Beach research – I do it so you don't have to

The sybaritic scene on Ipanema stretched all the way to the horizon like some infinity party

"The crucial thing is to get some height…” the advice from the Abu Dhabi Ocean Racing official photographer was not that reassuring. To me, the crucial thing about having to jump off the multimillion-pound boat, as it soared away from the coast of Brazil bound for Newport, Rhode Island on the sixth leg of the Volvo Ocean Race, was not to drown or break anything too crucial. The photographer was obviously looking for the best shot. He was blissfully unaware of my previous South American water-jumping experience that resulted in three broken metatarsals on Total Wipeout in Argentina. My experience on Splash! was also at the back of my mind. I’m a good diver and rather fancied my chances on the homoerotic Towie spin-off. All went well in training and I was throwing some good shapes off the 10-metre board. But it all went to pot on the live show, where a combination of too much champagne and adrenalin led me to almost break my back in front of the appalled viewing nation.

Back in Brazil, my moment finally came and, having said goodbye to skipper Ian Walker, I launched myself off the back rail of the boat. I must have timed the jump with a wave as I went into orbit. I knew things had gone well when I resurfaced and got a round of applause from the support boat. I was chuffed until I realised that they were applauding the stunning Brazilian actress who was jumping off the all-girl-crewed boat in nothing much more than a tiny life-jacket. Having managed to get their attention I was pulled out of the ocean and whizzed to Itajai just in time to catch my flight to Rio. With the Olympics coming there soon, I felt I should check it out.

Rio de Janeiro is best described as a series of stunning beaches with a city attached. Everyone in this instantly addictive place seemed to be on their way to or from the beach. Everyone was wearing either a bikini or tight Speedos and carrying a surfboard, a skateboard or a pair of extraordinary breasts. I opted to stay clothed and remain a simple journalistic observer. I walked the five and half kilometres of the slightly over-hyped Copacabana beach, occasionally stopping at advertising poster stands that sprayed a cooling water vapour over you when you pressed a button on the side.

Reaching the end, I fortified myself with a couple of caipirinhas at a café in Copacabana Fort. I then tackled what is undoubtedly the best beach in the world – Ipanema. As I turned the corner I faced a heaving mass of bronzed humanity. The sybaritic scene stretched all the way to the horizon like some infinity party. I’m not a beach person but, if I were, I would be the boy from Ipanema every day. I couldn’t resist any longer and I rented a chair, bought two more caipirinhas and wondered how easy it would be to move to Brazil. As the sun set behind the Dois Irmaos, the whole beach rose and applauded the end of another day in paradise.