The Azores

I climbed the volcano. From the marina to the peak is an elevation of seven thousand feet, a distance of thirteen miles, and uphill all the way. The island of Pico is named for its volcano, Pico. Legally the Portuguese government requires people wanting to summit Pico to hire a guide. That's nice, but I don't have sixty Euros to hire someone to walk a trail with me. I went with an American group who sailed here from the British Virgin Islands, a guy my age, a girl in ninth grade, and her dad. I couldn't convince my crew to even attempt it. They were all hung over after a night of trying Portuguese wine.

The hike up to base camp was awesome. Eleven miles of steady incline passing field after field of cows. Because the island has volcanic soil, the dirt is black and dense and the plants were awesome, hydrangeas seven feet tall and wild roses blooming everywhere. The cows were huge too, and whoever said happy cows live in California had never been to the Azores. There were great views of cattle hanging out in dense greenery with clouds rising behind them.

By the tenth mile the girl's dad had had enough and told us to push on without him. When we reached the base camp the best marketing I have ever seen was sitting there, an ice cream stand and only mini bottles of water for sale. After we each had two frozen snickers bars and collected enough bottles to fill my pants we began our assent.

The closer we got to the top the crazier the terrain became. It started with just rocks and mud with cypress everywhere. Once we started passing lava vents the rocks became long gooey looking tendrils of cooled lava flow. These were fun, but the comparison between a cow pie and dried lava is scary so the risk of stepping in a soft rock was very high. I am not one for rock climbing, hiking being my fun factor, but once we passed the first mile the incline became so steep we were forced into a crash course. I guess this is where the guide becomes important. The slickness of the dried lava and the ease at which rocks tumbled down was enough to leave the beaten path in order to climb through the sparse vegetation that lived up there. It was some sort of herb that I can't place, but as we disturbed it the smell wafted up and made me hungry.

The plan was to make it to the crater. When we began running out of time to make it back to the ferry we decided you only climb Pico once and we would just have to splurge on a hotel room. Two hours later and not to the summit yet, still climbing hand over hand up lava flows, I felt this decision wasn't the best. We reached a point when the sun was beginning to set and we were a mile and half above the cloud line that we needed to head back. The wind was too strong and the cold was painful. I was the only one who thought to wear warm clothes. The other guy was in shorts and sandals and the girl was wearing a tank and Converse. Both were freezing and while the soles of her shoes were ruined, his feet were exposed and bleeding.

The way back down was a slip and slide of volcanic rock instead of water and not dying was on our minds more than once. As we stepped down the whole slope would shift and our butts became imperative to slowing down while riding the landslide. We reached base came and looking at a map realizing we were less than 50 feet from the peak of the cone left by the last eruption. The crater was so large we didn't recognize we were in it.

It was thirteen hours of constant walking done with only breakfast, frozen snickers, and bottles of water. Freezing cold, body pounding trails, and pain, and we did it and damn was it fun, and kind of illegal. At the end I was told my face was peeling and wiping it off produced a good half teaspoon of salt. Canned meats and preserved veggies will do it to you every time. The dad was waiting for us at base camp with a sandwich he had ordered. Apparently they had all sorts of food, just not on display and while we were woofing down chocolate and ice cream I can only imagine what the employees were thinking. We managed to pay a guy to take us to our island on his speed boat. Waking the next morning was a slow and stiff process, my hips were on fire.

            Besides the hike, the Azores offers great people, great (and cheap) wine, french-fries that are like butter, pizza without sauce, and some of the best red meat I've had in a long time. The architecture is all terracotta roofs and white faces and Catholic churches dominate the cityscape. The marina we are at is celebrating its 100th birthday and since the only tourists are boaters the islands are way laid back. The streets are decorated with mosaics and the area around the marina is a quilt of paintings done by different sailing vessels. They cover every inch of available cement. George is in charge of painting the Pipedream’s logo.

The next stop is Lisbon and with 900 miles to go before I have officially crossed the Atlantic, I can't wait to get there. Looks like another week of sailing, this time with a fridge!!! We got it fixed!

Chris

Leg 2

We made it! Fifteen days of sailing with no fridge, the radio, steering, and autopilot breaking, two storms, and enough leaks to fill my bunk with water, but we made it. I now know how Uma Thurman felt in "Kill Bill" after waking from a comma and trying to walk. When I first got off the boat my legs began to shake and coordination to walk up hill took a lot of effort. I hadn't realized how jelly like my body had gotten from sitting for two weeks.

In all, the trip over was good. In the time it took to write the last email on Bermuda a woman came up to my dad and used the old joke, "Hey, you need one more, I'm trying to get rid of my son." Ever the opportunist my dad jumped and Matt, 27, joined our crew the same day he arrived in Bermuda. When I walked back to the boat strangers were taking pictures of me and I was meeting his whole family without knowing why. I was finally told as he was moving his things in that he was the replacement.

The trip was scheduled for 5 knots as our average speed with 8 being as fast as the boat was designed to go. The first couple of days the wind was perfect and the boat was surfing down waves. We managed to average 7.5 and at one point reach 11.5 while costing down a large swell. This, simple to say, was very exhilarating. The good fortune lasted six days.

On the seventh day, in no direction was there sun or sky and a low pressure system brought huge white caps, little wind, and rain. After thinking I was okay my sea sickness came back with a vengeance. With the rain came the leaks and my bed became squishy with water. For two days straight we fought the waves. When our steering broke and the rudder jammed up we decided to wait out the storm a while and just bob. As I sat for my watch sick, wet, and miserable a shark fin broke the water and circled our boat twice. Perfect, I knew something was missing from the scene.  

The shark didn't kill us and the weather cleared up. We celebrated my dad’s sixty-first birthday with sips of brandy, booming music, and the best canned ham money can buy. When you become so accustomed to conditions it is startling when things change. We began to see birds and lots of garbage floating in the water and we knew we were close to land. The smell of the ocean even changed from the fresh breeze people associate with detergents named ocean splash to the murky brine smell of offshore pollution.

The entry to the Azores current was met by huge dolphin pods diving in and out of the storm surge created by another low front. The winds of the storm brought us into harbor. While Bermuda was relatively flat, the Azores are very steep with cliffs and volcanoes making up their landscape. Sailing into harbor while the sun was setting in the middle of the storm was picturesque. I wouldn't quite compare it too the opening of "Jurassic Park" but that didn't stop the theme song from going through my head

So far Portugal is great. The highest point is a Volcano called "Pico" and at 7,000 feet is something I want to attempt while I am here after my legs start working properly. They serve their soda in a glass bottle cold and their fish with all the bones. This is heaven compared to canned food and Kool-Aid for two weeks. I'll let you know more when I have the chance.

Chris

Bermuda

 

Bermuda is cool. The first two days we were here I would have told you it was the best place one Earth. Then again I was in love with the weeds growing out of the sidewalk. Anything dry that didn't move was amazing. We wound up docking with our back up to a cement wall and put a 20ft. board across to the marina’s common area. It gets kind of exciting when there are waves and the tide is out and you have to try and balance while walking downhill and bobbing side to side. My survival instinct tells me not to attempt it, but if risking my life is the cost for getting to solid ground and mobility, so be it. The marina has some good people like the Dutch crew we've been hanging with as well as the BEST shower of my life!

We are staying in St. Georges which is the historic district of Bermuda. Hamilton, the biggest city, is across the island and has the only fast food in the country, KFC. According to the locals a law was past that strictly prohibits Wal-Mart, McDonalds, and any other Global giants from the island. This was done to create a more exotic place for tourists, as well as protecting the local businesses. Public transportation here is the cleanest I have ever experienced.

The culture here is a total mix of American and British. They use miles and feet, but then measure liquid in liters. The accents are a range of British and American, but all are very well spoken with amazing diction. The government is a Parliament with a Premier and the island is broken down into parishes. The country is not entirely free from British rule, however. The British government appoints a governor to watch over Bermuda and if something were to happen, like a terrorist attack or hurricane, he is in charge of emergency action. He also holds the power to shut down and replace the government if he deems it unstable. I thought that was pretty cool. Other fun fact, Bermuda is the top of the Bermuda Triangle, other points being Miami, Fl and San Juan, Porto Rico.

We managed to get here on the weekend of Bermuda's 400 birthday and tall ships (recreated ships from the 17 and 1800's that look like pirate ships) from all over the world have an annual race here. Four are docked right next to us and make our boat look like a dingy. The bounty used in “Mutiny on the Bounty” is our neighbor.

We are getting ready for the next 20 days that will be spent sailing to the Azores. One of our crew, left due to his knees being in too much pain. And then there were three. As if a smaller crew didn't provide enough of a challenge, our fridge can not be fixed and our radio antenna is broken... here's to an adventure! I stocked up on motion sickness pills so if anything else I can drug myself into a comma and wake up in Europe. Here's to hoping.

Wish me luck,

Chris

Leg One

For those of you who think sailing is a glamorous way of travel where yachtsmen wear kakis and polo shirts with wind tussled hair and perfect tans, your crazy. Allow me to set the record straight on sailing and the ocean.

1. The views are great.

Yes, the curvature of the world is a great stretch for the eyes. The night watches specifically are beautiful with absolutely no light but the stars. Some nights I get to watch shooting stars explode in our atmosphere with chunks breaking off and bouncing across the sky. Ten days of nothing to look at, however, tends to make you want to see things. We cranked the engines to get out of the way of a huge ship; all we could see was the light of its bow. Wouldn't you know that huge boat began to rise in the sky? It was a bright planet. Your daydreams become very creative because you have nothing better to do but ponder.

2. Sailing is relaxing.

 Not true. I now know how a woman with morning sickness feels. Wake up sick and attempt to eat and drink. Sit for a bit and focus on not getting sick. Almost feel normal and then someone mentions egg salad or opens a ripe banana in your face and your head whips over the side just in time. Repeat till asleep. Even water made me ill. I like to think of everything I do as EXTREME. Extreme cooking where you never know when the boiling water will fly at you next. Extreme sleeping when you’re trying to pass out clinging to your mattress as the boat slams back and forth and out of your bunk you fly. Even extreme bathroom use, we have a steel bar bolted from the sink to the ceiling so you can sit down or brush your teeth without having your face bashed into the mirror suddenly. Constant motion, never still even when there's no wind. The amount of bruising on my body has become a tie-dye.

3. The ocean is great for outdoor fun.

Let me tell you something, the boat is made of steel. Steel gets hot. When the wind dies and you’re sitting on glassy water the temperature difference on deck in the shade compared to the sun is close to thirty degrees. Four people trying for shade that shrinks a foot every hour is insane. By noon whoever hasn't given up is curled like a cowering animal in a two foot space provided by a piece of canvas. Since we are going East the sun eventually hits you on its way down and every surface you touch burns just a little more. Go below to get out of the sun? Easy fix, except if the top is a frying pan the inside is an oven. No greater sensation than waking up covered in sweat and dehydrated, look forward to it every morning. The nights pose a different issue. While it does cool down, the humidity on the ocean is obviously going to be high. This creates dew that is half rain half vapor and causes you to be wet and sticky all night long, including your sheets. This exchange of extreme heat and then moisture is doing wonders for the mildew growing in my pillow.

4. Fresh produce hangs in baskets and meals are one of a kind.

 Fried spam with mustard, sweet pickles, canned beans with onions, and tang. If you're wondering what this meal is like coming back up, it’s just as great going down. Our fridge died and all the cold cuts and cheese we had went bad very fast, the smell was a spiritual experience, or at least I screamed “Oh God” before slamming the fridge and running upstairs for fresh air and a good dry heave.

5. You can go anywhere in the world on a boat.

Unless you have no way to move. Then you see the island but you have to wait two days to get to it and contemplate swimming twenty miles in the open ocean. You also can't walk ten feet away so after the crew members start getting stir-crazy and tiered of each other the swim sounds like a synch.

Although I've made this sound horrible there have been some good moments, like discovering how effective Dramamine can be. Also, we had a movie moment when we reached the current that pushed us north. Think of “Finding Nemo”, except instead of sea turtles it was a pod of about fifteen dolphins riding our bow with babies shooting out of the waves. I have also come to love smoked bacon, instant mashed potatoes, and Merita bread, they stay good forever.

I am enjoying the surreal nature of this experience too. When we have good wind and the terrifying night of clenching your bunk is over you wake up to a strange view. When the sail catches wind it pushes the boat to one side or the other. Adding waves to this factor the boat takes on strange angles. Imagine waking up and everything hanging is where gravity intends it to be while the rest of the room has shifted thirty some degrees to the left. First, you are either lying down and standing up or lying down and doing a headstand. When you get up, instead of standing on the floor, you are standing on the seem of the floor and the wall. Trying to climb the latter to the deck offers its own challenge of climbing at a diagonal. This is also where the metal bars in the bathroom and kitchen come into play; you can hold yourself from falling into the sink or, conversely, support your climb up to the sink. It's trippy without drugs.

 I find that there are exceptions to rules on the ocean. Example, we were sitting on completely calm water watching a storm produce a large tornado. Technically on the ocean these are called waterspouts. Regardless, with no wind to propel us from the storm in visual distance this was one of the few times the engines and precious fuel were used to escape possible disaster. I have also found there is no need to wash your face if using sunscreen with saltwater. My face has never looked better and I haven't had the stability to wash my face or the option to take a shower for ten days anyway. The smell, there is none. The four of us went through ten days of sweat and sailing and nothing. It might be that we all got rancid together so we can't smell it, but I prefer to think the ocean breeze keeps the nasty from creeping up.

Will let you know how Bermuda is next time,

Chris