Pico

A few days ago we woke up early in the morning, got our things
together, and started walking towards the ferry terminal. We purchased
our tickets and got on the ferry. Soon enough, the engine was started,
the dock lines were cast off, the ferry gave a loud blast from it's
horn, and we pulled away from the dock. It felt strange not to be
involved with shipboard operations for once. We soon arrived at our
destination, the island Pico, home to the tallest mountain in Portugal,
and also an active volcano. The car that we had requested for rent was
waiting for us, and we were soon driving on a switchback road towards
the top of Pico. At about 4,000 feet we stopped at a small complex that
began the trail to the top. We climbed almost 400 feet up before we had
to stop. We were barely one eighth of the remaining distance up, and it
had taken us almost an hour. Plus, I was getting tired, and we would
never had time for anything else if we had gone for the top. We decided
to climb back down. It took about another hour to got down, and about
half an hour to drive back down the switchback course. We had bread and
Pico cheese for lunch, and saw what seemed like an entire old village
that was abandoned when the volcano erupted. We got some ice cream at a
small stand, and I had an allergic reaction from it. I will not go into
details about how I felt for the rest of the day, but you can be sure
that it was not pleasant. I had a great time at Pico, and sometimes wish
we could go there again. Except for the ice cream of course.

-Orion