Words by Liz Schaffer & Photographs by Hannah Gabrielle More
Viewed from a great height, it could be a prehistoric world. Far below, a row of jagged rocks rise from the depths like giant stepping stones across the wild Atlantic, curiously shaped, their surfaces worn smooth by the wind and waves. And then the island comes into view. A mountainous, emerald oasis. I spy towering peaks, a smattering of vineyards and the pastels and ochres of Funchal, the island’s capital. I’m enraptured, impatient, only vaguely aware of the wind picking up and the plane descending, for Madeira awaits.
Found 600 kilometres off the Moroccan coast, this is a place where everything grows. There are forests, tropical palms and pastures dotted with unhurried cows. Flowers, one of Madeira’s main exports, bloom in abundance, iridescent blues and yellows punctuated by flashes of red and the brightest lily whites.
Lower down, towards the sea, banana plantations dominate - and in Madeira it is these you want to eat, as well as passionfruit, native to Brazil and introduced by early explorers along with sugarcane, walnuts and grape vines. 20 percent of Madeira’s vegetation remains untouched, protected by UNESCO, and it’s only really the island’s south that has been dedicated to farming, with terracing employed to combat the staggeringly steep terrain. As fresh water was primarily found in the wilder north, innovative settlers constructed a network of aqueducts, called levadas, to access what they needed. Originally built in around 1440, 2,600 kilometres of channels exist today and many have become hiking trails, some winding down from Pico Ruivo (Madeira’s highest point) others clinging to ridges and opening to waterfalls that make civilisation feel worlds away. Whichever you wander, the scenery will likely shift with every turn, shaped by changeable weather and the island’s 24 micro-climates.
While wilderness may tempt, it’s wine that Madeira is famed for - their fortified offerings filling the hulls of ships in the 16th century when explorers, venturing to Africa, India and the unknown, docked in the island’s port seeking refuge and supplies. Columbus passed through, while Cook picked up 3,000 gallons of wine for his Endeavour crew. Napoleon stopped by en route to exile but refused the Madeira provided by the British Council, fearing he would be poisoned. Winston Churchill sampled wine made when Marie Antoinette ruled and the American Declaration of Independence was toasted with glasses of Madeira.
Seafaring escapades are partly responsible for the drink’s flavour, with merchants and winemakers noticing that their wines (mixed with spirits to stop it spoiling at sea) tasted better after passing through the tropics, having been gradually heated and cooled over a period of months. This process is replicated today, with the best wines still warmed by the sun, while the Gulf Stream and Atlantic winds create a unique terroir.
Should you wish to discover more, Blandy’s Wine Lodge, once a Franciscan monastery, offers a range of tastings and tours, some of which take in the family’s private collection - their oldest bottle dating from 1755. For something light and dry, sip a Sercial; Verdelho is ideal for aperitifs; Bual is dark and dramatic; while Malmsey, the most iconic of Madeiras, is a rich, amber joy.
To understand the island itself though, it’s best to take to the road. The 101 - known as the ‘old road’ - drapes its way along the coast, snaking in and out of valleys, climbing slowly, its bends heart-stopping. Understandably, scores prefer the tunnels and bridges of Madeira’s newer constructions, yet the 101 is a dream for many, with exceptional drivers lured year after year to the August rally, held high in the mountains - an event that demands a good car, a good engine and good brakes.
If it’s a slightly slower pace you desire, recline in a wicker sled while two men, dressed in white cotton and straw hats, guide you down a two kilometre long street polished smooth by years of daredevilry, using nothing but their rubber-soled shoes to steer and stop. Taking no longer than ten minutes, Monte Toboggan Rides first emerged in 1850 as a way for locals to get downhill fast. Today, it begins near Monte Palace Gardens, which brims with art, museums and fauna from across the globe; Norfolk Island pine, ‘bottlebrush’ and eucalyptus growing beside a thousand year old olive tree. Rare tiles painted with family crests appear amidst the landscaping, horticultural and artistic splendour at its most eclectic. And while the collection and design are astounding, it’s the view that captivates. Found high on a hill, Monte Palace Gardens overlooks the ochre rooftops of Funchal, which cascade towards the dazzling Atlantic.
Named after the fennel that grew here, Funchal is a collage of terracotta, Portuguese pavements, basalt-adorned houses, flame of the forest and jacarandas - and is a city that likes to eat. If you wish to dine like a local, join Discovering Madeira, which offers a smorgasbord of intimate food and wine tours. Begin with coffee at Golden Gate Cafe, a feast of tiles, gilt and history, before sampling the homemade chocolate of Uau Cacau, where seasonal truffles flavoured with fruits like Surinam cherry appear alongside more traditional creations. Nearby is Fábrica Santo António, a family-run biscuit factory founded in 1893. The original wooden interiors remain, as do the signature butter cookies, made dangerously moreish by the addition of quince marmalade. And while their ginger and molasses cookies dissolve into sweet, gooey brilliance, Santo António’s most iconic treat is Bolo de Mel da Madeira (Madeira honey cake), a dense and utterly wonderful combination of spices, dried fruit and sugarcane syrup, the recipe for which has changed little over the past six centuries.
For something more substantial, seek out Funchal’s cobbled side streets, where bustling, unassuming restaurants all offer different dishes of the day. Guided by Discovering Madeira, I made for Venda da Donna Maria, its allure obvious thanks to the heavenly garlic aroma of Bola de Caco, traditional potato bread that arrives in brown paper bags (as grocers would have served it years ago). Here I feasted on Carne Vinhas D’Alho - pork cooked in wine and garlic, reimagined as vindaloo in Goa - and cod that had been salted and dried for over a month. This was on Rua de Santa Maria where the surrounding doors had been transformed by international artists into a mélange of peacocks, birds of paradise, portraits and dreamscapes, all of which glowed beneath the midday sun.
Smaller towns, farming communities and fishing villages punctuate the island, like the port-turned-festival- hub of Ponta do Sol, which sits below the lavish Estalagem da Ponta do Sol, part of the Design Hotels collection. Filled with stone floors, white walls, an infinity pool and an ever-expanding assortment of Portuguese art and photography, the hotel is proud of its history. Beginning life as a farmhouse, the lobby was a sugarcane store and the spa a whale watching lookout.
Then there’s Camara de Lobos, which has barely changed since Churchill holidayed here in the 1950’s. He came to Madeira, and to this fishing village in particular, to paint watercolours, capturing fishermen as they set out in search of tuna and black-skinned scabbard fish. These not-exactly- attractive-but-oh-so-light-and-flaky creatures from the deep (found as far down as 1,700 metres) are still caught today and are at their most exceptional when served with banana or passionfruit sauce.
Restaurants and bars still fill the meandering laneways leading away from Camara de Lobos’ picture-book harbour; residents lining these lanes with murals crafted from recyclables - artistic odes to Churchill, Chaplin and fruits de mer. It is in these bars that you can sample Poncha, a fisherman’s cocktail made from lemon juice, honey and a generous splash of rum (distilled from Madeira sugarcane) - a drink designed to provide warmth upon even the most inhospitable of seas. Recipes vary, but for something authentic pause at A Venda do Andre where vintage bottles line the counter and the floor is littered with peanut shells and lupin skins, the accompaniments to a fine Poncha. Yet take heed. While the first tipple is good, and the second better, a third will have you speaking Portuguese.
My Madeira adventure concluded at Fajã dos Padres, a restaurant that sits beneath weathered cliffs and can only reached by boat or cable car. I’d been delivered here by Rota dos Cetácoes, a company that takes to the Atlantic in zodiacs in search of the 28 migratory species of whale and dolphin that pass by the island. Seated beneath swaying palms, waiters pointed out fare fresh from the boats or rocks, my meal of limpets and roasted octopus paired with the thickest, sweetest banana milkshake. Fajã dos Padres is the definition of a waterside oasis; a collection of white umbrellas framed by bananas trees, mangoes, vines and agaves overlooking a stone jetty and rocky cove - the only sounds that of the waves and scuttling lizards.
Sated and sun-drunk, I departed via cable car. It is a heart-in-your-mouth experience (if you share my fear of anything elevated), yet the scene from the clifftop was a thing of unearthly beauty. The improbable hues of the crystalline water, the patchwork of allotments and the patterns of the rocks beneath the waves were more art than landscape - a mass of textures, shapes and shades you long to reach out and touch. Below me was paradise, perfection, an entirely unexpected Portugal.
This article originally appeared in our Portugal magazine (with different snapshots), which you can purchase here.
