Dring the week Ricky hung out and played the guitar. I started on that long list of breakages, Reriviting fittings on the mast, renovating winches, shopping for buckets and all manor of chores and duties. I tried to confine my labour to the morning hours, and have the afternoon for sight seeing. On one particular afternoon I thought it would be a good idea to see another town. At about 3 I marched off to the bus depot in search of an unlikey hamlet. Calheta was on the map, a Swedish couple I had met had been in the marina and a map had printed the town in bold. It must be big. I spent two hours on this torturous bus journey snaking its way along the mountainous coast. When a sprawling town finally came into view I jumped from the bus. I had arrived in Arco da Calheta, about 3 miles from Calheta and boy was there a sunset on display.