Pete made it to the dock just in time to wave us off as we slipped our lines in Ponta Delgada for our final Azorean cruise to Ste Maria, the smallest of the island destinations. We arrived around 1600 after the 50nm cruise, and were escorted in to the small harbor at Vila do Porto by the marina manager in his RIB.

It seemed a little strange to not have Pete on board for the trip, after spending nearly 3 weeks with us on board. Thanks Naomi!

We walked into the local town for dinner at a local cafe, before retiring for the night in this quiet harbor. The next morning, we had a slow start to the day, except for TJ and Iz who Zumba'd on the quayside. After picking up a hire car, we then embarked on a rapid tour of the island, based on the recommendations of the hire car lady.

First stop was Anjos, famous for being the arrival point for Columbus. A small village nestled on the north west corner of the island, it was suggested as a lunch destination. There was just one restaurant positioned above the public sea pool, a boiling torrent this day from the N swells rolling in. Our waitress recommended the local dish, a soup and meats potato and a vegetable "only grown in Ste Maria" the name of which we did not catch. What arrived was a large platter of boiled pork, of various types, with boiled potatoes, boiled sweet potato and the boiled local vegetable that looked like a small parsnip, but tasted like an earthy swede, coupled with an incredibly salty broth with bread floating in it. We silently went about eating the dish. Keith chirped up and said: "We will have to ask for the recipe for this one" I could barely contain the chuckle, but TJ started pulling the remaining meat pieces on to her plate. When asked, Tammie said she was getting all the pieces to take away since we liked it so much! Lesson one in Yorkshire irony explained, we left the majority of the local food behind. I think we understood why the vegetable is not grown anywhere else. Yuk.

We continued our tour, driving to the top of Pico Alto, before plunging down to the east coast of the island, that turned out to be covered in stunning dizzying terraces cover by vines. We stopped at a viewing point for San Lorenco, before going all the way into Maia to go and see the waterfall there, nestled right down by the water. The water fall was dry, but the village was amazing. Small white cottages, with blue painted bases, windows and chimneys, but all seemingly shuttered, but idyllically sitting feet from the Ocean. There was one cafe open flying an ice cream flag, so we went in and said "Ola" to the lady behind the bar.

"Your not Portuguese", was the retort, and indeed our hostess was sporting a Patriots Super Bowl jersey and talked with a Boston drawl. We spent an illuminating time talking with her about the unasked question. How do these beautiful Azorean islands survive sitting in the middle of the Atlantic, and what do the people do? Her story I think is typical. She emigrated with her parents at age 6 to the US, then after 40 years, decided to come back home to Maia to run her grandfathers cafe. Each home in the village owns part of the vine terraces above, and everyone makes wine. We sampled it, a strong sweet red Madeira type desert fortified wine. The owners of the shuttered houses live in the US or Canada, and come home for July and August and are called the "summer flies". There is a wine competition in September, then all but 9 locals returns to their other lives for the winter.

Our host who talked non stop, said everyone called her the crazy lady, she is one of the 9 who stay behind.

Crazy or not, she lives in an amazingly remote and beautiful location sustained by the folk with deep roots to the community that manage to keep the infrastructure intact, using their earned money. Quite the life style, and a privilege to visit and share in it, even for a short afternoon! --------------060102060504070104010808--