Azores from the Sea

Our first glimpse of the Azores - actually Peter's first glimpse, Lee and I were fast asleep - was of Flores.  A sensational island of black volcanic treacherous cliffs, topped by a green patchwork of fields, topped by green clad ancient, conical volcanoes.  Flores was wilder but still typical of the archipelago topography.  They sprouted as mere dots in the North Atlantic as three tectonic plates - the Eurasian, the African plates and the North Atlantic ridge moved against each other.  For millions of years, lava has seeped to the surface to form volcanoes while new rock along the ridge pushed older rock outward causing the Atlantic Ocean to widen by 0.5 cm a year, according to our guide.  Peter and I cruised to seven of the nine Azore islands.  Each one unique within a typical Azores template.  All are low key touristy.  All have fabulous and challenging hikes.  Few have real beaches and those that do are small and black/grey.  The tourist who will appreciate their visit likes land and water nature, hiking, cheese, wine, volatile history, proud and friendly people who are attached to their traditions and does not necessarily want to swim in the ocean because to our thin tropical, ex-hardy-Canadian blood, it's cold!.  This post is an introduction to our introduction to each island from the sea

First sighting of Flores after 11 days at sea.  A very welcome sight  but not so welcoming.  Dramatically beautiful,  but fierce coastline.

Small white houses with red roofs are on every island,  few and far between especially on Flores where the population is shrinking so dramatically that it would be cheaper to move inhabitants to the mainland than to keep the infrastructure going, according to a hiking companion.

For our ten days on Flores, there was usually low cloud.  This is the second largest town,  Lajes, where we anchored.  Two supermarkets, one included appliances and hardware, two restaurants loosely speaking, a church and that's about it.  But charming!

Arrival!  Lee and I sporting as many clothes as we could because it was cold!  But, nonetheless, so happy to be anchored!

Whaling was a source of wealth in the islands until not that long ago in 1987.  There seems to be a whaling museum on every island, although Peter and I agreed without ever discussing it, not to attend as our interest in whales is different than an interest in whaling.  The Azorean whalers were considered to be the best in the world.  At each port, there is a ramp where the whales were hauled for slaughter and the cliffs overlooking the sea are dotted with whale watching points where those watching could signal whales whereabouts through flags and flares to the boats below.  The islanders keep the tradition alive by taking great care of and racing these whaling skiffs. 

Huge sail on these narrow boats without keel - just macho ballast flung from side to side.  We saw a couple capsize in the wild and woolly sea.

Departing beautiful Flores for Faial.

Tiny hamlets on Flores, perched on cliffs or nestled along a narrow shoreline, life is not easy here.  The complete lack of the ability to consume anything but the very basic was startling - this is Europe, after all - but to our liking.  What is there to do?  Well, farming, hiking, socializing, surviving - and so the young are leaving.  If you like the looks of it, go!  They could use your tourist dollars along with the 200 or so other tourists who go.

Lajes do Floress...we loved it.

Flores and Corves are isolated to the east of the rest of the archipelago.  After a night sail, we reached Faial, home of the famous - for sailors - Horta Marina.  This view is of the northwest tip of the island where a volcano erupted in 1958.  Completely desolate.  The lighthouse, miraculously, survived.  Horta, itself, was largely damaged in a 1998 earthquake.  The earth is still rumbling here as we discovered when hiking.

First sighting of Pico, the highest peak in Portugal at 2,351m and just across a small strait from Horta where we docked.  It is the only volcano on the islands that didn't implode to create a crater so it is still a perfect conceal peak.  It was our backyard view.  Not bad!

Again, black cliffs, field quilt.

Faial approach.  

We regret not climbing Pico. On the days we were able to go, the peak was covered in cloud.  Friends of ours climbed it in the evening, saw the sunset, slept at the top (on the rock, not so nice) and woke to the sunrise.  I guess we'll just have to return one day.

This is Monte da Guia connected to Horta by a small isthmus.  Caves looked intriguing as we sailed past.  

It's tough to edit.  From the marina

Even though full, the marina never turns boats away.  Most have come across the sea from the west or the north to get there.  Horta is known as the crossroads of the Atlantic.  At peak season, which only lasts about six weeks, boats are rafted together sometimes four abeam.  We happened to be assigned to raft to a boat whose crew we had briefly met in Bermuda while watching the tall ships.  They were returning home to England after a three year cruise to Canada where their attempt at the northwest passage had been thwarted by a cold summer.  Instead, they explored Greenland and Newfoundland for two seasons.  Intrepid.

I know, you've seen it.  But those red roofs in the foreground are new.

San Jorge, our third island, was lovely.  Not quite as worldly, if I can use that word to describe Faial, but lively and enchanting.  The port was still under construction as you can see by the crane but still with Pico in the distance.  This was our bow view while at anchor.

Our stern view was of this cliff which looks nondescript in the pic.  It was exceedingly high and precipitous.  At dusk it became a pickup bar for Cory Shearwaters, a large seabird that we often came across in enormous, floating flocks on the sea.  Thousands, no exaggeration, came to roost/mate/chat each night for a few hours.  Then they settled until dawn when they woke, chatted some more and took off for a day of fishing.  As it was dark when they did whatever they did, we couldn't see them, but we sure could hear them.  They chuckled, chatted, caroused - sounded like a huge party with one or two particular loudmouths above the general din.

A stand up paddle board race...

and a PWC race at our back door.  We rooted for the paddlers.

Some of those Cory Shearwaters sitting around.

Had to take a picture of the local fisherman sporting a Canadian flag.  Everyone has a relative who lives in Canada.  This guy was in the marina in Terceira, the fifth island on our tour.  Angra do Heroismo was declared a UNESCO world heritage city in 1983 while restoration after a 1980 earthquake was still underway.  Azores chic and historical.  Lovely.

Skipping Sao Miguel which, being covered in cloud, we don't seem to have sea shots of, on to Santa Maria the seventh and, sadly, last island on our tour.  Instead of volcanic, it is sedimentary rock.  Still with cliffs and the only island with what we would call beaches.

Largest and only town in Santa Maria was also the locale of the marina and the ferry dock and a nice restaurant/bar, the only things at the bottom of this very steep hill.  Everything else was at the top.  Needless to say, we frequented the only bar with the other cruisers.

On our way to Portugal.  Good-bye, Azores.  So glad we met you.  

We hiked there...

and there.

Next up, "Hiking in the Azores" - there are too many beautiful pictures - "Flowers in the Azores" and "Bullfights in the Azores".  We liked it there!

TransAtlantic - Leg Two

Leaving St George's Harbour.  Nothing but the ocean in front of us.

Distance travelled - 1,706 NM

Time taken - Just shy of 11 days.

Behind us, entering as we left, was a Canadian boat.  We are always on the lookout for the Canadian flag.  This one was on a rather ramshackle schooner and admirably demonstrated that the dream can be followed on even a basic boat at presumably low cost.   

We left Bermuda on June 6th in sunny skies with a good forecast for moderate winds interspersed with the occasional light breeze.  Immediately, on leaving the protection of St Georges Harbour, we met large and confused waves and rode them upwind for the next two days.  This meant tight grasps on any solid part of the boat at all times.  With the constant motion even when sleeping, I’m sure we burned through a quantity of calories that otherwise wouldn’t occur while sitting around for days, walking 20 feet at a time tops.  Of course, my slightly ill stomach meant a lower calorie intake as well - although M & Ms tasted good.  Luckily, Lee, with her iron gut, took the brunt of the galley work on those wavy days.

Dense fog on Peter's watch.  He was glad that we were able to get the radar fixed.

 After two days we were ready for a day of calm.  Motoring was a bit of a relief.  Any other time, the noise of “iron genny” and consumption of diesel is unwelcome.

Then a couple of downwind sails with spinnaker during the day and wing-on-wing with two headsails at night or single headsail depending on the wind angle.

Always miraculous to see the ocean so calm - especially when we found out what boats were suffering through north of us.

A second calm day let us take a dip in the sea exactly midway between the last and the next ports of call.

The location of our dip.  Exactly half way.  Our boat looks pretty big on the screen.  Sure doesn't feel that way when you see the immensity of the sky and ocean!

Portuguese-Man-of-War dotted the ocean with their florescent trimmed sails.  We had to keep watch for them as we went for our swim/drag.

Captain looking happy.

And Lee looking happier.  She took two dips.

And then for the final six days, the wind gave us a pretty consistent broad to beam reach at 14-20 knots.  We zipped along through pretty large swells from the north.  We had a couple of days when we made of distance of more than 200 NM - a record for Milly.

Always a scramble to the bow when dolphins sighted.  Great entertainment!

We set the anchor on Jun 17 in the Lajes harbour on the island of Flores.  Stunning beauty of rugged cliffs topped by steep pastoral fields of green with red roofed, white homes nestled in shelter.

First magnificent views of Flores at dawn, appearing out of the clouds.

Shortly after arriving, we received an email from previous crew, Connie, who told us of hurricane force wind north of us as we crossed when several boats had to have crew rescued.  What??  We knew nothing of this!  She sent us details.  After arriving in Horta about ten days later we had dinner with a solo sailor who had been taking part in the famous OSTAR race from Plymouth, England to Newport, US.  The fleet had been caught in an enormous low, spreading from the Azores to Iceland and the result of two smaller lows from Canada and the US. It had been likened to the "Perfect Storm".  David had seen 60 knot winds.  All electronics on his boat had failed and his portlights on the leeward side were constantly submerged, he was heeled over so far.  He told me over dinner that it was being on a submarine.  His friend in another boat was taking on water and had to be rescued by the Queen Mary.  The crews of three other boats also were rescued through a major effort of coast guards from four nations.  Dave abandoned the race and limped into Horta to recover, fix his broken boat and then head back to England, solo again.  He was grateful for his life.  There was no loss of life but four boats were scuttled and now rest on the ocean floor.  

All this on June 9th while we had 15-20 knot wind!  We rode the southern edge of this enormous low all the way to Flores!  Predict Wind routed us successfully and Peter who knew there was a “big wind” north of us stayed safely on the reasonable edge.

The team - safely arrived in our cruising best.  It was cold!

Thanks to Peter for getting us safely across the sea - our first trans ocean passage. And to Lee for braving her first passage longer than one night!  She truly jumped into the deep end - she took watch every night, slightly nervous but always gung ho.  And a big thanks to Milly for being a comfy and safe home and mode of travel.

Beautiful, Blue Bermuda

We spent over two weeks in Bermuda. It was an easy place to be with a totally different flavour to the Carribean.  “Yachting” is huge.  Enormous mega yachts are in harbour waiting for the America’s Cup and provide great entertainment and eye candy for boat lovers.

The glam boats

The racing boats

The tall boats

The sensational boats

The sailing tender to the mother ship

Even the city hall has a sailboat as wind vane - the first settlers on the island as a result of the shipwreck of the said model boat. The "clock" on the tower is actually a compass that tells wind direction.  This island is a boater's dream.

The cruising boats at anchor in St George harbour, all on their way across the ocean.

The spacey eco motor boat run solely on solar and hydrogen power.

And my favourite, the teeny tiny boats - a serious fleet in Bermuda

Bermuda is highly developed but the buildings and homes dotting the island are sweet, pastel with pure white roofs.

These guys are whitewashing the roofs with a special paint.  The roofs are used to collect rain, filling cisterns a providing the individual buildings with water.

The sea is a beautiful clear blue  The people are incredibly friendly and helpful - probably the friendliest we’ve encountered.  “Good Afternoon” as entering, announced to the whole sorry lineup of people waiting at the mobility store with all responding equally brightly, kept a smile on my face for nearly an hour.  And, unique to any place we have been, including Florida, there is hardly a speck of litter on land or sea - goes along with pride of place and history.  Great place to hang out with my big brother and watch America’s Cup boats practicing. 

Beautiful, Blue Highlights:

America’s Cup - we were able to take Milly out three times to view the boats in action.  We also viewed a close up anchored at the windward mark on a motor yacht of another Antares owner who happens to live in Bermuda.  Thanks for including us, George and Melanie, s/v Carefree

As it turns out, not the winning boat!  We were secretly cheering for NZ.

Tall Ships - Twenty-one registered tall ships paraded by us.  A sight from yesteryear.  They are on their way to Canada to celebrate 150 years.

Crew changeover - We said good-bye to new friends, Randy and Michele, and gave dear Lee a big, welcoming hug.

Friendly people - probably the friendliest we’ve met.  Everyone greeted us on the sidewalk except in the big city of Hamilton where only some did - the others were probably tourists.

We happened to see the Independence Day Parade.  Each neighbourhood or extended family staked out a part of the sidewalk, set up chairs, grills, tables with buffet, drinks and watched the parade that took the entire day - slow motion.  Bermuda has it's own island time.

Surprising number of great anchorages in gorgeous blue water - we hadn’t expected to be able to sail as much as we did.  Other islands of similar size have one or two anchorages but you can actually cruise Bermuda for a week.  Charter boats must be coming soon!

Pride of place and history - Museums, cemeteries, churches are all worth a visit.

History in the foreground and the AC village in the background.  Great juxtaposition
They did it so well.

We often check out cemeteries.  This naval cemetery was unique.  In many cases, the headstone reported how the person had died.  "Falling from aloft" was unfortunately common.  Cholera another taker of families.  Another unique feature told of the sponsor of the stone "his ship's mates" being a repeated one.

And you have to read this one that was in the church below.

St Peter's Church in St George - just a sweet on the inside.

Best of all - a visit with my big brother, Tim, who is the general manager at one of the island’s high end resorts.  He attempted to spend each of his days off with us but with all the activity on the island, he was often called in to work.  So great to see you and introduce you to Milly, Tim! xo

After a good rest, a little more very expensive provisioning, walking and sightseeing, it’s time for leg two of our TransAtlantic!

TransAtlantic - Leg One

Preparations are never finished for a passage but Milly was looking good, the pantry was overfull and Peter and I were more than ready.  Crew Randy and Michele joined us in the a.m. and by noon we had untied the lines in Stuart, Florida.  After three months in Florida, departure was overdue.

Choosing a weather window in Milly's saloon.

Randy caught a mahi mahi.  Delicious dinner on board and still some in the freezer.

Apart from three separate overnighters, Peter and I had never had crew on board for our passages.  We have found that shorter passages are harder on our bodies than longer.  Time on the seas needs to be three days or longer to get into a routine where sleep in three hour hunks doesn’t deplete.  Of course, we’re still exhausted when we get to port, no matter how long the passage but somehow the body is able to adapt a new circadian rhythm with time.

So great to be back at sea in beautiful blue water seen through the escape hatch.

Lovely sunsets with a couple of green flashes.

For the Florida to Bermuda passage we had four people to take watch.  Day watches were flexible with whoever happened to be in the cockpit on duty - we were all there most of the time.  But night watches were amazing - one 3-hour stint each!  We arrived in Bermuda more rested than we had ever been before, getting as much sleep, although broken, as we wanted.

The crew

Randy and Michele were checking out life on board a catamaran.  They seemed to enjoy the bow.

The exception was night three when we were all up, preparing and trying to avoid lightning strikes.  None of us had ever experienced a light show quite like that night.  We were often surrounded by cloud to sea strikes in near constant rhythm.  The storm cells appeared as great red blobs on our radar screen and, because of little wind, they hung on top of us for over four hours.  I had packed our oven/Faraday Cage with electronics while Peter and crew attempted to escape the blobs. 

One of the smaller blobs.  This one was 8 NM across.  Long and skinny and about to run right over us.

We spent at least two hours in one of the storm centers - when we tried to escape one side, the cell developed on that side or travelled right along with us.  When we stayed put so did the cell.  Finally, we escaped only to be caught by another.  It was quite a night and miraculous that we weren’t hit.  Never did we fear for our own safety, only Milly’s.

Our large companion on the sea.

On day watch - reading, with occasional glances at the chart and instruments.  Life is good.

In some ways, after having so much work done in Stuart, the passage was like a shakedown cruise.  We had some complaints.  Our Rolls Royce service at Hinckley resulted in a couple of motor leaks. Frustrating!  A mysterious salt water leak into our starboard hull turned out to be from water surging up our dryer vent.  Nothing serious but aggravating all the same.

Mysterious leak.  The taste test concluded salt water.

The first night we rocked along in the Gulf Stream - I won top speed that night at a consistent 12 knots, a decent wind helped along by the current. The last few days with very light wind almost on the nose, we motored.  We had anticipated the passage would take 4-6 days.  We arrived on day 8. 

Bermuda sighted.  Leg One completed.