Tradition of the Sea

By Scott Dodgson


I entered the Horta town harbor from the east. With the volcano to our starboard and a quaint but sturdy lighthouse to port the entrance is easy to navigate. The island of Fial has a population of 11,000 most of which lives in the charming town of Horta. I went directly to the customs dock. There is a large rather worn sign that is easy to see. The officials came out of their office and helped us tie up. The senior customs official greeted me with a big smile. This was my third trip to Horta and he seemed to remember me. I cleared customs and took fuel at the same time. My crew was very impatient. They already had changed clothes. It is always a pleasure when arriving in a new country, especially by sea when the officials are friendly. In my general and not so scientific study of Customs and Immigration officials U.S. are without a doubt the rudest and most unwelcoming organization on earth. Just my opinion, but a survey of Captains will support my conclusion. The Azores top the list of the most accommodating. We were directed to tie up side by side to the breakwater wall. With the traffic of transatlantic yachts I was lucky to get right next to the wall. I wouldn’t have to cross over other yachts to get to shore. The disadvantage was waking up in the middle of the night by a drunken sailor crawling back to his boat. We were finally secure. I turned off the motor and was stuck by the overwhelming silence. After thirteen days of wind and waves it felt as if I had stepped into a vacuum. I pointed out a restaurant across the harbor were we could all meet for dinner. I’m buying! The crew leaped off the boat a disappeared in an instant. I sat quietly in my salon and wrote in my log book. After taking a shower and changing I set off for the bar. We sailors do like rewarding ourselves. I intended to stay for two nights. I wouldn’t hesitate spending the summer going from island to island. If you are one of those been there and done that travelers go to the Azores. It is a magical place. The beauty of the islands is stunning. The people are warm and helpful. I likened visiting the Azores as stepping back in time to the fifties. The islands are unspoiled by the rampant tourism you find in the Caribbean or the South Pacific. Of course, I’m partial to Yachtie havens and Horta in the transit season is no different. Horta was filled with transatlantic sailors. When I met my crew for diner the bar was crowed and loud. It was perfect. I ordered a couple pitchers of the local tinta roja. By the second pitcher I felt a dark undercurrent in my crew’s mood. By the time our roast lamb and fried potatoes arrived I was experiencing a full on mutiny. David started by telling me that this adventure was a little more than he expected. He rationalized he had crossed the Atlantic even though as I pointed out he was a thousand nm miles short. Paul gave me a lame excuse that his family missed him and he had to return as soon as possible. I gave them a long and rather convoluted speech about respecting tradition which fell on deaf ears. They were afraid and had become tired of their fear. I handed them their passports and wished them good luck. There was nothing I could do as they were paying customers. They abruptly left to get their gear and catch the evening ferry to Lisbon. Mike, my first mate sheepishly announced he wanted his passport also, and that he too was catching the ferry. I was less generous and patient with him. I threatened that I would do everything in my power to make sure he never worked on a yacht anywhere in the world. Janice was leaning against the bar drinking shots. I went over to her and explained the situation. I decided to leave in the morning, out of anger and need to get to Italy and pick up my crew. She said she was ready. That evening as the ferry left for Lisbon I stood high up above the town with its sweeping vistas watching as my mutineers sailed. I questioned my leadership. I asked myself what I could have done differently. I came to the conclusion that without the leverage of military service I was impotent. From now on I would only hire sailors who respect the tradition of the sea.

http://www.azores.com/