The Azores, four islands on foot

10–13 September

São Miguel, Furnas and the Lagoa do Fogo

First impressions: superb, full of flowers, very changeable weather and tropical heat. The holiday proper starts with a 20 km hike around the Lagoa das Furnas, between sunshine and downpours, through magical vegetation.

The next day, Grená, an abandoned manor taken back by the jungle, then the Lagoa do Fogo. In the Azores, never give up on a walk because the weather is grim at the start: the proof in pictures, finishing with a swim in the ocean.

Last day in Furnas: the steaming caldeiras, then the "4 Caminhos do Faial da Terra" and their two fine waterfalls, including Salto do Prego, which call for a swim.

14–15 September

Sete Cidades, the crater lakes

Once again, never give up because of the weather. We set off in damp fog, marvel at a mossy, mystical aqueduct, then lose ourselves in the blues and greens of the Sete Cidades lakes. Sublime.

The next day, two hikes back to back: playful, enchanting, green and damp. Very damp, but always fun. Two nights in Ponta Delgada, the capital, for a wider choice of bars and restaurants.

16–18 September

São Jorge, island of the fajãs

Forty-five minutes in a small propeller plane to São Jorge, a walk on the volcano above Velas, then the discovery of the fajãs, flat lands born of rockfalls from the cliff. Dropped at the top of the island at 700 m, we walk down to the sea and its little lost villages, before a swim in Velas's superb lava pool. In the evening, Pico finally shows itself on the island opposite.

On the last day, a rockfall forces a change of route: more serious climbing, in sticky heat, with the natural lava pools as the final goal. Impressive. Along the way, red berries that look like wild strawberries but taste nothing like them.

19–20 September

Pico, 2,351 m

A 7 a.m. ferry, the sun rising over a Pico at last clear of cloud. A quiet day to begin: starting from the Gruta das Torres, a lava tube, then the old UNESCO-listed vineyards, enclosed in their black stone walls.

The next day, the summit. The usual small clouds around 8 a.m., then damp fog and wind. We climb over hardened lava, playful, sporty and straight up. At the crater, a halo in the mist, and suddenly everything opens: we are on the roof of Portugal, and we climb on up the Piquinho. Descent in the rain, as tiresome as expected. A one hundred per cent success.

21–23 September

Dolphins, then Faial

A day without hiking, in a zodiac. No whales, it is not the season, but two turtles and dozens of dolphins, and Portuguese man o' war, best avoided.

Then twenty minutes by ferry to Faial. A levada, wild mint, a forest flattened by the wind, ups and downs between volcanoes, and to finish, the moon of Capelinhos, the land the 1958 eruption added to the island.

On the last day, a pretty caldeira before the clouds, pastures and their cows, Horta marina and the crews' painted signatures. And the most important photo: breakfast facing Pico. In all, fourteen days, 162 km and 6,962 m of ascent.