Madeira

So, fresh from the Azores, I'm off to Portugal's other Atlantic (and autonomous) territory. Madeira's various nicknames are encouraging: The Island of Flowers, The Garden Island, and The Island of Eternal Spring. I'm looking forward to that year round Mediterranean climate. We're closer to Africa than to Europe here (just off Morocco). Apparently, Madeira is also known as The Hawaii of Europe. But I thought that title had already been taken by the Azores. And, I believe there is only one volcano here, on this archipelago, and that's Madeira.

Madeira Airport

This story begins at Madeira Airport, near the capital city of Funchal, on the Portuguese island of Madeira. From inception, it featured on the Most Dangerous Airports lists, because of its short runway (only 1600 metres in length, terminating at a cliff edge.) After a TAP accident, in 1977, the runway was lengthened, into the sea, using support pillars. It’s still on the Most Dangerous Airports list.

And, it’s an exciting approach, banking above Madeira Island, craggy peaks peeping through the clouds, and turning, to come in from the sea. But a safe and surprisingly undramatic landing. The island makes up for it as it is definitely dramatic. Entirely mountainous, rising sheer from the sea, on all sides with towering terraced slopes.

Getting Around Madeira

Madeira has a network of cable cars (teleférico) which, today, seem to lead nowhere. Originally, they were used to access the tiny, but fertile, flat fields at the bottom of the cliffs. These flat surfaces, in Portuguese, are called fajãs. The ground here is very fertile, used by locals to grow fruit and vegetables. Before the teleférico, they had to access the land by boat, or via carved steps in the side of the cliffs, to maintain and harvest.

Now, there’s an incredible new road network, covering Madeira’s 700 square kilometres, designed to transport cars across the relentless heights. Tunnels, bridges, causeways and flyovers and they’re still building. EU money has poured into this once impoverished area. Towns that were once only linked by footpaths are now easily accessible. The tourists can get anywhere and everywhere.

Once a holiday destination for the elderly, Madeira now offers canyoning and challenging hiking. The backpackers are arriving and the island is seething with tourists, even in October. Mostly British, but plenty of Germans too. The roads come at a price. The locals sensibly spend their holidays on the quitter beaches of neighbouring island, Porto Santo.
Today, the mountaintop houses have water and electricity, but often no roads still at the apex. If you don’t have a cable car you have to carry everything to and fro. Moving home must be fun.

Madeira - Facts and Factoids

• Madeira is one of the two autonomous regions of Portugal (the other is the Azores).
• Madeira is an archipelago, comprising four smaller archipelagos, off the northwest coast of Africa, situated in the Macaronesia region of the North Atlantic.
• Macaronesia, in its turn, is a collection of four volcanic archipelagos in the North Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of North Africa and Europe: The Azores, Madeira, The Canary Islands and Cape Verde. Politically, the Spanish and Portuguese islands of Macaronesia are in the EU. Geologically, most of Macaronesia, including Madeira, is part of the African tectonic plate. The name Macaronesia (from the Greek words meaning 'islands of the fortunate' ) was originally used by ancient Greek geographers to refer to any islands west of the Strait of Gibraltar.
• The archipelago includes the islands of Madeira, Porto Santo, and the Desertas (three islands), administered together with the separate archipelago of the Savage Islands (two islands). Roughly half of the population lives in the capital, Funchal.
• Madeira Island today is a popular year-round resort, being visited every year by about 1.4 million tourists, almost five times its population.
• The region is noted for its namesake (fortified) wine and warm, subtropical climate, as well as its flora and fauna, landscapes (laurel forest),which are classified as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and embroidery artisans.

Hotel Estalagem, Ponto do Sol

My hotel at Ponto do Sol (Sunny Point) teeters above all this, on a cliff top. Its terraces are accessed by three separate concrete column lifts, gantries suspended above the flower filled gardens. The village, with its church and beach, is way down below, in the valley. Peeping over the edge, I can see there’s a tempting swimming pool created by rock breakers, alongside the grey volcanic pebble. There are walkways and little sundecks under each of the beach umbrellas. It’s not the most comfortable surface to lie directly on.

But we have two pools, in our clifftop paradise. One outside, turquoise infinity style, suspended over the crags and more bays. One steamy and equally blue, inside. But that’s got views too. And it’s next to the spa. I’ve already sampled the massages.

The restaurant is a few levels down, via two lifts, but still high above the valley. The tables are ranged against a stone wall, low enough to afford a view and tall enough to discourage unfortunate accidents. It’s south west facing, so there are tremendous sunsets.

Eating in Ponto do Sol

Ponta do Sol village is very much about catering for the tourists. There’s a narrow street in the centre, packed with bars and three restaurants. The seafront road is an elegant palm line promenade of candy coloured hotels, with still more restaurants inside.

There’s another restaurant right on the beach and yet another, atop a rocky promontory, at the end of the beach. I’ve sampled most of the eateries and their offerings it has to be said are variable, even mediocre, and inconsistent. The Azores did better. Squid is rubbery or over salted. Potato is lumpy. Fish is overcooked.

The local delicacy of scabbard fish (they claim it’s like cod, but it isn’t as flaky or tasty) in batter, with banana and an alcohol based sauce doesn’t quite work. Too sweet. Passion fruit abounds and the mousse is lovely. Ironically, the best meals I have, on a small island, are steak orientated. The meat is cooked beautifully. The local poncha (rum served with fruit juices, lemon juice and honey) is definitely worth trying. Wonderfully sweet and sour, unlike caipirinha, not served over ice. So, it looks just like an innocuous orange juice. But it’s pretty lethal. I’ve also been told to try nikita. Beer, wine and ice cream. It will take courage.

The hotel restaurant shares the same inconsistencies. When you can find a waiter. The cold breakfast buffet is astonishingly good and beautifully arranged, with areas for fruit, breads and enticing pastries (much too enticing). Sparkling wine. All the juices are freshly squeezed too. On the other hand, the cooked breakfast menu sounds good ( again if you can someone to place an order) and indeed the food looks lovely when it arrives. But it doesn’t taste lovely. Slimy eggs, cooked too quickly, rubbery omelette and tasteless French toast. It also serves extremely strong caipirinhas. Lots of cachacha and hardly any ice. I hope I can negotiate the gantry back to my room.

Madeira is on the same time as the UK and mainland Portugal for that matter. But it’s longitude is further west (17 degrees) and so it’s pitch black still, at 7.30 in the morning, and not really sunny, until 10 a.m.,in Ponta do Sol. On the plus side, it’s still warm enough (33 degrees north and subtropical) and light enough, to sit on the beach, well after 7pm..

A Brief History of Madeira

• The Madeira Archipelago was the first territorial finding of the Age of Discovery. Madeira was claimed by Portuguese sailors, in the service of Prince Henry the Navigator, in 1419, and settled, by Portugal, from 1420. But the islands were known of well before then. Plutarch in his Parallel Lives writes of sailors who spoke of idyllic Atlantic islands – The ‘Isles of the Blessed.’ There’s also evidence that the Vikings visited sometime between 900 and 1030.
• The majority of settlers were fishermen and peasant farmers, escaping the Black Death, and the nobility's control of the best farmlands.
• Madeira was one of the first islands where sugar was cultivated and it became the driver of the economy, with slaves being imported from Africa to work the plantations. (This was possibly the first place where slaves were used on the sugar plantations.) The sugar trade ensured that Madeira became an important port of call, for shipping.
• In the seventeenth century, as Portuguese sugar production was shifted to Brazil and elsewhere, wine took over as Madeira's most important commodity. It was, for the most part, controlled by British merchants, who settled here.
• The British (by invitation) occupied the island several times during the Napoleonic Wars.
• In, 1916, a German U-boat, SM U-38, sank three ships in Funchal Harbour and bombarded the town, bringing Portugal, into World War I, by extension.
• The last Austrian Emperor, Charles I, was exiled to Madeira after the war. He died there, in 1922, and his coffin lies in the Church of Our Lady of Monte.

Funchal

Capital, Funchal, 15 to 30 minutes away from my lodging, traffic depending, is surprisingly daunting. It’s huge, spread over numerous hills and very busy. I’ve been told to see the Botanic Gardens, the Old Town, and the harbour. They boast that this is the biggest cruise harbour in Portugal and, sure enough, there are two liners in dock.

That’s easy enough to take in, as we’ve parked up alongside. Next to footballer Ronaldo‘s CR7 Museum. He’s Madeira’s biggest claim to fame. There’s a statue outside, with the crotch area distinctly worn away. This is grabbed by all the women, who pose for pictures ‘with him’. Madeira's other claim to fame is the Guinness World Record, for the world’s largest fireworks display. It's held every New Year’s Eve.

Waterside Funchal, or Sé, as the area is known (episcopal see, as it’s the historic centre), is dominated by our Lady of the Assumption Cathedral (one of the oldest buildings in Madeira - late fifteenth century) and the Sao Lourenço Palace. The Palace cum fortress architecture is mixed, with various additions, since the sixteenth century. Today, it’s used by the government and the military.

There are also, ritzy hotels. Literally, The Savoy and The Ritz, together with arcades of upmarket shops and the typical Portuguese black and white mosaic pavements.(calcadas). Small green parks. The old city gate, sitting in a small chilled out square. And the once Farmers Market (Mercado dos Lavradores) now a home for exotic and expensive fruit and flowers, marketed by loud voiced and overly pushy male vendors and women with long suffering expressions, tricked out in local costume.

I mustn’t forget the Madeira wine cellars. Madeira wine was apparently, discovered by accident. Ordinary wine was taken on board sailing vessels, at this important Atlantic refuelling port, for the mariners to drink. It was fortified with brandy, so it would keep better. but it was heated by the sun's rays on its travels. It was realised that this warming actually improved its flavour and resilience. So, in the eighteenth century, they replicated this process, onland. Today, the boast is that Madeira produces the longest lasting quality wines. A vintage Madeira can last for a century or more, and the wine can be opened, re-stoppered and stored for months, without deterioration. I’m not keen, it’s too sweet and headache inducing, like sherry. But the most famous producer is Blandys, in Funchal. You can do tours and tastings there.

The harbour isn’t very exciting, and the marina is hoarded off for modernisation. So, tuk tuk driver Fredie persuades me that a ride is a good idea. (They’re Piaggio made here.) First, the Old Town or Zona Historica, to the east side of Sé. Narrow, winding streets. vibrant street art, cobblestones, restaurants galore and a scattering of souvenir shops. At the waters edge, a fortress, Fortaleza Sao Tiago (St James), with tiny turrets and peeling gold stucco. It was built in the seventeenth century to help repel pirate invasions. Just up the hill, the Sao Tiago church, Socorro, where Fredie was baptised. It dates back to the seventeenth century. As with many catholic churches, it’s misleadingly simple outside, and has an ornate baroque interior.

We chug along the coast, stopping to admire the views of Funchal spread below us, out of the city, to the Cristo Rei, at Canico. I’ve learned that nearly all Portuguese cities of note have a Christ (redeemer or king) statue. This is one of the smallest, but he’s older than the Rio Statue by four years (built in 1927). He gazes serenely out to sea, arms outstretched, although the history of the area is less serene. Before 1770, and construction of a British cemetery, non-Catholics were not allowed burial on the island, so their bodies were thrown out to sea from here. Fredie tells me this also used to be a notorious suicide spot.

Then, up the hills, above the city, to the Botanic Garden. This lives up to its reputation, with various sections where I can admire bromeliads, palms, some awesomely huge succulents and a lattice of green and burgundy planting depicting patterns and messages. Not to mention the views across the city, from these giddy heights.

Return is via a ten minute cable car, up a steep wooded valley, nay chasm, to Monte. And then another cable car down from the Monte hilltop, across the city and back to the edge of the Old Town. I’ve already been told that I should take the infamous toboggan run down from Monte. Wooden sleighs are pushed by men in straw boaters. I caught the top of the run and it looks dangerous. According to the Internet, it sometimes can be, and broken bones have been reported. I think the tuk tuk was enough excitement for one day, juddering up the steep slopes.

But when I get back to the harbour I also realise that there was another botanic garden, up at Monte, that I’ve also managed to miss. This one had a palace. Oh dear. But I’ve definitely already got my steps in for today.

West Madeira

I was going to hire a car, but decided not to, when I saw the roads, and the amount of traffic on them. The routes are incredibly narrow and steep, with precipitous drops. So, I’m on two day tours instead, starting from Funchal and covering the east and west of the island respectively.

Today, our minibus lurches along towards the west. Here, in the south, every space on those terraces is filled with vegetation or orange roofed buildings. Driver cum guide Tony is good on botany. The Madeirans are very proud of their small yellow bananas, packed onto all the terraces. Though the ones I’ve sampled are not that sweet. The plant only flowers once and, after the harvest, has to be cut down. But they grow all year round. Vines are planted further up, creating darker patches. There are plenty of other fruit and vegetables rammed onto those terraces and fajãs too. Sweet potatoes, tomatoes, sugar cane, cabbage, maize, guavas, avocados, oranges, lemons, mangoes, loquats, custard apples, figs, pineapples, gourds, taro, carrots, beetroot, asparagus, artichokes and more…

Then, there all the exotic flowers: Strelitzia (bird of paradise), the national flower, African tulip trees, hydrangeas, orchids, protea, bougainvillea, pink tiger striped hibiscus, gorgeous hot pink kapok trees and decorative Norfolk pines. There’s a lot of heavy breathing from the driver coming over the mike, in between commentaries. I wonder if he knows he is doing it.

We follow a procession of other buses and minivans, up the winding roads and through the endless tunnels. We are decanted at the various villages and viewpoints and allowed 30 minutes at each one. There are two challenges. One is finding the main sights, as the instructions from the driver/ guide are virtually non-existent. And the other is avoiding the other tourists.

Camara de Lobos

First stop is Camara de Lobos. It’s a pretty fishing village, virtually a suburb of Funchal, which seems to be principally famous as the place where Winston Churchill painted a picture, when he visited Funchal,in 1950. There’s a statue of him, a restaurant named after him and a plaque. He apparently liked madeira wine. This is also the place where the caipirinha-like cocktail, poncha, was invented. Local rum, fruit juices and honey.

Oh and this is the bay where the first Portuguese explorers, João Gonçalves Zarco, Bartolomeu Perestrelo, and Tristão Vaz Teixeira landed, in 1419, from Porto Santo. But poncha and Churchill seem to be much more important.

There are colourful fishing boats (xavelhas) drawn up on the quay and bobbing in the harbour. The town has just celebrated a festival and the decorations are still strung across the cobbled streets. That’s nice. Multiple souvenir shops and millions of tourists. Well that’s what it feels like. I don’t think we are the only bus making our first stop here.

Cabo Girao

Cabo Girao is the highest sea cliff in Europe, standing at 580 metres, according to Google's new summaries. But, according to Wikipedia, at least two sets of cliffs in Ireland are higher. So much for AI.

Whatever, it’s two euros, to walk on a small glass pavement, suspended above the sheer drop of the cliffs. There are queues for tickets and the Skywalk, as it’s misleadingly called, is thronging. It’s impossible to walk. You can edge your way in, if you don’t have vertigo. I peer bravely from the sides, where there’s a metal grille pavement perched above the gentler slopes.

Out at sea, the wheels floating on the surface are fish farms, where they’re rearing sea bream. Tony breezily announces that this is dorado, which is also known as sea bass. Wrong on both counts. As far as I know dorado is mahi-mahi. He's not so good on fauna then.

Ribeira Brava

At Ribeira Brava (Wild River}, there’s a river (of course), a beach and promenade, a pretty church, some tourist shops and a minuscule farmers market, stacked with crates of the local produce.

North West Madeira

Then, we turn north. Here the island is greener and less built up, but there is still nothing remotely flat to be seen. Sao Vicente has a wooden bridge, across a river, at the bottom of levada terraces. There’s a little chapel at the end, alongside another bridge and viewed from a rough riverside path hewn out of the cliffs. The chapel has a lopsided roof, like a gnome’s cap. The sea here is wild, the waves crashing into shore.

Along the north coast are a whole series of narrow waterfalls, dropping into the sea. Seventy percent of the water is collected for irrigation, hydroelectricity and drinking. The falls we stop at are called Bride’s Veil. Of course, they always are. And there are the remains of the old coast road, well, track, clinging to the cliffside. It can't have been easy going. There are also basalt formations, one standing splendidly isolated, boasting a small window.

Porto Moniz

On the north west tip, Porto Moniz is heavily reminiscent of the Azores. Natural foaming bathing pools, formed by erosion of the dark basalt, assaulted by spray, creating waterfalls and iridescent jade swirls. Impossibly picturesque. There are the natural pools, which are free, to the east of town and the natural pools,which have had concrete bathing areas, walkways, changing rooms and cafes added, in the west. So now those are the unnatural pools. You have to pay to go in. And there’s a long queue.

In addition, I wasn’t told there was swimming today and I haven’t brought the necessary towel and costume. I’m not that distressed, as it’s fairly breezy up here. I get a huge fruit and chicken salad, in a rooftop bar and, afterwards, still feel as if I haven’t eaten anything. Well, I’ve tried to be healthy. Time to retreat to a bench above the natural pools and partake of a Magnum. I got it for half the price of the ices in the restaurants, as I found a little Spar. A sign that I should go ahead and have one.

I’m joined, on my stone seat, by three mini alligator shaped lizards, vying for territory above me and around my feet. we're enjoying the views across the natural pools and out to the fortress, which has become Madeira's aquarium.

Fanal Forest

Another view point at Rio De Janela (miradoura abound here). Then, back through the peaks. As we climb higher, the vegetation and terracing disappears and there’s short turf and heather. Cows are grazing. This area is known as Little Scotland. Next, Fanal Forest, home to the ancient laurel trees, which gave the island its name (Madeira means Wood Island) and predate the first settlers. The trees are starkly beautiful, their branches creating natural sculptures. There’s even one called The Witch Tree. The area is billed as a park for rest and peace. I’m sure it would be, if it wasn’t for all the tour buses parked up. We descend back south, through Canhas and its 14 roadside Stations of the Cross.

East Madeira

The east side, with garrulous guide Gama, who, like many folk here, has lived in London. He picks me up at my hotel, to take me to Funchal. That’s one of the drawbacks of taking tours. It’s all the performance of getting to the start. And today it’s a real performance. We keep stopping at hotels, but there are no punters to be found. After half an hour, we only have two participants, on a minibus that’s supposed to be full. We finally find everyone an hour and a half later, after revisiting the same hotels. Gama has previously adamantly told some of them they weren’t on his tour. But the problems are all the office’s fault, apparently.

Monte

Eventually, up the mountain behind Funchal, back to Monte (no sign of the palace) with great views across the capital, from the Terreiro da Luta Viewpoint. The Our Lady of Peace Monument there, at five metres is the tallest on the island, eclipsing the Cristo.

Pico do Arieiro

Then, a long wind up to Pico do Arieiro, the third highest mountain in Madeira. Stunning views across the crags, accessed by some wobbly and very windy paths. There are two viewpoints, east and west, and the 30 minutes allotted isn’t really enough time to do both. Some folk try and are 15 minutes late. So, Gama spends the next 30 minutes ranting about customers who keep others waiting and ruin the programme for everyone. I’ll be very interested to see if he gets any tips, at the end of the tour.

Ribeiro Frio

Back through broom, heather and pine forests and down through more laurel, mimosa and eucalyptus, to Ribeiro Frio. This tiny village is crowded with people in souvenir shops and cafes and there’s a trout hatchery, if you want to pay to go in. The road is almost blocked by minibuses and taxis. I’m not really sure why we’ve stopped and no one else seems to be either.

Faial

A view point at Faial (like the Azorean island named after the local vegetation), across the ocean, with another small and almost pointless, glass pavement. But this one is free. The coast is definitely glorious round here, with spectacular peaks and pretty villages.

Santana

Next, the north coast town of Santana, for traditional triangular thatched houses, turned into tourist shops and museums. Only one still seems to be used as a proper residential house. It’s painted a different colour to the rest, which are all blue, red and white. Then, we are offered tourist lunch, in a crammed restaurant. I’ve saved some of my breakfast, and eat it in the market square.

Sao Lourenço

Another coastal viewpoint, at Sao Lourenço, the barren and wild eastern peninsula of Madeira. Islets snake into the horizon, for six kilometres, and there’s a sprinkling of stacks.

Porto da Cruz

Most of the sugar cane on Madeira goes to make rum, and most of that ends up in poncha. So, there’s rum tasting, at a factory, at Porto da Cruz.’No obligation to buy’ and no real pretence at explaining the rum making process. The machinery doesn’t look as if it's used any more.

Machico

The final stop is at Machico. Today, it’s most well known as the site of Madeira’s international airport. But it has an old town, a port and a beach, with imported golden sand. Every year, on the first of July, the locals here celebrate Madeira Day, the anniversary of the day when the Portuguese explorers first arrived in Machico Bay, in 1419. This was where they chose to settle. Machico is said to be named after two thwarted lovers Robert Machim and French Anna d’Arfet, who fled from England to France, in the late fourteenth century, but were blown off course, to Madeira, and landed here, to meet a sad end. It seems a long way to be deflected, but that’s the legend. And, if it’s true, they arrived before the Portuguese.

Walking the Levadas

The must do activity in Madeira is walking the irrigation channels, known as levadas. They wind their way all over the hillsides and the concrete ledges are utilised as walking trails. I’ve scouted out the least vertiginous one – some of them have terrifying drops. It’s part of a 62 kilometre canal, the Levada Norte, and I’m walking from near Cabo Girau, of viewpoint fame, to Boa Morte. That means ‘good death’, if I’m not mistaken. I hope that’s not prophetic.

I set off from the hotel, who obligingly provide free transport, with a Swiss couple, Andreas and Kristina and two Czech ladies. When we arrive at the start of the walk, the Czechs disappear hurriedly, shouting, ‘Have a nice day’, over their shoulders. They clearly don’t want company. Fortunately, the Swiss couple are happy to walk with me and we amble happily along.

It’s a scenic walk, with ongoing views to the slopes of the south, and back to Cabo Girau, near the start. Reflections in the gurgling waters. Eucalyptus forests glistening and banks of exotic flowers. Tiny lizards scatter before us. Hundreds of them. Thankfully, this levada is very level and not too arduous or scary. Altogether,a very satisfactory experience.

And now, it’s time to depart this scenic and overcrowded island.

Read more about Portugal here.

The Azores

The question I've most often been asked, about this trip, is where and what are the Azores? This is an archipelago, which belongs to Portugal. There are nine major Azorean islands and an islet cluster, in three main groups. These are Flores and Corvo, to the west; Graciosa, Terceira, São Jorge, Pico, and Faial in the centre; and São Miguel, Santa Maria, and the Formigas islets to the east. They extend for more than 370 miles. Sadly, I’m not visiting westerly Flores, despite being captivated by Tennyson's poem when I was a child:  The Revenge: A Ballad of the Fleet

‘At Flores, in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,

And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away…….’

But I'm promised dramatic volcanic landscapes, fishing villages, green pastures and hedgerows of blue hydrangeas. And I’m on a group tour. We’re starting in easterly Sao Miguel and working our way west, to central Terceira, Pico and Faial. The largest city of the Azores is Ponta Delgada. And this is where we land, after flying via Lisbon. It’s one of my more unnerving landings. The plane wings  over the main caldera and then alongside the sheerest of cliffs and gleaming water, sprinkled with stacks. It wobbles crazily, appearing to almost graze the rock, before it hits the runway on top of them, very hard. Apparently, it’s worse in winter.

 There are nine of us, plus guide George and driver Federico. And a huge tour coach.

Facts and Factoids

• The Azores is one of the two autonomous regions of Portugal (the other is Madeira).
• It is an archipelago,composed of nine volcanic islands, in the Macaronesia region of the North Atlantic Ocean, about 870 miles  west of Lisbon.
• Macaronesia, in its turn, is a collection of four volcanic archipelagos, in the North Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of North Africa and Europe: The Azores, Madeira, The Canary Islands and Cape Verde. Politically, the Spanish and Portuguese islands of Macaronesia are in the EU. Geologically, most of Macaronesia is part of the African tectonic plate. The Azores, however, are located in the triple junction between the African, Eurasian, and North American plates. That explains the volcanic activity. The name Macaronesia (from the Greek words meaning 'islands of the fortunate' ) was originally used by ancient Greek geographers, to refer to any islands west of the Strait of Gibraltar.

• Because of their volcanic origins the Azores are sometimes dubbed the Hawaii of Europe.
• Main industries in The Azores are agriculture, dairy farming lots of different cheeses , livestock, fishing, and tourism, which has become increasingly important.
• Although it is commonly said that the archipelago received its name from açor (Portuguese for goshawk, a common bird at the time of discovery) it is unlikely that the bird ever nested or hunted on the islands. Guide Paulo, in Terceira, says the word means buzzards, which are sometimes seen. He prefers an azure blue sea explanation.
• Ponta Delgada, on Sao Miguel, became the region's administrative capital under the revised constitution of 1976; the judiciary and Catholic See remained in the historical capital of Angra do Heroísmo, on Terceira, while the Legislative Assembly of the Azores was established in Horta, on Faial. So everything is nicely spread out.

São Miguel, The Green Island

Ponta Delgado

Ponta Delgado means Thin Point, after the rocky promontory where the settlement was established in the fifteenth century. And the capital is a surprising place. I had expected a rural idyll. Instead, I’m finding a historic city centre, with remarkable churches, convents and a cathedral, all distinctively built from basalt rock and white plaster. An imposing plaza with three arched gates. More grand squares, monuments and winding alleys, full of boutiques and restaurants. A large buzzing  harbour, with a huge fortress. Mosaic pavements, again created from the  black volcanic rock and shining white limestone. These are the Portuguese calcadas. Even some of the roads are cobbled with basalt (well there's plenty of it around on these volcanic islands).  It’s all very sophisticated and tourist friendly. Except for the large groups of tourists being marched about. I think they’re mainly off the cruise ships.

The islands are very religious and Catholicism is strong. The show windows are full of religious icons and figurines of assorted shapes and sizes. The highlight is a naked plastic baby Jesus, on a red tasselled cushion. Ponta Delgado comes alive at night, when all the significant buildings are illuminated and a rock band performs behind the three gates. Fish is the order of the day, for supper. A harbourside restaurant serves deliciously tender squid. And cocktails in an avant garde bar, followed by a triggerfish dinner in in an up-market restaurant, on one of the little side streets is very pleasant.

São Miguel - Azores Verde

All of the islands have volcanic origins, although some, thankfully, such as Santa Maria, have had no recorded activity, in the time since the islands were settled, several centuries ago. They’ve also all been designated a colour. San Miguel is The Green Island. Ilha Verde. For obvious reasons. I’ve already experienced the wind, but the weather here really does turn on a sixpence.  There’s plenty of rain.  It’s humid and I’ve already had drizzle, cloud and sun alternating all afternoon. And a rainbow.

Nevertheless, the climate of the Azores is very mild for such a northerly location, far away from any land masses and buffeted  by the  Gulf Stream. All the water keeps  the temperatures  mild year-round. Daytime temperatures normally fluctuate between 16 and 25 °Celsius. I’m at the top end today, weather-wise.

And exploration is, of course, driven by the weather.  Today, our huge tour bus has been compressed into a minibus, with less leg room than EasyJet. But it’s probably  easier on the twisty mountain roads. Those are lined with the famous hydrangea hedges, though sadly most of the flowering is over. They were introduced from Japan and form most of the glorious blue boundaries, on the islands. There are still slopes scattered with the yellow ginger, although that's viewed more as an invasive nuisance.

Otherwise,  the landscape is littered with green patchwork covered volcanic cones, most of them smothered in cloud. And it's pelting with rain so we’re going to leave our view seeking until later. The power is geothermal and there are puffs of smoke from the vents adorning the cones.  Through the slender central section along the north coast ( pretty views of coastal plateau and the sheer layered cliffs) and a tea plantation visit, at Gorreana. It’s not as imposing or dramatic as some in Malaysia, for example, but there are some rolling bushes and an interesting exhibition explaining the leaf treatment processes for both green and black tea. And banks of violet morning glory.

Furnas

 Then south to Furnas. This is a literal hotbed of geothermal activity.  

San Miguel is bursting with botanic gardens and the one here has plenty of exotic plants, including a grotto, with mini waterfall, an impressive bromeliad garden and a pond with baby moorhens. But the main attraction is the thermal bathing pools. If you don’t mind the heat (enough to make some go giddy) and getting orange stains on your swimwear.

There are calderas galore. One with a lake, plenty of steam vents and some bubbling geysers, in the centre of town.  The local restaurants capitalise on the tourist interest and save energy (most of the island runs on geothermal power) by serving cozido – stew baked in hotpot crocks, in fumaroles - on the edge  of the thermal lake. The stew is comprised of layers of pork, beef, chicken, sausages, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and kale. There’s heaps of food, but not everyone enjoys it. The sausage is super spicy and the vegetables extremely salty.

Lagoa do Fogo

The weather continues to play fast and loose with us. But we eventually  manage a view across Lagoa do Fogo  ( Fire Lake) in the afternoon and a panorama from the highest point on the island, across to  its 67 or so volcanic peaks.

Setes Cidadas - Almost

The next day sees us at a family owned pineapple plantation, at Faja de Beixo. As it's not tropical here, they are grown in a hothouse.  Some of the group are surprised to see these members of the bromeliad family bursting from the ground and tethered, to keep them upright. They thought pineapples grew on trees. There’s a shop with pineapple liqueur and gaudy earrings and the usual tour buses.

Then west, to Setes CidHeroisadas (Seven Cities). This for me, was going to be the highlight of the visit. It's the stunning scene shown on all the tourism advertising. A double volcanic lake, above another lagoon, in the centre of a huge caldera (a caldera is more than a mile wide, otherwise it’s a crater ) and the most active volcano in the archipelago. The Sete Cidades Massif has experienced some 17 intra-caldera eruptions within the last 5000 years. But clouds are looming again. And, much to my chagrin, there are no views to be had, from up above. Jorge insists that the rainbows are due compensation. (You can see my photo from a PR video below, next to reality.)

Down in the caldera, there are views of the steep walls, diving down to the bridge divided water,  interspersed with drizzle. The itinerary says we’re going for a leisurely stroll alongside the lake. But instead Jorge takes us into a church. St Igreja de São Nicolau is accessed via an imposing avenue of tall pines; inside Jorge performs on his hand pan. (It seems that Jorge has fingers in lots of pies.) It's a peaceful and melodic rendition. (You can watch it here.) And no one complains vociferously. It’s still raining.

Back along the northern coast of San Miguel. It's sweeping vistas the whole way, with stacks and rock formations and a bendy nausea inducing road, to showcase it. There’s an 'elephant rock', reminiscent of the one in Saudi Arabia at Al Ula.

There’s also a bizarre ethnographic museum, at Capelas. A winding labyrinth of bazaar style booths showcasing collections, shops, a school room  and even a chapel, is hidden behind a deceptively tiny entrance. Two women paint the figurines which adorn many of the exhibits. Eclectic is definitely the word.

Next day, Jorge is a no-show to take us to the airport. He was going to a baptism celebration and had intimated it might be a long night. At least it saves me his tip money.

A Brief History of the Azores

• The culture, dialect, cuisine, and traditions of the Azorean islands are surprisingly different, because these remote islands were settled sporadically, over a span of two centuries.
• The islands were known to Europeans in the 14th century; parts of them appear in the Catalan Atlas, created in 1375. But the origin of their actual discovery are unclear. A captain sailing for Prince Henry the Navigator, possibly Gonçalo Velho, in 1427 is credited, but so is a Fleming, Joshua Vander Berg of Bruges.
• The islands had fertile soil and were deemed ripe for settlement by the Portuguese. Although there were no minerals discovered Santa Maria was settled first - there were no large animals on Santa Maria; after its discovery and before settlement began, sheep were let loose on the island to supply future settlers with food. The main crops were wheat and oranges, but the oranges were wiped out by blight.
• The islands were an ideal stopping place for cross Atlantic sailing boats, although steam made them less attractive. (Later, before jets were developed for flying longer  distances the Azores served as a  refuelling point for aircraft flying between Europe and North America.)
• Settlers were not always keen. The islands had a history of volcanic eruption, but some 2000 Flemish peoples arrived, spurred on by the 100 Years War at home, and bringing their windmills. cheese making skills and dry stone wall construction.
• Along with mainland Portugal, the Azores were ruled by by Spain (the House of Habsburg), from 1580 to 1640, although the Azoreans resisted strongly.
• The islands of the Azores were very poor, until Portugal joined the EU  and money flowed in.

Terceira, the Lilac Island

Terceira was the third of the islands to be discovered, hence the name. Maybe. It's also named The Lilac Island, for its flowers, though I only saw one patch of those. (There were plenty of other kinds.) And arrived at on a too early morning flight. The programme says we are to be met by a Miguel, but it’s Elizabeth who is greeting us, when we land. Our guide says 16,000 people and two cows for each person, but Wikipedia says it is one of the larger islands of the archipelago, with a population of 53,311 inhabitants. Take your pick.

Angra do Heroísmo

The guides are certainly passionate about their island and the importance of its capital city. Angra do Heroísmo, is the historical capital of the archipelago and a UNESCO World Heritage Site; the seat of the judicial system (Supreme Court) and the Bishop of the Azores. It is home to the main insular Portuguese Air Force base, Base Aérea nº 4, at Lajes, with a United States Air Force detachment on the British built airport (during World War II, when Portugal wasn't entirely neutral). That's where we've landed. This area used to be the island's breadbasket.

Historical Angra do Heroísmo

We have a hotel in a prime spot, on the main square, in this fascinating city. Angra has played an important role in Portuguese history. António, Prior of Crato, attempted to rule Portugal from here, after he tried to claim the throne, when it went to the Spanish monarchy. He was defeated by Philip II of Spain's armies, on the mainland, in 1580. Although for a time he was the king, (minting coin and conferring titles), his government, on Terceira, was only recognized in the Azores. He won the locals over, as they defended him vigorously when the Spanish tried to land in 1581. A thousand head of cattle were unleashed and they drove the invaders into the sea. Sadly, they succumbed to the Castilians, in 1583, at the Battle of Terceira, but The Pretender had already fled.

Philip occupied the Azores, completing his unification of the Crowns of Spain and Portugal. England had supported Antonio in battle and the English threat was thought to be a grave one (the Armada followed), so the Portuguese fort, on the hill called Monte Brasil, was reinforced and expanded. The Spanish used it to good effect, resisting the Portuguese restoration, until 1642. There are great views from up here, across the town. (British guns were added to the hill, when the airport was built.)

The House of Braganza then took on the Portuguese monarchy, but the second king of that line, Dom Afonso VI, had suffered a paralysis, at the age of three, which was believed to have also affected his mental faculties. He became king, with his mother Luisa, as regent. Afonso managed to retire her, to a convent, but in 1668, his brother, Pedro II,conspired to have him declared incapable of ruling (Afonso had favourites and was considered wild and irresponsible), and Pedro took over as regent. Then Pedro married Maria Francisca, Afonso's wife (she obtained an annulment, on the grounds of impotence). Afonso spent the rest of his life and reign practically a prisoner. He was exiled to Terceira, for seven years; his statue, resplendent, in a huge hat, also looks down on Angra, from Monte Brasil.

When the liberal King João VI died, in 1826, Portugal was again plunged into a succession crisis. Both the king's sons, Emperor Pedro of Brazil, and the younger Miguel had already rebelled against their father and many Portuguese no longer wanted to be unified with their colony, Brazil. So, Pedro abdicated the Portuguese throne, in favour of his seven-year-old daughter Maria da Glória, on condition that she later marry her uncle, Miguel.

But Miguel was not keen on liberal rule and was more interested in an absolutist monarchy; he quickly deposed his niece. Thus began the Liberal Wars, with the Liberals (Pedro and Maria) establishing a base at Angra. The Battle of Praia da Vitória, on August 11, 1829, saw the Terceirans repulse a Miguelist attack. Maria da Glória resided on the island from 1830 to 1833 and became Queen Maria II. There's a yellow ochre monument to Dom Pedro, at the site of the first fortress, behind Angra.

Angra  de Heroismo - Bay of Heroes - was so named because, according to the guide, it was defended against  invaders countless times. According to Wikipedia, the epithet was granted to the city by Maria, to commemorate its citizens' successful defence of the island. The other main town on the island was renamed Praia da Vitória, also to commemorate this victory.

Exploring Angra do Heroísmo

It's clear that some of the quaint red tiled roofs here are much older than others. Angra was hit by a major earthquake, on 1 January 1980, which did considerable damage to the city's historic centre (and to many other parts of the island of Terceira). The damage in the city was repaired and rebuilt within four years. There's another good viewpoint also, back across the city, from the first fortress on the island, built in 1474. And a third, possibly the most pleasant, from the rooftop bar, on our hotel. There are a whole series of cultural events taking place, on this holiday weekend. The highlight is the demonstrations of stick fighting. (Watch here.) The low point is loud music late into the evening, though it's terminated by a downpour. Rain has its uses.

 The pink and white cathedral, of the Holy Saviour was built in 1496, as a church and adorned with twin spires. The visit of John Paul II is commemorated with a  statue outside the cathedral and the airport is named after him.  He’s the only pope to have been here, to this fervently religious territory. There are nine convents/monasteries showcasing all the New World gold and silver,.

Next up, the botanic gardens with a lower French section and an upper English garden. I’m unsure how the distinction has been made, as both are full of sub tropical blooms that wouldn’t do well in Northern  Europe. The French garden is almost gaudy, with a very pink bandstand and scarlet railings. Our hotel is cunningly built alongside, so we can view the garden, as we eat breakfast.

The City Museum here isn’t quite as eclectic as the last one, in Sao Miguel, but the attached church has a fountain in a courtyard and an assortment of rooms, with exhibits ranging from archaeological findings, to carriages and cannons. And there's a modern art gallery too.

Angra also has a bullfighting ring and a memorial to bullfighting. Bullfighting is big in Terceira, a legacy of the Spanish. They have bullfights and bull running ('touradas à corda') here (in a similar fashion to Pamplona), in many of the villages. The festivities are celebrated with flags and banquets. The guide stresses that the bulls are not killed, just 'played with'. 'I’m still not impressed. I'm surprised to come across the incredible dragonblood trees. I thought they were endemic to Socotra, but it seems there's another variety in the Canaries and they have been introduced here.

Pastry tasting turns out to be tarts, with potato in sticky syrup and ground almond in them, in a small coffee shop. The Azores, and Terceira in particular, are famous for cakes. In the early twentieth century, King Carlos visited, with his wife Dona Amelia, and sundry cookies and cupcakes are named after her. Dona Amelia's portrait adorns several bakery windows.

Round Terceira

Miguel has metamorphosed into Paolo today. He is even more passionate about Terceira than Elizabeth. He makes a point of telling me I don't need to wear my seat belt before we set off. The Portuguese version of Vamos is pronounced Vamoosh.

Terceira is divided into its two cities with 19 and 11 parishes respectively. Praia da Vitoria is the smaller one and the newest town in the Azores. There are plenty of vineyards and fish, bananas, flowers and honey are the main exports now, replacing the blight infected oranges.

There's more spectacular coastal scenery, and a viewpoint over Goat Island; it's actually two islets, another ancient volcano. We're on our way to Sao Sebastiao, the oldest village on Terceira, where the first settlers came. It had plenty of water and all the houses had wells. The old church here has a hexagonal pyramid topped bell tower and some old semi restored frescoes. Opposite, there's a cute chapel and a typical square.

There are 70 or so brightly decorated chapels on the island, dedicated to the Holy Ghost. They come into their own during the feast of Pentecost, when the church here has an eight week celebration, after Easter; there are 70 Holy Spirit chapels in all,  tiny and brightly decorated. Lots are cast to see who will host the celebrations each week and one lucky recipient is crowned, prayed for and brought gifts on each of the eight Sundays.

Praia da Vitória

It’s deathly quiet on a Sunday morning, in Praia da Vitoria, but the streets with the painted houses and little chapels are suitably picturesque. It's a pleasant little town. We finish at another viewpoint, with a statue of the Madonna benevolently looking down over the bay and the best beach on the island. It's volcanic sand, of course.

Then, we stroll alongside the ocean, the foam tipped turquoise sea contrasting beautifully with the black lava pinnacles.

The Algar do Carvão Cave

More viewpoints, across patchwork fields and mini cones. Then north, to caves that that are not caverns, but a volcanic pipe. The Algar do Carvão is the caldera 'geyser' of the Guilherme Moniz volcano. There are steps leading down (and then up again) to a cathedral cave (a few stalactites and stalagmites), a clammy interior, with cascades of water droplets descending, and some atmospheric greenery, emerald moss and ferns; it's almost Jurassic. A staircase leading down takes you to a small photogenic lake.

Biscoitas

Finally, swimming, in some of the natural lagoons created by the lava flows. All of the islands, short on beaches, have developed access to the sea, by adding strategic ladders and platforms for sunbathing. Biscoitas has a large complex, with changing rooms and a plethora of tidal pools. Those are a little too exciting when the current carries you close to the submerged rocks. But the bathing is refreshing, and welcome, after a relatively sunny day.

Another day, another island. The lock on my case has jammed and I can't open it or close it properly. I'm hoping security at the airport might assist with one of their TSA keys. but the grumpy check in clerk isn't in a cooperative mood. 'Security are down stairs', he says. 'Are you going to check in or not?' So, piqued, I'm off to Pico.

Pico, the Grey Island - Wine, Whales and Windmills

We land, over a panorama that's the towering peak which is Mount Pico and a lattice of stone walled minuscule vineyards. Like Saba, the volcano dominates the island. Pico is unkindly and inaccurately named The Grey Island, because of all the lava. I'm not sure why, as Portuguese poet, Raul Brandão, referred to Pico as the 'Ilha Preta' (Black Island). Anyway, that title went to smaller island, Corvo. Pico is the second largest and, geologically speaking, the most recently formed island of the Azores, being only 300,000 years old. Mount Pico, at 2,351 metres, is the highest point in Portugal.  If measured from their base, at the bottom of the ocean, to their peaks, the Azores are among the tallest mountains on the planet.

The Wine Route

Guide Tiago whisks us straight up to the north west coast and The Wine Route. Pico is, apparently, famous for its wine. The houses up here have traditional basalt walls, some overlaid with a lime wash, to give a dalmatian dog type appearance.  The doors are red or green (in the  Santa Luzia area). It’s the rule. We are taken on a seaside walkway, through lava tubes and basalt arches. The lava  cools down more rapidly, where it meets the sea. The first village is named Cachorro  (little dog) after the basalt rock formation here, which I think looks more like a cow. There are pretty coastal views and a ramp, to float barrels of wine into the sea.

 Further west, Lajado has a wine 'interpretation centre' and some grumpy cafe owners. The unusual vineyards are even UNESCO designated, though for the moment only white wine is produced (from black grapes). It's not warm enough to ripen the grapes for red. The vines grow in soil brought over from nearby Faial, in small sailboats (that's where Pico's wealthy landowners live) and poured into pockets dug in the lava. Each vine cutting was planted at an angle, so it would grow along the ground instead of upright. To ensure enough sunshine the vines had to be planted close to the sea.

'In Pico, vineyards should always be planted where you can hear the singing of the crab.'

The fruits are protected from the winds by a myriad of dry-stone walls, called currais. There are so many that they would stretch round The Equator twice. No machinery here. The viticulture is still done by hand, as it was in the nineteenth century. The rock retains the necessary heat to mature the grapes and its minerals nourish the plants. Even the salt in the air contributes, giving the wine its distinctive flavour.

Figs, lemons and sweet oranges (making a comeback) also flourish on the rocks of Pico. Miniature volcanic cones line the main ridge, behind the village. But Mount Pico is always with us, towering above, albeit swathed in cloud. Then, wine tasting at Sao Antonio. It's a divine experience.

Madalena

Then, to Madalena, the island capital. The hotel doesn’t have check-in till four pm.  My bag is opened with enormous bolt cutters, brandished joyously by one of the receptionists. There is a nice swimming pool, overlooking the harbour (if you discount the concrete arches of the wharf). A Scandinavian woman is chastised loudly, by the same receptionist, for swimming topless. She, at least, escapes the bolt cutters.

Madalena is tiny; Pico was settled later than the other islands, and as I've already explained, most of the landowners here live on other islands. There's a church and a couple of streets, bestrewn with blue streamers, to celebrate the recant festivals. I've noticed that the Portuguese post boxes are red pillar style. They used to be imported from England. And there's some upmarket (and pricy) dining. We sample roast limpets - a local delicacy. (They're ok. I won't be rushing for seconds.) But even here you have to be cautious. Cars are driven at terrifying speed, down the narrow thoroughfares.

The Whale Route

The road along the south coast of Pico is dubbed The Whale Route. Whale watching today, at Lajes do Pico, is facilitated  by watchers in towers, called viagias, who radio the animals' position to the boats, before they head out. The marine sanctuary in the Azores is home to (arguably) 29 species of cetaceans, varying from blue whales, to fin, to humpback and false killer whales and various types of dolphin.

I've been whale watching three times already this year, in Canada and I've been lulled into a false sense of security. All the rides were relatively comfortable, even in zodiacs. Though admittedly I didn't see any whales. The vessel we are whale watching in here is more like the one in Mayotte. And that was much too exciting. This is a twelve seater, sit astride, facing front, zodiac. Oh good. Oh good. It’s a pretty choppy, pretty bumpy, and very wet, ride. The lady next to me wails 'I hate this. I hate this. When is it going to stop?' The pretty French guide smilingly tells her we've only just started our journey. And we're at the back of the boat, in the less jerky section. 

But, unlike Canada, I do get to see a couple of shy young sperm males, from a distance. Their distinctive sideways blow gives them away. Sperm whales live in this area year round, so there's a good chance of spotting them.The other species have already passed through, on their various migrations. There are also some exceptionally shy Risso's dolphins, leaping away from us. They swim mainly underwater and are white shadows, in the turquoise waves. Their lightness indicates their age; they fight and acquire white scars, which gradually cover their bodies.

Whaling

Lajes has a museum dedicated to whaling. Whale hunters were the first to use the viagias, though no radios in those days. The boats were tiny with a captain, directing operations, a harpoon wielder and six oarsmen. The whales were tracked down and connected to the boat with the harpoon. Then, lances were used to attack the brain and heart, until the whale was dead and could be dragged back to shore. It was a bloody and very risky business, but whale oil was valuable. It does not thicken at low temperatures and was used for a multiplicity of purposes, now supplanted by modern chemicals. Sperm whales were especially prized. They contain vast amounts of oil, in their heads. The whales were dismembered and the blubber placed in cauldrons, to extract the oil. Today, the boats are still used in rowing competitions.

Scrimshaw is the art of carving whale bone and teeth. Sperm whale are particularly suitable. There's some fine craftsmanship on display. There's also an aged, crackling film at the museum, explaining the history of whaling. but my sea sick pills have knocked me out and I fall asleep.

Windmills

More scenic coastline. We're still circling Mount Pico, of course, less pointy from this angle. The Flemish windmills on Pico are scarlet and exceptionally pretty, dotted across the vineyards. Most of them are the traditional mounted (or monte) windmills, used for grinding corn, to make flour.

Faial, the Blue Island

Faial gets its name from the faial plant, an endemic wax myrtle, which was once abundant on the island and was mistaken for beech trees, by its discoverers. But, Faial is known as 'Ilha Azul' ', The Blue Island, because it has even more hydrangeas than any of the others. Portuguese poet Raul Brandão wrote this:

'The man that had the idea to border the road with these plants should have a statue on the island. In no other place do they prosper better: they need a covering of light, humidity and heat…they are in their place. Their blue is the blue that adorns the Azores on limpid days…this is a blue that is even more blue, the bunches of flowers of a colour more intense and fresh. They are in every direction: rising along the roads and the fields, forming hedges; they serve to divide the plots and to cover the peaceful animals.'

The small population here has fluctuated. Kennedy opened the borders of the USA to Azoreans, when the volcano, at Capelinhos, on Faial, erupted in 1957. Many folk were forced to leave their land and homes. In addition, the Portuguese Salazar regime was brutal, and many folk were not unhappy to leave. The Americans were compassionate. and also keen to utilise the Azoreans whaling and seafaring skills. Most of the emigrants settled in Massachusetts; some went to California. Many families remain there, perhaps still sending back money. Others have returned, after EU investment vastly improved the standard of living. Everywhere is pristine, exceptionally clean.

Just to complicate things further, because of their arrangement, in the central islands, Faial, Sao Jorge and Pico, are known as The Triangle Islands. Capital, Horta, is directly opposite Madalena, across a channel, which takes 30 minutes to cross, by boat. It's a relatively easy journey. We only have to roll our bags out of the hotel and across the road, to the terminal. But the ferry is, literally, packed to the gunwales.

Horta

The Legislative Assembly of the Azores is located in Horta, making it the Azores' legislative capital. The itinerary bills Horta as the liveliest and arguably the most eye catching  town in the Azores. It has a very picturesque skyline, the houses tumbling down the hillside to the port. We get the best views as the ferry enters the harbour, and from the Madonna, on the hill above. Horta is a key stopping place for yachts crossing the Atlantic Ocean; its walls and walkways are covered with paintings commemorating the various vessels' visits. Peter's Café Sport, just across from the marina, is well known to all the yachties. It houses the island's scrimshaw museum. Next door, a fortress, turned hotel.

 But the streets are very quiet – the opposite of lively. This, despite the fact that the Azores is having its busiest tourist season ever. The Americans have discovered the islands and are landing in droves, on their way to mainland Europe. There are also plenty of Scandinavians, French, Italians and Germans, as well as Portuguese of course.

Is everyone indoors? The larger hotels are full. So, I’ve been separated from the rest of the tour group and am lodged in another establishment. It has lovely views across the sea port and out to Pico volcano (it's still with us) and on two other sides, across the little town and the slopes of Faial. Except that I’m a single lady and so, naturally, I’ve been put in a three bedded room, with an outlook onto a strip of green hillside. There's a man strimming by the window. No scenic panoramas for me. And they take half an hour to check me in, as one desk lady  just walks off duty when it's my turn. And then they’ve lost one of my bags and I have to track it down. Grrr.

Our guide Luzia, is an American returnee. She takes us to a fish restaurant for lunch, but it's not open. The sign in the window says it’s closed every Wednesday.

Round Faial

One of the most off putting aspects of tours for me is the large hotel breakfast buffet and the scramble for lukewarm, badly cooked food and a table. When you’re solo, there’s also the need to protect your food and drink from being  cleared away, mid-meal, by over-zealous waiters. There isn’t anyone else to guard it and possessions left around the table  apparently don’t count.

The vast number of tourists means that there is no bus available for us, on our island tour. We're in two cars instead.

More stunning coastal scenery - two arches in close succession. Then the Morro cheese making 'factory'. The Azores is renowned for its dairy cattle, and especially its cheese, and Morro is deemed to be one of the finest. Here, they make fresh cheese; six days sitting wrapped in muslin cloths, to preserve the shape and then it's dried with a dehumidifier. Cured cheese is left for longer, till a skin forms. It's more than a little whiffy inside and we're asked to wear plastic overshoe covers. We slip and slide, all over the wet floor. There are huge vats of cheese being separated, with the whey gushing out. But the end product is delicious. We sample plain, garlic and parsley and chilli varieties. And 'ooh' and 'ah' at the tiny calves in the adjacent pasture.

The Capelinhos Volcano

As well as being responsible for the most recent eruption in the Azores, the Capelinhos Volcano is the westernmost point of the island and and the westernmost point of Europe (if you don't count Monchique Islet, just off Flores - it's uninhabited). Luzia maintains that this was the first submarine volcano, but says that the authorities were lackadaisical about certifying this. And a few years later Surtsey erupted, off Iceland, and took the title, erroneously of first, and therefore most famous, submarine volcano.

There's a museum (I refuse to write interpretation centre) explaining the progress of the eruption. The eroded remains of the craters are still barren.And there's a lighthouse, for a time buried under the lava.

The Caldeira do Cabeço Gordo

I'm still upset at not seeing the Sete Cidades caldera. The Caldeira do Cabeço Gordo, in the centre of Faial, is billed as 'probably the most impressive crater of the Azores'. But clouds are billowing, as we wind our way up to the top and I'm not holding my breath. Through a tunnel and there it is, in all it's glory. Two kilometres wide, 400 metres deep. Stunning.

Why The Rainbow Tour?

A final dinner, at fish restaurant Genuino, with a lovely view across the smaller bay here. And so another voyage of discovery ends. Four islands, each surprisingly different in character and all engaging, in distinct ways. Colourful soubriquets, changeable weather and plenty of flowers. Notwithstanding the lack of Eva Peron, this really has been a Rainbow Tour.

Read more about Portugal here.

Friday - No Underwater Camera

Arrive to visit Niue, from Norfolk Island, flying with the rain. Pockets of hardy tourists, mainly Kiwis are out walking and diving, but considerably larger numbers are huddled in the cafes in the main town, Alofi. And I discover I have brought the wrong underwater camera. This one doesn’t work and I've left my lovely Olympus Tough at home. And I’m booked to swim with whales tomorrow. Niue is famous for being one of the few places in the world where you can do this. Eventually, I persuade a diving company in a hut down the road form my hotel to rent me one. Initially, they say I can only borrow one if I go out with their boat, but then they relent. At a price.

Saturday - No Whale Tour in Niue

A very early start, so I can’t sleep, what with massive jet lag now - 12 hours behind - and concern at having to be ready at six a.m for my trip with the whales. It’s rained all night. Go pick up my rental camera. Find the correct dive shop some five miles up the coast with some difficulty. Tour is cancelled because of the bad weather. It won't be fun, they say and there is little chance of encountering the whales. Rami, the boatman, says that the whales are elusive this year. They are six weeks late in arriving from the Antarctic and there have only been a few spotted so far.

The first dive shop is still venturing, out, but it seems they didn’t ever have a swimming spot available, just a watching slot (only six swimmers at a time are allowed near the whales). Ask for a refund.

Sunday - So, No Whale Tour in Niue

Today, I can see patches of blue sky out of my window. And there is a hump backed whale blowing and cavorting with some spinner dolphins, just off the reef.

I’ve made the mistake of trying to boil eggs for my breakfast. I discovered the absence of a saucepan too late. Things are not going well in the shallow frying pan - I don’t have any oil either. I could be here all day.. ....

It is Sunday and everyone on South Pacific islands goes to church and relaxes on Sunday. (The ladies are wearing their special hats). All the shops in Niue are shut (I’m not convinced they were open yesterday) and no boating is allowed. Even the dogs are taking it easy. 

Willie's Washaway Café

The place to be seen today is Willie’s Sundays only Washaway Café down on Avotele Beach. The island’s biggest smiliest entrepreneur is busy setting it up when I arrive – he just leaves the fish, salad and burgers out and relies on people to pay for what they take and write it into the book - prices on the wall. I venture into the water in the shallow bay here. It’s chilly, but incredibly clear and the coral and reef fish epitomises vivid. It looks as if someone’s ratcheted up the brightness filter on the television. There’s a really nasty current if you swim to the wrong side of the break in the reef though, and I beat a hasty retreat.

Limu Pools

. I decamp to safer waters up at Limu Pools, with Kiwis Julie and Marion. Here there are natural swimming pools, again one with an arch, and a few iridescent fish tootling around. I swim in the biggest lagoon and scramble around the various viewpoints admiring the scenery.

The azure skies have tantalisingly come and gone several times. The whale has been taunting everyone, motoring up and down the coast, groups gathering to look out to sea, timing the gaps between his dives to try and predict his next appearance. And it hasn’t rained once

Monday - Trying to Swim with Whales in Niue

I’m making a last attempt to swim with the whales in Niue. It’s pushing things timewise, as my plane leaves at 2.30. We go in pursuit of yesterday’s sightings, but to no avail. I have to confess to being slightly relieved after Rami has warned us about not provoking mothers with calves, told us not to scream and instructed us to tear back to the boat pell-mell if they start to breach. ‘You don’t want one to fall on you’. However, there is snorkelling outside the reef. There are caves and channels dotting its length, and we weave in and out of one in single file. The water is still quite choppy. Turtles meander gracefully past and there are clusters of banded sea snakes. These are unique to Niue, very poisonous, but not remotely aggressive. (I’m told). They drift aimlessly past.

Dolphins to the Rescue!

The bays are teeming with dolphins and we get to swim with them instead. You jump in and grip a rope tow at the prow of the boat. It’s one of those unforgettable experiences – 30 dolphins jumping and diving effortlessly around me in the clear blue water. They are definitely inviting us to join in, peeling off and returning, though it's not very easy to take photos with one hand.

Now, I have to race to the airport for my flight to Melbourne.