It was the forecast that decided us. If we left L’Aberwrach at tea time , we could take a gradually veering SW until just past Portland bill, drop the hook somewhere off the Purbeck coast and take the next days sea breeze all the way home in time to see Bryony before she left for her dolphin study.

And that’s how it turned out, with just a few bits of excitement thrown in. First of all a Frenchman ran amok in the marina , bouncing from boat to boat like a pinball wizard and giving us our first ding of the year. Then the first few hours of the passage were pretty foggy and we discovered that the crowded Channel is much harder work than the Atlantic , but with the help of radar we slalomed our way between the blips until a front arrived, magically clearing the mist and revealing navigation lights all around us. With visibility now excellent the rest of the sail to Portland was a brilliant spinnaker run , with the wind just giving out at dusk as we crept into the Mupe anchorage at the West end of Warbarrow bay. The scenery here is simply world class and we got the feeling that coming home was perhaps not going to be such a chore after all.

From Coming home

At midnight our thoughts were less charitable. A light Northerly caused huge catabatic gusts to come tumbling off the cliffs and we were awoken by frantic shouting. A small boat had dragged , tripping the anchor of a heavy engineless cutter . He saw himself drifting towards the cliff and unrolled his genoa , forgetting that he had a wind generator in the rigging which promptly chopped it up! The remnants caused him to thrash around on the end of his anchor rode , and he gave us a couple of heavy thumps before drifting just astern and thankfully holding. 30 mts later the wind died completely and we re-anchored clear of the chaos, reflecting ruefully that we had now collected 2 biffs in the last few days of our trip – but thankfully nothing too horrendous.

From Coming home

The next day England produced its very best weather for the sail home to Hamble via the Needles channel; bright sunshine and a warm sea breeze and a spinnaker all the way.

From Coming home

We drifted up the river to the mooring enjoying the familiar sights and reflected together on a great year , a good trip and ( I hope not too smugly) a job well done.

Over and out.

Festinas progress home is somewhat erratic . Our sunny idyll in the Morbihan was eventually disturbed by rain ( a completely alien concept!) so we sailed 40 miles North to the lovely sandy archipelago of Glenans which nestles under the overhanging Penmarch peninsula. It is another wonderful sailing area with loads of places to anchor and 5 or 6 interesting ports within 15 miles sail. We chose to anchor behind the I du Loch and spent a couple of days exploring in the canoe, and then with more rain on the way sailed another 40 miles to Brest.
I can never pass these waters without thinking back to the late 18th and early 19th century when the Royal Navy blockaded Brest for years at a time. It is a rock and shoal bestrewn lee shore with monstrous tides and frequent fogs , constantly hammered by westerly gales , and yet they maintained station there without the benefit of buoys or lighthouses ,forecasts , radios, radar or GPS . They didn’t have craft that could beat to windward in almost any weather and they certainly couldn’t turn on an engine to get out of a scrape. One day I would like to study the log books of the time , and then come back and relive some of their exploits , albeit with the opt out of modern navigation aids and the iron topsail if , as seems likely ,my seamanship does not match that of our forebears.
For now , however we went one step further than our illustrious ancestors. At dawn they would sail to the Avant Goulet , and just out of gunshot would report on the state of preparation of the French fleet lying in Brest Roads. One grey day we took our courage in our hands and sailed through the Goulet de Brest , that narrow channel between cliffs that made this naval base so impregnable thoughout many wars. Nobody fired on us despite our flag and we were intrigued to see that the Southern inner end of the Goulet is called Pte des Espagnols , so anchored in its lee and went ashore to explore. It seems that in 1594 a Spanish fleet landed on the beach at Camaret ( outside the Goulet) and entrenched themselves on the peninsula . They were outnumbered 10 to one by a combined English and French force , but held out for a month . Whilst they completely failed in their bid to oust the Huegenot Henri IV in favour of the Catholic Confederations favoured heir , they did last long enough for their deeds to be commemorated forever in the naming of the point where they made their desperate last stand.
Just in case , like me , your history never got much beyond “1066 and all that” , Henri IV is not to be confused with our Henry IV ( part one or part 2! ) . This French king was in my view “a good thing” in that he inherited a civil war between Catholics and Protestants and ended it by the simple expedience of converting to Catholicism and simultaneously declaring the Edict of Nantes which declared that Protestants will be tolerated. Our Elizabeth 1st was furious at his conversion ( she had bankrolled the English troops at the Pte des Espagnols ) , but Henri is alleged to have declared with a gallic shrug – “Paris is worth a Mass!” That’s what I call pragmatic politics!
Nowadays the peninsula tells of more recent conflicts. 100 years after Henri , the ubiquitous Vauban built his elegant fortifications which are now somewhat spoilt by the horrid concrete constructions of World War 2 . All are abandoned now but over the water lie the sleek grey shapes of French warships , at anchor as ever , but held there not by a blockading fleet , but peaceful times . Long may they continue.
But how much longer can we string out our adventure? Yesterday we dribbled round to L’Aberwrach and our first marina since Bryony left us two weeks ago. We think we are going to set off east again this afternoon and just see where the wind blows us .

From last morbihan

For the last week or more the Azores high has sat serenely over NW France giving rise to the sort of summer weather we can normally only dream about – calm nights , warm mornings and delicious sea breezes in the afternoon and evening. If there is a nicer place to take advantage of this weather than the little inland sea that is the Morbihan , and outside it , Quiberon bay , then we have yet to come across it anywhere in our travels. Every day we take a trip of , oh let me see , at least 3 miles (!) , to anchor behind a different island with a different view . Some are deserted , some have little villages with cafes for an evening beer or perhaps Moules Frites, and the contrast between the whales and waves and wide horizons of the Atlantic could not be more striking. Nevertheless our little voyages require almost as much seamanship to negotiate the tide rips and eddies , and avoid the myriad traditional sailing craft that are out enjoying the same waters . Here we cannot set up the rig and steering gear , and leave it undisturbed for hours at a time. Every few metres the wind or current changes , or the depth shoals , so our small voyages are packed with incident.
If it all becomes a bit claustrophobic , we can take the 9 knot ebb racing out through the entrance channels and sail the 10 miles or so out to the sandy islands of Houat or Hoedic . Out here the sea breeze is fresh and the swimming bracing so after a day or 2 we sail back in ( with the huge tide under us ) and spend another 2 days exploring one of the rivers in the canoe or frightening ourselves ferry gliding across the huge tides in the narrows whilst Festina is anchored snugly further in.

From last morbihan

Various people have been asking us when we are coming back . In fact , we have been asking ourselves the same question and then studiously ignoring it! No doubt the weather will come to an end soon and home will begin to seem more appealing , but for now Festina and her crew are living the life of Riley , completely un-blobbed – somewhere on the Atlantic coast of France.

From last morbihan

It is now a week since we arrived in France from the Azores. Bryony has gone home and the weather is much nicer down here in South Brittany than it appears to be back in the Channel. There is no reason to rush home so we decided to take our time and enjoy all those things we like about France ; the food , the markets , cafe life and the general boat friendly atmosphere of the region.
The problem is that after a year of operating to a definite plan , always moving onwards to the tune of the climate and its seasons , we feel in limbo and are inclined to just stay put. We are currently in the wonderful old medieval city of Vannes , at the head of the Morbihan , and stayed an extra night so as to go to a concert of Chanson Marins – sea shanties. If we were to stay another few nights there is a jazz festival here and the week after that a festival of classical music on the Islands of the Morbihan. I guess it was always going to be a bit of an anticlimax once we had finished the trip , especially as we have genuinely no idea what is next in store for us. We always said that we would get home before deciding where to go in life ( physically and metaphorically ) and I suppose part of the reason for staying around here is to postpone those decisions.
The weather is a bit of a shock .We anchored off the classic beach of Houat on a gorgeous sunny day , but the fresh breeze was so cold we had to put the tent up. After a year of wearing shorts and tee shirts one forgets about the Northern European climate! The other noticeable thing is the sheer number of boats around , and of course unlike the Caribbean , we are no longer the smallest boat in the anchorage.
We are going to move out this afternoon and blob at anchor in the Morbihan , as opposed to blobbing alongside the Quay at Vannes. Once we shake off this lethargy I suspect we will start to poke our noses into all the interesting places we missed on our previous busy , flying visits to the area. I guess we will eventually make it home , but until then , greetings from a happily blobbing Festina and crew.

Meteorology is an inexact science with an almost infinite number of variables contributing to the final outcome. The classic apocryphal tale to illustrate this is a butterfly sneezing somewhere in central America , which subtly changes its micro-environment . This change gradually feeds into the mystery that is local , regional and eventually worldwide weather with the net result that we get yet another wet Bank Holiday in Britain! Yesterday I wrote ( rather smugly I suspect!) about the miracle of modern forecasting making life on the ocean wave so much easier , without realising that it probably irritated the hell out of Neptune. It appears he decided to teach me a lesson.

First he put a hex on the computer – or perhaps the sat phone. Whatever it was , for the first time for a year we were incommunicado and were back to the traditional weather forecasting of barometer and an eye on the horizon. Next , possibly because the effect of butterflies has been overrated , he caused a whole pod of whales to fart somewhere off the Azores , with the result that a small low which had been confidently predicted to be of no consequence , took on a new lease of life , picked up vast quantities of water in the form of thunder clouds , and headed east.

The first indication that all was not well was when Lynda woke me just before dusk saying “I don’t like the look of those clouds astern!” Neither did I! They were tall dark and ugly, with those curly bits at the bottom which suggest you treat them with respect. Rapidly we shifted jibs and slabbed 3 reefs ( having “confidently “ expected a quiet night) and retreated below as the heavens opened. By midnight we had a steady 30 knots and rain of tropical intensity , so handed the main and lashed the boom to the deck. Through the night the rain increased to biblical proportions and we surfed downwind with practically nil visibility . Now came Neptune’s piece de la resistance , as we began to meet ships converging towards and emerging from the Ushant TSS. Thankfully we could identify them from the AIS , but radar was almost useless for both them and us as the intensity of the rain and echoes from the thunderheads obliterated all “proper” echoes until we were within 5 miles. We changed down to trysail and storm jib to be better able to manoeuvre and spent a busy few hours talking our way round them on the VHF , Lynda in the bubble peering into the murk and me glued to the nav screen like a TV addict. As dawn arose Neptune played his next card . It was now blowing 35 knots and we were approaching the continental shelf where the depth falls from several thousand to less than 200 metres in a matter of miles. I thought it would probably be OK , but it did add to the uncertainty. We went round the boat above and below lashing and stowing everything that could move and as we entered the shelf zone he played his final trump card ,sweeping the cold front past us and shutting off the wind. This left us rocking and clattering in the very rough seas which would have slatted the sails to bits had we hoisted any more. The only thing to do was turn on the engine , pull our storm sails in tight to reduce the rolling a tiny bit and admit that however many modern toys we might have , Neptune ,should he so wish , can still have the final word.

Having made his point , he soon relented and gave us a fresh SW for our final 100 miles to Belle Isle. With 3 of us to stand watch we rapidly caught up on sleep and are now anchored off Le Palais awaiting the tide to allow us to lock in to this little port. Many years ago my father and sister came here in a Brixham trawler and managed to spear a car parked on the quay with their bowsprit ,and I have been longing to visit the crime scene ever since . We are thinking of changing our surname in case the locals still remember!

With 3 on board it was noticeably less hard work in the difficult bits ,although of course there was less to do in the easy times , but on the whole I think 3 is an ideal number for long passage making. The last 100 miles were a pleasant end to a pleasant and companiable trip ( Neptune notwithstanding!) , and of course the last bit of unknown waters as we are now back in our old stamping ground. I wonder how we will feel it compares with the more “exotic” locations of the past year? But for now Festina and her crew send their regards to everyone from the chilly (17 degrees C!) but familiar waters of South Brittany . All well.

Technical difficulties are preventing the regular updates from the good ship Festina.
Normal service will (hopefully) be restored tomorrow.
All are well at a position approx 100 miles west of Belle Isle, at 1700 UT today.

Close , but no cigar
Yesterdays challenge was to cross a ridge of high pressure into the Northerly winds on the other side that would take us reaching in to South Brittany. With this in mind we were much quicker than usual to pile on sail after the previous nights blow but despite splendid progress the wind died at midnight leaving us crashing around in the leftover waves and going nowhere. This morning we have a very light and variable Southerly which , as it is on the beam , is giving us fair progress , but we think we are on the wrong side of the ridge so it is likely to peter out again soon as we sail in to it again. There is a small high over the Scillies , extending South to us with little in the way of wind to take us home . The good news however is that this same system should give Ben and Steph a nice Northerly to cross the Channel and kick start their holiday cruise.
Ocean sailing must have been so much more difficult before accurate forecasts were available . Today , if the barometer is falling and the wind building , we have a fairly good idea of what is coming and can reduce sail in advance of the s#*t hitting the fan , or even turn round and go the other way to avoid the worst of it. Until fairly recently a boat in the same situation would have no idea if they were in for a good hard , but safe , blow that they can use to their advantage – or if it would turn in to a dangerous storm. Then again they didn’t have self steering and would have to spend hours on end at the tiller in all weathers instead of ducking inside into shelter when the going is rough or cold. We definitely have it easy these days!
Not so the fish ! We are back in factory fishing seas. Last night we had to avoid 3 enormous fishing boats no doubt hoovering up all life below us. There are still whales and dolphins about but at 250 miles from land it seems the fishes start to get a hard time. On Festina the yellow flag has been lowered as most of the crew are fighting fit and the 3rd one is still eating for Britain so must be on the mend. Sailing with 3 is really very relaxing with none of that feeling of exhaustion that comes before you get into the instant sleep pattern of 2 handed sailing. The only drawback is that you need many more books , but it looks as if our library will hold out the 2 or 3 days that we need to get in .Where we will go is still a mystery , but today’s grib file and tonight’s wind should make it clear. Unless we get a SE wind ,my money is between Belle Isle and the Glenan’s .
At noon our position is 46 40 N 10 03 W, 250 miles from land and 150 from the continental shelf which I am looking forward to crossing as it will be interesting to see waht difference it makes.
All well.

We had a long debate last night whether we should change down to the trysail. The wind was only 22 knots and we were sailing along in splendid comfort with the 3rd reef down , and the latest grib didn’t show the increase we had previously been warned of. Eventually caution overcame valour and we lashed the boom down and hoisted the trysail , scarcely losing any speed and ready for anything. One of the advantages of a relatively light , easily driven boat is that we can still make good speed with small sails , and it has been our habit to snug down at night to whatever rig the boat can cope with and sail herself without any input from ourselves. It was a good move as the wind gradually built through the completely black night and just before dawn we had a steady 35 knots in torrential rain. Our boomless rig coped perfectly ( I feel sure that with the main up we would have dragged the boom in the water in one of the more energetic rolls) and I was able to sit perfectly dry in the” bubble” and marvel at the ease with which the boat coped with the situation. The cold front coincided with the dawn and we are now skipping along in bright sunshine and a gradually diminishing wind and sea.

Dawn also brought a group of spouting whales , one so close that we literally had to slalom round it. Bryony thinks it was fin whale – it was certainly impressively big and we get the impression that there are quite a lot of these giant creatures around , hopefully a good sign of the health of at least the ocean even if the inshore fisheries are dangerously depleted.

Festina should probably be flying a Q flag, as her crew are a bit depleted as well. I have been mildly under the weather for a few days , Bryony scared us with right sided tummy pain ( at 600 miles from anywhere this gave pause for thought !) but thankfully has recovered , and now Lynda is down with a lurg. Luckily the boat just sails herself and no doubt by the time we reach dry land we will all be fighting fit and up for a celebration ashore.

Where this will be is still undecided , although our current heading would take us to the Scillies. For the present we are whooshing past 46 06N 13 23 W, with 350 miles to the Scillies and a further 90 to Belle Isle. The boat is fine and the crew are only slightly under par and looking forward to a shower this evening to celebrate ¾ of the way to somewhere!

All well.

Festina continues to make good progress home with a gradually increasing SW wind ( currently averaging 22 knots) under her belt. There is a fair old NW swell giving a considerable cross sea , so we have definitely left our calm conditions behind us. Actually a “cross” sea is a very good description and as ever I am very glad we are not going the other way , but with small sails we are swooping along in relative comfort however grumpy the seas appear to be. Our only reason to be grumpy is that the rougher conditions appear to have swallowed the wildlife , and it is over 24 hours since we saw any cetaceans. We have even run ahead of our friendly Frenchman, although we did have 2 ships pass in the night , bound for Miami.
I cant quite get my head round the fact that the Fastnet rock is our nearest bit of land ( if you don’t count Finisterre) , and a full 110 miles closer than Belle Isle. I always regarded the Azores as being “just “ off the coast of Portugal , whereas in fact they are nearly in the middle of the Atlantic . Hence Ireland , way out to the west , is easily the nearest bit of northern Europe. We still don’t know where we will head for , and for the moment are riding this SW airstream in the general direction of the Channel , and when it runs out in a couple of days we will see where the next wind blows us.

Noon today finds us at 45 02N 16 47W , 530 miles from Ushant , 508 to Scilly , 153 miles noon to noon despite our small sails , and well over half way to wherever we end up. All well.

Yesterdays pessimisms has so far proven to be unfounded. We did have the occasional shower but they were so light it was scarcely worth putting oilies on – all we had to do was go below for a cup of tea and it was dry again! The wind has behaved impeccably , gradually increasing and backing overnight so that we are now running with the wind on our quarter , currently no more than force 5. The night may have been overcast and pitch black but the sun is now out and life is good.

Just after dawn a French yacht called us up to say he could see us , and sure enough , there he was a couple of miles astern. She is a 1970’s ketch rigged Nicholson 49 who left France 21 years ago to do a circumnavigation , and after that was based in Martinique from where they explored the Western Caribbean over the years. His home port is St Martin on the I de Re , just north of La Rochelle so we are heading more or less the same way. It is nice to know its not just us and the whales out here!

Talking of whales , they are much harder to spot now that we have a significant sea running. Last night Bryony spotted some big “blows” on the horizon. They were much bigger than sperm whale blows – about 10 of them , followed by 10 more after 10 minutes. Looking at the books we think they were a big pod of fin whales preparing for a deep dive.

The weather is looking good , with about 3 more days of SW wind in a narrow band between here and the Channel. Unfortunately we will be less than halfway across the Bay of Biscay before they run out and they will probably then come from a Northerly direction . We have arranged to speak with our French friends on the VHF radio after today’s forecast so we can discuss tactics , and have our fingers firmly crossed that the winds become NW and not NE. Life on board is easy with 3 of us on board and our book store is being consumed at a great rate. I am getting some stick as I have picked up one of the girls chic-lit specials – and secretly enjoying it- but I am refusing to admit it to them!

So apart from some teasing , it is a harmonious crew who are passing 44 04N 19 57 W , 450 miles West of the NW tip of Spain and 2/5th ‘s of the way there – wherever “there” is!

All well

Yesterdays wind arrived right on time, at noon , and we have been pottering downwind under kite ever since . The wind was initially WNW which gave us a tight angle and good speed , but it has gradually backed so that we have to sail high of the course to keep the speed up , and even then are barely managing 5 knots. The way home looks complex and a bit like an Ordinance Survey map of the area around Salisbury , with a narrow ridge of high pressure from Brest to Finisterre and a low building to the NW . At present the plan is to sail along the West side of the ridge without going too far down into the valley until we are sure the low is not going to be vicious . Yesterdays gribs suggest it remains shallow , but moves SW towards us , so I will err on the cautious side as I don’t trust these secondary lows.

It would be hard to imagine a nicer start to the trip. The sailing has been gentle and effortless in warm sunny conditions, and if we no longer have the uncanny smoothness of the upwind start ( upwind sailing in light airs is more comfortable and faster than downwind , which tends to be rolly and clattery) we still don’t have to do anything other than keep an eye on the autopilot and adjust a sheet every few hours. This leaves us free to eat , sleep , read , natter and above all marvel at the wild life around us . The best time to spot whales and dolphins appears to be dawn , and above all , dusk. We think that the whole food chain moves to the surface for the night and so the cetaceans don’t have to dive for food but herd them into bait balls at the surface and gorge mightily. The first sign is a group of birds circling and diving , and beneath this you see what looks like a tide race , but is in fact splashes caused by the excited dolphins. Often , they will leap high in to the air and belly flop , presumably to further confuse the fish , although we like to think it might be for our benefit as well! Just for fun we have been keeping a “cetacean log” and it currently stands at 150!
Our destination is still uncertain , but hopefully today’s grib files will help us choose. As I write , the skies are covering and it looks as if rain will not be far behind so perhaps it was all too good to last. Looking on the positive side , wet and windy weather should get us in faster and the decks need a wash ! Meanwhile , from 43 N 23W , which is 600 miles W of Finisterre , the 3 crew of Festina send you our greetings .
All well.

Our delicious breeze ran out at 1500 yesterday , and we have been chugging over glassy seas all night. The indications are that we have crossed the centre of the ridge as the pressure has dropped by 1 mm and there is now a faint breath of wind from the W. We tried sailing at dawn but the wind fell away as soon as we had the sails up, so it was back to the iron topsail ! Fingers crossed for the kite and blissful peace by lunchtime.
As the sun approached the horizon last night we were surrounded by sea life. The shearwaters , which during the day had appeared to be snoozing in sociable rafts , woke up and led us to several large schools of busily fishing dolphins . Bryony then sighted two separate pods of sperm whales , each with an associated group of large active dolphins . In complete contrast to our last passage , these dolphin were too busy to come and play around the bow, and we wonder if they were a different species to the common and spotted dolphin we have seen before.. The ones around the whales were very distinctly dark above and white below , compared with the common dolphin which have a more intricate pattern of colouring. We have tentatively identified them as Atlantic white sided dolphin , even though they are supposed to be rare. The water is covered with a flowery white kind of seaweed which I had never seen before and night watches are enlivened by myriad fish leaving phosphorescent trails like a firework burst in the water as we pass through the shoals. We fished some of the “flowers “ out this morning and they are in fact multiple stalk barnacles floating on a kind of jelly ball. We put one in a glass of sea water and they all opened up and started busily feeding on the plankton . Lets hope they are not shedding babies that are attaching themselves to the hull as on our outward crossing.
If all goes to plan we should be able to turn East onto a rhumb line course by lunchtime. There is a little low predicted to form quite close to us , and this will dictate our course for the next few days , but it should be predominantly downwind . Meanwhile life is pleasant aboard the good ship Festina and at 1200 Z we are passing 42 11N 25 19 W with about 998 miles to run to Belle Isle , 906 to Scilly and only 851 to the Fastnet Rock , so all options are open.
All well.

On our return to Angra do Heroismo after Bryonys graduation we found that the crowds had dispersed and it was back to its slightly sleepy, attractive old self. The sun was shining and it would have been very easy to stay for weeks , chatting to the fellow sailors that were lapping up the warm friendly atmosphere. Some were old friends who like us were returning back to Europe from the Caribbean. Others , obvious from their lack of tan , were on their way South or just doing a short circuit of the Azores and perhaps Madeira. According to the forecasts , wherever you were bound there wasn’t going to be much wind ,as the Azores high was plonked firmly on top of us and we looked like having to motor 200 miles North to get in to the Westerlies. Nonetheless we eventually tore ourselves away on Sunday afternoon and settled down to the last of our long passages.

Actually , this gentle start suited us perfectly as it would allow Bryony to develop her sea legs before the boisterous conditions that we anticipated later in the week. 24 hours later the conditions are certainly gentle and to our delight we haven’t had to use the engine at all , but instead are gliding upwind over the smoothest sea imaginable at nearly 6 knots . The wind is mostly Easterly with just enough swell to get used to sea going motion once more. The night treated us to a magnificent array of blazing stars , the cetacean count is already 50, and with 3 of us on board we clocked up 9 hours sleep each so as you can see life is almost too good to be true.

At midday our position is 40.5 N 27W , 120 miles N of Terceira and currently on course for Iceland! We have yet to decide where to aim for and might eventually head for South Brittany rather than come straight home as we don’t really want the adventure to stop. No doubt the winds will decide !
All well on board.

From Angra do Heroisma

It is now a week since we arrived in this Renaissance city in the middle of the Atlantic. Terceira ( literally “third” in Portuguese ) may have been the 3rd Azorean island to be discovered , but rapidly became the most important due to the excellent shelter provided by the little volcanic peninsula which juts out into the Atlantic at Angra. In the 16 th century , as now , the Azores lay directly in the route of all ships sailing home from both the Americas and the Indies , and as the best natural harbour , Angra was literally at the centre of world trade ,and prospered accordingly. At the end of the 16th century , Portugal suffered 60 years of Spanish rule , and the Castilian regime built an enormous fortress to protect the anchorage , and the treasure ships that lay there , from English and Moorish pirates. If the locals are to believed the enormous walls also served to protect the Spanish garrison from the fiercely Portuguese Terceiran population.
Centuries passed and ships became bigger and less dependant on this pit stop in the Atlantic , and the Azores lost their central place in world trade. The anchorage here was no longer big enough to service modern shipping and Terceira slipped gently off the radar. World War 2 brought them into the big picture again when Salazar , the Portuguese dictator , agreed to an allied airbase being created here , and the continuing presence of the Americans to this day has helped maintain the standard of living on the island. With the advent of regular transatlantic yachting the Azores have once more become an important stopover , and if Horta , with its artificial harbour , has become the centre of this resurgence , at least the scale of Angra’s little bay is once more suited to the transatlantic travellers who are much the same size as the Caravels of the 16th century.
Today’s visitors are charmed by the beautiful 16 th and 17th century houses , churches and public buildings . Inland the fertile volcanic soils is farmed intensively with a pretty patchwork of small fields that is suited to the intensive cattle raising which is the main focus of the agriculture . This in turn is reflected in the city which is bullfighting mad and our visit coincided with a week -long festival of parades , music and ,rather worryingly , bull running in the streets. From a safe distance we rooted for the bulls which seemed to us to be getting the raw end of the deal , even if they were deeply stupid and unable to distinguish between a harmless cape and the infinitely more goreable human hiding behind it.

From Bull fighting in Terceira

The harbour is the epicentre of the musical activities with bands of various description playing til the wee small hours . The early ones were slightly dodgy rock bands playing all the old favourites , followed by more Latin influenced rock early in the week. On Tuesday we had a night of Fado , the traditional music of Portugal. This lot were great ,with a girl singer of real talent backed by 3 guitarists of equal musicianship and the fact that we couldn’t understand a single word didn’t stop us being swept up in the emotion of the event and joining in all the choruses!

From Festival

Wednesday saw the busiest night so far with various ferries arriving from the other islands packed with revellers. All the various villages and organisations on the islands have societies which parade behind a marching band , each with up to a hundred men and woman in smart uniforms and swirly skirts singing and dancing to their own particular tune. We took our place in the streets to cheer and clap them on and by 11pm were already quite literally clapped out , only to discover that there were another 20 groups to go. We crept to bed at 2 am leaving the streets still heaving with good natured revellers aged 5 to 75 , most of whom were intent on partying til dawn.

From Festival

The following morning we drove to the airport through a completely deserted island. Those few poor souls who were on duty at the check-ins looked very much the worse for wear which was perhaps why the plane that was to take us to England for a week ( to Bryonys graduation) was so late. But that’s another story.

From Back across the atlantic

Our last day at sea was remarkably pleasant , going to windward in 10 to 12 knots on a lovely sunny day. With 30 miles to go the wind dropped and once more blew directly from Horta so we reached for the ignition switch and motored in.
Horta is heaving. Last year 1300 boats passed through in this couple of months , and although it looks like the numbers are down somewhat , we are number 650 this year and it seems that most of the boats are still here , with more arriving every day. I would say that we have seen 3/4 of the boats elsewhere during our travels and are friendly with a good percentage of them so the social whirl is intense . In between the parties we spent the first 2 days doing some maintenance jobs and taking the steering apart yet again , although we are none the wiser for the experience! There was a window for a very light weather passage to the UK and for a while we were seriously considering putting to sea again immediately , but sanity returned and we have started to relax and enjoy this charming island.

From Back across the atlantic

There is a tradition that every boat that passes through leaves a painting on the harbour wall. It is actively encouraged and is a fascinating record as well as a tribute to the artistic skills that exist amongst the yachties. The last time I was here we didn’t have time to leave our mark , but as you will see from the picture , Festina has joined the transatlantic club – at least until wind and weather erode the painting and another generation of sailors paint over the top.

From Back across the atlantic

The whaling tradition of the islands continue , but translated into whale watching and we joined one of the small boats for a morning to try and pick up some tips. We learnt that our “fin whale “ sightings were in fact sperm whales , and in fact saw 7 more , enthralled by the iconic sight of their tail flukes pointing skywards as they slid under the waves. The local boats are supported by land based spotters who guided us to the whales , despite them being 5 or more miles from the observation posts. It was difficult enough to spot the spouts from even half a mile away so these guys must be incredibly skilful. It just goes to show that no matter how many books you might have – learning from someone with real experience is the only sure way to learn about anything.
The current plan is to sail to the island of Terceira , fly home briefly for Bryony’s graduation , then back for the last leg . First we have to survive our first attempt on a scooter for 35 years , which is todays adventure – but as long as that goes OK we will set out this evening for an overnight passage. One way or the other we will see you all soon.