Azore there is?

Porto Das Lajes

Porto das Lajes from out at sea

Porto das Lajes is a natural indent in what is otherwise a rocky outcrop; all remnants of prehistoric volcanic activity.  The harbour is surrounded by these high black basalt cliffs, which meet a solid concrete breakwater.  Protection is offered to those nautically inclined in all but nor ‘easterlies.  From our vantage point at water level, we admire quaint cottages that line the Port road, as it climbs steeply to meet a small village.  Lajes is surrounded by terraces of green fields and hand-built stone walls.  It looks rustic; straight from a picture book of a bygone era; and it is, dating from 1510.




WJ3 at the Lajes Marina Dock

WJ3 is one of 8 other sail boats tucked away in Lajes’ very new, very small Marina complex.  Many of these are not travellers.  We’re glad to have avoided high season when Lajes can host an ongoing parade of boating visitors.  We wait at the dock for the GNR man (in his spurs) and customs to fulfil clearance formalities.  Carlos tells us that the Marina, to celebrate its recent opening (and as it is not completed) is free.  We have access to water, power and internet.  Power is 220v, so we must continue to run our generator until we can locate a transformer (yet another expensive boat bit).  We don’t expect to find too much chandlery in Lajes though.

Up the hill some 250m is a kiosk once known as Paula’s Place.  It serves frazzled trans-Atlantic yachties and locals taking a dip at the nearby beach.  The beach is not familiar or pretty - the sand is black, the water cold and grass is mown by goat, but it is popular.  We can take a strong black coffee, sip a cold Sagres (local beer) or nibble sweet cakes at Paula’s but to eat we must climb further up to Café Beira Mar.  Here we gladly take what they have on offer, one day grilled fish and on others, pizza a casa (house) special.  It was all very nice but we notice we are the only ones eating.  Most customers seemed to sit for a short time, take a drink or two, have a chat with friends, then leave.  

At last we brave going further uphill into the village to find an ATM (at the Town Hall) and two mini-markets at the top of the hill to restock our dwindling fresh supplies.  The island lives on imported goods mostly.  There is little produced other than to support family needs.  We buy local Azorean cheeses, sad looking fruit and vegetables, real eggs and fresh bread rolls.  The hill defeats us and we decide, despite Paula being obliging, to leave heavy chores (refilling gas, laundry and a big shop) until Horta.  Taxis are very hard to come by in Lajes.

The town itself has an impressive church, Ingreja Martiz Nossa Senhora do Rosario (1763), rustic cottages painted white with windows decorated in lace, well cared for cobblestone streets and a picturesque town square, resolute with a protective canon or two.  Old folks not sitting in bars or taking a stroll of the port, sit out in the evening quiet, chatting to neighbours.  Younger ones head into Santa Cruz. 

Looking Down from the Town Square

The Cap’n tries unsuccessfully to organise a diving trip (twice), however with Paula’s help and sheer perseverance, we organise with Cesar to take a tour of the island.  Other than these active events we concentrate on tidying up WJ3 and making good on a few small repairs.  The Cap’n even manages to move the solar panels forward a few inches to save Burt’s windvane from certain self-destruction. 

Life on the dock is peaceful despite comings and goings of an occasional container ship, local ferry/transporter and even a mini cruise liner, as we wait for winds suitable for our overnight sail to the island of Faial.  Our next destination is the yachting fraternity that is Horta.  We will certainly miss peaceful Lajes and the strange nightly chatter of birds high in the cliffs above us.