jangada dates back to ancient Greek time. Makes sense since it was the Grecian Mediterranean cousins, the Portuguese, who settle Brazil back in the 1500’s. Others peg the lineage as originating from Asia and Africa, who also refer to their boats by the same name. Either way, dappled clouds, a gentle surf and a jangada at rest conjures up visions of an enchanted lifestyle Far beyond Ordinary. #Lifecouldn’tbebetter #Mynauticalmuse #wishyouwerehere #farbeyondcruiseships
The dunes here are blindingly white. They resemble clotheslines of freshly laundered linens or a shade of a summer’s afternoon clouds. They take pale to a new level and are definitely wearing an SPF 30 or higher. The “bedsheets of Maranhao” or Lancois Maranheses National Park is located in the far northeast of Brazil. The dramatic landscape has been an Insta-favorite for a decade and from July to September the slumbering dunes come alive with visitors looking to sand board on the slopes and swim in the warm, turquoise lagoons. The park can only be entered by Jeep, and to avoid a “lost tourist in the dunes...my bad” letter to a rescue squad, all visitors must hire a guide to lead them over the mosaic landscape. Needless to say, the hassle of research disappears after you cross the eclipse of the first sand dune. Wind catching your hair, blue waters and bikinis in front of you, and a Jeep ride without the hassle of driving. The water is clear and sand is soft, the sunscreen never lasts long enough. But it’s all worth it especially if you remembered to pack enough cold Dados to savor during your ride out. Don’t worry if wet swimsuits, car seats and sand chaff your newly acquired, red shade of skin- a sunburn today means a well-earned suntan tomorrow.
Here, the afternoons are made for napping and the sunrise is witnessed by more than fisherman and insomniacs. The surf is rarely quiet and the shrimp is sold within two hours of the catch. True to its name, the water is cold and forgetting a swimsuit is not an option with the famous Rua Dos Biquinis (Bikini Street) two blocks over. The end of south-of-the-equator Summer is nearing, beach days are numbered. Cabo Frio is the city of chance encounters, a haunt for Cariocas (Rio locals) and the clever travelers desirous of escaping the Rio bustle.
While in the Rockies we are blowing our noses from the pendulum of spring blizzards and allergies, the wave riders and visitors to Cabo Frio are snorkeling and exploring the crumbling Portuguese forts along the coast, wandering between rusted cannons and turquoise water, cat-napping in the sun and savoring cold beers after dusk. Cabo Frio is all of this and a sleepy walk home through the old streets just as the fishermen are heading out to launch their Jangadas seeking next morning’s catch..
No one writes stories about this side of adventure- the nights in Cabo that don’t hit the highlight or blooper reels. The quiet moments where you look around the table, forget about your soggy backpack, lost sandals, the bus you all watched drive away that would’ve taken you to this one hike that had a killer view of where the jungle melts into the Atlantic. BUT this IS the moment where you pop open your Dado, announce a group toast, and say, SAÚDE to all the paths (or missed busses) you stumbled across that led everyone right here.
In New Orleans, Bourbon street is kicking empty cups of Hurricanes towards garbage cans and piling beads on fences. The airports are full and everyone in line is buying bottled water and gatorade. In Rio de Janeiro the samba is stuck in everyone’s minds on repeat and slowly the elaborate costumes, feathers, and wigs are tucked away for next year. Walking down the streets there are less flags and everyone is wearing more clothes. Denver is salting their sidewalks and following the sunshine to bask in not-quite-t- shirt-weather. The post-party depression can kick in quickly, but according to Urban Dictionary treatment is easy and includes watching your favorite movies, eating comfort foods, avoiding obligations and turning off that pesky cell phone. Here at Dado, we believe the best cure is simple-a couple good friends, some cold Dados and a view like this can’t hurt anyone.
Excitement can make time move slowly, like in High School where the minutes before lunch break seemed to last days. In Rio, many are counting down on a different clock for Carnival to arrive. Across the stacks of apartments and colorful favelas, each neighborhood samba school is meticulously double checking their routines and sewing the last details onto their costumes. Only the most passionate, soulful samba schools make it to the performances on Fat Tuesday where the competition is fierce. Across the city, one starts to hear the staccato of fast paced drums echoing from one street to the next, each school is a team and every element contributes to the festival that will shut the city down for a week. Although today, the hustle and bustle of everyday life in Rio is continuing, these streets will be full of blocos (block parties) that begin at sunrise and won’t end until well after the sun sets 7 days later. Set your countdown, stock up and chill down your Dado beers and although the anticipation is unbearable and rent may be due, the festivities will begin before you know it. Carnival is right around the corner!
The morning always comes even when we are dreading it...especially when we are dreading it. As the dark of Winter is sleepily stretching its’ toes into Spring, Coloradans are faced with the time of year that is 20 degrees in the morning, 45 at lunchtime, 60 on your evening run and back to freezing when the sun dips below the front range. Layers are a necessity this time of year for anyone who works between 2 of these three temperature-time-zones. Many adopt a specific method for hauling the necessary sweaters. Option one is the classic car closet. The pros are always enough room to throw in an extra flannel “just in case:”, the cons are eventually you will forget what is piled in your backseat and carpooling will become less and less possible. Option two is the backpack. This method is a pro for anyone who walks, bikes, scooters, or takes public transit, however you will turn back into your middle school all-textbooks-in-the-backpack-self for at least two temperature changes. Down in Brazil it is still summer and no matter the layer dilemma or how much self control it took to pull yourself away from bed this morning-there is still time for a morning cup of coffee, a Dado happy hour, and a cold walk home. Time for whatever it takes until you come to the conclusion that it’s not too crazy of an adventure to buy a boat and move somewhere just south of the expected®
While the largest mass migration of people is starting to roll down after Lunar New Year and the yawns from the Super Bowl are rightfully mourned, our attention flicks away to the upcoming holidays. Chocolate hearts are showing up in Walgreens and there is an abundance of reds and pinks in the floral department. Your significant other may be dropping hints about dinner reservations or a shirt they put on hold. You may be sweating, realizing that maybe it is time to figure out that thing with that one person you may or may not have been seeing semi-regularly. You may be swearing off corporate Hallmark holidays in protest or may be buying a teddy bear larger than you and cursing its existence as you wrestle with it in the Uber home. You could be mentally preparing yourself for the Thursday rush you will be working and coming to terms with the fact that you will be giving at least one unrequited love therapy session at the bar. Here, the only thing we know for certain is no matter who you are-the day will come and go and every type of love should be celebrated with a cold Dado, a wonderful sunset (preferably Brazilian), and a hearty raid of the day-after-Valentine’s-Day-candy-sales. Saude!
Florianopolis is a city on an island. The city is located south of the crowds of Rio, the tours of the Amazon, and the business of Sao Paulo. Floripa, as the locals say, is a surf haven that has artfully dodged the spotlight. Surfers come from around the world to take their pick of over 40+ beaches. Adrenaline junkies hang glide in the jungle canopies of the mid-island. Fishermen casting nets out for today’s catch of the day are scattered across the shoreline and make sure you try the oysters here--they are a special delicacy. A night in Florianopolis would be incomplete without a full stomach of seafood, a couple of sandy Dados, a bonfire under the stars and a few of Floripa’s legends of witches. Many of the island’s fisherman pass down tales of witches that have stolen boats and live among them. You saw those rocks on Praia de Itaguaçu a mile over? There were witches that didn’t invite the devil to a party and when he found out, they were turned to stone. In fact, before you move here you must be sure to ask their permission in order to live peacefully. Today, they may only be witch-y ghost stories but the Ilha da Magia is spellbinding to most who pass through.
It is the season for long hair in Colorado, the snow waxes and wanes and a nice mane or untamed face foliage creates an extra layer of warmth against winter’s chill. It is the season of puffy coats and extra large sweaters harking back to the 1970’s- an era defined by free love, harem pants, and an abundance of hair. While Boulder was mecca for such lifestyles, the Brazilian beach town of Trancoso was luring in a Bohemian generation of Brazilian peace lovers. The small beach oasis in the north is enclosed by rainforest on three sides and the ocean on the fourth. The heart of the town is a small, unmarked white church surrounded by pristine green grass and colonial era, festively-colored homes. Locals describe the town as revolving around the beach- the tides governing sleep schedules, the full moon demanding celebration and the occasional squall /rajada requires time spend indoors with good food and Dado beers. A short trip down the beach-laden coast are white cliffs so steep and waters so calm they are mesmerizingly reflective. While in the winter Rockies, hair eventually gets too long and caught in zippers or buzzed off in frustration, the town of Trancoso stays the same, long locks are the norm, Havaianas are the preferred footwear and harem pants always welcome.
When Googling “Amazon Rainforest” the first three questions that pop up are, Is the Amazon rainforest dangerous? How important is the Amazon rainforest? And what is the most rare animal in the Amazon?
In this thin mountain air of Colorado, 20% of every deep breath you take is oxygen from the world’s largest rainforest. In the thick jungle canopies it takes rain 10 minutes to hit the forest floors. In fact, much of the ground floor of the Amazon never sees the sun. In the center of this jungle, almost 1,000 miles upriver from the mouth of the river lies the city of Manaus, founded in 1669. This frenetic riverfront metro serves as the jump off point for adventurous souls embarking on canoe expeditions through mangroves, day trips to take in giant lily pads or embark on exploration upriver to parts unknown. The city is known for its kaleidoscope of color, from the famous rose colored Teatro Amazonas opera house (a reminder of the go-go years of the Portuguese rubber trade of the 1880’s) to the simple yet brightly-colored fishermen’s boats that dot the shoreline. It is here, where the black water of the Rio Negro and the silty brown Amazon converge yet refuse to mingle and where hammock-lined river cruises are the preferred way to spend lazy afternoons. For the more active trekkers, the rainforest offers jaguar trails, bushwacking to spot the elusive anaconda, or paths to observe Black Caimans hunting at river’s edge. The waterways are constantly changing with each rainy season and the most experiences boatmen will give you a sly smile and tell you about the giant river otters that are a few miles down stream. As you relax in your hammock over the cries of Howler Monkeys your google search all those months ago seems less and less relevant.
Before Brasilia was “built” in 1956 and prior to Rio becoming the mecca for tourists lured in by samba, small swimsuits, and crystalline waters--the capital city of Brazil was Salvador.
As the seat of government in the state of Bahia, Salvador is known for cobblestone streets and a thriving Afro-Brazilian culture that will leave any visitor dancing until dawn and doing the classic Wallet? Keys? Phone? drill at the end of the night. While Coloradans are bar-hopping in parkas comparing goggle tan lines, Baianos are enjoying sunset-infused Axé rhythms and effortlessly deepening their Havaianas tan. Jealousy isn’t a good look on anyone (and honestly neither is a goggle tan) but to rub it in, the King of Pop came to Salvador in ‘96, and we all know he set the bar pretty high for anyone on the dance floor. Once here, you’ll understand why the local’s greet you with a, “Sorria, você está na Bahia!” (Smile, you’re in Bahia).
In Denver, early January marks the time where the Front Range is invaded by cattle, cowboy hats, and half of Wyoming for the annual National Western Stock Show and PRCA Rodeo. Denver suddenly remembers its affinity for whiskey, country music and Jack Weil western wear.
Meanwhile in the south of Brazil, nestled just north of Argentina and Uruguay, the legends of the gauchos are mirroring their northern counterparts. In grocery stores do sul, the massive cuts of beef engulf entire refrigerated cases, markets on Friday are full of party-planners and grill masters of the churrasco. Here, the flag of the state of Rio Grande do Sul (home of DadoBier), is more well loved than the banner of the country. The State anthem is screamed and cried and probably used at amateur karaoke nights. Underneath both these groups is a deep love for land, for open, wild spaces and the places where the air is just a bit thinner, fresher, full of stories waiting to be told over a campfire, a couple Dados, and a slab of sizzling beef. The smoke drifts upwards until it swirls into the stars- carrying the best of times and engaging stories drifting off into memory.
Sao Paulo, Brazil’s biggest city, known as Sampa to those who are familiar with the rolling, expansive metropolis. This city has been described as monstrous, a city that makes the skyscrapers of New York and Hong Kong nervous to ask for a second date. Many of these residents are grateful to be off the well beaten tourism route, thankful to Rio for luring the boatloads of cameras and Hawaiian shirts away. Here in Sampa, they are free to grow as they wish. Creating art where they please and hiding away in their favorite coffee shops for days, debating the political and temperate climate in Brazil and where the next road trip will take them. Later, they meet at an apartment that overlooks the city and a yellow church, they drink a cold Dado and watch the horizon. They know word of this undiscovered paradise will eventually escape the confines of the city, but for right now--they hope it stays secret for a little longer.
After the joy of the first few snowfalls fade and the snow has crusted brown with exhaust and plowed into a back corner of a parking lot, many Coloradans are looking for an adventure that doesn’t include scarves, frozen toes and wet wool. In the wake of the holidays and a bank account balance that is anything ideal-most are confined to scheming about the next great escape. Most think California, some think Cabo, only the most curious and daring remember their 8th grade geography class and the inverted seasons of the Southern Hemisphere-I’ve heard Brazil is nice this time of year- it’s summertime… Regurgitating an atlas at the next kick back they explain--listen, over 4,650 miles of tropical coastline, 2,095 white sand beaches, teal waters, caipirinhas, bikinis and board shorts. Just think, sand between your toes and a cold beer to your lips. They hand you a Dado--savor this and think about that plane ticket just a little bit more…
Like all great moments-you start before dawn. You meet up with your guide, Marcio, and a handful of travelers who all have stories tucked into their pockets. It is obvious this will be a family for the next few days of trekking through Brazil’s national park, Chapada Diamantina (Plate of Diamonds). It is home to the most sparkling waterfalls and mysterious caves in the country and is bigger than many European countries. This is the next grand adventure, your backpack and legs have been anxious for. The beginning of the trail in the Pati Valley, it is not well marked but Marcio knows it instinctively and leads the group upwards to a horizon just out of sight. On the ascent, you learn the names and details of the other trekkers. Javier, from Chile, just finished Patagonia-- but assures you the Colorado trail is on the top of his list too. Marissa, is from London and is experiencing their first solo trip and is not sure about returning work on Monday week after next- maybe it’s not worth it ya know? Nick, an experienced kayaker, is just here in the off season from leading tours of the Alaskan Kenai Fjords. Hours and many story swaps later you sit down with your back to a waterfall so tall you are not sure if you can see the beginning. Someone pulls out a single Dado, pops the top, and passes it around. Somehow it is still cold and everyone takes a swig with a smile. There is only earth sounds and everyone’s lungs catching up to the rest of them.
Marcio is already rummaging around in his backpack, going on about the next great view awaiting the group up just around that corner. You are the last to leave, you turn your back reluctantly, slowly and keep hiking-there is so much more to discover.
Between Sao Paulo and Rio, tucked behind Parque Nacional da Serra da Bocaina in a crease of a peninsula, lies the incredibly preserved city of Paraty. Surrounded by steep mountains of rainforest on one side and the island spotted Atlantic on the other, colorful Paraty was a Portuguese haven for pirates. Perhaps a frequented raiding spot because of the scenery… perhaps because of Paraty’s historic Cachaça distilleries… perhaps because of the strategic importance on “Caminho do Ouro” or Trail of Gold. Either way with 65 islands to hop to, 300 beaches to explore, a canopy of rainforest, and some cold Dados to end the day, Paraty is waiting for you to choose the adventure.
When you first meet “Dado” you are suspicious he may be Pierce Brosnan’s Brazilian doppelgänger. You are greeted with a hug and a kiss on each cheek and it seems as if he has been here waiting excitedly for you alone. A few minutes into the conversation, you’ll learn he is a semi-professional surfer who has lived for years following the currents and his daydreams to the next shoreline. His tales of travel to Portugal, Baja, the Maldives and Costa Rica (Is there a more interesting place he’s been to?) are mesmerizing and he knows this great spot down in Equador- off the beaten track, still undiscovered, that he promises will be magnificent if you agree to come with. Dado speaks half in words and half in movements, creating a conversational dance wherever he is. Your beer is never empty and yes, he finally gets around to admitting--my ancestors were all brewers, my last name really is actually “Bier”. Somehow this statement might be the least incredible part of the legend who has filled up the room…
In the southern hemisphere, the beginning of January is the apex of summer. While Colorado is counting days of fresh powder, the “Carioca” (Rio de Janeiro dwellers) are flocking to Ipanema and Copacabana with a surfboard under a shoulder. Tucked between these two beaches is the “Pedra do Arpoador”- an outcropping of eroding rocks surrounded by surf secrets and fishing hideaways. Don’t be surprised if you see Dado, a surfer himself, surveying the tides to cherry-pick the perfect swell. The stone stairs are unmarked and if you follow your curiosity upwards you may be rewarded with one of those Brazilian sunsets that linger long after its over.
Saúde- you’re here.
It all started at Porto Alegre in the South of Brazil all the way to the Queen City of the Plains.
7,880 miles ago DadoBier Lager was just departing the filling lines of the brewery to journey into the open ocean for anxiously awaiting Colorado beer lovers.
It’s here. Now available in Colorado.
Discover Brazil.
Taste what’s just South of the Expected®.