Beyond Copacabana: 7 Hidden Beach Gems in Rio de Janeiro Locals Love

Nestled at the base of Sugarloaf Mountain, Praia Vermelha feels like stepping into a secret garden that happens to have a beach. The name translates to 'Red Beach,' a nod to the rosy hue the sand takes on during certain sunsets. Unlike its famous cousins, this compact crescent offers something increasingly rare in Rio – tranquility.

I discovered this gem during my second day in Rio when my hostel owner noticed me planning the typical tourist route. 'Go early to Praia Vermelha,' she advised with a knowing smile. 'Take the bus to Urca and walk. You'll thank me.'

She wasn't wrong. Arriving just after 8 AM, I found myself alone except for a few local joggers and an elderly couple setting up their chairs with the practiced precision of decades-long routine. The beach itself is relatively small – perhaps 300 meters long – but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in drama. The imposing presence of Sugarloaf creates a microclimate that often keeps the water calmer than other beaches, making it perfect for a morning swim.

The water clarity surprised me – I could see tiny fish darting between my feet, something unimaginable at Copacabana. After my swim, I dried off on my quick-dry travel towel (an absolute lifesaver for beach-hopping days) and watched rock climbers scaling the nearby cliffs while sipping fresh coconut water from a small stand operated by a man who told me he'd been selling there for 37 years.

What makes Praia Vermelha special isn't just its beauty but its accessibility. Despite feeling worlds away from tourist Rio, it's surprisingly easy to reach and combine with a visit to Sugarloaf Mountain.

If you asked me to paint my vision of coastal perfection, it would look a lot like Prainha. Located about 25 kilometers west of Copacabana, this half-moon of golden sand backed by lush Atlantic rainforest feels like it belongs in a nature reserve – which it actually does, being part of the Grumari Environmental Protection Area.

My journey to Prainha wasn't straightforward. After a mix-up with bus routes (note: always double-check the schedule), I ended up splitting an Uber with two Brazilian surfers I met at a bus stop. 'You're going to Prainha alone?' they asked, seeming both impressed and concerned. 'It's beautiful but wild.'

Their description was perfect. Unlike the manicured beaches closer to the city center, Prainha feels untamed. Powerful waves crash against the shore, making this a mecca for experienced surfers. I spent hours watching them dance across the water, occasionally chatting with them during breaks. One surfer, Marcos, has been coming here for twenty years and lamented how social media has brought more visitors, though it remains relatively uncrowded due to its distance from the city center.

Not being an experienced surfer myself, I was content to bodysurf in the shallows and hike the short trail up the adjacent hillside for panoramic views. The perspective from above reveals why this beach is so special – the crescent of sand appears to be embraced by verdant mountains, with barely a building in sight.

For lunch, I joined the locals at one of the simple beachfront restaurants (really just wooden shacks) where I had the best grilled fish of my entire trip, caught that morning and served with nothing but lime and a side of farofa (toasted manioc flour). I washed it down with an ice-cold Guaraná, watching the afternoon light play on the waves.

Prainha reminded me of certain beaches in Alaska where my father took me as a child – not in temperature, obviously, but in that profound sense of nature's power and beauty remaining relatively untouched.

Some places feel like they're actively trying to remain hidden. Praia da Joatinga is one of them. Tucked away in the affluent Joá neighborhood, this small beach requires both determination and good timing to visit – it's completely submerged during high tide.

I learned about Joatinga from Camila, a local animator I connected with through industry contacts. 'You want authentic Rio beaches? This one requires effort, but it's worth it,' she promised.

The adventure began with finding the entrance – a discrete path between luxury homes that's easy to miss without guidance. After descending a steep trail (wear proper footwear, not the flip-flops I mistakenly chose), I emerged onto what felt like a private cove from a fantasy novel. Surrounded by massive boulders and lush vegetation, the small beach has crystal-clear water that rivals Caribbean destinations.

What makes Joatinga special is its exclusivity – not because of any official restriction, but simply because it remains relatively unknown and requires planning around tide schedules. I arrived around 10 AM as the tide was receding, armed with my dry bag to keep my camera gear safe during the somewhat challenging descent.

The crowd here was noticeably different – predominantly local residents from nearby neighborhoods, families who've been coming for generations, and a few in-the-know expatriates. I spent the day alternating between swimming in the natural pools formed by rock formations and chatting with a local family who shared their picnic of pão de queijo and fresh fruit with me.

By mid-afternoon, I noticed people starting to pack up – a silent acknowledgment of the returning tide. The beach disappears completely during high tide, a natural rhythm that has protected this place from overdevelopment and preserved its magic.

As I carefully made my way back up the trail, I understood why Camila had been hesitant to share this spot. Some places retain their power precisely because they remain half-secret, passed along through whispered recommendations rather than guidebook highlights.

Sometimes the most remarkable beaches aren't the most hidden but the most protected. Praia da Reserva, a 2.5-kilometer stretch between Barra da Tijuca and Recreio dos Bandeirantes, represents Rio's most successful beach conservation story – and offers a glimpse into what sustainable beach tourism could look like.

I visited Reserva after hearing about its environmental significance from a marine biologist I met at my hostel. 'It's the only beach in Rio where the original sandbank vegetation has been preserved,' he explained. 'You'll see the difference immediately.'

He wasn't exaggerating. Arriving by bus from Barra (an easy 15-minute ride), I stepped onto a beach that felt fundamentally different from the urban beaches closer to the city center. Instead of concrete promenades and high-rises, Reserva is backed by protected native vegetation – restinga ecosystems that once lined all of Rio's coast before development.

The beach itself is extraordinarily wide – I measured 87 steps from the vegetation line to the water at low tide. This creates natural zones: families with children playing near the shore, groups of friends playing footvolley (a Brazilian fusion of volleyball and soccer) in the middle, and solitary walkers like myself exploring the dunes near the vegetation.

What struck me most was the cleanliness. As part of the Reserva de Marapendi conservation area, this beach benefits from strict environmental protection and regular cleaning efforts. I spent the afternoon alternating between swimming and walking the shoreline with my polarized sunglasses which cut the glare and let me spot tiny crabs scuttling across the sand – something I hadn't seen on Rio's more urban beaches.

Like many conservation success stories, Reserva's protection came after a battle. Locals fought against development plans in the 1990s, resulting in the area's protected status. Today, it stands as a testament to what community activism can preserve.

For lunch, I visited one of the beach's famous barracas (kiosks) where I enjoyed açaí with granola and fresh fruit while watching kiteboarders harness the reliable afternoon winds. Unlike the more commercial kiosks at Copacabana, these establishments have strict environmental guidelines – no plastic straws, for instance, and careful waste management.

Some places earn their names honestly. Praia do Secreto (Secret Beach) isn't just hidden – it's practically invisible unless you know exactly where to look. Technically more of a natural pool than a traditional beach, this hidden gem sits between Prainha and Grumari beaches, concealed behind rocky outcrops.

I would have completely missed it if not for João, a local photographer I met while hiking near Pedra do Telégrafo. When I mentioned my quest to find Rio's hidden beaches, his eyes lit up. 'I'll show you something special tomorrow,' he promised. 'Wear shoes you can get wet.'

The next morning, we parked along the road between Prainha and Grumari, where nothing indicated anything special nearby. Following João down a barely visible trail through dense vegetation, we scrambled over several large boulders before the 'secret' revealed itself – a perfect natural swimming pool formed by volcanic rocks, filled with crystal clear seawater refreshed with each high tide.

Unlike the crashing waves at nearby beaches, Secreto offers calm, protected waters – nature's version of an infinity pool. The rocky basin, approximately 10 meters across, varies in depth from knee-deep to over my head in certain spots. The water was so clear I could see colorful fish darting between underwater rocks.

'Only come during low tide,' João warned as we floated in the refreshing water. 'During high tide, waves crash over these rocks and create dangerous currents.' This natural rhythm has protected Secreto from becoming too popular – you can only safely visit during specific tide windows, which requires planning.

We spent two hours swimming, taking photos, and watching brave locals jump from the surrounding rocks into the deeper sections. I was grateful for my water shoes as the rocks can be sharp and slippery – definitely not a place for bare feet.

What makes Secreto magical isn't just its beauty but the feeling of discovery. Even though locals have known about it for generations, each visitor feels like they're uncovering something special. As we left, I noticed João carefully picking up a small piece of trash someone had left behind. 'We protect what we love,' he said simply.

Sometimes the road less traveled makes all the difference. In the case of Praia de Grumari, it's a winding coastal road that keeps this beach feeling wonderfully remote despite being part of Rio de Janeiro proper.

I visited Grumari on my fifth day in Rio, after exhausting the more accessible beaches. Getting there without a car requires determination – a combination of buses or an expensive taxi ride. This transportation challenge serves as a natural filter, keeping Grumari significantly less crowded than beaches closer to the city center.

The effort pays off immediately upon arrival. Stretching for nearly 3 kilometers, Grumari presents a vision of what Rio's coastline must have looked like before urbanization. Protected as part of an environmental conservation area since the 1980s, the beach is backed by rolling hills covered in Atlantic rainforest rather than high-rise apartments.

I arrived early, around 9 AM, when the beach was nearly empty except for a few surfers and fishermen preparing their nets. The morning light painted everything golden, and the absence of buildings created a rare sense of immersion in nature. Without the city's visual noise, I could focus on the elemental experience – the rhythmic percussion of waves, the feel of soft sand between my toes, the scent of salt and tropical vegetation.

The water at Grumari tends to be rougher than at Rio's urban beaches, with strong currents that demand respect. I stayed in the shallows, letting waves crash around my knees while watching surfers tackle the more substantial breaks further out. By midday, I'd worked up an appetite and visited one of the rustic restaurants that line the road behind the beach. These simple establishments specialize in fresh seafood – my grilled octopus with garlic and olive oil was easily one of the best meals I had in Brazil.

What makes Grumari special is its commitment to remaining undeveloped. The restaurants are all simple structures, there are no permanent vendors on the sand, and the only buildings visible are the necessary bathroom facilities. It's a rare example of prioritizing natural beauty over commercial opportunity.

As the afternoon progressed, more locals arrived – primarily families and groups of friends who had made the journey specifically to escape the more commercialized beaches. I spent hours alternating between swimming, walking the shoreline, and simply sitting under my rented umbrella, sketching the landscape in my travel journal.

Some beaches earn their reputation through beauty alone. Others, like Praia do Perigoso (Dangerous Beach), combine stunning natural beauty with the thrill of adventure. As someone who grew up exploring the rugged coastlines of Alaska with my father, I'm drawn to places that require effort – where the journey becomes part of the destination's story.

Perigoso lives up to its name, not because the beach itself is particularly treacherous, but because reaching it requires a challenging 40-minute hike through Atlantic rainforest. I learned about it from a group of Brazilian hikers I met at my hostel who invited me to join their weekend expedition.

'Are you sure you want to come?' asked Carolina, the group's de facto leader. 'It's beautiful but not easy to reach.' Her concern was warranted – this isn't a beach for flip-flops and beach bags. I assured her that my hiking backpack was packed with essentials and my trail runners were ready for the challenge.

We set out early from Barra de Guaratiba, following a sometimes-steep trail that winds through dense vegetation. The humidity was intense, and I was grateful for every water break. But the physical effort created a palpable sense of anticipation – we were working for this beach in a way that most tourists never experience in Rio.

After crossing a small stream and navigating some rocky sections that required careful footing, we emerged from the forest to a collective gasp. Below us stretched a perfect crescent of golden sand, embraced by dramatic cliffs and kissed by waves that seemed to stretch all the way to Africa. Most importantly: we were alone except for two local fishermen casting lines from the rocks.

The isolation is Perigoso's greatest gift. With no road access, facilities, or vendors, it remains gloriously undeveloped. We spent the day swimming in water so clear I could see fish darting around my legs, exploring tidal pools teeming with marine life, and simply marveling at the raw beauty of this hidden corner of Rio.

Carolina explained that even many lifelong Rio residents have never visited Perigoso. 'This is how we keep our special places,' she said with a wink. 'Just hard enough to reach that only those who truly appreciate them will make the effort.'

As we hiked back in the golden late afternoon light, I felt that rare satisfaction that comes from experiencing something authentic and earned. Perigoso may not be for everyone – but that's precisely what keeps it magical.