About this Blog

........................ To navigate the site.

...... .............Use the Blog Archive (below right)

...or.click the appropriate link at the bottom of the page.

...........................

......................

Tuesday 6 September 2011

29th Post. Azores.

We have thoroughly enjoyed our sojourn in the Azores. It easily passes the ‘would you go there again test?’ The answer is a resounding yes.
Perhaps in our old age, we could modify the Arctic Turn’s route and  continuously circle the Atlantic according to season. Azores – Canaries – Caribbean – Bermuda – Azores. Well, as my mother used to say, “we shall see”.

Santa Maria marina


We are always on the look out for mountains to climb or ridges to scramble and hills to walk. It’s often quite difficult to get even basic information and decent maps are invariably hard to find. So we didn’t hold out too much hope of success in the Azores. However, we were delighted to discover that the tourist offices provide free maps and pamphlets describing recommended walking routes on the islands.

We have made good use of this service. Through trial and error, we have found it best to get a taxi to the start of our walk, then after completing it, to hitch hike back to our base. Hitch hiking is easy enough, due I’m sure to the honesty and friendliness of the people.

Another technique we used on Faial was to take our folding bikes in the boot of a taxi to the highest point of the island (3,400 ft). Then after completing a pleasant 2 hour stroll around the rim of the extinct volcano,
Assemble the bikes and freewheel the eight miles back to our marina.

A pleasant walk on Santa Maria

On the 20th of July we anchored at Baia da Praia on south coast of Santa Maria. It was a very pleasant anchorage and even better, we had the whole bay to ourselves. As we prepared for our customary post anchoring swim we heard a distinct whining noise. No it couldn’t be..…..could it? It got louder and louder, there was no mistaking that noise. Our peace and solitude was being invaded by a ***** motor boat. He made the customary circuit of inspection before proceeding to zoom back and forth a few times. Why, oh why, do they do it? Yachties are sometimes just as bad though. “Oh look, a yacht at anchor in that beautiful secluded bay. They must be really lonely there all by themselves. Let’s go and anchor next to them”.

Ilheu da Vila Sao Miguel

Next day we dragged ourselves out of bed disgustingly early. (It was barely light). Handed our anchor and set sail for Sao Miguel.
We had hoped that the 50 mile passage would be completed in daylight but on this occasion it was not to be. A slow passage in fickle light airs determined that we would anchor off the Ilheu da Vila in the dark at about 11pm.

As we approached land, I wasn’t concerned by the lack of a reading on our echo sounder. The water was 500 metres deep to within a couple of miles of land, much too deep for our sounder to handle. However, it soon became apparent that it had, ‘shuffled off this mortal coil and gone to meet the angels invisible’.

There were a few rocks about, but our GPS course between the island and the mainland, assisted by a bright, though not full, moon and a good look out would keep us clear of them. It was all easy enough in hindsight. But the echo sounder was sorely missed.

Ilheu da Vila is an (another) extinct volcano. Its crater has eroded away in one place to admit the sea and make a charming lagoon. We had chosen to anchor just a short dinghy row from its entrance. The lagoon itself is too shallow for us and is anyway a nature reserve. Nevertheless, we were able to row into it, explore the less sensitive parts and to swim in the lagoon itself. It really is a lovely island. Wonderful rock formations abound and we were happy to share it with the many locals who arrived by motor boat shortly after us.


Ilheu da Vila chock stones.



The anchorage too was a delight, with a pretty town on the mainland, green fields, wild flowers, a typical white painted church and white houses with red tiled roofs.

It was all too good to last unfortunately. An uncomfortable swell found its way into the anchorage and drove us out. We got the anchor and departed for the marina at Ponta Delgada. Arriving in the early evening, the marina office was closed, so we prepared to spend the night on the reception berth.

Before we even had time to crack a tin of something cold it became apparent that this berth was not for us. It’s a large modern harbour complex. Bars shops, restaurants and a disco are all to be found just yards from our pontoon. It was the latter that caused us some concern. Sure enough, just as light was fading, an horrendous Boom Boom Boom engulfed us. The disco was warming up! On the way in I had spotted an empty berth on a quiet pontoon in the old harbour. We left immediately and secured to the pontoon in the last few minutes of daylight. We would make our peace with the marina in the morning.

The second job next morning was to go in search of a new echo sounder. The only ones to be found would have entailed cutting a new hole in the bridge deck bulkhead. Not a thing I was keen to do. It’s my policy is to have as few holes in the boat as possible!

So there was nothing for it. A replacement of the same make would have to be flown out from Lisbon. Time to explore.


 Hydrangeas are everywhere in the Azores

We hired a car for the day to explore the island. As if it wasn’t expensive enough in the first place, I rather foolishly filled it up with fuel. Instead of returning it almost empty at the end of the day, we left it with half a tank remaining. Nevertheless, we had a fair to middling day out. We saw a lot of very picturesque scenery and had a much needed, if rather mundane walk that followed a cinder track for its full length.

On Friday the 29th July we had the new echo sounder fitted and were on our way to Terceira. It was a 90 something mile passage, so we could afford to depart at a civilized time of day and be confident of arriving at our destination in daylight the next day.

 Pico in the background beyond Sao Jorge.

We had a marvelous sail, fast and with a favorable wind. But that was not all! As we rounded the Western end of Sao Jorge we were delighted to find that we had an escort of about a dozen Bottle-nosed dolphins. They did just what dolphins do best. They came from all directions, they zoomed under our keel, they surfed in our bow wave, and they frolicked. All seemingly as much for our delight as their own. Eventually someone must have called them in for their tea, for as suddenly as they arrived so they departed.

The next thing I heard was Pippa calling. “What’s that”? It turned out she had heard a whale blowing! I dashed back on deck to witness a huge whale arching its back as it started its dive. Then the two enormous flukes of its tail towered in the air before it disappeared into the depths. We had seen a magnificent Sperm Whale. We met but didn’t see another in the middle of the night. I was awoken (Pippa was on watch) by a heavy bang on the side of the boat. Pippa heard a whale blow and saw an enormous dark mass close astern. It seems we may have bumped into a whale slumbering on the surface. We suffered no damage and I’m quite sure did none to the whale.
In the afternoon of the 30th we arrived and anchored off Cais do Castelo on the west side of Monte Brasil. Terceira.

It was a lovely peaceful anchorage and, as usual in the Azores, we had it to ourselves. We were, however, a little surprised, if not alarmed, by a succession of loud bangs emanating from the local village. Later we were to learn that this is a common form of celebration in these parts.

Sadly, a fresh west wind developed overnight. We were now on a most inhospitable lee shore (lots and lots of sharp pointy rocks). Despite being well dug in with twice as much chain as the text books tell us we need, it was time to go. We left after breakfast.

But we didn’t go far. We called into the very welcoming marina in Angra just long enough to clear customs, (strangely necessary on each and every island in the Azores) then left and anchored in a fine bay next to Porto Novo. We were now in the lee of the island quite secure and able to swim, sunbath and relax.



 Lady and Bicycle.
Pico seen from Horta.


Our next anchorage was not quite so idyllic. We sailed down the coast to
Praia da Vitoria. One half is given over to the ferry and commercial craft while the other is reserved for yachts. Well, I say reserved. There is a marina and a small anchorage between the beach and a fueling pontoon for the US air force. To be honest it was still quite pleasant if rather crowded. One of the few anchorages we have had to share.
Perhaps we have been spoilt. We discovered later that the reason for the number of yachts in harbour was because a gastronomic festival was taking place.

Angra do Heroismo, our next port of call, was quite a different matter and much more to our liking. We anchored in the outer harbour the next day, having arrived in plenty of time to swim and sunbathe before the sun sank below the yard arm. We were concerned that anchoring might be restricted because of conservation areas set up over sunken Spanish galleons found in the harbour. In fact there was plenty of room.

Our first outing was to walk to the top of the local hill, Monte Brasil. Well worth a visit, it provided a scenic walk with fabulous views in every direction. The Azores had a vibrant whaling industry not so very long ago. On our walk we found a whale look out post and on the summit an ancient signaling station. It seems that using a system of flags, cones and pyrotechnics, the lookouts would inform the whaling boats about the position and direction of whales they spotted.
Sailing at dawn on the 9th of August, we had a fast if roly-poly passage to Vila da Praia on Graciosa, where we found a good pontoon berth in the small new harbour. It provided electricity, fresh water and access to a beach. We were the only yacht in harbour (though there were plenty of fishing boats). Yet, when I enquired of the duty Maritime police officer, was assured, “Oh there is no charge”.


Next day we got the bikes out and cycled round the coast to spend the day at Santa Cruz, the capital of the island, but with no harbour suitable for anything but small fishing boats. On the way, to cool down, we swam at the charming  Portinho da Barra. There was an open air shower on the quay. A local woman who had also been swimming, seeing that Pippa had no shampoo, insisted that she used hers. These little acts of kindness are a real delight.


The early afternoon of the 12th September saw us at Carapacho on the south side of Garaciosa. We enjoyed a good afternoon at anchor, but in the evening a fresh wind developed with a lot of swell rolling in. We were again on a lee shore with lots of rocks, so thought it prudent to leave at 1030 in the evening. We had a full moon and sailed at a comfortable 6 knots for most of the night.

We were on a lee shore. 


At lunch time the next day we anchored off the small inlet of Calheta.Sao Jorge There is a public ‘Natural’ (not nudist) swimming area here. These have concrete pathways leading through the rocks to the sea, usually with a cold water shower facility. A very simple and clever amenity, necessary because of the lack of beaches. However, we felt rather like goldfish in a bowl, so moved on after lunch.

We anchored again, this time off Velas.

That evening despite the full moon, we witnessed a colony of Corries Shearwaters in full cry returning to feed their young. As if this wasn’t enough we had a fabulous view of Pico as a backdrop.
On the 15th we moved the short distance into the pleasant marina at Velas
The Marina office was, however closed, so we thought it best to visit the Policia Maritima in town. We changed into our smart (a relative term you understand) clothes and explored the village. We found the office we wanted, however they seemed to have moved! Oh well, we tried!

The Policia Maritima seem to have moved!


It was in Velas that I was able to confirm the cause of an engine problem we had been experiencing on and off for a few weeks. On occasion, Sula’s engine seemed reluctant to engage forward gear. Quite alarming if one was reversing out of a tight marina berth at the time!

Persistence always paid off eventually and once engaged the engine would behave its self. (Until next time!) I tried adjusting the Morse control cable but to no avail.

I emailed everybody I knew who had experience of yachts, (and am most grateful for the advice received). The key was to disengage the Morse control completely and operate the  gear box leaver by hand. It was immediately confirmed that the fault was with the gearbox. 

I contacted the manufacturers, Beta Marine who were most helpful. It seems the gearbox will still operate if the Morse control is slightly out of adjustment, but after a while the internal cone clutch in the gearbox will wear out. They also said it was not economical to repair! Oh Bugger! I needed a new gear box.
On a more chearfull note.
It was also in Velas that we came across this rather charming sight.



 What’s this then?



 Fond memories of the Pembrokeshire Gig
came flooding back

There was nothing more we could do about it then, so we took a taxi to the mountains and went for a walk. It turned out not to be too thrilling to be honest, much of it being on a cinder track. In the afternoon the cloud gathered and soon it was raining cats and dogs. Guess who had been lulled into a false sense of security by a succession of hot, dry walks?  We were both very wet, but yours truly was soaked! Ho Hum.



 Our arrival in Horta


We sailed on to Horta on the island of Faial on the 20th.
The marina office being closed by the time we arrived, we spent the night on the reception berth.

In the morning I dutifully took the ships papers to the marina office for inspection and photo copying. Having checked in, I was directed to a second office in the same building and went through exactly the same routine with the Maritime Police.

I do try and keep mum on these occasions. Experience has taught me that it’s usually best to cooperate but to volunteer nothing. However on this occasion I naively asked. “Is there anyone else I need to see”? The policeman rose solemnly from his chair, walked into the corridor and saw that both the customs and immigration offices were closed. He re-seated himself and casually replied “No, I didn’t think so.” I sometimes wonder if it’s all just a Portuguese job creation scheme.

The next job was to get the engine out, remove the gearbox and photograph the drive plate so that Beta Marine could see if was damaged. It looked fine to me, but I was more than happy to have them confirm my diagnosis.




How to get Dee out of bed in the morning!


It came out, so it must go back!


The new gearbox was delivered in only four days. Remarkable. I was bracing myself to hear that it was held up in Lisbon.

In the mean time we were happy to taste the delights of Horta. Porto Pim was an early discovery. A wonderful beach with sheltered swimming, in what was once a whaling station. Best of all, it was only a few minutes bike ride from the marina.

Porto Prim

Another outing was to take a costal walk to Castelo Branco. A stunning headland. Our tourist office map described the headland as too dangerous to be included in the walk. This of course was a red flag to a bull for us. It turned out to be a simple scramble, rewarded with stunning views from the summit.


Castelo Branco


Once again we hitch hiked back, and this time were given a lift by a very kind lady with a small child, and piles of clutter on every seat. Unperturbed, she put much of it in the boot and squeezed us both in. She then took us all the way back to Horta.


 Others from Pembrokeshire beat us to the Azores.


While fitting the new gearbox, I took the opportunity to service the engine. It all went smoothly and before too long everything was back where it belonged with no bits left over.

The only thing I couldn’t track down was a new air filter. I tried all the local shops to no avail, and then spread my search further afield, but with the same result. Pippa tried the following day and she didn’t get one either, but said she had found a shop a few miles out of town that said it could get one from its depot in Pico, but that it might take a week. It was all a bit confusing, but she came away with the impression that it hadn’t been ordered.

I took the bike out the following day; I got really hot and not a little bothered. I went here, there and back again, up hill and down dale. I was about to give up, when someone suggested I tried a most unlikely shop not too far away. I may well have ignored their advice, but they were watching me so, I felt duty bound to proceed as directed.
I enquired within and showed them the old filter.
“Oh, Mr.de Mengel,” he replied and handed me a package containing the elusive filter.


The 1st of September was Pippa’s birthday. We went for a bike ride and watched a considerable swell crashing into a small fishing harbour. Young boys and a couple of girls were diving from the breakwater into the breaking waves and body surfing into the beach. We were much too grown up and sensible to join them. I never did like coasteering much anyway.

That evening we treated ourselves to a superb ‘Cataplana’ in an open air seafront restaurant in Porto Pim. The meal was a shared cauldron of various white fish, shell fish, potatoes and other vegetables in a delicious stock. Washed down with a bottle of white wine from Pico. Wonderful!


The quiet anchorage at Velas.

It’s September and our time left in the Azores is sadly running out. We have yet to visit Pico but hope to do so soon.

The Hurricanes currently bashing the Caribbean and USA while not affecting us directly have pushed the Azores High a bit out of kilter. Instead of having northerly or north east winds they are southerly or south easterly. That would mean head winds on the way to the Canaries. Not what we want at all.

So we will just have to chill out, enjoy these lovely islands, open a cold tinny and go for a swim, while we wait for better winds.
Sailing can be such a hard life sometimes!