The word that comes to mind in respect of Horta is” workmanlike”.

We are in the marina now, after some delay yesterday. The process is not exactly the epitome of perfect organisation, as their systems seem archaic, but they certainly work hard at it. The guy who runs the office is only guessing as to where there is a space according to some hieroglyphics on a sheet of paper – which boats have gone, who has shifted, who is waiting and you. The scene mid-morning is a bit like the Solent on a bad day: dozens of boats having arrived overnight a bit jaded, jigging about outside the entrance and trying to jump a place in the queue; some yachts departing slowly, with the crew perhaps suffering from last night’s celebrations; and honourable people like us who are just trying to keep out of the way until calm descends.

The marina is too small for the volume of traffic, so boats are crammed in, rafted up, hung off and generally squeezed till the pips and fenders squeak. We were given a space and checked it out in the dinghy, but the Frenchman who would have been inside us claimed to be getting moved later in the day for some repair work. Reporting this back to the office, we were told that he would not be moved today and probably not tomorrow, so we were unsure as to whether he was scamming us (happy to see he now has 2 boats outside him). Regardless, and because we were being nice, the marina guys gave us another slot, describing it wrongly, but we decided to raft up outside the catamaran that was not supposed to be there. It is not a bad berth, nobody has been put outside us yet (the channel is narrow here) but the unpleasant Briton on the catamaran opposite us decided to have a party last night. It stopped when they went for dinner, but started after midnight again, and consisted largely of people balling nonsense at one another on the open deck at the aft end. Jim was close to joining in the “conversation” at around 0430, but it faded out shortly afterwards.

The town is also workmanlike: the buildings are not as pretty as those on Flores, but they are well packed in. The streets are narrow with cars aplenty edging their way around the town, and scooters and motor bikes overtaking them when too slow. There is no real centre, and nothing like a pedestrian precinct, so it is a case of looking hard in both directions before launching across a street.

We had a mediocre lunch out yesterday as we were late by the time the mooring procedure had been completed, and there seemed to be a shortage of decent looking cafes and restaurants.

Painting one’s boat name and message on the harbour walls is one of the usual pastimes here, but we think we will abstain. None of us has any artistic talent, and there are enough bad ones already!

Next Moves

We plan to sail to Terceira tomorrow, a passage of about 65 miles. The front that is coming tonight will have gone and the winds are fair if light. There are a couple of marinas on the island, and we will see which one has the best shelter for leaving the boat.

Jim’s flight is booked from Terceira for Wednesday, by which time we will have started to sort the boat out. We have not yet booked flights for ourselves in case there are unforeseen complications, but travel from Terceira is not bad.

Sooon,

Watergaw