|
|
|
HomePeter's LogsPhotographsThe BoatThe Crew |
|
LOG ENTRY DATE: July 01, 2003 There is only one word for Flores: spectacular. It seems to be a blend of Ireland, New Zealand, and Switzerland, with a touch of Cape Breton Island thrown in for good measure. Overall, it is very steep, and cliffs and bluffs are everywhere. And, it seems almost like a south Pacific island: there is dense foliage and deep chasms, from which many waterfalls emerge—many of them so high that the wind blows the water away before it hits the bottom. And the roads! Even when driving on the side closest to a precipice you can't look over and see any land—just air and an amazing view of the ravine, caldiera, or seashore you are passing over. When you park the car to take a look at a scenic vista, you shuffle your feet along to the edge—there is no bold striding to a fenced or wall-in lookout. Now I know where the term "constantly on edge" comes from! What isn't steep and mountainous is used for farming—either under cultiavaton or (more commonly) for grazing of cattle and sheep. The pastures are divided by rambling, sinuous stone walls—many of them over 8' tall—that seem to have been erected over many generations. When you look down on the landscape from above, the farmland is seen as a series of undulating terraces that march up the sides of the hills, only to be stopped by the steepness of the encroaching mountains. Flores also has a singular claim to fame: it is the westernmost outpost of Europe. That means it has the westernmost town, the westernmost road, the westernmost aid to navigation, etc. in all of Europe. In keeping with that, Katie and I hiked 10 kilometers over the westermost trail in Europe. We drove to the town of Lajedos, and hiked back over a road that has been in use for over 500 years, though it is no longer a "thoroughfare". And no wonder: it is only about 6' wide, and paved with boulders, running between fields and high walls, and cut into cliff faces. In the course of our hike, we went through 3 small hamlets, and one completely abandoned town (many Azoreans left their islands in the 60s, 70s, and 80s to emigrrate to the US). Our favorite was Fajazinha, which we descended into about two-thirds of the way into our hike. We sat in a very small town square, consisting of 3 benches, set in a triangle, in the shade of a couple of plane trees. We were captivated by several generations of Azoreans (two of them no more than 3 years old!), who made themselves comfortable right next to us. We discovered a gentleman named Joe Molto, who lived in New Bedford, MA, for 20 years before coming home. Through his outgoingness and his ability to translate, he "plugged us into" the conversations, and explained to us what life was like in a small town in Flores. Not since we visited a local bar in Ireland have we felt like we were able to see local life at it's simplest—and most revealing—level. Dinner in the "big town" of Santa Cruz was similar. We picked a place that sounded good, and were greeting in our way into it by an elderly lady who simply motioned for us to follow her. Instead of leading us to a table, we went into her kitchen where she pointed at a big pot full of fish steaks, and said we could either have that or "meat". We chose the fish. She shuffled back to the kitchen so, with no one else in sight to help, I followed her back and asked if I could help myself to some "vinho". No problem—she handed me a corkscrew. At the same time, she beckoned me further into the kitchen and showed me a cauldron full of meat in a tomato sauce... "cow stomach", she said. Would I like some before dinner? I ordered a plate for both of us. Bottom line was that it, the fish, and the wine were all delicious. Simple, but very good. Our "westernmost hike in Europe" was done in two parts, and we finished the second part on Monday, June 30. This part was quite different: it started out by climbing a cliff that was 1000' high, before it flattened out into a huge alpine plateau. Although the guide book claimed that there were no "vertiguous" spots, I would strongly beg to differ. There were several spots where I edged as far away as I could from the trail side, so as to avoid seeing the surf and rocks hundreds of feet directly below us. Our hotel accomdations have been very good, if not unique. We are living in one of many buildings that were part of an abandoned village, called Cuada. The owner, over a period of 14 years, fixed up each and every one to become either-one room or two-room rental units. They are made of stone, with the ubiquitous clay tile roof, and well appointed inside. For $50 per night, you can't go wrong. We returned to Horta on Tuesday, July 1. Although Flores is beautiful, it should be noted that it is very quiet... one wouldn't want to go there in the hopes of finding much entertainment at night. It's really geared towards tranquility... |
|
|
home | complete logbook | boat | crew | cruisemaine.com |
|
|
|
