This post is only a year late!! I am lazy. I am aware of this. I also don’t care. So quick recap. We have just crossed the Atlantic and arrived in The Azores.

I had been really excited about visiting the islands, and Horta on the island of Faial, where we arrived, definitely didn’t disappoint. Rugged, beautiful and unspoilt, it is a walker’s paradise.

But first, we needed to mark our spot with the obligatory painting, like the thousands of boats before us have done. With minimal effort, I found a “Chinese shop” (this is genuinely what they are called), which is like a huge Temu warehouse where you can find EVERYTHING! Supplies in hand, I got to work.

Obviously it’s considered rude to paint over other people’s work, so you need to hunt around for a space that is so weathered you can no longer see anything. Once found, paint away! It took a couple of days as it needs to dry, but considering I am the least creative person I know, I was quite proud of it! Sometimes, simple is easier.

Horta itself is a lovely, quiet little town which is well worth visiting in its own right, even without seeing the rest of the island. With ornate architecture and a tiny bit shabby around the edges, she has a bit of faded beauty about her. I guess it won’t be long before she is all pimped out with Air BnB’s, but for now, she’s just perfect.

We were fortunate not to have any repairs that needed doing, so after a couple of days of laundry and general lazing around it was time to explore. With a hire car, Waze and All Trails, we were off. Due to the mountain passes, it was a slow start!!

I adored Madeira, but Faial is her more rugged sister. No tourism to speak of. Just fresh air, hikes, friendly people and one really decent Continente Supermarket with everything you could need. If it weren’t in the middle of the bloody Atlantic, I would be back in a heartbeat.

The photos speak for themselves. Absolutely beautiful, it’s a lot like Madeira (after all it is also the result of a volcanic fart in the Atlantic ocrean that is Portugese). It also has the fabulous Hydrangea hedges everywhere, which would be in full bloom a couple of months later. The coastline is inhospitable with no beaches really to speak of, but the views from the calderas and mountains down to the sea really did bring it home quite what an achievement it was to arrive there. I am genuinely surprised that tourism hasn’t arrived there yet. For now, it still seems to be a little bit like the land that time forgot. Go now, while you can. It is stunning.

Rather fabulously, the Azores also have a “Happy Cow” programme. This is a social responsibility programme for sustainable milk and puts animal welfare first. So, all over the island are free-range cows in the most beautiful meadows. Sometimes, if they have calves, they are loosely secured in a paddock for ease of feeding, but otherwise, they are just cutting about doing their own cow-like thing. There is one dairy on the island, and also a cheesemaker. Obviously, it would be rude not to, so with 4 cheeses tucked away in my rucksack, we returned to the boat, and with a couple of bottles of wine, the cheese went down like a fat kid on a see-saw.

We spent a fab few days doing nothing but hiking the trails and collapsing into bed each night exhausted. But finally, like all good things, it must end. Which it did. Rather abruptly.

Our friend Colin had wanted to do a leg with us, and he was flying into São Miguel, a neighbouring island. Despite only being a trip of around 180 km (normally about 18 hours), it was possibly the most horrendous sail we have had. The seas were high, rough and came at us from every angle. Whatever way we turned to try and catch the wind, it shifted, with squalls and horrible gusts the whole way. Unwilling to risk damaging the engine due to the rough seas, we had to try and sail there, but despite constant short tacking we just seemed to make no headway. After an utterly miserable trip, all I wanted to do was moor up and relax, but Lee wanted to fuel up first. With the weather and seas still epically shite, we crash-landed onto the fuel pontoon. Thus ensued an almighty matrimonial discussion culminating with Lee telling me that if I was that pissed off I should just fly home. I had booked my plane ticket before we even left the fuel pontoon. After 5 years of living a calm life in a tiny space, one shitty trip and throwaway comment from Lee was me done.

Colin flew in, we all went for a curry, and a day later I flew home.

Clearly, I didn’t completely abandon Lee!! When they arrived in A Coruna 10 days later and Colin returned to the UK, I flew out and we carried on home. On a far happier boat than when I had left!

If you are in a house, you have room to breathe. You can get away from someone when you get frustrated or just want your own space. Living on a boat is amazing. It really is, but to be with someone, 24/7 in some really challenging situations can be tough. It took 6 years, but eventually we just needed a short time out. Just in time for our return to Blighty!!