Spotted by the Police

The Azores, and Horta were gearing up for a long weekend. Friday, Monday and Tuesday were all going to be bank holidays. We had to move fast to get all the boat jobs done. Fast, however, is not in the rule book here, and it took a week to get the stitching resewn on the genoa, and a repair made to the kicker. We made full use of our time exploring the island and the interior of Peters Cafe Sport. We walked around the crater at the top of Faial's highest peak, and visited the site of the 1957 eruption. Thirsty work, so back to Cafe Sport!

Many of the boats we had left in the Caribbean were in port, so it was great to catch-up again. Inevitably though this would be the last time we would be together. Where most routes east across the Atlantic tend to lead to Faial, and Peters Bar, from here we separate. Our destinations are often far apart, but the friendships made are close. One day our wakes will cross again.

The sail to Velas, on Sao Jorge, was short. The small marina is enclosed by the islands cliffs. Cliffs that, after sunset, echo to the strange calls of the thousands of Cory's shearwaters that return daily to roost.

We didn't have time to clear in. We had been spotted by one of the Policia Maritima. I first met Luis in the Cabo Verde, then again in St Lucia, and other islands in the Caribbean, and, like all good village bobbies, Louis knows everyone. A beer here, a meal there, we chatted, enjoyed bands playing, the processions, and the festivities of the long weekend. Now everyone knows us too.