Hallowe'en: a midnight sail to La Gomera

Our plans to anchor in Baía de Adona are daunted by choppy seas in a stiff Northeast blow. The bay is well-protected in a Northwest wind, but this didn´t look like a peaceful night.

So, on to San Sebastian at La Gomera. We should arrive at about midnight. The sun sets spectacularly, the red disk swallowed up by the sea in about two minutes. Yum, yum.. Then the whole sky, spreading from East to West, is set afire. It´s a fireworks display up in the clouds, brilliant ruby and gold. Later, sailing in the black, moonless sea, real fireworks are launched from one of the Playa resorts towns, south on Tenerife. Happy Hallowe'en! The Playas light our starboard side while venus, setting on the port, competes, with a starshine path floating on the now calm seas.

The wind has dies in the sound, and we motor the last hours. Fred Olsen´s catamaran ferries appear, first as a little green-white-red dot in the distance. They grows rapidly to a roaring "cat" at our side in no-time. We hold our course, and with the radar´s cursor watch him swerve around us.
The night-watch at San Sebastian marina is pleasant and helpful when we arrive at midnight. He shows us to the fuel-berth where we can tie up tonight. We cheerfully respond "Sí" to everything he says in rapido "Spanish-only".

Hope we haven't sold him our boat. Cheap.

Our Lady of Africa Market

At the Mercado de Nuestra Señora de Africa (Our Lady of Africa Market) we buy some chicken. And a bag full of fruit and veggies: pumpkin, "green-prickely-round-somethings", limes, mangos, looks-like-a-tomato-but-it´s-sweet", and other such items.

To help us out in eating all this we invite Swedish "Eos" over. Ann Marie and Mikal are willing to help us out. The weather´s turned windy, gusting about 30 knots in the marina, so we eat down in the saloon. Soon there's a hot skillet full of colorful food: yellow, curry chicken, orange pumpkin and green christophenes. And safron-yellow spanish rice. Of course, as always. saving electricity, we eat by tea-candle light. And by candle-light you can't see the colors. Except the ruby red wine.

Outside the masts whistle, the ropes creak in the dark, moonless harbour. Inside it´s cosy and warm and we're enjoying a great meal in the good company of the "Eos" crew, on our last evening in Tenerife.

Water-(wine and beer-)bed?

All our 5-liter jugs of water, our carefully wrapped wine bottles, 12-packs of beer and cartons of juice are under the bed. This is in the storage space in the forward, pointy end of the boat. Slosh,slosh.

Of course the boat is always bobbing up and down on an ocean of water, so it shouldn't affect the rheumatism much. The problem is keeping the dry-goods dry. Zip-lock bags are a great invention. We bag, number, and make an inventory-list of where, in which bag, shelf, cupboard everything is.
Then there's the fridge. It runs all day on "economy". And keeps things sort of "luke-cool". So, out of six "cooler-bags" I make a liner for the ice box.

Cold beer, anyone?

Two shopping carts full at "Carrefour"

Today we stock up with "dry-goods" at the humongous grocery-store, Carrefour. "Drygoods" include one whole cart of liquids! 20 5-liter jugs of water, a couple 12-packs of beer, more wine for the Caribbean, 10 liters of juice. We have lists of supplies, of menus multiplied by six weeks, to get us to the Cape Verde Islands, about a week.We plan to sail among the Cape Verdes, another week or two, and then cross over the Atlantic, about 20 more days.

We have a "standard" week-menu with some variations. Like "Oh, it's Monday, must be bacon and beans". Then there's breakfast/lunch sandwich food. How many slices of bread for 40 days? And basics like cooking oil. How much of that a week?? We did manage to forget some items, toilet paper was one.


But we have time to right that at our next stop, our last Canari Island, La Gomera.

A hike to a "Lunar Landscape" and our rent-a-wreck robbed

Grey clouds rolling over the mountains, clipping off their poointy peaks. But, being optimistic we´re off, driving up to Teide. This national park is a huge volcano, more or less retired. Though still burping sulfurously here and there.

We drive through Vilaflor, at 1466m. the highest village around. Very pictoresque, typical white tiled houses, some with verandas in the brown hardwood they use in the Canaries. Pretty plazas, church, narrow lanes.
We ascend, swich-back after switch-back throuth the airy pine woods, then up over the tree-line, up to the cañadas, the flat lava brush plains, surrounding the Pico de Teide.
The original population here, the Guanchos, herded their cows and goats here. After they were wiped out by the invading Spaniards the new, Spanish-Canarians continued to live here, in much the same manner. But what these poor animals found to eat out here, a few straws and prickly brush-weed, blowing in the icey winds... It's all of 15 degrees today with a stiff breeze blowing. While the sea-level climate is still a balmy t-shirt temperature. We take a look at the Roques, huge stone pinnacles of hard rock, let standing on the flat lava plains. Fantasyful wind and rain sculpted formations. There`s a cable-gondola that will take you up to 200m short of the Peak of Teide (3718m), but in the strong, gusting wind it doesn`t tempt!

Nope. We drive down again to just above Vilaflor, to a trail that will take us into "Lunar Paisasje", a lunar landscape. Uphill, warmer but still windy, we have a quick march along a forest road, almost 2 hours before the lava trail leads us up to the lunar landscape. It's quite a view. The light, almost chalk-white forms are organic, rounded "Roques", looking like big dollops of merengue.
Again we race to get back before night-fall. But back at our little "rent-a-wreck" we have an unpleasant surprise waiting for us.
Broken glass all over the back seat. And a huge stone on the floor. And my bag stolen! Luckily my camera and wallet were with me on the hike, but the bags contained some clothes I liked, and my good perscription sunglasses, especially bought for the trip. Bummer.

Back at the marina we join Swedish "Eos" and "Christina" for a sympathetic chat and some good laughs, and tales, and forget all about smashed glass and robberies.

Rabbit-ear and spikey-cucumber cactii

Hiking day today, in Anaga.
Along a lava-stone trail lined with cactii, aloe vera and an abundance of Dragos, Dragon-blood trees. Anaga is a national park in the northern corner of Tenerife. In our rent-a-reck we charge up the steep (how many times have I used this word after arriving at Madeira?) cactii lined slopes on the way past La Laguna and into the Las Mercedes mountain area. Up in the clouds we are now surrounded by swirling mists. So the fabulous viewpoints have to be repeated on the way down. The laurel and Erica (heather tree) and holly woods remind us of Madeira. A sort of rain forest on a dessert island! There are huge "roques", hard rocks in fabulous formations, towering in the landscape.

Our hike starts at Chamorga, a pretty village of terrace farms, a few white, tiled-roofed houses, a little plaza with a chapel, and a dozen Dragos (Dragon`s blood trees) on the hillsides. There's also a hostel, with cafè where we eat a bocadillo while the teen-age son ate his dinner watching tv in this "school cafeteria" style cafè.

From Chamorga the trail goes downhill towards the lighthouse, Faro de Anaga, and to the sea. The lava path is well-worn, lined with huge Aloes, Dragos, and cactii. One sort looks like a muddle of big, fat rabbit-ears. Or are they prickly green pancakes!? Another sort, which appear further down the path, is like a bunch of overgrown, prickly cucumbers. About three meters tall they fill the hillsids, stretching upwards, towards the sun. It´s all very unlike the artfully orchestrated "Rubicon Marina"s village and cactus-paths. Here the plants grow all hultur til bulter, a casual chaos. Song birds sing in the bushes down in the valley, little lizards scuttle off as we approach. The cactus-fruit leave my hands full of tiny, invisible thorns. But no nasty stinging biting bugs or snakes.

We reach an abandoned farm, the tile roof caved in, where we can see the sea and over to the lighthouse, Faro de Anaga, on the next hillside, about 400 meters over the sea(!) It´s uphill all the way back , and no time to lose. It´ll be pitch dark at 8pm.

We arrive, huffing and puffing, back at Chamorga, and the car, by 6:30 and have a soft evening light as we twist and turn down the mountain roads to San Andrès and the lovely palm-tree beach, Playa de las Teresitas.

"Bird of Paradise" onboard

A trip to the farmer´s market, "Nuestra Senora de Africa" right in the middle of town. Like the one in Funchal,Madeira, only more so. More flower stands. Where I bought more "Bird-of-Paradise" lilies, bright orange and lilla,
a meter high, for the tiny cockpit table. The building is pink stucco, the entrance a huge arch, a tower over it. Inside it's an open atrium, lined with fruit and vegetable stands, and other necesities, like canary birds in cages. At one stand there was quite a crowd filling bags with "seconds". I came out with a big orange bag full of perfect fruit and veggies for under 2 euro.

Dinner on board is the resultat: Chicken with Serrano ham, cheese and mustard. And thinly sliced onion, leek and green pepper. And small mushrooms sautèed in butter. And white wine. The chicken is merinated in white wine vinegar, pepper, herbs (provence). Then slice into the chicken pieces and put the good mustard, ham. Fry, then add the cheese, cover and simmer. With a certain amount of juggling between one of the dinner plates and the big skillet it can be made in one frying pan.

Shopping in Santa Cruz

At the Chandler's, of course.

We shop for a new light-bulb for the deck-light. And two bright red 20 liter diesel cans, nicely matching "Babette's" Najad-red stripe. And a new black-bag for showering on deck. Hopefully there will be days when the deck is more of less horizontal.

A new deck lightbulb means Shannon gets to go up the mast. Oh, goody. Just halfway this time. I get all my "climbing" equipment on and Ørnulf winches me up to the deck light.

What luck! It works, shining like a star.

At 7am

... the genaker shakes, jerks , collapses and falls along the port side. Looking like a smooth silk sheet in the calm seas. Ørnulf, quickly on his feet, up and forward, scoops it all back onto deck. I won't tell that he wasn't hooked onto the boat.
What happened? Later, with daylight, we see that the haljard tore off near the topp. A few inches of rope are still attached to the sail.

A bit of a bother. But glad it didn´t happen over the Atlantic. Now we can repair it before we depart. The halyard was brand-new, used only once before. But obviously not tough enough.

Meanwhile we're approaching still another island of volcanic peaks poking out of the Atlantic. This time it's Tenerife. Pointy, jagged, yellow-brown. Closer it seems to be dotted with grey-green cotton wool. The peaks have spiked some puffy clouds drifting low over the Atlantic, now hovering over the islands. The highest spike, "Teide", is poking its conical head over a fluffy convoluted white collar. To sniff at the weather?

Which is freshening. The waters are choppy as we approach Santa Cruz and the Marina del Atlantico. The entrance is just right of the city's own Sydney Opera House, an organic, shiny white "light-bulb", very visible from the sea. The entrance to the Marina is about a mile along the inside of the harbour wall. There's a large commercial area with ro-ro ferries, bulk carriers, cruise ships. Lots of room, a huge marina right in the center of Sta. Cruz. We tie up next to Norwegian, "Hurra!", an Oslo boat.
Crossing the roads, parking lots, under the motorway, we're suddenly in a big plaza, on the main pedestrian avenue. A good-looking Spanish city. A little walk, some supper, then a good nights' sleep.

Securly tied up in Tenerife.

Silk-sailing with the Genaker to Tenerife

Farewell, Lanzarote and our good sailor friends on"Blue Marlin". Farewell also to the four Bergens' architects on the two Hanse boats. Our new sailor friends on "Blå" and "Stormsvalen"

At 13:30 we're pointed almost due West towards Tenerife. Light northerly winds say: Genaker! This is an almost-Spinnaker, big, billowy, brightly-colored sail, up at the bow, that loves light following winds. Not quite following today, but, after a while, on the beam. We sail with the same winds all day, averaging about five knots. And, on a calm moon-lit sea, decide to let the big blue and purple genaker pull us towards Tenerife all night.

Til 7am.

Surprise Visit!

The plan is to take another walk out to the lovely beaches to the west. A long walk up and down the headlands and across the lovely "Parrot" beaches. Imagine what it would look like sans all the lilly-white turning lobster-red beach tourists. But I'm afraid we have to share these miles of fabulous natural beauty.

We off rinse salt and sand at the Marina's little pool. No, we have no complaints! And then we're off.
We've recieved a mysterious message on the cell phone. Sissel and Sverre are in nearby Playa Blanca. So we make a dinner date at a sidewalk restaurant. We have a pleasant evening with these sun-hungry Norwegian friends, here for a week in the Canaries.

This is our last Lanzarote day. Tomorrow, noon, we'll be setting sail for our next Canarias Island, Tenerife. Or will we be motoring? They say the wind is supposed to pick up.

The World's Best Cake

That's what it's called. The World's Best Cake.
We meet the twins and Sondre, Their grandmother and soon Rune and Idun from "Blue Marlin"at the pool. Sondre and Rune give me some good advice. I'm practicing my new hobby, snorkling.

I don't what came over me. But I seem to have invited them all over for chocolate cake. Except we don't have all the ingredients. But we do have a box containing several small bags which the directions maintain will, after mixing it all together, produce "The World's Best Cake".
Hmm.

Ok, mix, measure, shake, mix some more. "Babette's" little galley is on trial. Woops, almost forgot the oil! The handy-dandy Tupperware hand whipping creme mixer is a whole project in Canaries temperatures. But, finally, out of the little oven, covered with almonds, vanilla cream and sort of whipped cream, and ready to eat.

And as the sun sinks spectacularly into the flamingo pink sea, we light lanterns, crowd into the cockpit and eat cake. World's best?

You bet!

Recipes for crossings and Danish rye bread

I spend the morning copying recipes from "Blue Marlin"Idunn's boat cook-book. I learn that cheese, cut into chuncks, and even meat can be kept fresh if preserved in olive oil. There's a list at the back, a suggestion for what to store on a crossing. Always nice to get new ideas.

Even though the sun is blazing down we take another "snorkel lesson" at the pool. The "Blue Marlin" crew is already there, the twins demonstrating. Jump! Splash! They've been there for four hours already today! There's also a proper "diving instruction" at the pool today, with oxygen bottles and the works. Looks a bit complicated and cumbersome.

This evening we try out an "Idun recipe", fish with various Caribbean spices. And we bake bread in the little skip´s oven. A ready mix of "Danish rye bread". Lovely to have real bread that you have to chew before swallowing. Ørnulf misses the Norwegian brown goat-cheese on the fresh, warm, dark bread.

Sigh.

Snorkling in the Pool

"It´s raining, we can´t go the pool!"she protests. First mate, Shannon, is not quite sure she'll enjoy her nose being plugged up and blowing in and out of a tube. Under water. "Afraid you might get wet? Come on!" Captain's orders.

So off we trot.
Snorkling: At first it's sort of like getting your teeth fitted for braces. I´m gagging on the end of the tube I'm supposed to bite on. But once my head is under water it's okay. The mask is clear! because I spit on it and dip it in the pool. Not so hygienic, but it works.
Hey, it's fun! The big flippers zip me back and forth across the little pool. Empty, except for us snorklers, who only come out in the rain.

"Blue Marlin" from Stavanger,Norway, shows up at the marina today. Great to see "old friends" again. With the now 6-year old twins, a big "Uncle Sondre" and now Grandmother Marita also on board. She connected with "Blue Marlin" by a stroke of luck just short of a miracle. It seems both e-mail and cell-phone communication on board is a bit lacking on the anchored boat. But, they had decided to stay an extra day at Arrecife. Then Sondre turns on his cell phone on a whim. And gets to see a message from Grandmother. Just about an hour before the flight comes in!

So, Grandmother Marita got to see lots of welcoming waving hands at the airport.

Rain in Lanzarote

I´m glad rain is an event and not a habit here.
The rain dries quickly in the hot sun. So it's possible to do various boat projects: Two thin, mahogony boards are bound to the railings, forward on the deck. They are for the diesel cans that will make for quicker "sailing" through quiet waters over the Atlantic. To tie them on we have established a "reperbahn", a rope factory, in the cockpit. The rather thick, waxed line is twined, doubled, then retwined. So, if the knots are good the boards should stay with us come squall or high water. Now to secure the 20 liter diesel cans,too!

Later we buy new genoa sheets. That´s actually ropes, a word that sailors never use. An extravagent little purchace.
Buying a snorkel mask and tube for me, flippers for us both, just peanuts. But fancy enough, with a valve on the tube.

Tomorrow I get my first snorkel lesson, in the pool.

A Quiet Sunday

Overcast skies, a slightly damper heat today.
As Ørnulf greases winches I do the correspondance, using the Marina's computer at an exhorbitant 2,50 euros per half-hour.
Now I wish that I'd learn to swear in Spanish. This computer only speaks Spanish. Aqui se habla espanol! All instructions, messages and demands that periodically pop-up on the screen, Spanish only. The polite apology: "Dear User, Sorry we crashed again, and lost your last hours´scribblings", in Spanish. Suspicious Norwegian sites, like "Start.no" are rejected. I think .no is tranlated to !NO! in Spanish.

Enough wining. Today we went on a lovely, Sunday stroll, along the winding lava-stone lined paths to the quaint little tourist-town of Playa Blanca. Sundays are Ørnulf´s favorite go-to-town days. Everything´s closed. Ha-ha, but not entirely. I manage to find a natural, untreated off-white cotton top... which I buy. In a shop consisting entirely of off-white cotton clothes. Or am I suddenly color-blind?

Nope. Outside the bushes, cactuses, trees, succulent ground-cover were still covered with flowers: Ruby-red, vermillion-orange, canary-yellow.

Parrot Cove Beach

Or Playa Papagayo as it's written here.

We walk about an hour, first on the long, curving lava-lined walkways, later up and down the sand and lava paths. Down from the plateaus to the beaches and up again. We stop at the one with the anchored sailboats. Of course. Great fun swimming in the surf, bigger here than in Playa Blanca. Looking about we notice that some of the sun-bathers here seem to think swimwear a bit cumbersome. Or they've forgotten to take it along. We also notice that they weren't out in the surf, prefering to parade back and forth in the hot sand.

We walk further out to the lovely "Parrot Cove" an almost enclosed bay, protected by huge , black lava cliffs. Great for kiddies, with no surf rolling in. Further on, out at the Point, we can see up to Puerto del Carmen, a jumble of white-washed houses, on the east side of Lanzarote.
Altogether we have a three hour hike.

On a warm, breezy, October day.

Una, three years old!

Una is three years old today. Una sails on the "Aurora", a Windoe 50, with mom and dad from Ulefoss, Norway. So I dive into my rope and yarn bag. And tie, crochet and embroider another Rope-doll. The bendable rope, with a wire through it, lets the doll sit and wave. Yellow yarn-hair, blue eyes, red mouth of button-thread, maroon fish-het dress and blue belt and necklace of "boat-string". Pretty funny-looking. Definitely not in the Barbie crowd.

Playa Blanca, the town and beach, is a short jaunt on the long, lava-boulder lined path. So we grab our towels and swimsuits and go. Great to cool down and swim in the surf. Cool is a relative term; water temp is about 25 degrees. The beach has rows of yellow sun-beds, blue umbrellas; for a price you can use them. There s a cafè on the lava-stone board-walk if you get thirsty. They think of everything. But being hardy Norwegians we have our sandy sandwiches and warm bottled water on our towels. Periodically moving back as the surf rolls further and further upwards on the beach.
Postcards, t-shirts, straw-hats shops spill out over the sidewalks. Cafès, chinese restaurants and car-rentals along the stone-paved walk-ways in down-town Playa Blanca. Not the air conditioned airport shops (Burberry, LaCoste) of the new, squeaky-clean Marina movie-set town.

Back at the boat we make a seafood paella and have the "Aurora" crew over, with birthday girl, Una. A lovely evening, the almost full moon rising to starboard as the sun sets, red-eyed, in the sea, to port.

Land ahead, Lanzarote!

The hazy , blue hilltops far off grow into the red-brown volcanic mountains of Lanzarote. They are bare, right down to the flat, lava-flow valleys. As we get closer some chalk-white clusters of houses appear in the valleys.

The lighthouse at Punta Pechiguera grows taller, at first looking like a thin mast, out to sea, still a distance from the point. It grows to a 55 meter yellow pencil as we round the point. After 22 hours of motor-sailing we enjoy a few hours of quiet, 3 to 4 knots sailing in the warm breeze.

Rubicon Marina is what "Quinta do Lordo" in Madeira, aspires to be. They've made quite an effort building miles of rustic brick walking paths, lined with lava boulders, palm-trees, flowers growing on ground-cover, bushes and trees. There are fountains, pools, low, white-washed cafès and shops, a swimming pool (no charge!) alongside the "natural" pools, and a huge marina with lots of berths to choose between. The facilities, the showers, are great. Still it's a sort of la-la-land for happy holiday families. No messy laundry hanging out, no smokey grills at midday in the middle of narrow lanes, no skinny dogs sniffing at trash. No trash.

We cool off in the pool, rest after our two-day crossing. Our 3hrs on/ 3hrs off watches over.
No complaints.

New photos from Madeira!

More photos are up! And there's a slideshow again here...

The wind dies

From about noon we're motoring. A hot African sun and lazy, blue seas. The quiet sounds of wind and water. But now we've exchanged silent "Lille Per", Wind-Pilot, with the constant complaints,"zzzzzt zzzzzt-zzzzt", of the autopilot.

Today´s event: Norwegian pancakes. With strawberry jam and whipped creme! We hope... "Long-life" whipping creme and a brand-new, handy-dandy Tupperware hand-mixer are about to be tried out. The boat, rocking and rolling along, the ingredients sliding and hopping about. Success! Five pancakes each. Best supper ever!

By nightfall, at 7pm, we´ve decided to change course. Instead of Graciosa, where a lot of Norwegian boat-friends have been for a while, we'll head all the way down to the large marina, Rubicon, by Playa Blanca, on the southern tip of Lanzarote.

A quiet, but motorized night, watching the Big Dipper rise in the Northeast.

Smooth sailing to the Canaries

Departure 10:45, one reef in the main-sail, 2/3 of the genoa out, sailing ca. SSE, 145 degrees in flat seas, 5 to 6 knots. Translation: A great sail towards the Canary Islands, quick on calm, blue seas.
Initially we have VHF-contact with "Snorre" about an hour ahead, and "Blaa", heading for "our" place in Funchal. But soon we`re alone on the empty seas. We have our eyes open for whales or turtles swimming by, but not a bird, or even a bulk-carrier appears on the horizon.
At nightfall we see a sailor has finally turned on his navigation lights behind us barely above the horizon. A growing half-moon and a sky full of stars light the way.

It's Theyr.net: What´s the weather?

Wind and regn during the night gives us a fall feeling. Time to chase after summer, and sail south. "Babette" has to get ready to go. We stock up on dry goods and water at Pingo Duce and veggies at the market.

Will we leave tomorrow? How strong is the wind, more important where is it coming from. Have the waves cooled it abit??We walk over to the Norwegian Global Net Café", have a waffel and study the Faeroe Island weather reports: Theyr.net. They're still free of charge for the time being and have a good Altantic Ocean page. With a dot for Madeira. and a couple dots for The Canaries.

Rain and Wind

The low-pressure system is swirling over Madeira. And we're glad to be securly tied up in the marina. The Swedish and Dutch ketch's anchored outside are pitching and rolling, straining at the three anchors they've sat out. Our boat-neighbor, Dutch,"Selene", impatient with lying in harbour, braves the weather and sails for Graciosa in the Canaries. Norwegian "Snorre" would like to set sail tomorrow.
We visit them on board and get to see this beautiful mahagoni boat that Helge Klüver has used five years to build.

RAIN!!

The rain beating a tattoo on the deck, that is, our roof, all night. This is different. What happened to our perpetual sunny summer?

This is our first proper rain in three months. Then we're not counting drizzle obscuring Nessie on Loch Ness, mist in Ireland, and smoke and fog all the way down Portugal's coast. But this is rain by the bucketsfull! The long announced low-pressure system has arrived. Dark grey clouds cling to Funchals hillsides in the morning.

But it's warm. Another shorts and t-shirt day as the rain steams up from the cobblestones. A good day to do errands. We still haven't been able to get the Norwegian gass bottles filled here.
And it´s nice to write and read e-mail from friends and family at the Norwegian Global Net Café!

Exotic tropic Market Day

A photo-safari to the bustling, cheerful Farmer's Market, and back with a big bag of tropical Madeira frukt. Big flowering trees bloom in the middle of the fruit, flower and veggie market. The colors would make a parrot look pale. There are also baskets and bags stacked to the roof, some souvenirs, a section with chickens, another huge room with all sorts of fish and seafood on ice. We had a taste of various mysterious banana, mango, passionfruit, in completely different wrappings and tastes.

Later on our way to Blandy´s Madeira Wine Cellar who or what should we meet but a mandolin band in full renaissance regalia. With the exception of two, three members in green operation-room cap and jumpsuits, not enough time to change?! Singing enthusiastically, drum booming, they meander messily along. This is not a marching band. We seem to be headed the same way, to Blandy´s. A little glass of Madeira for the whole mandolin orchestra and then another catchy renaissance tune.

We didn't do the Madeira Wine Tour today. We have a dinner date at seven with the "Snorre" crew. In the old town in R. de Sta. Maria, at Gaviao Novo. The staff are full of practical jokes and a few funny Swedish phrases. We are a table of six Norwegians, four of them from Trøndelag and the mood is light, lots of laughs. The food is good, everyone agrees. Ørnulf and I eat fish, scabbard (or espada) with banana. It is good.

Back at "Babette" we have the "Snorre" crew over for tropical fruit salad from the market and a glass of Madeira from Blandy's. On deck lanterns and candles are lit, the huge "Bird-of -Paradise lilies are a grand centerpiece. "Babette" rock gently in the Funchal harbour. The "Snorre" crew, with lots of sailing experience, have many a tale to tell!

An almost photo crisis

The first photo shop I' go to, in the center of town, apparantly managed to zap, obliderate, completely destroy all my 1 Gigabyte, 476 photos of Porto Santo and Madeira. All the evidence of our death-defying hikes, precariously hanging on vertical volcanic mountainsides, the primordial forests, dinosaurs, hobbits, all of it, down the drain: no image.

Luckily, for the first time ever, I'd done iPod-photo "import" before going to get a cd. So I don´t jump out the window. Yet. Why are all the photo shops here up one flight.
Four photo-shops later, on the street from town to the Mercado I finally find "Carlos Fotografo", And in "Carlos' "a young man who looks like he's been buried behind a computer screen since the age of 12. We is willing to try to burn a cd from the iPod. Except, no software for the iPod. Still he manages to get in. And, then he announces:I can't find any photos at all in the ipod.

panic.

But my miracle man at "Carlos Fotografo" doesn´t give up easily. Patience, fiddling, and, lo and behold, a computer screen full of pictures. From Hidra. Back in Norway. Then we're in, at last, in the camera-imported films. But he still hasn't got the latest Gigabyte, film number 8, to appear. More patience. More fiddling. Then, yippee!!! Steep, green and gorgeous, there she is: Madeira.

Two cd´s, please. Thank you, you can close the window, now. I won't be jumping.

Republic Day, Funchal closed

So, where's the parade?? The tourist Info office didn't even mention this in their Goings-on-this-week. The only event we noticed in connection with Republic Day was that everything was closed.

Except "The Madeiran Story Center"a museum over by the market. It's so new, started up in 2005, that it's not on the tourist maps. And neither was it mentioned at the tourist office. A stiff entry fee, 10 euro. It's modern, as in polished, big graphics and rather minimalistic and interactive. Great for 10 to 12 year olds I can imagine. You can buy a gondola, cable car, ticket with a reduced price along with your entrance ticket, too. We read all the texts, look at all the photos and illustrations, so as to get the most out of our entry fee. And play all the educational computor contests. (unfortunatly sinking my virtual 15th century portugese "carvelle".)

In the evening we go over to the dining section of Funchal, the old town, also near by the market. Avoiding all the hard sells outside big, empty restaurants we wait a half-hour for a table at "O Jango" which is supposed to have great food. And it does. At least the Bacalao I order was good.

But I have yet to find bacalao that compares to what they serve at the little sidewalk café in Viana do Castelo, "Restaurat a Covas".
Sigh.

A day at the Global Net Café

We start off with an 11am rearrangement in the marina. Swedish "Grågås" and German "Makani" are off to the Canaries. We raft out in the next line, again third out, off of the French,"Tigre du Mare".
Then off we go into Funchal. The streets are typical Portugese, patterned stone pavement, mosaics of small black basalt and white marble (limestone). Watch the white ones! They're slippery when wet!

Over by the flowery, tropic-fruity farmer´s market we find the Norwegian cyber-café, "Global Net Café" (globalnetcafe@mail.net). They also serve Norwegian waffels. It's run by friendly Trude from Kirkenes and husband, Tony from Madeira. A great café, 4 machines upstairs, and 4 down, good coffee and cakes, light and airy and pleasant atmosphere.

And everything works.

Rafting out, at Funchal

We're off at 10am with following winds, a strong breeze. Then we get it right on the nose as we round the point before entering the Funchal Bay. We are following two cruise ships into the harbour. The visitors sailboat wall is reduced now to only three spots to raft out on. We're incredibly lucky. Today has been a changing of the guards day and the wall is surprisingly sparse with boats when we arrive. We're only third boat out alongside a German boat, "Makani", outside of Brazilian "Rapunzel". Norwegian catamaran, "Riga Balsam" is right behind, next line out.

In the harbour we're right in the middle of town, a palm-treed and flowery-leafy treed fringe along the harbour. Barely showing beyond is the stubby tower of the squat 15th century cathedral, called the Sé. The town is all hillside. Greenery, white houses, red-tiled roofs clinging on to the steep sides. Back at the harbour, there are two rather dominant features: the hot-air balloon and the restaurant-boat, "Vagrant", which advertises its previous owners, The Beatles. Verrry kitsch, it is surrounded by a kind of a moat with small rowboats cum café-tables. Beatles music from the loudspeakers.

Otherwise Funchal keeps it rather low-keyed. Gardens and walks and pricey shops.

Wild and windy rocks of Sao Lourenço

Finally we take the walk that's been in our own backyard here at Quinta do Lorde. Sao Lourenco. And, again, a completely new aspect of this volcanic box of surprises. Here, the narrow crescent of eroded volcanic rock is naked, windswept and awash with the Atlantic's powerfull breakers. Pinnacles and caverns carved by the wind and sea. The pounding sea, scouring salt and sand throwing white foam up from the base, patiently grinding away, day and night, for eons. The resulting sculpted forms are fascinating, even frightening, if seen from your sailboat rapidly closing on a lee shore.

The trail starts at the end of the road and leads out along the peninsula rocks, out to the high, narrow edge at the far end. Two more bits are islands, the last with the lighthouse at the tip end. There is the occational railing along the trail, so as not to be blown off in the strong gusts coming through the jagged rocks, from the northeast side. It's a good three hour walk, warm, windy and with steep ups and downs the whole way out.

The little lizards are entertaining, poking thier curious noses out of the lava holes whenever a sandwich-eating hiker sits on a rock. Ørnulf collects a fan club of about a dozen grey-green little lizards darting about looking for crumbs.
The last climb, past the palm-tree "oasis" at the house (Sardinha), is pretty straight up. The hard stone on the way up is wind-sculpted into orange-brown waves, much like snow at mountain-tops can be. There are two peaks on the narrow, jagged end of the peninsula, with a view on to the islands and the lighthouse. Then you go back the same way. With a short detour to look down the long stone steps to the pebble beach on the inside bay, Baia do Arba. A red, english sailboat anchored there makes it look peaceful and idyllic.

On the trail we meet boat-neighbors from Australian "Amaranth". We get together back at the marina and see their great home-on-the-seas, eat Liz's super banana muffins and hear of their Med. years .

More "Blue Marlin" Birthday Pictures

"Swiss" mountain peaks and party balloons

On our last rental-car day we head for the highest peaks. Pico do Areeira, at 1818, is the third highest, and you can drive all the way up it. After a brief stop in Camancha, at a cozy café (this is the wicker-making capital of Madeira) we drive the steep, but well-kept two-lane road to Pico do Areeira. A hotel/restaurant is perched at the top. We go out to the look-out, then take a short hike on the "civilised" path, starting out wide and lava-stone paved, with railings here and there. There are swallows and hawks doing acrobatics over the stunning great valleys between the "Swiss alps" peaks, volcanic pinnacles rising from the blue mist, disappearing in the bed of clouds, and appearing again over them.
But we don't have more time today for a longer walk because we're invited to a birthday party in Funchal at 4pm. "Blue Marlin's" two little girls are 6 years old today. Their parents have rented a little kiddies park near the marina. We arrive at the same time as "Tamarisk", now berthed at Calheta. So the guests represent the whole coast of Madeira, east to west! "Agape's" two teen girls bring the twins along and soon we have all the palm trees bright with balloons.

The two "Blue Marlin's" arrive and the party can begin. Presents, pizza, and a beautiful cake! And endless ring games. We eat, drink and chat til the Funchal hillsides darken, the city lights come on, climbing the hills straight up to the stars.