The coastline of north-eastern Brazil, extending some 3,000 km from the southern tip of Bahia to the northern extremity of Ceara, is one of the most spectacular in the world, and its virtual isolation from the influences of the outside world has given rise to a unique fishing-based culture. The region was originally home to the Tupi indians, and their descendants, together with those of European settlers and the 3.3 million slaves brought here from Africa in the 15th century, populate the area today.

20 years ago there were still hundreds of small fishing settlements, home to legendary raft fisherman known as jangadeiros. Today only a handful remain unchanged - the rest have succumbed to tourism and other aspects of the profit motive. The region is striving to become the South American equivalent of the Costa Brava, and it will not be long before photos like those seen here, the work of American photographer Paul Lima, are all that is left of the old culture.

The jangadeiros are living relics of days gone by. They still put to sea in their jangadas, primitive fishing rafts rigged with a single cotton sail, symbols of a people whose courage is legendary - and it is the disappearance of these vessels that arouses passion in Brazilian hearts. The indians called these crafts "cu-tinga", meaning "white tongue", and were using them long before the advent in 1500 of the first Europeans, led by the Portugese seafarer Pedro Alvarez Cabral (1467 - 1526). And today the remaining jangadeiros still hold fast to many of their traditions, despite the introduction of modern materials such as nylon and plastics.

The grace of this type of simple craft, sailing into the wind on a tropical sea or drying on a sunny beach lined with coconunt palms, has for centuries been immortalised in poetry and song. Similar vessels were used by the ancient Greeks and Romans, and for military purposes by Germanic and Gaulish tribes. The jangada is to the north-east of Brazil what the rabelo is to the river Douro in northern Portugal and the sampan to China and Malaysia.

A day in the life of a jangadeiro starts very early in the morning, when the entire fleet of a small coastal hamlet puts out to sea, the craft subsequently returning one by one with their catches, just before noon. During these short trips the fleet may split up, each raft fishing a separate area; sometimes, however, depending on the time of year, the fleet may remain at sea for up to 5 days, the craft remaining within sight of one another and returning together. The crew of each vessel consists of 2-5 jangadeiros, who carry no sextant or compass even though they sail far out of sight of land. Instead they rely on an intimate knowledge of the winds and tides to bring them back to their own tiny stretch of beach - no easy feat, as jangadas are just as dangerous as they look. Launching one in heavy surf requires both strength and dexterity. The raft is rolled down to the water on two logs, and as the crew boards a second group of men wait for a slackening of the swell before beginning the final push. It is not uncommon for jangadas to be washed back onto the beach during these maneuvers.

With only half a metre of freeboard, waves wash continually over the deck, even in the calmest of seas. The crew has to sleep curled up on a wooden deck barely two metres wide - the only covered space is reserved for the catch and their meager rations. Surprisingly, frostbite is not unknown, despite the proximity of the Equator - it can get very cold on the open Atlantic. The cotton sail must be kept wet by regular dousing, so that it will hold the wind.

Depending on the season, they may use either hook and line or nets. The catch is often varied - mackerel, grouper, skate, shark, and eel. Once out of sight of land they have only their depth-sounding lead-lines and the fisherman's sixth sense to help them locate the fishing grounds. On their return home the women, children, and old men crowd around the boats, celebrating loudly if the fishing has been good.

Tales of the jangadeiros daring and courage have been handed down from generation to generation in the rural fishing communities, and celebrated in books such as "Tita" by Jorge Amado, in which the jangadeiro hero does battle with land developers bent on destroying a sleepy fishing village. But the book's optimism is far removed from reality: traditional methods are unable to supply the increased demand for fish, or to compete with modern equipment, and in all probability by the end of the next decade the only jangadas putting to sea will be those offering rides to tourists.

Portuguese