Where To Wander Next

I am standing high up on the rim of a caldera in the middle of the Atlantic ocean taking in the vast beauty all around me. Shall I go left or right? Blustery gusts come out of nowhere as the sky begins to get dark. I was told not to get caught up here if the weather turns bad. I hesitate. A young German couple appears and asks me to take their picture. We take pictures of each other, and then they wave and disappear. I am alone.

This is the first time I am traveling solo since my college days, and its exhilarating but slightly nerve-wracking although this day has already surpassed my expectations. A million thoughts swirl in my head as seagulls soar above. The grown cover, rustles in the onslaught of wind, as if to say “you are here, you are here, you are here.” 

Calderas are vast craters that are formed when volcanic eruptions recede, causing the ground to collapse on itself. This particular caldera is on the wild and remote island of Faial, which are part of The Azores. Faial is nicknamed the Blue Island for, come spring, the hillsides are blanketed with hydrangeas as far as the eyes can see. It’s late October, but there are still a few stray blooms around.

The Azores are a set of nine magical volcanic archipelagos smack in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Time has passed them by, and thfortunate to be invited to the European Travel Agent Forum on the island of Terceira and home to the UNESCO Heritage town of Agra do Heroismo, I knew the time had come!

When the conference ended, I took the quick 25 minute flight to Faial, picked up my rental car and check into the Azores Faial Garden hotel in downtown Horta. This grand hotel has a slightly worn feel to it but you can’t beat the breakfast and view of Mt. Pico across the ocean from my balcony. The mesmerizing sunrise each morning is a kaleidoscope of colors reminding me of Mount Fuji in Japan. 

The next day I drive over to the volcano park located at the eastern tip of the island on newly created land formed after the last eruption in 1952. I read up on the history at the visitor center then hike along the dunes a bit. As I crest the top, the dramatic, mars-like landscape reveals itself. It’s quite a sight sandwiched between the blue sky and sea.

To get to the Caldera hike, I followed google maps’ route but soon was questioning if I was actually driving through someone’s field as bored cows look up when I go by.

When I arrive, a short wooden staircase from the parking lot up greets me and I take it to the start of the trail. Before me, a cascade of green earth undulates up the ridge and down into the bottom of the bowl. A small lake sits at the bottom. I start walking, keeping an eye on the sky. Working up a sweat as the trail rises and falls, I remove my raincoat and then another layer, but quickly realize there just is no way to get it right.

The trail is a well-worn, rocky path grooved into the ground about a foot deep. It’s far enough from the edge for me to relax. I can’t decide where to look –  left into the caldera or right where I can see the town of Horta and the imposing Mount Pico, Portugal’s highest peak, just across the bay. 

After two nights, it’s time to leave. At the airport, I strike up a conversation with a friendly American couple heading to Sao Miguel on the same flight. They purchased a house on Faial during Covid. Upon landing, we share a taxi and have a three-hour lunch in Ponta Delgada, the main town on Sao Miguel. The food is fantastic. We order dishes from a chalkboard menu. Fresh grilled squid, roasted pumpkin salad, locally caught ceviche with a bottle of local Rose. The town has a vibe similar to Lisbon – sidewalk cafes, cobblestone streets and traffic noise. Little Faial seems worlds away. 

I take a taxi to Furnas, home to the famous thermal swimming pool and luxury hotel, Terra Nostra Garden Hotel. The hotel butts up to an incredible, 30-acre botanical garden and has private thermal pools in the park solely for guests to use.

After a delicious fish sandwich at the bar, I don my gray robe and make my way in the dark park to the hot springs. I have to turn on my phone flashlight because I can’t see where I am going! Turns out, I am alone. I slip into one with spigots that pulse hot water on my shoulders and am enveloped in warm, orange-brown water rich with iron. That night, I sleep like a rock.

The next morning, I meet my guide, Chris, an expat Canadian living on Sao Miguel and founder of Roam Azores. When Chris learns during our email exchanges of my love of hiking and my aversion to instagrammers, he promises to take me off-the-beaten track. Our first hike is a three-mile loop into the forest to Salto do Prego waterfall. This is a challenging hike, and I can see why many tourists couldn’t do it. There are steep inclines, roots and rocks to navigate, and I am soaked through the bone within minutes. It’s raining heavily but the trees give us some cover. I tell Chris I don’t think my raincoat is waterproof after all. He laughs and says ‘No, that’s all sweat. It’s so humid – it’s impossible to stay dry here.”

After a fun encounter with wild chickens, we eventually arrive at the waterfall. Surrounded by a peaceful glen of towering 100-foot Japanese pines, we climb above the falls, and Chris shows me soaking pools that he says are filled with people during the summer. But for now, we have it all to ourselves.

We continue on through the lost village of Sanguinh, abandoned overgrown crumbling structures. I see a sign that says “beer” and move over as a jeep pulls in front of an open garage full of adventure gear. “People are trying to get this place back up and running,” explains Chris. We end our journey with an espresso in a simple cafe in Faial da Terra, a tiny waterfront village set back in a mountain crevice rimmed with towering cliffs. The tiny espressos cost a euro each.

For the next two days, Chris and I wandered around debating the merits of AllTrails Premium, discussing managing client expectations, sharing our favorite temperature for ocean swimming and bonding over a mutual love of hiking. As he expertly drives on the twisting mountain roads, Chris continuously monitors the sky determined to maximize my sightseeing. More than once, he announces “We are going to do something else” and changes directions as we dodge black clouds and banks of fog. The weather is indeed crazy.  

The next day we head to the famous Sete Cidades. The sky is blue but the wind is freezing. It feels like winter came over night. We enter the park, passing tour buses parked on the side of the road with people flowing out like ants. Chris must have registered my irritation because, when he parks, he turns to me and says, “Don’t worry, we are going on my secret hike.” True to his word we only see one other couple and a lone runner for the next couple of hours. I realize what fulfills me – the feeling of discovering something new – even if it’s only an illusion in my mind. 

We stroll through a moss filled forest lane to a series of green lakes then make our way through a valley with volcanic sand dunes that reach high over us. Heather is attempting to grow, and patches of purple cling to the gray surface. We hike up a hydrangea-filled trail skirting the edge of the mountain. I can’t stop snapping pictures. Up we go to emerge onto a cliff with vistas as far as the eye can see. Chris points at the strange peaks amidst farm pastures, and I get a short lecture on volcanic topography. It’s fascinating, this planet of ours.

The last stop of the day was jumping in Terma de Ferreira, a thermally heated sea cove at the tip of the island. At the bottom of a death-defying road with hairpin turns, we change into our suits and plunge into the sea.

Surrounded by the murmuring of fellow swimmers in this natural wave pool, feeling the water change from cold to hot, I bob up and down grinning ear to ear. The Azores tick all the boxes.

Sound like a place you’d like to visit? To book your own custom trip to the Azores, click here