The island of Pico is a 30 minute ferry ride from our port in Horta, and the crew of Windancer complete the short trip by 8am. As the ferry approached the dock we passed two impressive rock formations jutting some 100 feet out of the water. It obvious already that this is a volcanic island, as these rocks are all lava and their shapes and mass remind me of the flower pots near Tobomory.

Pico is a much larger island than Horta, and is home to mount Pico an inactive volcanic mountain of some 7400 feet. Our original plan was to climb a significant portion of this hill, and end up on it's peak. From here, we hear the panoramic view of all the Azores is beyond belief. I'm sure this is true since this is the mountain who's tip I first saw at sunrise the day of our arrival, from a staggering 100 miles away (big hill!)

Well anyways here's the initial plan. You rent a car (guide optional - of course we four men pass) and we drive to a supervised area about 1500 meters above sea level, where you can sign in and start your climb to the top. We had heard in advance that this would be about a 6 hours hike, round trip.

Well like I said we went to the car, had some breakfast and then we drove and drove and drove. Steve is our navigator armed with only a general island road map which had several roads left out all of which we found. I will admit as lost as we usually were, these were some fun roads. Most were unpaved and all were very windy, some up hill and some down, with never a guard rail in sight. Now cows were a different story - they were everywhere and they were huge. I'm talking gargantuan milk cows that only fed their young (no farms or farmers in sight). Ofter our passage would be blocked of briefly until they sauntered off starring blankly "way down" into our windows. Almost all of the terrain that they graze on looks suitable only for goats; we kept expecting to see on just roll down the hill side and bash through a few stone fences. There are few property fences as we know them here. Some boundaries are formed with miles of mature trees or larger bushes side by side, but most are stone walls. In face everything is stone here (volcanic stone, supply and demand I guess). Wether they be waist high or over your head, hand built stone walls run everywhere on the hillside and from a distance look like a giant maze! House, garages and most other buildings are all made up of these perfectly fitted lava rocks of all shapes and sizes - no mortar or cement here. Steve informs me they're call "dry stone walls" in the UK.

Anyways, back to the magic bus, actually it's a Renault CLIO, and it's a bumpy ride in the back seat for sure. It's also a stick shift and first gear is required ofter on the steeper sections of road. After a bit of sight seeing of cave like rock formations, a whaling museum, a few docks in small towns and as I mentioned, tons of cows, we finally reach the starting point for climbers. By now it's much too late to fit in the climb to the top and still make our return ferry. So the four of us head off for a mini hike up the same main trail, with Bob and Jim quitting first. John and Steve carry on and pass four people coming down who inform them that they would only have two and a half more hours to reach the top, they two descend.

Oh well, we had a taste and now know better for next time. So there's just enough time to wind ourselves down to the harbor, drop off a dirty rental, taste some vulgar white wine at a wine tasting spot, have a last Pico beer (and Sangria) and we're on the ferry home.

In the end we had a peak at Pico, albeit from quite a ways away, we drove 200km of twisting turning of often back jarring roads, through the clouds and countless miles of beautiful hill and mountain side and saw more beef than McDonald's has served.

So if and when you go, remember to take along warm clothes for those cool nights on the boat, and try to local red wind - it's excellent and not to dear.

The end,

PS Idiot Girl, ye with no faith, it ain't my face.