Saved by the Bull

Terceira means "the Third", and although the meaning rather referring to the two facts that it is not only the third one to have been discovered but also the third largest of the Azores, it is certainly a suitable name for us, too. We visit Terceira as the third place in the third archipelago of our journey. And the last one. As if the skies knew, they make it a little easier for us to say Farewell, not much sunshine today, but rather foggy, so our visit to the observation platform of Serre do Cume is rather a "if-it-weren't-cloudy-we-could-see-the-following" thing. Not a big thing, there is more to the island than this view alone.

The 400 square kilometers are inhabited by 56.000 people and almost as many cows, mostly the black-and-white Holstein variety, very well known to our German guests. Although on the other Azores the emphasis of employment is rather in the service sector, dairy produce is the main income for the Terceirans. Cattle are deeply woven into the islanders history: In the year 1581 the islands bay of Salga was under attack from the Spanish who thought their invasion was unnoticed. A farmers wife not only alarmed the men who then went to fight, but also released all the bulls from the pastures and shooed them down to the beach. The raging animals violently drove the Spanish troops back to where they came from.

Ever since the bulls are part of the island's coat of arms and they enjoy an enormous respect: Terceira hosts no less than 260 bull fights every year between May and December. But other than the much despised, bloody events with a dead animal in the end, here the bulls can rampage among the crowd as it takes their fancy. These "bull on a string" events bring thousands of people into the streets, many of wich end up with broken bones. They really like this, the Azoreans...

Terceira was stage for historic events more than once, important battles of the Spanish-Portuguese War and the Portuguese Civil War were fought here. Hence the names Angra do Heroismo, the bay of heroics, and Praia do Vitoria, victory beach, and hence also the existence of the fortress of Monte Brasil which today is a curiously fortified leisure park. But also during WW II it proved to be the ideal location in the Atlantic, serving well to install a long runway on a lava platform for aircrafts of the Allied Forces. That did not change much during the cold war, and even today there is a mixed use of the airport for military (mainly American) and civil use.

Geologically, Terceira is sitting on probably the most precarious spot of the whole archipelago, right atop the "Terceira rift", an active spreading centre that manifests itself impressively in the "Furnas", steaming vents in the centre of the island. The spreading did not only rip the tiny "Goat Islands" apart but also caused the severe earthquake of 1980 that destroyed a large number of the historic buildings. Many have been repaired since, but others had to be left to the forces of nature. This didn't keep UNESCO from taking Angra do Heroismo into the list of World Heritage Sites in 1983.

History, nature and the cultural mix that came with Terceira's role as important port resulted in a small, but open-minded and friendly society with a huge tolerance to strangers. So it is probably the hidden gem of the Azores.

Glad that we visited it as the last one. The Third.

Above the Clouds

The second largest island of the Azores is named after its literally most prominent feature, mount Pico. This archetype of a stratovolcano is towering high above the sea and offers not only the highest summit in the Azores, but in all Portugal.

Spread around the immense cone are the villages of Pico, on the coast namely Madalena and Lajes.

The former should have been our port of call, or better disembarkation as we intended to use the small boats. The Atlantic, however, wanted to have a word in this and pounded us with heavy swell that made a landing impossible. So we had to go all around to the other side and look at the conditions in Lajes. Luck favors the brave - our detour earned us fabulous sightings of some common dolphins who played with our ship's nose. On the other side no swell, no wind to speak of, perfect. So we brought boatload after boatload ashore and the excursions could take off, albeit a little late.

Much to offer has the island of Pico, a long history of whaling which underwent the transition to the lucrative business of whale watching smoothly. A governmentally run museum has a lot of interesting artifacts and old movie footage to keep you busy for hours.

As everywhere in the Azores the volcanic soil is rich and fertile, which makes Pico one of the three Azorean domains for wine cultivation. Especially the whites are gaining more and more reputation among wine lovers. Growing the vines is quite a challenge here, the fierce winds have to be shunned, and this is done very efficiently - and beautifully - by framing the vines with low walls of lava rocks. The pattern of these walls on the green ground is a trademark of the Azores.

A drive across the island reveals its full charm, even on a day like this where the clouds are hanging low. Crater lakes are sunken in into the lush landscape and the plains at Mount Pico's are pocked with many parasitos, small secondary craters, some of them looking like made for a Hollywood decoration.

The probably boldest endeavor of this visit is undertaken by a small group that sets out as early as possible to make it to the top of Mount Pico proper. The weather doesn't look too promising - it is high mist or low clouds. But who cares?

So a small group begins the long, unknown climb into the clouds, into the invisible.

And a harsh one it is, 1150 meters up, over sharp rocks and slippery vegetation, steep all the time (as in using-all-fours steep). The clouds are cool and damp, but certainly nobody is freezing...

At elevation 1800m the light around us gets brighter and brighter, and a few minutes later we step out from the clouds - above them! Suddenly there is wonderful colors of rocks and plants and the blue skies, suddenly the intense smell of mountain thyme unfolds. Magic.

Still, there is more volcano to climb, and it's getting even steeper. After four hours of ascent we reach the last of the guiding poles and the summit. The top Mount Pico is a natural fortress, the basalt walls of the last eruption surrounding Little Pico, the very last cone that emerged only a few thousand years ago and now look like a pointy hat on Pico's head. 

This, of course, is an irresistible challenge for three of us. Seventy meters more of serious rock climbing - and yes! Significant moments in life...

The walk down is hard on the legs and demands all concentration we can muster, but some hours later am exhausted but utterly happy group returns to the ship, that now heads for the very last stop on this journey, Terceira.

Cheese in the Middle of Nowhere

Almost halfway across the Atlantic you have to travel to reach the last archipelago we will visit during our journey. Nine islands and a few rocks are emerging from the sea, and (you might have guessed it by now) they are all volcanic.
Looking at Saõ Miguel at least, this does not very much seem like it, for the "Ilha Verde" is covered in a blanket of green. So are the older ones of the islands, whereas for example Pico with its 270.000 years of age only is still quite rocky and grey.
This situation apparently hasn't changed since the years of early exploration; reports from the Portuguese Captain Cabral tell about the necessity to remove large amounts of bush and shrubs from Santa Maria, the first of the islands to be discovered.
The history of the discovery itself, however, is a much disputed one. Old reports and maps by Genoese and Catalan sailors put some nondescript islands in pretty much the same location as the one of the Azores. Cabral's first official claims were made substantially later, in 1431. A few years later the first settlements were established, a bold move, for the islands were more than 1300 kilometers away from the Portuguese homeland. People lived from livestock that they brought themselves (there were no animals on the islands), and planted grain, vine and sugar cane.
Over five centuries later, the archipelago having achieved the status of one of the Autonomous Provinces of Portugal only in 1976, the life of the Azoreans is pretty much based on farming, fishing - and tourism.
The port of Ponta Delgada is impressively modern and can accommodate even the biggest ships. For a good reason, because the position in the middle of the ocean makes it a perfect stopover for trans-Atlantic-going vessels.
We are lucky for several reasons. Not only the weather is fine, but also there is none of the 4000-passenger monsters together in port with us, so the city is not overly crowded. Which is a blessing, as it is a charming place with houses featuring the stark contrast between the dark basaltic rock and gleaming whitewash facades. The pavements are beautifully laid out with intricate ornaments, not two of them alike. The churches are small, but rich in decoration, the bars and restaurants cozy with their chairs outside.
A place to stay and relax.
Unless you have an excursion that takes you across the whole island, explaining all about the amazing volcanism that shaped the landscape, created vast round lakes and provided enough fertile ground for good pastures. The ubiquitous cattle seems quite happy, and happy cows give fine milk. Fine milk, treated well, yields great dairy products, and so - in the middle of the Atlantic - there is an amazing variety of cheese to be found, everywhere.
Chef Jimmy came back with sweat on his brow, carrying enormous amounts of said cheese for the dinner buffet. What a delight!

Waves and Wonder

It is not surprising that the oceans are an eternal object of myths and wonder. They never cease to amaze you, inspire you, take you by surprise.

Last night when we left the archipelago of Madeira the sea was flat like a pond, not a breeze stirred the evening air.

That was not meant to last very long; as soon as we left the protection of the islands (and the slightly elevated submarine topography between them - because not only what sticks out has an influence on things!) we got caught in quite some swell that lifted and dropped us all through the night and the best part of today.

In many a guest's mind the same questions are revolving, as they gaze out from the reeling into the far distance, across the horizon (or as they groan in their cabin, feeling queasy...): What makes these waves? Why are some so big and slow, some small and nervous? Why are they changing direction?

Well, it all begins with the wind. Somewhere, sometimes. Can be far away, can be long ago. A breeze parallel to the water's surface will create tiny little ripples that have a very short lifespan, maybe even under a second. But they add up, join, merge, building slightly bigger ones that can exist longer and start to propagate across the sea. And again they meet, causing interferences, sometimes getting bigger, sometimes eliminating each other. And here the cosmic rule applies: Big eats small, meaning that the wave's growth is a one-way street. Big waves stay big, easy as that.

And so they can travel literally from one end of the world to the other. These very old, slowly heaving waves are called swell. As we are traveling right in the middle of the Atlantic, it is nearly inevitable to have some of it. Ours today is coming from the west, America, that is. Long way to go, and we are just a cork on the water.

So, next time you look out at the sea - just remember that all of the big grandfather waves have started as minor little ripples, made by a wind that has stopped blowing long time ago.

Frogs on a Volcano?

Only two hours away from Madeira Island is her sibling, Porto Santo.
Its discovery dates as far back as to 1418, although the term is maybe not fully appropriate: The Portuguese sailors João Gonçalves Zarco and Tristão Vaz Teixeira were actually going southbound the African coast when their caravelles were struck by a violent storm and then drifted westward with wind and current. The weather still roaring, they found an island to seek shelter, which they called thankfully "Holy Harbor" - Porto Santo.
Early life on the small island (Porto Santo is 15 times smaller than Madeira) was harsh, as there was no real supply with drinkable water.
You may wonder why, knowing about the richness in water on the bigger sister and given the fact that both are of exactly the same volcanic origin. 
Well, it's all about topography; Madeira's mountains rise up to about 2000 m and are thus an efficient obstacle for the high mists or low clouds that brush the Madeira landscape, forcing them to precipitate. These rainfalls, however, are the one and only source of water on Madeira, making it a Garden Eden. But if the same clouds travel across a rather low island like Porto Santo - nothing happens.
So the first impression here is rather barren, and one starts to wonder why so many people take the ride over from Madeira. (Even Christopher Columbus moved away in early years, as we are told in the museum house.) But once you start exploring the place you change your opinion fast. Porto Santo has its charms elsewhere: An array of  medium-sized hills dominates the island, offering stunning views onto the shoreline in many places. Or - onto the beach... Yes, there is one, golden and proper and no less than 9 kilometers long. That comes as a big surprise, given the basaltic origin of all the rocks we have seen before. Then, the local authorities have classified this beach as specifically suitable for Thalassa Therapy, on account of the healing properties of the sand. Aha, the plot thickens. So it needs a little geological examination of the golden beach, which is best done by - chewing the sand. No, this is no joke - you can find out if your sand is made of the usual quartz or of something softer. And the first suspicion turns out to be spot on: The sand is easily ground down in the mouth to smaller and smaller grain size, until there is no more crunch - the beach consists entirely of limestone.
So there really is more to the therapeutical properties of the beach than to be a cool place to chill out and relax (which is therapeutical enough for most...). The high content of calcite is apparently good for you, says at least the university of Oslo.
But the ride around the island reveals more. The Quinta dos Palmeiros for example, a fantastic green oasis in the middle of volcanic soil, private garden project of an ambitious local gardener over fifteen years. Her populated it with all kinds of exotic animals, emus, parrots, beautiful finches, aras. But none of the animals seems more out of place than the frogs in the garden pond. 
Almost all the other attractions are manmade, too, like the 18-hole golf course, conceived by the world famous player Balesteros. The airport features a surprising 3.5 km runway, big enough for any type of plane. So Porto Santo is destination for quite a few international airlines. Also their attitude toward sustainability is remarkable, getting 70% of the energy from wind and solar, and creating the diesel fuel for the missing 30% from biomarine algae generators. 
So it is only to be hoped that the 5000 inhabitants are rewarded for their efforts (and their friendliness) by enough, but not too many friendly guests.
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