Madeira

Hello!

The second Monday in April, we dragged ourselves out of our budget hotel, grabbed a cab and headed to the airport. The Lisbon airport is thankfully small, so finding our gate and getting set up was relatively simple, despite the fact that functioning early in the morning is a serious challenge for me.

The Madeira Archipelago  is a small series of islands in the Atlantic ocean 1000 km to the southwest of Portugal and 500 km west of Africa. Although geographically part of the African continental plate, as is still an autonomous Portuguese region and has never been populated by anyone but Europeans (there were no native occupants when the Portuguese happened upon the islands in the 1400s), it is considered to officially be part of Europe. Madeira, the largest island, makes up something like 90% of the landmass.

A terraced valley

Our first impression of the island of Madeira was of the mountains. You see them as you approach by plane, shrouded in mist and covered in forest and lush greenery. The formerly volcanic peaks parade across the length of the island, sliced at intervals by massive gorges and valleys, each formed by a now teensy river that crashes down waterfalls to pour into the sea. The orange, terracotta shingled houses are clustered in the valleys and along the coast. They cling with determination to the cliffs and to the thousands of terraces that the Madeiran people have carved up and down the hills so that they can live and farm.

We found our hotel without much difficulty and spent our first day wandering the capital city of Funchal in search of a Vodafone (to add money to our data card) and sunscreen (which I left in my day pack like a genius and which was consequently chucked at the airport.) Needless to say, before we found the sunscreen, we were both nicely burned up by the ultra strong sun.

We managed to find a guidebook that both gave us play-by-plays of the trails that follow the levadas, which are long, narrow aqueducts that thread around the mountains all over the island. On the following day, we set off on our first choice.

Focused. So, so focused.

Our bus dropped us at the top of one of the peaks behind Funchal at a town called Monte. We trekked out of the town and immediately found ourselves at the side of a massive gorge, with one of the aforementioned waterfalls at its base. The drop below us was fairly shallow until we crossed underneath the waterfall (protected by a stone barrier) and then were suddenly on top of the Levada Tornes, clinging to the cliff wall on one side and looking down several hundred feet to the river below on the other. There were safety precautions, of course, if you consider slender metal poles with thin wire strung between them to be something that would save you from plummeting to your doom... but only for the first hundred metres. Then it was balls-out, no guide wire as we walked (ever so carefully!) along our two foot strip of damp cement.

The view over the gorge was, obviously, phenomenal, once I had the nerve to look. The walk wasn't difficult and varied between those vertiginous drops, as our trusty guidebook called them, and shorter drops cushioned by shrubbery.  So that you get horribly scratched up when you fall to your death.

(Sorry, Mom.)

The path eventually parted from the levada and descended down the mountain by way of dirt and rock steps, reinforced by disintegrating logs, through a gorgeous forest. As we clumped down the steps, the little tiny lizards that are all over Portugal and Madeira darted from under our feet - these lizards seem to be so terrified of getting stepped on or eaten that although they might be several feet from you, they will scramble for cover, even if it involves chucking themselves three feet down into the levada. Lizards are hilarious.

Wednesday, we took the bus a little farther from Funchal and hiked most of the rest of the length of the Levada Tornes that we had been using as our guide the day before. It was a gentle hike - no major climbs, no scrambles down, but this time we got to stoop through some of the small, damp tunnels cut into the mountain to accommodate the levada. Well. Dan stooped. I inclined my head slightly. I am much closer than he is to average Portuguese height.

Just to his left is a heck of a drop.

Yet again, on emerging from a tunnel, we found ourselves faced with massive cliffs off the side of our levada. This time the cliff upwards was full of vines and flowers hanging down over the levada path (two feet wide still) dripping mountain water to soak it... occasionally we had to scurry through a cascading waterfall as well. And we did not even fall... take that, gravity!

Drain lizard

Our third trek was shorter. We took a bus across the centre of the island through the mountain passes because we wanted to see the view - which is incredible. There are valleys so narrow and stuffed with trees that I don't think they ever see sunlight - just a hint of it as the mist floats over the top of the peaks. If we had had more time we would have hiked up here, through the chilly forests on the paths between the two tallest peaks, but instead we continued along to the Northern coast to Porto do Moniz, on the very northeast tip of the island.

This little place feels like the absolute end of the world, as the Atlantic slams uninhibited against its rocky cliffs. It was a cloudy day when we went, and the wind whipped the sea into a turmoil. Needless to say there was no swimming in the tidal pools on the seaside.

On the mountain behind Porto do Moniz

We took the bus up to the town on the cliff above Porto do Moniz and hiked down a small trail to get there - looking down on another beautiful valley and at the town clutching at the shore and defying the ocean´s advances. Once we got to the bottom, the scene of primal energy was somewhat spoiled by the busloads and busloads of seniors' tours that had driven in from Funchal and by the many tourist shops that have sprung up to take advantage of those buses. But we went for lunch at a seaside restaurant, ate some Espada, and all was right with the world. Espada, by the way, is the ugliest fish out there - but the tastiest. Wikipedia Black Scabbard for yourself. Mmmm.

Espada with bananas

Our Madeira adventured ended the next day, far too early. I wish we`d had at least two or three more days to really explore the place - but our budget flight was set and so we will continue our wanderings elsewhere.

S.