The varied landscapes of Madeira make it a superb holiday destination. There is much to see spread over its thirty-five by fourteen miles of terrain. And I soon discovered the east was my favoured part, as Mr Word Loft and I enjoyed a minibus tour there.
We started by travelling to the island’s third-highest peak and had been advised to take raincoats. I’m so pleased we did, as it was murky at the top when we hiked by the Portuguese Air Force’s spherical radar station. Unfortunately, low cloud swathed the mountain’s summit, which meant we couldn’t witness the glorious views which stretch for miles from Pico de Arieiro at an altitude of 1810 metres.
The souvenir outlet is crammed with all sorts of goodies, including beautiful handmade knitwear, which I thought was reasonably priced for soft woollen clothing stitched in intricate designs. On a sweltering, humid day, it was difficult to muster the desire to purchase, but we chose a small silver bell. The handle is enamelled with a badge of the nation’s famous triangular houses we would see later. With a piece of crimson ribbon tied around it for attaching to a branch, it will make a meaningful addition to our travelogue Christmas tree.
Further down the road, we stopped at a levada. I mentioned this source of water collection in my blog post, Fabulous Funchal. On this occasion, we trailed by another of the manmade channels, directing water to farms descending the slopes. Levada do Furado is sourced from the Ribeiro Frio, a sparkling, vivacious stream by a trout farm and the tiniest of churches.
Its white exterior radiated in the sun, with the cutest verdigris-coated church bell beside its terracotta tiled roof. Inside, a woman lit a candle and prayed, so we decided to leave her in peace, but as I passed by, I could see a colourful altar draped with lace.
After lunch, Santana was next on the itinerary. No, not listening to music by the American rock band of the same title, but a picturesque town named after Saint Anne. Raindrops glittered on the storybook visage, with its thatched wooden cottages shaped like Toblerone segments. Understandably, people’s homes aren’t available to go inside, but by the town hall, there is a hamlet of shops, where, of course, all are welcome and give an idea of living arrangements. Grain or other agricultural commodities are stored in the apex, and the ground level provides a lounge and bedroom. These days, most have an extension which will house a kitchen and bathroom, making the property an idyllic home for two. Very cosy.
A few miles down the road, we stopped off at a rum distillery and spent a pleasant half an hour learning about the industry. Madeirans are proud of the alcoholic spirit and its heritage, beginning with sugar plantations and sugar mills centuries ago. They no longer export; however, they import sugar for rum production. As usual, visitors were offered a sample before leaving.
With twenty minutes to spare in Porta da Cruz before rejoining the excursion, we swiftly paced along its natural promenade, where rock formations amid a sapphire churning sea are spectacular. The breath of fresh air was invigorating before we headed onto the final leg of our journey to the furthest easterly tip of Madeira, passing Eagle Rock, a prominent local geological landmark.
Driving by misted vales and arriving in Ponta de São Laurenco, it seemed like a different country with its arid, red, stony ground similar to any desert. The warm colours spark with the Atlantic Ocean’s cool waves surging towards the Desertas Islands in the distance.
It was exceedingly hot, and being the end of the day, I chose a railed wooden fence to lean on while others went on a mini trek. Having a quiet moment or two, I listened to the crashing surf on the cliffs below, felt the breeze on my face, thankful for the wonders all around me.
Until my next blog post, best wishes,
Sue. X