Testarossa Daily Message: Last Day at Sea Prior to Azores Landfall / Thurs - Fri 26-27 May 2016 //
/ Late Entry //
"Land Ho!"
Cry of the sailing lookout, since time immemorial
The day prior to making landfall is always special. To be sure - you
can feel it in the air – in our case literally, as we were still making a
good 9-10 knots ship's speed and over ground on a good breeze. But what
we mean is, the excitement of the crew was palpable. Everyone was
excited and giddy about finally making it to the Azores. Plus, I think
we were all exhausted, and tired of living "on the edge"...we were ready
for the heel to stop! What does all this mean?
We couldn't sleep that well the night before, inspite of everything. And for various reasons:
The proverbial wedgie in the starboard aft cabin, the angle in the
starboard right cabin, the pounding in the forward cabin (Captains), the
various noises in the main cabin, etc etc. You get the picture.
On the early watch, I quote: "It rained, we saw nothing, and nothing happened." So there you have it nothing to report there...
Coming up on watch just after midnight, it was a watch like any other,
except for the fact that we were rapidly coming up on our destination.
80 miles remaining. 60 miles remaining. 45 miles remaining. 32 miles
remaining. By this juncture, my watch mate - Babalou was sound asleep in
his slickers. He always slept catty corner on the upwind (high) side of
the cockpit - his feet propped up on the center console / dinning
table, his head thrown back pointing skyward, as if he was checking the
sails, but we knew better, his snores a dead give away.
A dark
night with no moon, and overcast skies, I could only just make out the
horizon. It twas a dark night indeed. A lot of ship traffic was showing
up on our AIS - but try as I might, no visual contacts were observed.
And the ship cracked onward! Heeled over and shuttering, the waves and
foam swept by as we continued to make good headway on a stiff breeze.
The dawn was coming and I knew we were getting close, but where oh
where were the Azores. Not so much as even a light visible! 28 miles. 22
miles. I knew the islands had quite a bit of relief, so I expected at
least to see some lights up on the hills if even the coastline was yet
obscured by the earth's curvature. Alas - nothing. And then a flash. Was
it a ship? A lighthouse? Who knows - nothing again. 19 miles. 16
miles. Cell Phone reception! At this point - You're there! Who cares
about actually seeing the land. Well at least in the modern
technological sense you're there. "Azores!" message sent out hurriedly
to friends n family. By my calculations, it had to at least be 0200L
back at home.
As the day comes on, the skies are starting to
brighten to the eastward, but still no Azores. Baffling. Ahead is a
large area of dark gray and clouds - it looks like a large storm cell. A
Historical aside here is necessary: When early explorers were searching
for the Azores - rumors of the times, held that there were islands in
this general vicinity - some portuguese explores actually found some
islands - jagged rocky outcroppings at best - which they appropriately
nicknamed, "The Ants." They did not spot, but only a close distance
away, some of the main islands just beyond. The expedition returned
home...a disappointing failure.
By this time, we are really
getting close. 15 nautical miles to go! Almost as if by some grand
internal alarm clock, everyone below starts to stir. Coffee! For all
hands! As the Captain and crew comes topside. And the work of landing
the ship comes to life. Navigation preps. Lines and fenders. Furl the
headsail (when close ashore).
Through the mist and dark clouds,
"Land Ho!" the Captain sings out. There! There she is! Azores off the
Port bows! Now we are really there! The time is 0655L.
The sights
are truly breathtaking. Clear skies behind us, brightening as the day
comes on, the dark gloomy skies and mist shrouding the Azores just
ahead. The beauty is breathtaking as more of Failal island heaves into
sight. Thar! Thar she blows! Puffs of - is it smoke? No - it is the
"blow" of two whales is just off the Starboard bows. We peer into the
morning mist, but do not seem them directly. Thar! On the port side,
another - this time much smaller. Again, we don't sight them directly,
but just see there presence.
Rounding the southern point of the
island of Failal, a huge caldera greets us. Amazing in its sheerness, as
it rises straight up out of the ocean. Through the mist, the green
patchwork of fields in lush green-ness rise up at an angle. It reminds
one of Ireland, or perhaps an Atlantic Galapagos Islands. Truly a sight
to behold, we are all awed at this beauty. Around the corner, the
picturesque vista of the town of Horta greets us, neatly built small
white buildings stretching along the coast and up the hillside.
A
light rain begins, as we go forward to drop the mainsail and get out
fenders deployed. Meanwhile, its a "Sausage party" in the cockpit, as
Lorrie frantically airs up all of our great big fenders (they are
inflatables). Motoring in, we round the point and begin to come
alongside the customs pier. A large swedish sailing ship, 3-masted
square rigger is just coming in to our right. It's a race! No room on
the pier, we are redirected to the docks. Needling our way through the
anchorage, we are ruly, finally here, Failal Island, Town of Horta,
Azores.
Landfall was made at 0950L.
Ship's work commenced at 1010L. It's great to be ashore, but there is work to do aboard.
Testarossa sends our compliments, From the Azores,
USA 143