Beyond Copacabana: Rio's Secret Beaches and Hidden Coastal Treasures

Approximately 25 kilometers west of Copacabana lies Prainha, a crescent-shaped beach that would be front-page news if it weren't so beautifully hidden. The name translates to 'little beach,' but there's nothing diminutive about its dramatic setting. Backed by steep rainforest-covered mountains and facing crystal-clear waters, it feels more like a movie set than reality.

On our third day in Rio, Margaret and I hired a local driver (I recommend arranging transportation rather than attempting public transit) and arrived at Prainha just after 9 AM. The timing was deliberate—my years of surveillance work taught me that timing is everything. By mid-morning, the light is perfect for photographs, and the early crowds of surfers have typically dispersed.

The beach itself is a horseshoe of golden sand with consistent waves that attract surfers but aren't overwhelming for a refreshing dip. What struck me most was the absence of vendors and high-rises—just nature in its purest form. We spread our blanket beneath the shade of surrounding trees and spent hours alternating between swimming and people-watching, my favorite investigative pastime.

For lunch, don't miss the small rustic restaurant at the edge of the beach. Their fresh catch of the day served with lime and local spices provided one of our most memorable meals in Brazil. I ordered the peixe na brasa (grilled fish) while discreetly observing the mix of locals and in-the-know foreigners around us—old habits die hard.

Bring your underwater camera if you have one. The clarity of the water and the interesting rock formations make for compelling underwater photography opportunities. I captured some fascinating shots of small colorful fish darting around my feet near the western edge of the bay.

Any good detective knows that timing is crucial to solving a case. Nowhere in Rio is this more true than at Joatinga Beach, a small slice of paradise that quite literally disappears at high tide. Located in the exclusive Joá neighborhood, this beach requires some effort to access—a steep 10-minute trail descent that deters the casual tourist—but rewards the persistent with one of Rio's most pristine coastal experiences.

Margaret and I planned our visit meticulously, consulting tide tables with the same attention I once gave to surveillance schedules. We arrived two hours after low tide began, giving us approximately four hours before the beach would begin its vanishing act. The descent requires reasonable fitness and proper footwear; I was grateful for my water shoes which provided grip on the sometimes slippery path and protection when exploring the rocky edges of the beach.

What makes Joatinga special isn't just its exclusivity but its setting. Nestled between rocky cliffs and dotted with massive boulders, it feels more Mediterranean than Brazilian. The water clarity rivals any I've seen in my travels to Greece or Italy. We spent our morning swimming in the protected cove and exploring the small caves that punctuate the shoreline.

Unlike the more famous beaches, there are no vendors here—part of its charm. Pack a picnic lunch (we brought fresh fruit, cheese, and pão de queijo from a bakery in Leblon) and plenty of water. The isolation creates a perfect setting for couples seeking privacy; we observed several pairs of lovebirds finding secluded spots among the rocks.

By early afternoon, we witnessed the beach's famous disappearing act as the tide slowly reclaimed the sand. There's something poetic about a place that exists only part of the day—a reminder to cherish fleeting moments of beauty.

In my investigative career, I learned to follow leads to their natural conclusion, even when the path becomes difficult. Grumari Beach embodies this philosophy perfectly—located beyond Prainha at the westernmost edge of Rio, it requires determination to reach but rewards visitors with a stretch of coastline largely untouched by development.

Margaret and I rented a car for this excursion, as public transportation options are limited. The drive itself is part of the experience, winding along scenic coastal roads that offer glimpses of the Atlantic through breaks in the vegetation. As we rounded the final curve and Grumari came into view, I felt that familiar thrill of discovery—the same sensation I experienced when finally locating a person who had been missing for months.

At nearly 3 kilometers long, Grumari offers space to breathe. The beach is part of a protected environmental area, meaning no permanent structures interrupt the landscape. The absence of high-rises and hotels creates an atmosphere more reminiscent of a remote island than a beach near one of the world's most famous cities.

We arrived prepared with our beach essentials, including my trusty beach umbrella which has accompanied me from New Zealand to Morocco. The sun at Grumari can be intense, and shade is limited to a few natural areas near the hillside. The umbrella's adjustable clamp attached perfectly to our rented beach chairs, creating a comfortable base for our day's exploration.

The beach attracts a diverse crowd—local families, couples seeking romance, and serious surfers drawn to the consistent breaks at the eastern end. What you won't find are cruise ship tourists or large tour groups. We spent our afternoon alternating between refreshing swims and walks along the shoreline, where I indulged my collector's instinct by gathering uniquely patterned shells (leaving the most perfect specimens for others to discover, of course).

For lunch, we visited one of the simple kiosks that appear during the day—temporary structures that serve fresh seafood and cold drinks. The moqueca (fish stew) we shared was prepared by a woman who told us she'd been cooking the same recipe for beachgoers for over thirty years.

Not all of Rio's coastal treasures involve ocean waves and surfboards. Sometimes the most rewarding discoveries require looking beyond the obvious—a principle that guided my investigative work for decades. Ilha de Paquetá, a small island in Guanabara Bay accessible only by ferry, offers a glimpse into Rio's past that few tourists ever experience.

Margaret and I boarded the ferry from Praça XV in downtown Rio early on a Thursday morning. The 70-minute journey across the bay serves as a decompression chamber, gradually slowing your pace to match the island's unhurried rhythm. I recommend bringing your compact binoculars for the journey—we spotted several seabirds and enjoyed unique views of Rio's skyline from the water.

What makes Paquetá extraordinary is what it lacks: cars. The island's transportation consists of bicycles, electric carts, and horse-drawn carriages. We rented bicycles near the ferry terminal (approximately R$25 per person for the day) and set out to circumnavigate the island, which measures just 1.2 square kilometers.

The island's beaches differ dramatically from Rio's oceanic coastline. Here, the protected waters of the bay create calm swimming areas with views back toward the city and surrounding mountains. Praia da Moreninha on the island's eastern side became our favorite spot—named after a famous Brazilian novel set on the island, it features shallow, warm waters perfect for wading and conversation.

Between beach visits, we explored colonial-era buildings, including the charming São Roque Chapel dating from 1697. The island's narrow streets are lined with colorful historic homes, many adorned with bougainvillea and other tropical flowers. Time moves differently here—shopkeepers take afternoon siestas, and conversations with locals tend to stretch unhurriedly.

For lunch, we followed a recommendation from our bicycle rental shop owner to Restaurante da Ilha, where we enjoyed fresh fish while seated at tables overlooking the bay. The owner, noting our interest in local culture, shared stories about the island's history as a retreat for Rio's elite during the imperial period.

As investigators of culture rather than crime, Margaret and I found Paquetá to be a perfect case study in preservation—both architectural and cultural. The island offers couples a chance to step back in time while still remaining within Rio's metropolitan area.

Every good investigation requires patience—sometimes the most revealing moments happen at day's end. This principle led Margaret and me to Praia Vermelha (Red Beach), a small but spectacular cove nestled between Sugarloaf Mountain and Urca Hill. While technically not hidden—it appears in some guidebooks—it remains remarkably uncrowded compared to Rio's famous beaches.

The beach derives its name from the reddish tint the sand takes on at sunset—a phenomenon we specifically planned to witness. After spending our morning at more distant beaches, we arranged to arrive at Praia Vermelha approximately two hours before sunset, armed with my beach blanket and a small picnic of local cheeses, tropical fruits, and a bottle of Brazilian sparkling wine.

The beach's compact size (approximately 200 meters long) creates an intimate atmosphere perfect for couples. Surrounded by military installations and the cable car station for Sugarloaf Mountain, it has a protected feeling unlike the wide-open expanses of Copacabana. The water here is typically calmer than at ocean-facing beaches, making it suitable for a sunset swim.

What makes Praia Vermelha exceptional for couples is the combination of natural beauty and accessibility. Unlike our other discoveries that required significant effort to reach, this beach is easily accessible by public transportation or a short taxi ride from Copacabana. Yet somehow it maintains its local character.

As the sun began its descent, we witnessed the beach's namesake transformation—the sand taking on increasingly warm hues as the light changed. The backdrop of Sugarloaf Mountain silhouetted against the darkening sky created a scene worthy of careful observation. In my investigative days, I learned to notice how environments transform with changing light; nowhere is this more evident than at Praia Vermelha at sunset.

After dark, we walked to nearby Bar Urca, where locals gather along the seawall with drinks and snacks from the bar. This post-beach ritual provided the perfect conclusion to our day, allowing us to observe local couples and families enjoying their evening in an authentic setting far removed from tourist traps.