From Sao Miguel we took a short flight to Sao Jorge, picked up our next hire car, then headed onto Pico by ferry. Although I can’t say it’s much fun reversing a car you’ve never driven before on to the hold of a small ferry with 50 or so people looking on.

Pico island is dominated by the towering 2351m Pico volcano (obvs) whose solidified lava flows cover huge swathes of the land. Most of the houses are built from the black lava rock and even its vineyards, which of course we visited, are nestled in the nooks and crannies of the lava flows.

Our holiday home was a beautiful traditional lava block cottage with the brooding volcano overlooking the back yard and a natural sea swimming pool out front. Taking an early morning swim then warming up with a hot cup of tea overlooking the crashing waves was definitely a highlight for me.

Since there are no beaches on Pico, protected natural sea swimming pools formed from gaps in the lava flows seem to be dotted every few km around the coast. So, many happy hours were spent with James diving in and chasing fish. Although thanks to the slightly chilly Atlantic water, Lucy was less keen.

We also spent time driving through pretty villages, walking along an old lava flow and going on an underwhelming wine tasting session. The wine wasn’t actually that bad, and thankfully the local supermarket sold the same stuff so sipping it in our back yard looking out towards the volcano was much more pleasing.

When asked, James says his favourite thing on Pico was feeding the deer with leaves at a local park. So much so that he pleaded to go back the next day 🤷🏼‍♂️

After a couple of days exploring it was time to head back to Sao Jorge which meant more anxiety inducing reversing on to the ferry.

Sao Jorge is a lush, green and sparsely populated island with very steep winding roads. Thankfully our hire car, whilst being a bit of a tank and having its fair share of bruises, had more grunt than our last one so came into its own. We stayed in a youth hostel using it as a base to explore the island. If that is what hostels are like these days they are a far cry from those I used to stay in as a backpacker. Spotless, private bathrooms, a kitchen without cockroaches and no drunken Aussies, Kiwi’s and Brits.

Sao Jorge also had its fair share of natural sea swimming pools. It was a bit of a schlep to get to but Piscina Natural Simão Dias was just stunning, and even Lucy was tempted in.

James was quite right to be suspicious when we suggested going on what was billed as a short ‘one of those walks’. The Fajã de Além trail, short yes, but with a 400m zigzagging decent down a forested cliff face, a brief picnic lunch stop at the bottom, before an even steeper 400m path back up. The views were stunning and we are hopeful that James will forgive us at some point in the next few years.

The rest of our time was spent visiting other natural sea swimming pools and James particularly enjoyed being roughed up by the waves on a small black sand beach we stumbled across one afternoon.

Sao Jorge was our favourite so far. Beautiful scenery, excellent swimming spots and only a few fellow tourists. Its only real downside was the lack of well stocked ‘supermarkets’, or any shops for that matter, to buy provisions. If crisps, packets of biscuits, veg that’s well past its sell-by date and stale looking white sliced bread is your thing then Sao Jorge it’s the place to be. But they did sell exceedingly cheap vinho verde to go with the crisps, and the local cheese was delicious so we made do. Especially on my birthday when Lucy somehow managed to rustle up a tasty feast.

Relieved that there was no more reversing cars on to ferries to be done, our next hop was a 2 hour flight to Madeira. We were sad to leave the Azores but we’d heard lots of good things about Madeira, which hopefully also has well stocked supermarkets.