She arrived with tales of her adventure with Johnny from Sao Miguel (gave her a tour of the island during a 10 hour layover) and we are so very happy to have her here. Our Horta crew is complete and we’re celebrating with some excellent vino from friends Kym and Paul (we may need to send this bottle out to sea with a note like we did with Andrea’s).
Now, off to spend some time with another female outlook. (And, yes, she did use her napkin last night like I did.)
Just wanted to show you what greeted us when we got off Juanona after sailing around all Thursday night to avoid surge in Lajes marina. Faja Grande was like stepping into a fairy tale (without the ogres).
We then strolled to the north up a hill…
Took photo of the boys
then headed down
and, since all hot and sweaty, we took the opportunity to use a roadside cold water basin to cool off
followed by dip in a water pool (wearing our clothes as didn’t want to scare the locals)
And, because of the dunk and dip, the pillowcases stayed clean…
I mean ‘sea’, on the sea again as we traverse the 130 or so miles from Flores to Faial. It’s my watch (11p-2a) and every now and then I check the horizon for any other lights indicating boats to avoid.
So far it’s been just a sea of blue with only a dot (turtle) of another life since we left this early morning.
Now, at 12:54p it’s just me (I), the night sky and waters, and the ever-present snack bin.
Earlier we did have another occasion to address dining etiquette with both Max and Dick deigning to use their napkins, something I toss at them whenever there’s a meal.
Of course, today they used them only after they first tried their ever-present ones, their shirt collars.
It was during this time I realized tomorrow/today is a shower day. Then gasped for the last time was five days ago. I summoned a wee bit of relief when I remembered we had dunk our heads in a cold waterhole alongside the road on Friday followed by a dip in a waterfall; but, still, that was FRIDAY. At least we had had showers Thursday for I forbade anyone putting their unwashed heads on the clean pillow cases I had put out in honor of reaching land.
Mirroring that hygiene scare is our lack of fresh clothes. The only laundry I’ve done since June 6th were a few pieces of underwear and a pair of quick-dry pants each for both Dick and me. However, this doesn’t faze Max who, when questioned why he didn’t put on a clean shirt after his first shower (or second one for that matter) announced he had three of the same shirt. Only after seeing three in the dirty laundry bag did I believe him… I fear, Carol E., I am falling into a dangerous habit here.
We did toss another message-in-a-bottle using one gifted to us by my friend Andrea who, in deference to my supposedly wine snobbery, had found the perfect brand to grace Juanona’s wine cellar.
Now it’s 1:10a and I’m looking forward to when I can crawl back into my berth and dream of freshly laundered clothes.
YAHOO! woken up just before 7a to help dock at Horta’s reception office. One hour later, after hosing the boat down and stuffing odiferous items into canvas bags, we’ve stumbled to what I’ve been praying for since we left: washing machines, dryers, and showers!
Eduardina, the attendant at Horta’s laundry and shower services, has become my new best friend. After taking one look at me and the bags she immediately started quickly pointing to the timers on the spinning washing machines saying ‘only trece minutes’ for one followed by subsequent points to the three others. Then, she said ‘shower?’
After explaining I’d been on a boat with two hombres, the three of us taking showers every FIVE days (oy) and no laundry since June 6, she looked into my eyes, tenderly brushed the matted hair off my forehead and smiled with so much understanding I nearly went down on my knees to kiss her feet. My prayers have been answered: I have found a goddess on earth and she comes with clean machines.
I’m still getting use to this blogging tool, so I’m unsure as to why the first photo for Friday didn’t post. Anyhoo, here it is again as it was so perfect for being our last morning at sea, including being welcomed to Flores by a group of cavorting dolphins
Sunday we awoke knowing yet another day on this island was going to be something to savor and hold tight in our hearts; and, this was so, so true.
After our now standard boat breakfast of yogurt and fruit we headed to Maresia for our rendezvous with Ana and Orlando.
One of the immediate draws for me was the music seductively wafting from this open-air cafe. With my no-small nose tunes that Jorge was playing were as enticing as any aroma of savory dishes. When I asked about his music, he led me to his ensemble and proudly identified some exceptional stereo equipment as well as the playlist streaming from his computer.
I carefully noted some of the musicians and songs while scribbling down a few of my favorite alternative artists. One group did give me pause as they’re called ‘Bonobo,’ which, I believe, is a species of apes who settle any and all disputes with sex… but, what can I say, their music (the group’s, not the apes’) was very appealing.
I must admit seeing his set-up reminded me both of my college roommate’s (Carol Williams) arrangement (with her carefully tended, reel-to-reel tape player, she had studiously recorded all the Beatles albums) and one of the best musical investments I’ve ever made (I purchased an amplifier, stereo, and speakers with some of my waitressing funds based on advice from my friend Robbie Meredith–to me, a guru of anything to do with electronics of which I am most certainly not). Seeing Jorge’s equipment made me wistful for my long-ago system.
While waiting Emanuel mentioned Jorge had gone fishing with Bruno and should be returning within the half hour.
Remembering the fish from yesterday we were thinking lunch just might be in order. Sure enough, the fishermen arrived and lunch was a go.
However instead of fish Jorge showed us some lobster-like critters he had been keeping in the water for a few days.
Dick and I quickly agreed to splitting one of those while Max decided on a steak. And, the artistry of a gourmet lunch commenced…
including homemade hollandaise sauce
and french fries
We were presented with a gourmand’s delight
and we left barely a bite uneaten
I promise, Jorge and Emanual, a Trip Advisor five-star review will be posted by me.
And, just a note for our friends Rob and Shawn: yes, a red, fleece jumper seems to be the requisite attire for a manly Maine sailor; although, as you saw earlier this year, Max decided to change his color hue to blue. Have no doubt Max still holds on to his original red ones, ones with which he and Dick excitedly compared scorched marks on the sleeves.
But, WAIT!, there’s more! And, when we say more, we mean M O R E: Ana and Orlando arrived and we were whisked off to Santa Cruz for a time that even now makes me grin.
Orlando’s home is lovely with an uninterrupted view of the sea
and a separate garage/apartment/communal kitchen in the back
While Orlando went for his daily visit to see his elderly mother (recently widowed she lives in a nursing home nearby), the three of us strolled around Santa Cruz. Taking a right outside his front door, within three minutes we were at the natural pool and cafe where they were gearing up for the World Cup game. Continuing our walk we came upon one of the few hotels, and this one was a beaut. Once again, as Max and I have done on our travels, we thought this was definitely up to our sisters’ standards. The receptionist invited us to look around, including checking out the pool. I could’t help myself: I had to stick my toe in that water as I’m a total sucker when it comes to pools (just ask Betsy). Bliss. And, no jellyfish, just lounging hotel guests looking at me as if I’m nuts. Must have had something to do with my tongue hanging out and eyes rolling back in my head.
Hotel das Flores, Santa Cruz, Flores, email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Returning to another slice of heaven, Orlando’s abode, we met Pedro and Ricardo, both colleagues at the hospital where Orlando works. These young men emigrated from the mainland (Portugal) after applying for and winning contracts from the government, Pedro in the lab and Ricardo in radiology.
Anna, who’s a teacher, also had a friend and colleague joining us, another Ana. We soon grew to nine when Peter, Pedro’s brother-in-law, arrived, and the feast began.
Ricardo, a hunter as well as someone who loves to cook, began his rabbit stew while Orlando prepared the grill for fresh fish.
The two Annas sent out hors d’ouerves
while preparing a beautiful salad
and a delicious Portuguese dessert called sweet rice by Ana 2.
Dinner was devoured amidst conversations in Portuguese, French, Spanish and English, with our Portuguese friends puttings us three Americans to shame with their ability to speak English much better than our ability to converse in Portuguese.
While waiting for the World Cup Portugal vs. US game (Libby-lou, we definitely participated in the cheering, although it was difficult to pick a side),
Max toasted our hosts with special champagne compliments of my sister Betsy
and, we were so very, very happy to be here.
Unfortunately, we had to return to Faja Grand. After multiple hugs and dual kisses with Ricardo, Pedro, and Peter, we had to then leave Orlando. A teary good-bye and tight embraces got us into the car where, at least, some solace was knowing we had some time with the two Ana’s on the ride across the island.
And, that ride was a hoot, with Ana driving and pointing out the sights when it’s pitch black and Ana 2 in the back between me and Dick inserting comments such as ‘Oh yes, look at this rock, and yes, yes, the cow, and oh, another rock’ of which the only thing we could all see was the road illuminated by headlights. Those headlights came in handy at the end as Anna dropped us off and ensured we could find out dinghy by using her car as a spotlight.
All I can say is we could never, ever get enough of our new-found friends Ana and Orlando (the latter now christened “of Flores”) and their family of friends. Two such people are gems of the world, and we can only hope we will meet up again.
And, soon Juanona’s crew will be complete with the arrival of Gail, Dick’s wife, whom we’re looking forward to meeting in Horta on Wednesday. For me it’s an added bonus because I will have another female for whom napkins are a standard accompaniment to a meal versus males who delicately wipe their lips on shirt collars.
Talk about a day in paradise. On Summer Solstice/Sailstice (wearing now one of my favorite t’shirts for Summer Sailstice thanks to our friend John Arndt) we were going to rent a car to toddle around Flores. To do so meant hiring a taxi to travel from Faja Grande to Santa Cruz, roughly 15 minutes to the NE coast. Jorge, the owner and chef of Maresia (“smell of the sea”, a name with which we may now christen our dinghy, and where we partook of some libations our first night at anchor, and subsequent times, but more of that later), called a cab.
After which an omelette seemed in order…
Well, squash the cab plans. Silvio arrived who also offers tours, and, after ten minutes of explaining the benefits of his services as a guide vs. just a cab to the rental agency we were so sold on this guy’s warmth and sales technique it was a big “DU-UH”, i.e., how could we even contemplate breathing Flores air without his knowledge and smile.
So, be advised: any one coming to this island MUST meet Silvio because his commentary and friendliness was a brilliant start to our Saturday morning (www.toursofflores.com). FLores was our favorite Azorean island in 2002 and this visit only makes it more so with…
walls decorated with hydrangea (which, like most of the flora and fauna here, were brought by sailors from another country, but not by the one in this photo…),
far-reaching vistas of land and sea (Corvo in the background),
patches of lava stone (which always brings to mind our geologist friend Joanne Urquhart),
The island continually provided us with a reminder of what the color green should be.
Dick and I kept thinking a hobbit or two will appear as this countryside is perfect for a LORD OF THE RINGS setting.
Part of the tour was Max’s lesson in how to say ladybug in Portuguese. It all began the day before upon announcing to the young marina official (also cute but, alas, no camera with me) ‘Juanona’ meant ladybug in their language. He politely told us, well, no, not quite. Ladybug is actually Joininiah. After nine times trying to pronounce it, enough so that the marina guy knew at this point he had three loopy new-arrivals cluttering his office, we packed up our papers and Azorean tourist pamphlets and exited with tongues still sloshing in our mouths unattractively with this newly acquired name for ladybug.
Fast forward to our unsuspecting tour guide Silvio, and Max pounced. Silvio graciously began teaching Max while Dick and I stood back waiting for the saliva sure to come our way. Although, we, too, didn’t waste an opportunity to twist our mouths around this Portuguese term. Dick later suggested putting Silvio’s tutoring on continuous loop and providing Max with headphones. Not a bad idea. (see below, and you may need to copy and paste)
Due to a prior engagement we only had Silvio for the first part of our tour, but he handed us over to Mateos, his father, who kindly shepherded us for the latter half of our day. With an accompanying whistling, he ensured we had every opportunity to partake of more Flores sights and sounds including the lovely church in Santa Cruz where Max gave thanks for our safe passage (no telling what Mateos was thinking)
encountering an amazing natural swimming pool just down the road (trust me, she does have a suit on)
[Just a brief aside about these waters: they are so absolutely inviting I desperately wanted to jump in for a swim; however, I recalled from our last time here I didn’t because of jellyfish. And, if I needed any more reminders all I had to do was remember the small man-of-war I saw floating by as we dinghies to shore. That, and having a local show me her scar from her encounter last summer with one.]
Dick met the lighthouse keeper’s dogs, which showed more interest in our arrival than the young man tending the grounds.
At one point Mateos suddenly pulled over at a spot on the road that to us seemed rather nondescript. Hopping out of the van he crosses to the green wall of moss coating the other side of the road.
We’re wondering what the big deal is when he sticks his hand into the moss only to have it disappear up to his forearm. Now that’s what I call lush.
One of the most memorable scenes of our day: two friends walking home together at day’s end.
But, our day didn’t end there. Upon returning to Maresia we found Jorge had purchased a fish from Bruno and was seducing us with a dinner, which would be difficult to refuse after partaking of that omelette this morning.
And, because of our contemplating that dinner we met two of the most wonderful people, Anna and Orlando, the latter who quickly qualified his name as “Not from Florida”. Orlando, a Flores native, runs the lab in the Santa Cruz hospital, and Ana, born in Angola and raised in Portugal, is a teacher and an artist. These two friends have become two people who have enriched our lives to the most stupendous degree.
Before the night was over, we decided to NOT leave Flores for Horta, Faial, Sunday as planned but to go to Orlando’s house for dinner in Santa Cruz. That’s after we regretfully declined dinner at Ana’s for the night. And so, with starry eyes and soft smiles on our faces, the three of us headed to the wharf thinking oh what a beautiful day, oh what a beautiful evening indeed.
Because my blob blogging was intermittent at best these past two weeks, I’ll just mention a few highlights per day. I may call on crew member Dick Stevens, whom we were extremely fortunate to snag as our third voyager, to help me with some of these events (he was a much more faithful scribe with his log).
So, off we go…
JUN 6 Day 1: Set off at 9am from Orr’s-Bailey Yacht Club (OBYC) with hugs and waves and a special guardian angel charm in my pocket and a butterfly one on my necklace;
then initiated diet plan promptly at 1:36pm, i.e., started my normal course of being seasick. oh joy. but did complete my night time watches (8-11p and 5-8a).
JUN 7 Day 2: Managed to get spinnaker wrapped around one of the lines only to have Max climb the mast to free it up while Dick and I tried to help from below… success (thank king neptune)
All settling into a routine with prepping meals, washing dishes
checking weather and route
and catching naps when off watch. Juanona starting to get into passage decor.
while dolphins appear.
JUN 8 Day 3: Realizing that passage hygiene is now in full force with Dick, I’m ashamed to say, beating me to the first underwear change. Spotting sargasso seaweed and man o war jelly fish as we near the gulf stream
JUN 9 Day 4: Awaken my body during my 5am watch by dancing to “Happy” and “September” (blessedly no photos of this) while later getting the guys to join me in another rendition of “Happy” captured by the go-pro camera facing the cockpit. Made our breakfast yogurt bowls.
Also, enjoying the other animal aboard (black spider) as it attacks its image in the starboard winch
JUN 10 Day 5: SHOWER DAY!
Boat smelling sweet. And, the closest encounter we’ve had all passage with Baltic Mercur, a cargo ship approximately 520 ft long, 69 ft wide traveling 12.5 knots.
JUN 11 Day 6: On spin cycle as we sail in a turmoil of frothing seas and high winds, even surfing down one wave to over 15 knots! Most of day spent going 8 to 10 knots, even 11, as we hunker down.
At night a big splat sounded against Juanona’s hull resulting in a burst of salty water where it travelled via the cockpit down a bit into the galley. Dick, in his aft berth, got a shot of the water, too. Not a fun way to spend the night. We are all religious about wearing our harnesses when on deck
JUN 12 Day 7: Snack Bin raid… thanks to Dick bringing aboard some tasty snacks to add to our provisioning, we have a HUGE snack bin.
Although we try to limit ourselves to just one small square of chocolate after dinner and a few fireballs during the day, I just HAVE to have something else from that pile of delicious, non-nutritious treats. Only Max seems to be able to resist the calling of the snack bin, but he’s been known to relish a fireball or two.
JUN 13 Day 8: I’m now resembling an over-ripe banana with my purple, yellow, and black bruises. Trying to perform the most elementary tasks (such as putting on foul weather pants) requires a form of athleticism more suited to a contortionist vs. a middle-age sailorette. And, if the unpredictable sway of the boat isn’t enough, there are boisterous slaps of waves against the hull that startles you just as you’re about to finish a task; and, what’s worse, bruised banana hues just aren’t my colors. But we are rewarded with a flying fish found on deck
and, captain finally gets some well-deserved sleep
while Dick performs his clean-up magic in the galley
JUN 14 Day 9: More slip sliding around… but the sunrise if gorgeous
we manage a smorgasbord lunch
and, later we believe we entice dolphins at sunset with some Pavoratti at dinner time
JUN 15 Day 10: SHOWER DAY NUMBER TWO! And, we use a mustard bottle to send a message to sea
Have been enjoying our eggs from Two Cove Farm in Harpswell, ones we didn’t need to refrigerate as long as we turned them every day (although later we did put them in fridge just to be safe)
Captain invents best way to block out light for sleeping off watch
JUN 16 Day 11: Today I witnessed another guy thing… napkin shirts. I nearly choked when I saw Dick perform the same dining etiquette that Max does: using the shirt as their napkin.
JUN 17 Day 12: It’s another washing machine day with all of us being bounced around. It is good isometric exercise but, boy, can it make me cranky. fortunately, that can be mollified with a visit to the snack bin. Dick has figured out how to wedge himself into his berth
I’m 38 minutes into my morning watch and the clouds are just showing some peek-a-boo light as we drift 8 miles off of Flores, our first Azorean island.
Keeping an eye out for other watercraft, I see a catamaran will soon pass our stern as it most likely makes its way to the island of Fial, the most popular yachtie stop-over, roughly 135 miles to the east.
This morning, around 7am, we’ll make our way to our second landing on this westernmost Azorean island, anchoring in the harbor of Faije Grande on the the northwest coast of Flores. It’ll be our second visit in less than 24 hours. We actually arrived yesterday early afternoon at Lajes’ new marina on the southern tip of this island only to leave four hours later to find a safer spot for Juanona (and us).
After thirteen days at sea we vacated our docking berth due to forecasted surge. This unpleasant and potentially dangerous condition is created by current rushing in and out of a harbor causing boats to violently rock to and fro. A British boat at the same dock showed us their lines that had snapped clean from a previous surge, which was more than enough impetus for us to plan a quick exit.
We weren’t unfamiliar with this phenomenon. In 2002 we had stopped at this same port but anchored in the little harbor. Getting ashore using one’s dinghy was akin to being spit onto land by the King Neptune.
Those four hours ashore, though, were productive. Not only did we meet cute customs guys
but also filled one of our three water tanks, visited the post office, and purchased some fresh provisions. Dick, our great crew from Orr’s, sampled his first Azorean cheese
along with some Portugese wine, the latter being something we all agreed would have been better if never opened.
The walk straight up a hill allowed Dick and I to admire the amazing flowers from which this island earns its name. Hydrangeas,
birds of paradise,
even wild ginger (Ellen, I think of you when I see these :)
lined the streets. The volcanic soil just burst with lushness, enticing us to literally stop and smell the flora.
The three of us also walked along the sea wall in search of the sign Max’s son Chris painted back in 2002.
Putting one’s mark on the seawall was begun in Fial many years ago while a relatively recent activity in Flores. Ours was one of the first in 2002, and we really didn’t believe we’d find any evidence of it 12 years later, but we did! A bit faded but definitely there (if you knew what you were looking at).
But, back to our exit. Max orchestrated our departure: Dick on board, myself on the dock, and Max at the helm. To say it was hairy is putting it mildly.
I’m not one to easily get stomachaches from tension, but I did on this occasion. We had to time our tossing the lines with the wind and building surge only to have the engine quit while Max was backing us out within six feet of rocks. Why it cut out, we don’t know. What I do know is that it was not an event I hope to experience anytime in the future.
Now, five hours later we’re anchored in Faije Grande after following a group of dolphins along the west coast of Flores.
We’ll go ashore later just to stretch our limbs.
And, possibly, even most absolutely probably, we’ll open one of the bottles of good wishes sent with us from Maine and toast the completion of our first passage of Juanona Voyage II.
Tomorrow we leave for the Azores. Some have asked if I was going to blog about the trip, so I’m going to try to figure out how to do it with this being my first post. No guarantees on quantity or quality, just a warning: you will be subjected to my goofball sense of humor.
I thought it appropriate to return to my first passage or crossing, which was summer of 2002. That episode of my life is captured succinctly with the following email sent upon landing in Flores, one of the western-most islands of these Portuguese islands located roughly two-thirds across the Atlantic:
Tuesday, July 9, 2002 11:35 AM
Hola, I know it’s been awhile since I sent a good email to all but its taken me awhile to unwind, rewind and move forward it seems. So here’s a brief tale of my trips from USA to Bermuda (eight days) and Bermuda to Flores, one of the nine Azores islands (13 days).
DAY 1: try hard not to throw up, try harder, really really try, throw up… repeat cycle
DAY 2: get blinding headache from caffeine withdrawal because coffee out the nose can be hot on the nostrils
DAY 3: rise from hot, sticky bunk to face rolling salt water; retreat to hot, sticky bunk
DAY 3.25: contemplate launching dinghy and motoring to QE II to meet up with Joanna and Marcy
DAY 4: question purpose of my life
DAY 4.5: recover appetite; eat half of loaf of bread
DAy 5: answer purpose of my life–there is none
DAY 6: move to next hand to continue counting days since last changed pants while constantly shifting buttocks to combat sittingitus extremis
DAY 6.75: realize this is the closest I’ve come to resembling Eloise of the Plaza (storybook character) in looks and figure
DAY 7: know that “fresh air” at sea is a misnomer inside a cabin where thee adults have cohabited for six days
DAY 8: land and cafe au lait ahead…
BERMUDA (WED-SUN): get off boat, jump off cliff into water, jam two discs in back
DAY 1-13: lie loll in same hot, sticky bunk from previous eight days at sea while alternating between ibuprofen, codeine, and seasick pills
AZORES (week ago from this past Sunday to now): DAYS 1-26 were worth it.
We did have some amazing times on our first voyage as well as some quite memorable experiences such as:
I saw just how dirty ones toes can become;
but, it helped knowing we could bathe with the locals,
as well as having clean laundry facilities at our disposal.
Intelligent conversations were available if you knew where to look,
and, there were always simple games one could play with an accommodating nephew.
Food on land was generally attractively displayed,
while rides were within walking distance as long as you didn’t mind waiting.
And, there were always the times we came up with useful inventions such as how to catch flies with a large global fruit and rolling seas.
I’ve left out too many other memories especially ones where I can get sad thinking of those whom I can’t see now, such as my mom and dad; so, I won’t go there. We all have those moments so no need for me to bring them up here. Rather that I’ll think this–I have a lot more to learn and, thankfully, I have a partner with whom I can and will.
One area that’s a humongous opportunity for improvement is my sailoring skills during JV2 (Juanona Voyage II). Another is attending to a healthy lifestyle and not end up as one big blob. Why could that happen you may ask? Easily. Just ask my sister Betsy who kindly helped me categorize and quantify the dried goods being stowed aboard as part of our provisioning. As she identified and counted out loud the packets of pasta and rice, cans of peas and corn, while I typed them into a spreadsheet, her voice began to carry a note of alarm. When she just went quiet, I asked her what was wrong. Holding two bags of instant risotto she slowly raised her eyes and said in a stunned hush, you’re going to look like one big woman stepping off that boat.
Since she knows me well and since I do like to eat, I realized she’s absolutely correct. We stared at one another both of us envisioning the boat listing to whichever side I was placing my butt down. Then I smiled in relief and said, No I won’t because I’ll be throwing up all the way across the Atlantic. With that cheerful thought we returned to our task and happily began itemizing the chips and peanuts and 5-lb chocolate bars for between-meal snacking.
That aside, as I attempt blogging about this passage and voyage, know that my friends and family are key to my survival (and my husband being able to put up with me). Fortunately, I have wonderful friends and family as well as husband, so I foresee this being a heck of a lot easier than that first crossing.
As I listen to the whining sound of a last load of laundry and dream of a cafe latte (low-fat milk, of course), I’ll close without saying good-bye as I really don’t like to use that word. Instead I’ll quote one of my favorite authors:
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”