Reflections 2012
Series 6
May 25
Atlantic Isles I: Getting There - Azores: Faial/Horta

 

Amtrak Acela   Completing the last of my pre-researched notes for the Atlantic Isles trip was a busy hassle, and I completed my online notes on historical and geographic facts, pictures, and videos through Greenland (very interesting!) the afternoon of the day before I left, leaving final packing to evening. Late the next morning I took the subway to Penn Station to take the Acela to Boston, where my flight to the Azores left from, and went first to the Acela Lounge (for First Class patrons), for coffee and pastries.

 
 

First Class on the Acela IS pricey, although very enjoyable. However, this time it was free. I didn’t have enough Amtrak points accumulated, but had far more Starwood Hotel points (via my AmEx card) than I needed. The last time I used those hotel points was in Sydney and Dubai, but for this trip, the only place there were hotels in the Starwood system were in the beach resort areas to the south of Grand Canary and Tenerife. I had far better places up in the mountains to stay at (paradores, no less), so didn’t use any Starpoints for this trip. It was then an easy transfer, one-to-one, from them to Amtrak, and the Acela to Boston was free. (For the return from Boston the Acela had black-out times for points, so I scheduled a regular train--but Business Class--on points.)

 
 

Here’s a bit of an update on the Acela. It’s (so far) the only true high-speed trainset in North America, given recent setbacks in high-speed rail planning. However, it’s much slower than corresponding high-speed in Europe and Asia, since it does not have a dedicated route, and has to share the tracks with other trains. It’s highest speed on its winding route is 240 km/h (150 mph), although the average is, unfortunately, less than half that. However, it uses tilting technology to lower lateral centrifugal forces, which allows it to travel at higher speeds than the curving route would allow, without disturbing passengers. It has become popular with business travelers and has apparently captured over half the market share of air or train travelers between Washington and New York. Between New York and Boston, it has up to a 37% share of the combined market. It carried 3.2 million passengers in fiscal 2010. The busiest Amtrak route is the somewhat slower regular train, the Northeast Regional (on which I’ll return), which had 7.1 million riders in 2010, because of its lower fares and more stops. The Acela is one of the few Amtrak lines to operate at a profit, and it and the Northeast Regional generate more than half of Amtrak’s total revenue.

 
 

The comfortable first-class car is the last one. I found a nice single seat with a table to work on, facing another single across the table. Electric outlets are everywhere for laptops, and once we were out of the Manhattan tunnels, the Wifi actually did work, and I checked my emails (two involving my SATA flight and one confirming my requested dinner seating on the Deutschland), and sent a couple. There was also an online route tracker, like on airlines, and I could follow our progress on a map on the laptop. Lunch was served, as were drinks, and I enjoyed a cocktail before, Prosecco with, and Grand Marnier after. Hot towels were also distributed. I’m not so big on other first-class travel (usually overpriced), but I could get used to this, especially when free on points.

 
 

Leaving Manhattan and Queens, the New York skyline view going over the rail-only Hell Gate Bridge is formidable, and I recalled sailing under it on the catamaran to Martha’s Vineyard last summer (2011/18). This is a map of the Acela’s route (Map by Kmf164 & Aude) from Washington via New York to Boston. The Acela doesn’t stop at New London, but as we passed through it and I saw its handsome brick station building, I recalled last summer’s visit when I connected here from the LIRR and ferry to get to Boston by that former route (2011/19).

 
 

After Providence, there are the usual three Boston stops, one at Route 128 for the suburbanites (even that name reeks of car dependency), one downtown at the Back Bay station, and the final one four minutes later at Boston South Station. This is a view of an Acela train in Boston (click to enlarge). The Acela logo is visible on the side, and an Orange Line MBTA train is on the left.

 
 

Silver Line   I had quite a bit of time to kill, since a 10:15 flight had been delayed three hours further due to a strike of air controllers in Portugal, and decided to spend some time in the Acela Lounge in South Station. But finally I decided to attack the Silver Line.

 
 

I had vowed I’d never ride the newest of Boston’s “subway” lines, the Silver Line. A subway line can be heavy rail, which Boston has three of. A subway line can be light rail, which Boston’s Green Line is well-known for. But a BUS in a subway tunnel masquerading as the Silver Line of the subway? Heresy! I’d enjoyed riding buses last summer in Boston, but it took some mellowing for me to finally yield to ride the Silver Line, since it’s the one that has a direct connection from South Station to Logan Airport. It didn’t help when I read that they had at one time discussed a real light-rail line, supported by locals as well as the Sierra Club, but the MBTA instead decided on buses anyway.

 
 

SL3 and SL4 run south in the tunnel from South Station and emerge into reserved lanes on Washington Avenue, the street Washington entered Boston on after the siege. Going north is SL2 to local neighborhoods, and also SL1 to the airport. Review the route of the Silver Line on this MBTA map.

 
 

When I bought my Charlie Card last summer (2011/19), I’d calculated exactly how many trips I’d need, but ended having one fare left over since I returned differently from the Wayside Inn. I added one more (very easy via credit card in the machines), so I’d have one when I got back, and I was all set. I gritted my teeth and entered the Silver Line, shown here at the Silver Line “Subway” Station below South Station. The sight took a little getting used to.

 
 

The buses are articulated and run on overhead electric power in the “subway” tunnel. There are two more underground stops, and at the third, the bus stops, and an announcement is made that power is being turned off so that the bus can switch to diesel propulsion. I suppose the same thing happens in the other direction down Washington Avenue. We then continued a short distance on the surface, and then entered the Ted Williams Tunnel under Boston Harbor. Since this is a car tunnel, there is apparently no problem here using diesel. At the airport, the Silver Line services all four terminals.

 
 

My plan on arrival at Ponta Delgada was to connect, after less than a two-hour delay to my flight to Horta, my first destination. Because of the three-hour delay out of Boston, my connection had to be rescheduled. I would get in at 10 AM, and have to wait six hours until 4 PM, arriving in Horta at 4:50. I’d only allowed two days in Horta, and would lose a large part of the first day. Still, I could work it out. And in Boston, SATA at least gave me a meal voucher.

 
 

SATA   I’ve explained that this trip started as a trip to the Azores, to which I then added Madeira, then the Canaries, and when the MS Deutschland trip to Greenland became available, I added that as well. But my original plan was just those first three island groups, and I was pleased when I discovered that SATA made those connections without having to fly to the European continent and backtrack.

 
 

SATA is the Sociedade Açoreana de Transportes Aéreos, and is also known as SATA Air Açores. It makes the island connections mentioned, and, in additional to Portugal, has a few other connections to Europe. But it was a cultural fact that also intrigued me about SATA. SATA has three connections from the Azores to North America, but it does not fly to New York. It flies to Boston, Oakland opposite San Francisco (!!!), and Toronto. Any ideas why?

 
 

I had to smile when the reason struck me. That’s where their constituencies are! So much of southeastern Massachusetts, including Cape Cod, and particularly New Bedford and Fall River (I’ve eaten in a Portuguese restaurant there), also Rhode Island, have been settled by Portuguese since the whaling days. And as it turns out, the majority of these Portuguese are Azoreans.

 
 

These are the facts I later discovered. Azoreans have emigrated since the 17C to Brazil, the US, and Canada, and still do. Since 1960, over a quarter of the population of the Azores was lost to emigration. The US emigration was largely to the Massachusetts area, but also, northern California became the final destination of many of the Massachusetts emigrants, and some went to southern California to work in the tuna industry. In 1919, there were 300,000 people in the Azores and 100,000 Azoreans in the US. In the third quarter of the 20C, about 150,000 more Azoreans immigrated to the US. In the 1970’s there were about 83,000 Azoreans in California. No wonder SATA has these air connections.

 
 

Returning from Iceland on Icelandair, the connection to Boston was easier and cheaper, which is why this entire trip is a circle out of Boston, with train connections to New York.

 
 

Trip Time Zones   This trip around the Atlantic will involve quite a mixture of time zones. Consult this time zone map that we’ve used before to try to follow. Shown on the map are the regular times, without noting Daylight Saving Time. The below list shows standard time first, then the daylight time at this time of the year. Again, UTC is Universal Coordinated time, the former Greenwich Mean time:

 
 
 New York & Boston: UTC-5 / UTC-4
Azores: UTC-1 / UTC (0)
Madeira & Canaries: UTC (0) / UTC+1
Germany & Norway: UTC+1 / UTC+2
Shetland: UTC (0) / UTC+1
Faroes & Iceland: UTC (0) (no change)
(West) Greenland: UTC-3 / UTC-2
 
 

Make particular note how some zones are skewed around a few of the islands we’re talking about, such as the Azores and Iceland, also Madeira and the Canaries. Look how oddly Greenland is set up for zones.

 
 

In the winter, without daylight time, there would be only seven shifts, since Shetland would be the same as the next pair. But as I connect these dots at this time of the year, there are eight time changes: from New York/Boston lose four hours to the Azores, then lose one to Madeira/Canaries, lose one to Germany/Norway, gain one to Shetland, gain one to Faroes/Iceland, gain two to Greenland, lose those two again going back to Iceland to end the voyage, gain four to Boston/New York.

 
 

The Azores   The Portuguese version of the name, Açores, is pronounced a.SSOR.ish (or even as two syllables, a.SSORSH), but as is often the case, British and US pronunciation of “Azores” varies. In British English it’s pronounced a.ZORZ, perhaps closer to the original Portuguese, but in US English it’s EI.zorz (EI as in EIght). I’d always pictured the Azores somewhere vaguely in the mid-Atlantic, but now find they are actually ¾ of the way across between New York/Boston and Lisbon, all of which line up pretty much in a straight line, as the inset on this map shows.

 
 

Note on the map that the islands divide naturally into three groups. On the southeast is São Miguel, with the city of Ponta Delgada, where the flight from Boston will arrive, which I will come back to later as my third stop, and from which I’ll continue on to Madeira. Near it is small Santa Maria, which was discovered in 1427 (all the Azores were discovered by 1452), and which is the only one Columbus visited, in 1493, on the way home from his first voyage to America.

 
 

The middle cluster includes Faial, with the city of Horta, which is my first stop. Note also Pico across from Faial, whose main feature is its huge mountain, which is visible across the channel from Horta. My second stop will be Terceira, with the city of Angra.

 
 

The third cluster consists of just two islands to the northwest. To me, their main interest is that they’re “in North America”. This statement obviously requires explanation, so we should look at a map of the world’s tectonic plates. All of it’s interesting, especially the fact that some plates include continents, and others do not, notably in the Pacific. But we should concentrate on the North Atlantic, where all three plates are continental, the North American plate, the Eurasian plate, and the African plate.

 
 

Now the Azores are not only historically, culturally, and linguistically part of Portugal and Europe, they are considered to be the westernmost extent of Europe. However, while the eastern and central group of Azores are physically located on the Eurasian plate, those two western islands are on the North American plate. Still, even though the islands are split onto two plates, they’re “all in Europe”.

 
 

Let’s consider the other islands on this Atlantic Isles trip. Note that Madeira and the Canaries, “part of Portugal (Madeira) and Spain (Canaries)”, are both physically on the African plate. There’s no problem with Shetland and the Faroes being on the European plate, nor with Greenland clearly in North America, but note the fascinating geographic fact that Iceland is split down the middle between two continents. More about this when we’re there.

 
 

But we should investigate now just why the Azores and Iceland are split, and why they exist at all. We need to look at a hidden mountain range, the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. The ridge is a tectonic plate boundary on the floor of the Atlantic Ocean, and part of the longest mountain range in the world. It separates the North American plate from the Eurasian plate in the north Atlantic, and the South American plate from the African plate in the South Atlantic.

 
 

These mountains are where plates join, and the Azores are merely where the mountains break the surface, particularly that huge mountain on Pico. And we also see, that Iceland is nothing more then a very large area of exposed mountains, and where the split between continents is actually visible. The plates continue to spread at the ridge, and the average spreading rate is about 2.5 cm (1 in) per year. Again, more about the ridge later in Iceland.

 
 

We investigate as often as possible where names came from. It will surprise that the Azores are named after birds. That is, they’re slightly MISnamed after birds. In Portuguese, açor (a.SSOR) describes a kind of hawk, and corresponds to the English word “goshawk” (derived from “goose-hawk”). These açores were supposed to be a common bird at the time of the discovery of the islands. However, açores never lived on the islands. What the explorers actually found was a local subspecies of buzzard, which they misidentified. (Who said explorers were supposed to be ornithologists?) Nevertheless, the bird on the Azorean flag continues to celebrate the historical mistake by showing an açor/goshawk.

 
 

See for yourself. This is a genuine açor/goshawk, a raptor that’s the largest member of its genus; this is what is known in Portuguese as an águia-de-asa-redonda, or round-winged eagle; it’s a common buzzard, a medium-sized raptor.

 
 

That was a bit on fauna; here’s a bit on flora. The Azores are known for their flowers, particularly hydrangeas. The Portuguese name is hortênsias, which I now learn is also an alternate name in English. They were introduced to the Azores, but are now very common there. I also now learn that in most species, the flowers are white, but on the species pictured here on the Azores, they can be blue (particularly on Faial), light purple (particularly on Terceira), dark purple, red, or pink. It’s most interesting to know that the color variations are affected by the pH of the soil they grow in. This is a typical back country road in the Azores, lined with hydrangeas. This is actually true. Later on Terceira, these shrubs bordered the road for a long way. However, they weren’t as many fully in bloom as these are.

 
 

The Names “Faial” & “Horta”   The first island I visited was Faial, with its capital of Horta. I want to start with looking into both names, since these two names have interesting stories.

 
 

Faial (fah.YAL) is named after a tree that is native, curiously, just to the Azores, Madeira, and the Canaries called the faya (FAH.ya) tree. Here is some faya foliage. It’s an evergreen shrub or small tree up to 8m (26 ft) high. One curious thing about a tree they’d name an island after is that Portuguese laborers introduced it to Hawaii in the 1800’s as both an ornamental tree and to make berry wine. It was then spread throughout Hawaii as a reforestation tree in the 1920’s. This latter point came up in a Google search from Hawaii’s Division of Forestry and Wildlife, who have entered it on the Hawaii State Noxious Weed List, since it has proven to be invasive, and spreading so rapidly as to displace native trees, which is so often the case with introduced (non-native) flora and fauna. The faya tree has been declared one of Hawaii’s Most Invasive Horticultural Plants. (Greetings from the Azores.)

 
 

The next interesting point is that the Hawaiians are referring to it either as the faya tree or the fire tree, which perked my ears up. When I see that, I get immediately suspicious that we’re talking about an example of folk etymology, which we’ve discussed in the past. My favorite example is when people don’t recognize the word “barrow” as a type of bucket, and are then confused by the word “wheelbarrow”. When such confusion kicks in in cases like this, the natural impulse is to feel one has misheard the word. “That can’t be right. They must have said “wheelbarrel”, since “barrel” is a “real” word, and it’s curved, to boot, like the item in question.” This is a classic example of “folk etymology”, which essentially means a false derivation that develops through everyday speech. If you understand the concept, you’ll see how “faya tree” suddenly appears alternatively in Hawaii as “fire tree”, and the red color of the fruit helps that image.

 
 

But that only explains part of the name Fayal. Discussing suffixes doesn’t always create a thrill, but the Spanish and Portuguese suffix -AL has always interested me, primarily because other languages don’t have anything quite like it. The suffix -AL groups flora together, and is always stressed. In English, for trees, we can do that with the word “grove”, but not with shrubs and plants. Watch.

 
 

In Spanish, “palma” is a palm; “palmera” is a date palm, and “palmeral” (pal.me.RAL) groups those date palms together. Translating is easy here, since we can say “palm grove”. (In Spain in the town of Elche, the Palmeral de Elche is so attractive and famous, that it’s on the UNESCO World Heritage List. When I visited Elche is the first time I came across this suffix.) The corresponding words in Portuguese are “palmeira” and “palmeiral”.

 
 

Let’s try a more problematic one. In Portuguese the word “junco” describes reeds, rushes, bullrushes. If you were walking along a stream and came across a “juncal”, how would you translate it? Not easily. These are not trees, so “grove” doesn’t work. “Bunch” of reeds is clumsy. “Outcropping of reeds”? “Growth of reeds”? Maybe “cluster of reeds”? That’s probably best, but doesn’t work as well as “grove” does for trees.

 
 

We have two place names on this trip that fall into this category. One involves trees, and works pretty well, the other involves shrubs, and doesn’t. Obviously, the easy on is Faial (again, fah.YAL), which we can translate as “grove of faya trees”, or even better, “faya grove”. But the capital of Madeira is Funchal (fu[ng].SHAL, where [ng] is not pronounced and means the U is nasal). If “funcho”, is the Portuguese word for the herb fennel, what does the name of the capital city Funchal mean? Think about it. I’ll give my opinion when we’re in Funchal.

 
 

[Before leaving this, note that Cape Canaveral, site of the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, fits into this discussion. In Spanish it was Cabo Cañaveral, one of the oldest European names surviving in North America, first cited in 1521-1525, according to the Smithsonian. Caña is (sugar) cane--or a reed. Cañavera is apparently a kind of reed; my guess is that’s it’s really “caña vera”, or “true reed”). A cañaveral (kan.ya.ve.RAL), if wild, is a growth of reeds, if purposely planted, it can be a plantation of (sugar) cane, but we still have trouble working with that -AL suffix in English.]

 
 

Horta’s name involves a shorter explanation. Since “horta” (OR.ta), is Portuguese for “garden”, that’s the apparent explanation. (The word “horta” is related to “horti(culture)” and even to “orch(ard)”.) And it’s the apparent explanation that most locals, I’m sure, would give you. But the first settler of Horta, in 1467, who later became the captain-major of Faial, was Flemish, Josse van Huerter, and the town was named after him. In time, when local Portuguese heard “Huerter”, they must have been confused; it sounded like a much more familiar word, horta--and a garden is an attractive image, as well--and by employing folk etymology, altered the name.

 
 

Horta & Faial   The flight from Boston was less than ideal and the extensive delay made it even less enjoyable. Red-eye flights are never fun, and this one had a flying time of only 4h20m, plus a time gain of four hours. I thought we could at least sleep, but in the middle they turned on the lights and served dinner! Also, I’ve never been in such confined airline seats. My knees bumped the seat in front, and the fold-down table ate right into you.

 
 

The older gentleman sitting next to me seemed to embody the Azorean diaspora. He was born in the Azores, his family moved him as a child to Massachusetts for a few years, where his sisters still live, but he went on to California. However, he now regularly visits a property he owns on Pico.

 
 

The six-hour layover at the Ponta Delgada airport dragged by, with minimal napping, until the 4 PM flight to Faial and Horta, which took 50 minutes Other inter-island flights were half that. I knew we’d be flying over Pico Island, directly opposite Faial, and hoped we’d pass over the top of Mount Pico itself, as shown in this aerial view over Pico. But we saw nothing but clouds, and I was concerned about ever seeing the mountain, since I’ve had long experience of not seeing, or poorly seeing, famous mountains. However, not only did I see Pico very well from Horta, when flying out of Faial, we passed near Pico again. It was covered with a thin layer of clouds on its sides, but with two odd exceptions. On one slope, there was a totally clear “pie slice” of cloud-free land pointing toward the peak, and the slope was visible almost to the top. As for the top, I couldn’t see into the crater, but a high point on the crater wall kept peeking out through the clouds. I was satisfied, especially since the full-mountain view had been available from Horta while I was there.

 
 

Mount Pico is on Pico island, and massively dominates its western end, the end that faces Horta right across the channel. It seems to me you can enjoy the mountain more from Horta, since you have the distance to see it better. On the other hand, those that do climb Pico (a seven-hour hike one way--better them than me) have this view from its summit on a clear day of all of Faial, with Horta in the left foreground. Note for the moment how Horta harbor is surrounded by a protruding headland to the right (north) and two small dormant volcanoes on the left (south). We’ll see the views of Horta from both in a moment.

 
 

I’ve been mentioning Mount Pico/Montanha do Pico merely as a tall volcanic mountain, but it’s more than that. At an altitude of 2351 m (7713 ft), it’s not only the tallest in the Azores (more than twice the height of any other), but it’s the tallest in all of Portugal. It’s also the highest elevation of the entire Mid-Atlantic Ridge. It really is something one wants to see.

 
 

We landed at Horta, I got my rental car (stick shifts, all), and proceeded into town. As this map of Faial shows, the island is a pentagon, and it’s very small. Note the one-strip, but very modern, airport, on the south shore. From here to Horta was maybe 8-10 minutes. The next day, the drive from Horta past the airport to Ponta dos Capelhinos on the west coast was maybe 25 minutes, tops. And earlier that second day, the drive up the squiggly, but easy, road to the volcanic crater or caldera of the mountain was maybe also 25 minutes. Faial is petite. (English and Spanish caldera is caldeira in Portuguese, with EI as in EIght. But we’ve seen this in palmera/palmeira and elsewhere.)

 
 

Before leaving this map, note that Horta is mostly a coastal strip (facing Pico), and tiny as it is, takes up about a quarter of the eastern shore. Note again the protection of the harbor. This includes the protruding headland to its north (marked Conceicão), and the two volcanoes to the south, the tiny one with a breakwater protruding (there are two more), and the larger one with the flooded crater, Monte da Guia.

 
 

Forte de Santa Cruz   Whenever visiting Spain or Portugal, always give due consideration to staying in a parador (Spain) or posada (Portugal; pronounced poh.ZA.da). The Spanish system of government-run inns in special, historic locations came first, in 1928. Portugal followed in 1942. However, the Portuguese government no longer runs theirs. In 2003 it sold 37.6% of the company to a private firm called Pousadas de Portugal, who also got a 40-year running concession. As soon as I discovered that Horta not only had a pousada, the Pousada de Santa Cruz, and that it was in the 1567 Forte de Santa Cruz, it became my destination.

 
 

Driving into Horta, and driving around, was extremely easy (although it was a weekend), and, reaching the port, I turned into Rua Vasco da Gama (an impressive name), which was the main street along the harbor, and where the fort was located. I came upon it immediately, since Horta is so small (population 10,000, all of Faial 15,000). The façade of the fort impressed immediately, although I found it odd that the street side was vine-covered. It was not that big, maybe two blocks long, and was right on Rua Vasca da Gama. Note how typically colorful the sidewalk cobbles are; the grassy cobbles to the right are for angular parking for the pousada. The entry is in the center, as this detail of the entry shows. At the entry, there’s a display of period rifles and pistols. But as may be obvious from this view, the pousada inside is a contemporary building, just inserted into the walls of the fort (click to peek at the lobby).

 
 

The Fort of Santa Cruz dates from the 16C (!!!), since Horta was ever fearful of attacks from pirates and privateers (essentially pirates legally sponsored by governments). Still, on 6 September 1589, an English fleet under the command of the Earl of Cumberland captured eight ships, attacked the village, sacked the buildings, and forced the residents to flee into the interior. The privateers took all the artillery pieces and burned down buildings within the fort. Afterward, with insufficient artillery, the regiment could do little, including in August 1597, when Sir Walter Raleigh attacked, sacked Horta, and set it aflame. This map called “Fayal” shows Cumberland’s assault. Horta was then still rural (note Monte da Guia to the left), and the fort protruded into the harbor, although today, there’s a bit of parkland around the seawalls.

 
 

The fort is pentagonal, with two bastions on the land side pointing NW and SW forming that street façade, and one bastion pointing toward the sea. The sea side also has a round corner turret at either end, with openings for arrows on three sides. The fort is built of basalt rock and tufa, a rock consisting of volcanic ash. It had 20 pieces of artillery at the maximum.

 
 

This is the interior courtyard of the fort, once the martialing grounds for the garrison. The view is north, along the seawall; click to see the north turret and some artillery. It serves as the esplanade of the pousada, and the swimming pool is also visible. In the distance is the projecting headland, and the tower to the right of the palm tree is where the best view of Horta is from (picture later). The pousada is on the left, and replaces the former garrison building. The ground floor in white is where the restaurant is. Above are the enclosed, louvered balconies to the rooms. I had a perfect view of Pico from my balcony and from the restaurant (picture later).

 
 

Finally, another view from the port; click to see both turrets and the pousada balconies. This night view shows the seaside bastion best.

 
 

Seeing Horta   Horta’s bay is one of the rare sheltered anchorages in the entire archipelago of the Azores. For this reason the growth of transatlantic sea traffic expanded Horta’s importance as both a safe harbor and coal storage base. (We’ve talked about the importance of coal storage in regard to Key West, Samoa, and elsewhere.) Whaling ships out of Nantucket stopped here for provisions, and Horta has a scrimshaw museum. In 1919, the first plane to cross the Atlantic stopped at Horta, and Horta’s exceptional situation also led to Pan American establishing a Clipper seaplane base there, when, in 1937, Pan Am began seaplane service between the US and Europe, with stops in Bermuda and Horta, both as ports of call and for refueling, an interesting parallel to the ship coaling days. In 1893, the first transatlantic telegraph cable went through the Azores, with a relay station in Horta. Others followed, and in the years when cables needed an intermediate stopping point, Horta was, for a time, one of the world’s busiest cable terminuses.

 
 

Today, with all that in the past, the Horta marina remains a major stop for yachts, where 1400 yachts a year drop anchor, from everywhere. This is obvious because of a curious custom. Crews from each yacht constantly add to an “open air art gallery” all along the seawalls, with each visit documented. Each “picture” describes the who, what, and where of the visit. I saw some evidence of races between Barbados and Horta, and between Bermuda and Horta. Personally, I find this custom was a glorification of graffiti, but Horta and the yacht people seem to like it.

 
 

Although I was concerned that the flight delay would eat into the two days I’d allowed for my visit, everything worked out just fine. In addition, the fact that the Azores are shifted over to the next time zone east, instead of being in the zone they physically belong in, allowed me to play “time zone roulette”. In other words, the day was longer. If it was time for the sun to set in the next time zone, Horta clocks followed that, although here it was actually an hour earlier. I had plenty of time to stroll the smallish town, and to leave to the next day driving to viewpoints and volcanoes.

 
 

Stepping out onto Rua Vasco da Gama I turned left to walk along the marina and see that end of town. As pleasant as the town was, the only building other than the fort to see was a curiosity, since it was “just” a bar. It’s called Peter Café Sport--or just Café Sport, since I understand Peter died two years ago--and is known around the world to yachtsmen. Note how narrow it is, where the bar is just the front room; click to note also the hydrangeas in the windows, the typical, decorated sidewalk, and that the Scrimshaw Museum is upstairs. They claim that in 1986, Newsweek called it one of the best bars in the world. That must have been for its nautical atmosphere decorated with pennants and such, since it’s quite tiny, but busy. I just stepped inside for a look. The town has even named the street in front the “Rua José Azevedo (Peter)”, with the last addition since most people knew him, not by his real name, but by the nickname yachtsmen gave him.

 
 

I then walked north in town, which included opportunities to walk out on the jetties to see the “artwork”, and that still allowed me time at the pousada restaurant to admire the view of Pico, the same one I had upstairs from my balcony. While this picture goes from the sublime to the ridiculous, it is the view Horta has of Pico. The ridiculous, of course, are the seawall “murals”, which go on and on into the hundreds, on the seawalls, and also on the ground. At least, my pousada view of Pico didn’t have any of these. But the sublime is that the best place to see Pico across the channel is Horta. Where else can you have such a mountain view so in-your-face all day long? You can also see that high point on the crater on top that I managed to see on the flight home. My fears of it being totally obscured hadn’t worked out. Sometimes Pico wore a “nightcap” of small clouds over its head, then that quickly moved on to a “necklace” further down, and then almost cloud-free. Although I never saw it 100% clear of clouds, I would say it was 98% clear frequently, and was the backdrop to a pleasant meal at the pousada/fort.

 
 

Seeing Faial   Of the nine islands in the Azores, Faial is the fifth largest. It’s the smallest of the three Azores islands I’ll be visiting (but I love its petiteness), and turns out to be the smallest island I’ll be visiting of all the Azores, Madeira, and Canaries combined. Actually, by pure chance, of the six “Iberian Islands” I’ll be visiting, I’ll be visiting them in size order, smallest to largest, with one island often doubling in size from the previous one. It was not planned that way, but is an interesting quirk of this trip.

 
 

Seeing Faial by car meant first seeing the two viewpoints with views back to Horta, views that add so much to Horta’s charm. Not more than a few minutes south from the pousada and past Café Sport, one takes a low-level road around the smaller volcano, Monte Queimado (Burned Mountain; 86m [282 ft]), then a natural isthmus connects to Monte da Guia (Guide Mountain; 145 m [476 ft]), and the road rises to the top. On the way, you pass the crater I mentioned on the map, with the far wall missing, so that what would have been a lake is now a bay of the sea. It’s called Caldeira do Inferno (Hell Crater). At the top is this view of Horta from the south. To the left is the south shore toward the airport; and in the background, the central volcano on Faial. Click to enlarge to see the remains on the edge of the water of the Forte de São Sebastião (Sebastian), that protected this side of town. On the right foreground is first Monte Queimado with a typical, volcanic black-sand beach, central Horta, with the fort/pousada and two of the embracing seawalls (mercifully, the “murals” aren’t visible from this distance), and finally the promontory on the other side of town with the monument at its highest point. That was my next stop.

 
 

Through town to the other viewpoint also took no time at all. Much of the promontory is Alagoa Park, which has that monument at its highest point, from which this is the view of Horta from the north. This apparently higher view is painting-like, but you can click to enlarge to see the zig-zag road down Monte da Guia I’d just used, details of Horta, and the lower section of Alagoa Park. Now look at the waters to the left of the breakwaters and picture the Prinsendam of the Holland-America line at anchor there. This picture was taken in Greece, but the setting is similar. I had noticed the ship approaching as I’d left the pousada, but only when I was up here could I use the free telescope they had available to read the name of the ship.

 
 

While Horta is small and has few specific sights, it’s the ensemble of the features of its setting, including Pico, that give it its charm.

 
 

Caldeira do Cabeço Gordo   Although the big central mountain on Faial is labeled Cabeço Gordo on the maps, all the clearly-marked road signs said simply “Caldeira” (EI as in EIght). This in other languages is “caldera”, but you can also call it a crater. Since there are many of these in the Azores, I’ll use mostly “caldeira” for the local flavor. To review the locations of the two stops I made after Horta, I’ll repeat the Faial map. Again, it was about 25 minutes from Conceição to the caldeira of Cabeço Gordo.

 
 

[An aside about decent translations: “gordo” is usually “fat” in both Spanish and Portuguese, but the translations of “Cabeço” that I kept on seeing bothered me, and I know there’s a lot of garbage out there. Most local maps translate it as “mountain”, simply because it IS a mountain. An online translations was “hillock”, which seems stupid, since this isn’t a little hill. Also, it was obvious to me that “cabeza” in Spanish and “cabeça” in Portuguese both mean “head”, which mean that “cabeço” had to imply something at the top. I finally resorted to the Portuguese “Wikcionário” online. There were several definitions, but these were the first two: 1) cume convexo e arrendodado de um monte; 2) monte relativamente pequeno e arredondado. Too many had gone with the second definition, of a “relatively small, rounded mountain”. That’s why some translated it as “hillock”. But the first one was the applicable one. I recognized “cume” from Spanish “cumbre”, as being “summit”, so this was the “convex, rounded summit of a mountain”. Bingo. Seek and ye shall find. Let’s call Cabeço Gordo “Fat Peak”. But wait. You really don’t call a mountain “fat”. So back to the Wikcionário under “gordo”. The first two meanings do refer to fat, but the third one said “volumoso, considerável” as in “uma gorda quantia”, in other words “voluminous, bulky, large, big”, or “considerable” as in “a large quantity”. You may now wish to go with “Big Peak”, but I’ll go one step further to “Grand Peak”. Now compare that to “Fat Mountain”. As I say, there’s a lot of garbage out there.]

 
 

The road was easy and pleasant, and passed through forest land, with occasional flowers. On the way up, a view backward once again showed Pico, and this picture shows what I call Pico wearing a “necklace” of clouds, which was very common. At the end of the road, the rim of the crater was maybe two stories above your head, and there were two ways to see the crater. First I walked through the very short tunnel, to an observation point just below the rim. Then I went back and climbed a couple of dozen steps to the rim itself, where there was this view down into the caldeira (click to enlarge). The caldeira is 1.45 km (0.9 mi) wide and is 1043 m (3422 ft) above sea level. The caldeira is 400 m (1312 ft) deep from the rim to its flat bottom. Cabeço Gordo erupted in 1672, causing emigration to Brazil. Although this central volcano has not been active since then, during the 1957-8 eruption over at Capelinhos (see below), fumeroles (vents in volcanic ground emitting hot gases and steam) became active, and the lakes and swamp area within the crater almost dried up from the excessive heat. The remaining water is more visible in this detail of the crater (click). The caldeira is a nature reserve including cedars, junipers, and ferns.

 
 

There was a directional sign on the crater rim pointing out the distance back home to Nova Iorque, and to Lisboa in the opposite direction. It also pointed to Paris, Berlim, Londres, Sidney (in that Portuguese spelling), as well as to Pequim (think China).

 
 

Capelinhos   Back to Horta, then across the southern end of Faial to the western tip. On the way, a saw a big tour bus going back, which had to be from the Prinsendam. They’ll have seen Capelinhos, and central Horta, but I don’t see how that big bus could have gone up to the Caldeira, or even to the two Horta viewpoints. I always prefer doing things on my own.

 
 

It was about 25 minutes to Capelinhos (ka.pe.LIN.yoosh), and you pass the town of Capelos just before you’re there. A capelo is a hood or a cape, and -inho makes it a diminutive, so the western promontory of Faial is called “little hoods” or “little capes” in reference to Capelos. I took the turnoff to the site, at which point the greenery you’ve been seeing disappears and almost everything you see that’s not sky or water is gray.

 
 

Faial sits over a volcanic hot spot and there is a volcanic complex of lava fields down the western slope of Cabeço Gordo leading to this area. The result was that there was a huge volcanic eruption that lasted 13 months, from late September 1957 to late October 1958. Gas and steam shot upward to 4,000 m (13,000 ft). A volcanic island formed right offshore, and lava flows and ash connected it to the mainland, extending Faial by 2.4 km² (0.9 mi²), although this has now been reduced by erosion (mostly of ash, not of lava) to 1 km² (0.38 mi²). The eruption spawned 300 seismic events, hurled ash one kilometer, destroyed 300 houses, and caused the evacuation of 2,000 people (to North America). It has since been dormant, and the area is still mostly devoid of vegetation. It struck me at the time, although I’ve found no verification, that the ancient development of the two volcanic mountains just south of Horta might have once developed in the same way.

 
 

You drive down a short road into the wasteland. You can then first drive down a side road going down to the beach area, from which you can view the whole Capelinhos volcanic site. The promontory is new land. The former lighthouse had been the western coastal limit. You then drive back up to the lighthouse area, where you get this northwest view of the landscape from the ash-covered lighthouse platform. The lighthouse itself is just a shell. It rises from a rectangular two-story building at its base. You can enter and walk around the upper story, but only the tops of the window frames are visible from the lower story. It’s Pompeii all over again.

 
 

I have the habit of reading signs. Beverly used to tease me about my walking up to every statue to see what it was all about, but that has never stopped me. The motto “Never leave a stone unturned” has served me well. I say this, because, when I entered the drive down to this complex, I noticed a large white tablet with a picture and some text. That alone might not have brought me back to it, but above it is said that the short entrance road was called Rua John F. Kennedy. THAT got my interest, so when leaving, I took the trouble to park the car and walk across to read what it said, and I’m glad I did. There was text in Portuguese and English, and I’ll paraphrase the English: JFK was one of the great personalities of the 20C. While Senator from Massachusetts in 1958, and later, between 1961-3 when he was President, he was one of the great people responsible for the flow of emigration after the Capelinhos volcanic eruption. The changes in the quota of emigration to the US resulted in the exit of 175,000 Azoreans, 12,000 of which were from Faial, enabling a significant improvement of the quality of life on the island. This extraordinary legislation became known later as the “Azorean Refugee Act” (also named as such in English in the Portuguese text). The picture showed an Azorean girl in costume presenting Kennedy with a plaque “as a symbol of gratitude from the refugees of the volcano”. This enforces the image of Portuguese living in Massachusetts (whence my flight), where Kennedy was senator at the time of the eruption. As I said, always read historic markers. You never know how interesting they may be.

 
 

You may like this four-minute video of Faial and Horta. You should recognize everything if you’ve been following this posting. It was made when the famous Peter was still alive (at 0:52). The only picture I have of the Caldeira do Inferno, that flooded crater on Monte da Guia, is at 2:00.

 
 
 
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