Oh what a cock-up!

We left just before 1100 and our passage to Ponta Delgada went without a hitch. We had light, increasing to moderate, winds, just forward of the beam and later just aft of it. The sun was out and it was a very pleasant sail. 

Bizarrely, I had a 4G signal for most of the passage and was able to make a family video call, connecting Jamaica, the UK and the mid Atlantic together. Quite surreal.

Mick cooked a great dinner of mixed kebab, rice and cabbage which we ate at dusk in the cockpit. 

We entered the harbour at around 2300, making it about a 12 hour passage for the 60 or so miles. 

After sorting out lines and fenders we headed for the reception pontoon in the old (Eastern) marina. Once tied up, a marina man found us and asked us to move over to the Western marina.

On arrival there the fun started. I had misunderstood the directions and we found ourselves in the small boat area of the marina without realising it, except that we did think the pontoons were rather small! I attempted to turn the boat round but with limited space and a freshening breeze that proved impossible. We got blown towards an empty berth next to....

There were actually lots of other empty berths with no neighbours, but Bonny had decided she wanted company for the night so in we went.

Fortunately for us a boat load of French people had noticed our arrival and difficulties manoeuvring in the marina and were on hand to help.

Unfortunately, I misjudged the approach and before we could get a stern line to our French helpers on the pontoon (shortly augmented by a Norwegian and his cat) the wind blew us on to Noctiluca's bow. Bonny's midships became both impaled and intangled on her stem head with one of her stanchions jammed into Noctiluca's bow rowler. Mick, fortunately, was close at hand and somehow managed to prevent any damage to either vessel but we were well and truly stuck, unable to go either forwards or backwards without making matters much worse.

Our French helpers were soon swarming all over the scene shouting instructions to one another and to us in French. The Norwegian dumped his cat on our neighbours deck (there was no one on board) and joined in, only to trip over a mooring line and go flying into the water much to everyone's amusement, including his own.

I was beginning to feel like a marine version of the hapless Basil Faulty with all the frenetic activity conducted largely in French, going on around me and I found it difficult to intervene without appearing rude.  Eventually a potential solution emerged from the chaos that we all grasped. If we could get a long line from our stern to the end of one of the nearby finger pontoons we might get the angle we needed to pull Bonny sideways off Noctiluca's bow. The question was would Mick's legs hold out long enough to avoid significant damage being done, both to him and/or the boats?

We got a line out but it wasn't long enough. A second was addded (it was at this point that the Norwegian went for a swim). Communications improved and our stern line was got to where it was needed and suddenly and thankfully, Bonnny was released from Noctiluca's embrace and we were able to moor up properly.

By 0130 or thereabouts order was restored and we said a thankful good night to the French and Norwegian (who had returned in dry clothes but without his cat) and Mick and I had a beer/cup of tea and finally got to bed.

This morning the wind had increased further but despite a mooring line having mysteriously untighed itself, all was well.

Just after 0900, I went in search of the authorities to check in and clear imigration and customs (no mention was made of Covid at all). I then found the sail repair shop and arranged to take our Genoa round for repairs. First though we had to get it off. A bit of a challenge in the stiff breeze but that was achieved. We should have it back by Friday.

Then breakfast at one of the Marina cafés. We caught up with our new Irish friends Percy and Onya there. They left Vila do Porto before us and arrived before us too.

Currently back at the boat with the wind whistling in the rigging thinking that despite missing meeting up with George yesterday, it was just a well we left when we did.

I've not ventured into what is clearly a very substantial town yet but my it certainly does not have the charm of Vilo do Porto. No doubt we will explore later.