Ask anyone who spent time in northeast Brazil in the early 1970s about Pipa and they'll probably grin. Back then it was little more than a fishing village perched on red sandstone cliffs, a place where barefoot surfers and wandering hippies pitched tents on the sand and nobody much cared who you were. There was no road worth speaking of, just a track through the dunes, and the locals, mostly fishermen and their families, thought the newcomers were a bit odd but harmless enough. Word travelled slowly in those days, passed from traveller to traveller in beach bars from Salvador to Fortaleza. Pipa was the kind of secret you only shared with people you liked.

Somehow, fifty years on, that secret got out. The track became a paved road, the tents became pousadas and boutique hotels, and the main street, Rua Beija Flor, filled up with restaurants, bars and shops selling hammocks and hand-painted ceramics. But here's the thing about Pipa: it grew without losing its soul. The cliffs are still red, the dolphins still swim into Baía dos Golfinhos every morning, and the pace of life remains gloriously, stubbornly slow. It went from forgotten fishing hamlet to one of Brazil's most beloved beach towns, yet it never turned into a resort strip. That's a rare trick, and Pipa pulls it off.

You fly into Natal, the capital of Rio Grande do Norte, then drive about an hour south along the coast. The landscape changes fast. Flat scrubland gives way to towering dunes and then, suddenly, you're dropping down into Pipa, and the view hits you like a slap. Deep red cliffs plunge into water so blue it looks photoshopped. In the dry months the sky is a fierce, cloudless dome. Everything feels vivid here, saturated, as if someone turned the colour dial up a notch or two.

The light is the first thing you notice. It's a silvery, brilliant light that makes the ocean sparkle even at midday. Then there's the smell, salt mixed with woodsmoke from beach shacks grilling fish, and frangipani drifting down from somebody's garden. At night you hear waves thumping the shore and, if you're lucky, the soft rustle of cashew trees in the breeze. Pipa sits on the edge of an enormous coastal dune system, the largest in South America, which means sand gets everywhere, in your shoes, in your bed, in your camera bag. After a day or two you stop fighting it.

Praia de Pipa is the main beach, right below the village, and it's lovely for a sunset beer rather than swimming, as the waves can be rough. The real magic lies a short walk or taxi-ride away. Baía dos Golfinhos is the headline act, a sheltered curve of sand where a resident pod of dolphins shows up most mornings around low tide, rolling and surfacing just metres from shore. You can literally stand ankle-deep in water and watch them. No boat trip needed, no fee, just you and a hundred or so bottlenose dolphins going about their day.

Then there's Praia do Amor, a ten-minute stroll south along the cliff path. It's named for a heart-shaped rock formation you can spot from the headland, and it's where the surfers gather, drawn by consistent, friendly waves that work for beginners and intermediates alike. The vibe is young and easy, surfboards stuck upright in the sand, caipirinhas sweating in the heat.

If you keep walking you reach Praia do Madeiro, tucked beneath a rust-coloured cliff, where you might share the sand with just a handful of people and a couple of kite surfers looping against the sky. Further afield, boat trips run to Maracajaú for snorkelling over natural reef pools, or south to the vast, empty sands of Barra do Cunhaú. Every beach has its own personality. You could spend two weeks here and never feel bored.

Accommodation in Pipa has its own flavour, and the word "pousada" is key. These are small, family-run guesthouses, often just a handful of rooms arranged around a pool or a garden thick with hibiscus and mango trees. Expect breakfasts of tropical fruit, tapioca pancakes and strong Brazilian coffee served on shaded terraces. Many pousadas sit right on the cliffs, so you wake to the sound of surf and step onto your balcony to find the Atlantic glittering below. Prices vary wildly, from friendly budget spots with hammocks strung between palm trees to design-led boutique hotels with infinity pools and candlelit dinners overlooking the bay.

For something a bit wilder, there are eco-lodges and guesthouses scattered in the dunes around Tibau do Sul, the neighbouring village, where the only sounds at night are geckos and waves. The luxury end has grown up too, with a few seriously stylish resorts offering spa treatments using local fruits and herbs. But even the fancy places here keep things relaxed. Nobody wears shoes at dinner. Nobody cares about dress codes. The overall feel is rustic-chic, wood, stone, thatch and a lot of open air, rather than marble and glass.

Book ahead if you're coming in high season, especially December and January, when Brazilians flock here on holiday. The best places get snapped up months in advance.

Weather-wise, Pipa gives you a long, generous window. The dry season runs roughly from May to November, and this is when most visitors come. July through September is particularly lovely: warm days around 26 to 28 degrees, lower humidity, and skies so clear the stars at night are outrageous. It's also when the wind picks up, which makes it prime time for kitesurfing and windsurfing. The sea can be a touch cooler, but you'll still swim happily.

October and November are arguably the sweet spot. The wind eases off, the water warms up beautifully, and the crowds haven't yet arrived. December to February brings Brazilian summer holidays and Carnival, which is fantastic if you like energy and nightlife, but expect packed beaches and higher prices. This is also the humid season, with short, dramatic downpours that tend to arrive in the afternoon and clear as quickly as they came.

The rainiest stretch is usually February to May, when the dunes turn a deeper red and everything goes lush and green. It's quiet, cheap and moody, great for writers and romantics, but some beach bars and pousadas close for maintenance. If you're flexible, September and October offer the best all-round package of sun, warmth, calm seas and manageable crowds.

Cash is still king in the smaller bars and beach shacks, though cards are widely accepted in town. The village is small enough to walk everywhere, but the heat encourages laziness, and taxis and buggy rides are cheap. Do try the regional dishes: moqueca, a fragrant fish stew cooked in coconut milk, and fresh lobster when it's in season. And learn a few words of Portuguese. English isn't widely spoken, and even a clumsy "bom dia" opens doors and earns smiles.

What stays with you about Pipa isn't any single beach or sunset, though both are extraordinary. It's the feeling of the place, the way time loosens its grip. Mornings stretch into long lunches, afternoons dissolve into caipirinha hour, and nobody seems in a hurry to be anywhere else. Pipa has been doing that to people since the hippies stumbled in half a century ago. Some things, happily, never change.