The town of Horta on the Island of Faial

Dear Readers, it was a 4.30 start this morning, to catch our flight from Lisbon to the Azorean island of Faial and the town of Horta. I ordered what I thought was a black coffee and a white coffee once we were airside, but my white coffee ended up with ice in it. I managed to resist the blandishments of the pastry shop though. I suspect the Portuguese must have a sweet tooth. They were even selling pasteis de nata (those delicious little custard tarts) in packs of 12.

Anyhoo, the plane was rammed, and for most of the time we were flying over the Atlantic (the Azores are nearly 1000 miles west of Portugal). But then, this….

The Azores are volcanic, and this is Pico, the most recent of the Azores to emerge from the sea and with its very own volcano, the Ponta de Pico. The volcanic soil means that there are vineyards here (UNESCO-designated to boot) and I have no doubt that we’ll be visiting them later. We landed, however, on the island of Faial, which is 30 minutes by ferry from Pico, and which is technically the western-most point in Europe.

We landed along a short runway right next to the sea. Could this be another Category C airport like Innsbruck, I wondered? But actually, no, although Funchal in Madeira is. Hah! The landing still occasioned a burst of applause from the back of the plane. And my luggage arrived, a relief as I’d checked it all the way through at Heathrow and we all know how that can sometimes work out.

Horta airport

We had a couple of hours to kill before our flight, so we did some exploring. What a fine town Horta is! Tomorrow they have a trail run with 3000 people turning up, so I was glad I was there today. There was a very noisy parade of emergency vehicles, all driven by moustachioed men in uniform, most wearing medals.

The buildings are so charming here, with a mixture of Spanish/Portuguese influences and something very quirky and different.

We had lunch in the local market, where I just managed not to buy a six-foot long cushion shaped like a sperm whale. One must have some discipline, surely.

And then it was off to the ferry for the trip to Pico, our final stop.

We watched with some confusion as various vehicles backed onto the ferry at peculiar angles, but were pleased to see a chap who drove a tractor onboard – it seemed to be towing a container full of all our bags, and some miscellaneous baskets.

it’s fair to say that not everybody has got this parking-in-a-straight-line thing down pat…

And now we’re on Pico, in our hotel, and tomorrow, weather willing, we should be off to finally see if we can find some whales! Keep everything crossed for us!