Terceira, Azores to Hesketh Bank, Lancashire, UK

There she blows

We caught two fish within 10 minutes of leaving Lajes, Pico. One jumped off the hook at the last minute; the other made a tasty meal for two. It was a calm crossing, the highlight being the 17 fin whales that I saw in the space of one hour whilst Jeremy was sleeping down below.

It takes two to tango

The marina at Angra do Heroismo, Terceira was full so we had to tie to the harbour wall. We had 45 minutes to secure Sal Darago and dash up into town to see the bull running. We had arrived a few days into the ten day festival of Sao Joan and the bull running was one of the main events. We clambered up onto a wall and joined the crowds that lined the streets and leaned over balconies to see the action. A number of bulls were released one at a time with long ropes attached to them. About 6 matadors held the end of the rope and others danced around the bull or ran before it. People fled in all directions when the bull ran down the street. It was quite a spectacle. As soon as the bull became tired it was taken away and replaced with another.

Delightful dancing cards

Back at the marina a berth became available and we moved into it. The cost was 12 euros per night. The next night, 23^rd June, the main procession of the festival took place. It started at 10.00pm and the street parties continued until it was light. The streets were lined with people once again as many troupes of dancers made their way along the streets accompanied by their own orchestra.

Dancing in the main street until the early hours

We left Angra Marina on 26^th June. The forecast was a mixed bag and the Australians next to us were going to wait for two weeks for a more favourable forecast. Sadly, the weather worsened after only 12 hours and I was seasick. I took Stugeron for the next three days. We needed to go north, but soon the SW wind backed to N and we were in a near gale for a while with rain, rough seas and waves breaking over us. The weather calmed and we had SW winds again. The cooking gas ran out and was soon replaced. Neco, our electronic autopilot, began to play up and I hand steered for a short time. Jeremy cleaned Neco’s points and all was well again. The Hydrovane wind steering pilot was a life saver, steering us through horrible conditions while we kept dry down below – until the saloon windows started leaking on to our clothes.

The dolphins came to warn us of bad weather ahead and, sure enough, we had another spell of strong NW winds with a big swell that bounced us and sometimes slammed us into the breaking waves. We had managed to replace a broken screw on one window frame and duct tape the other, so at least we were dry once more.

At just past midnight on 1^st July we reached the 45 degree latitude. We could now sail east and make our way towards Ireland when the SW wind returned. There was much cause for celebration when Jeremy picked up BBC Radio 4 Shipping Forecast  on long wave radio. The sun shone as well and the sailing was good. It was cold though and thermal socks and body warmers were added to our several layers of clothing.

A stich in time as we sail along

We braced ourselves for another blow as the barometer fell 22mbs in 24 hours, but nothing happened except a wind shift and several short-lived squalls. Jeremy shouted, “LAND AHOY!” at 2000 hours on 5^th July. We could see two distinct peaks. “Hello Ireland.”

The squally weather gave way to calms and we motored all the way from opposite the Old Head of Kinsale on the south coast of Ireland to Port St Mary, Isle of Man, stopping briefly when Sal Darago’s rudder caught a fishing pot. Jeremy went overboard into the cold Irish Sea to sort out the tangle.

Jeremy was on watch as we motored into Port St Mary Harbour at 0200 hours on 8^th July. He woke me up when we were tied to a buoy. After a few hours’ sleep, we tied up on the outer breakwater and moved to the inner harbour on the next tide.

Ellen and Kathy catching some sunshine

We had a very enjoyable week in the Isle of Man catching up with my Mum and sisters. We almost began to feel like landlubbers with the loan of my sister’s car for a few days and the luxury of washing machines, tumble dryers and hot showers.

Neco. Or at least one part of it

We left the IOM at 2330 hours on 14^th July. There was little wind and we took turns hand steering by compass for 2 hours each. Jeremy had taken Neco to bits in Port St Mary and diagnosed the problem but he could not repair it. (If anyone reading this knows anything about 1970’s Neco autopilots, please leave your details in the Comments section of this blog.) Fortunately, the wind began to blow off the Lancashire coast and we sailed for a while with Hydrovane steering. Douglas Boatyard at Hesketh Bank had a berth for us and we had a distinct feeling of coming home as we motored up the Rivers Ribble and Douglas. Our circumnavigation of the world had finished where it had begun six years ago.

Pico, The Azores

Sal Darago in Lajes Harbour

 There was a good sailing wind blowing so the engine went off soon after leaving Horta Marina. Mount Pico soon began to make an impact sending down 25-30 knots of wind from its misty heights and then blocking the wind completely leaving us to wallow in the swell. On Pico island, the tiny harbour of Lajes is completely hidden when viewed from the sea.  I looked at the long breakwater with white, breaking waves beyond it and numerous rocks. I didn’t hesitate in handing over the helm to Jeremy! As it turned out, once we’d rounded the breakwater, the entrance was well marked with red and green buoys. We motored straight into one of the seven visitors’ berths and tied up.

One of the old boilers

Jeremy completed the required documentation with the Port Captain and we went to explore the  very attractive town. Lajes was once a whaling port catching one or two sperm whales a week by traditional methods. The wooden open boats with six rowing places and a mast and sails were towed out to sea by a motor launch. The men were then left to catch the whale using only harpoons thrown by hand. We paid 2.50 euros for a tour of the former whale processing factory, which is now an arts and science centre, where the old boilers and vats had been preserved. The factory closed when all whaling ceased in 1984.

Scrimshaw art

Close to the marina there is the Whaling Museum, which houses full size traditional whaling boats, lots of information about life on Pico and a display of scrimshaw (intricate engraving and carving using whalebone and teeth). Many of the traditional boats have been preserved. They are brightly painted and are used by young and old for rowing and sailing. As luck would have it, there was to be a regatta in two days’ time when crews from all over the island would compete in a race along the coast. 

Kathy at the monument to all the whalers of Pico

 We watched many traditional ex-whaling boats being towed into the harbour the evening before the race and early in the morning on regatta day. Jeremy clambered over huge concrete blocks to the outer breakwater, where he photographed the start. Unlike our sailing regattas, there was no obvious transit line for the start and no starting pistols. No-one knew if there was an exact start time. Somebody must have given some sort of signal because all of a sudden all the sails went up together and the fleet of 28 boats sailed away.

Preparing for the regatta

We toured the island by bus spending time at the ferry port of Madelena and the village of Piedade. The mountain was shrouded in cloud all day but we saw similar vineyards to the ones granted UNESCO status. Many acres of hillside are honeycombed with volcanic rocks, which protect the vines planted within from the frequent winter storms.

And they're off!

On our return to Sal Darago, Jeremy discovered that the water pump was leaking, so he replaced it, having had the foresight to carry a spare (well, two spares, actually). We were ready for the 55 mile passage to Terceira.