As we approach the island, I observe a few tourists amongst the passengers. They appear fascinated with the exotic landscape and seem to admire this remote and attractive place as a tranquil hideaway. For the others, families and friends of the inmates, reality is very different.

We arrive in Abraão, a pleasant fishing village with a few restaurants, a church, a school for young children, and a DESIPE headquarters. In this village, any person continuing to the prison on the opposite side of the island must endure another long bureaucratic procedure and present transit authorization obtained in Rio.

We climb onto the back of an old red truck, the only transport on Ilha Grande, and begin to snake into the mountains. Besides visitors for the inmates, this vehicle also transports policemen, military personnel and general supplies to the Caldron. The dirt road we follow is frequently swallowed by the jungle and torrential rains have left it in deplorable condition. This passage to the prison is a "forbidden" route and is the only road on the island.

The truck shakes for fifteen kilometers through The Atlantic Forest. From the top of the sierra, more than 1,600 feet above sea level, we can see a good part of the island. As we arrive at this point, the truck breaks down. Except for myself, everybody seems to know what to do. They jump to the road and begin walking towards Dois Rios village where the Caldron is located. I have a heavy bag of photography equipment, a backpack and another large bag full of presents to give to the children of the prisoners. Since I cannot walk with all this weight under the midday sun, I stay with the driver and a policeman to fix the vehicle.

After two hours of repairs, the maltreated truck returns to work.