Two islands, both arid and brown just like everyone told us they would be.
The third, Santo Antao, looked like more of the same until we passed a small forest with a confused personality; pine, jacaranda, mimosa, cypress. Trees you wouldn’t normally find sharing the same hillside.
More greenery crept in in the form of tended fields in a large caldera. It was a typical farming landscape in every way, except for the fact it was in a volcanic crater; a hidden valley surrounded by sharp, ragged walls.
Our path climbed to a saddle, a spot which wasn’t so intimidating to get to as most parts of the wall.
And then it all changed.