If I asked you about the Azores, what would you say? When I mentioned traveling to the Azores, most people had never heard of them. I knew little myself—just that they were Portuguese islands far west of Lisbon. I imagined them like Hawaii—tropical but Portuguese. I was wrong.

In October, Aaron and I, along with our friends Jeff and Vanessa, had just arrived from warm, sunny Lisbon. From the moment our plane touched down in Horta, the pace slowed to a crawl—even slower than it had been for us on mainland Portugal. The weather quickly reminded us of our geography in the North Atlantic. Salty air whipped through our hair. The surf battered the sea wall. Dark clouds pushed their way toward our bay-view apartment that we’d call home for the next few days. Fortunately, we had just gotten settled as sideways winds hammered a downpour against our windows obscuring our sea views. The wind and rain served as a reminder of the sea’s power—and the meal we were about to savor from its depths.

Knowing that timing is everything, as the torrent waned, we quickly made a break for some local seafood since Restaurante Atlético was only open for a few dinner hours. Seated in a vacant outer room thick with humidity—clearly reserved for walk-ins—we watched as other foreigners began to fill the small space when the rain subsided. An open case in the main room displayed the day’s fresh Atlantic catch. After placing an order, our table soon filled with a rich array of local flavors: platters of octopus, limpets, mussels, wreck-fish, barracuda—more reminders of our island remoteness—and a thick, juicy beef filet.

The next day, we set out to explore Faial, one of nine islands in the Azores, a volcanic archipelago that lies nearly 1,000 miles west of the European continent. These black sand islands were uninhabited before their Portuguese discovery during the 14th-century Age of Exploration. Faial, perhaps best known for its blue hydrangeas that bloom vibrantly in summer, surrounds a large central caldera, while Horta—its southeastern port—is renowned among the yachting community.

Like all Azorean towns, Horta is defined by black and white stone. Dark volcanic basalt contrasts with whitewashed plaster walls. Walkways and roads combine black stone and white marble blocks into intricate Portuguese motifs—patterns that are especially stunning along the marina. Here, an 18th-century fortress recalls the days of pirate and privateer attacks. Below the fort, rows of boats bob gently in the harbor. Painted flags left by passing crews adorn the docks, a colorful mosaic of journeys made and seas conquered.

Leaving Horta, we drove uphill to the Botanical Garden of Faial, where conservationists work to protect fragile native species from being overrun by beautiful, invasive plants like hydrangeas, ginger lilies, and agapanthus. The garden was a green sanctuary of life and renewal—but our journey was about contrasts.

As we drove north and west, the landscape transformed. Vibrant greens gave way to barren fields of ash and rock. At Ponta dos Capelinhos, life seemed to hold its breath. The Capelinhos Lighthouse rose defiantly above a half-buried base of volcanic ash, a ghostly sentinel overlooking the desolate terrain. This stark, otherworldly landscape was a reminder of the island’s explosive past. Beneath the weight of its volcanic memory, the earth felt raw and untamed.

Undeterred, we ascended Faial’s volcanic slopes toward its central caldera. Clouds clung thickly to the summit, veiling the landscape in mist. As the road wound through dense foliage, we passed only cows grazing in fog-shrouded pastures, their bells echoing faintly in the still air. The island’s rich dairy culture thrives here, with Faial producing some of the Azores’ finest cheeses, including Omorro Amanteigado, a soft, buttery cow’s milk cheese.

At last, the road ended at a lookout point where clouds swallowed the world. Wet wind lashed our faces, yet our spirits remained high. At the summit, we found a small altar—solitary, resolute—offering its quiet reward amid the elements.

As we descended, the clouds began to lift, and the island slowly reappeared. The sun broke through above Horta, and we paused at a vista point. Below, the sea sparkled, while Pico’s cloud-draped peak loomed on the horizon, like a guardian of ancient secrets. Somewhere on that distant island lay the story of Jeff’s ancestors, waiting to be uncovered. Tomorrow, we would take our first steps toward unearthing those memories.

Picture yourself on an island where lush green pastures meet stark volcanic cliffs and coastal charm blends with untamed ocean views. This is Faial—an Azorean gem waiting to be discovered.This is our unforgettable journey across Faial, from savoring fresh Atlantic seafood to standing at the edge of its volcanic history. Explore quiet wonders, breathtaking landscapes, and the pull of ancestral connections. Ready to create your own story? Let me craft a custom trip designed especially for you.

Copyright Photo Credit: Note “Image by Ali Giaudrone via AMG Inspired.” All rights reserved. Contact AMG Inspired for more permissions.

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