January Sun in Madeira

Last week I said we would return to Madeira for a flying visit. To the pedants amongst you, I hear you. It was, of course, a sailing visit and not a flying one.

Let’s take this on a bit. Sailing? Why do we still say sailing when there isn’t a topsail, staysail or a spinnaker in sight? Basically, it is nothing more complex than tradition.
As sailing ships started to be replaced by steamships in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, a new term for being under way was introduced: steaming. Our captain, during his noon announcements, alternated between the two.

The fact is, though, the only steam on board is to be found in the cabin kettles or showers. Crossing seas and oceans is nearly as old as man, so even though new technologies have been introduced, sailors still refer to sailing. The engines on our ship were powered by diesel, most definitely not sailing or steaming.

Before we rocked up in Funchal again, we had been monitoring the weather forecast and, to be frank, it was looking decidedly dodgy. Our hopes were not very high.

As it happened… well, it was truly magnificent. Sunny all day with a forecast high of 16°, which was most definitely an underestimation. When we were touring the island, our driver pointed to his dashboard, saying it was over 20.

A Driver Called Tony

Now, how did we get to be in this particular driver’s car? For those of you who have cruised and are not counted among the lily-livered, you will be aware that there is usually a gauntlet to be run once outside the security zone of the port.

When I say lily-livered, I don’t mean to be offensive. I really mean having access to bottomless pots of money. By all means, if you seek certainty in your life, book an excursion direct from the ship, but there is much more excitement in uncertainty, wouldn’t you agree?

Having politely rejected the approaches of a number of drivers, one of their number proved to be a little more assertive. In a get-to-know-you sort of way, he asked what our plans were.

From the moment he opened his mouth I liked him. No idea why, just a gut feeling, I liked him.

Then, as if reading my mind, he said, “If you are wanting to go up in the cable car, it is closed for three months for a safety inspection and any resulting maintenance. But I can take you to another one.”

How many cable cars does one island need? As it turned out, he has a name, by the way, Tony Jardim, explained that the government had ordered all cable cars to be checked since the horrendous accident in Lisbon late last year.

We agreed a fee for a two-hour tour and, as it turned out, it proved to be one of the best experiences we have had in recent years. When visiting an unfamiliar city, the best way to get to know it is to befriend a local. Tony was that local.

There weren’t really any downsides to Tony… oh, hold on a minute, there was one, I presume still is one, he tells the most awful jokes. I will let him off that, though. After all, he is telling them in a second language, and my joke-telling leaves a little to be desired in Portuguese.

I do fear, however, that he is suffering from the debilitating Witzelsucht, a condition urging the sufferer to tell jokes and use puns 24/7. He is great company, though.
Sometimes you just strike lucky, just a pity it is not on a Friday night with Euromillions. It can wait.

He soon confessed that he had never had a bloke like me in his car before. Alright, none taken. What he meant was that he had never had a blind person in his car, not ever.

Well, it was all down to me then. It could go either way: one, he would take away with him one of the best experiences of his life or, two, he would think that he never wants to do that again.

To be honest, I don’t really give a fig or, in these parts, a banana what he thinks. I am the customer and the customer is always right.

Whenever we alighted from the car, he would guide me to a safe place, ensuring I didn’t trip over kerbs or steps. Whilst on steps and different levels, I have to say, and as far as I could tell, just about every change of level was marked with a contrasting delineation. Wonderful and well done, Madeira.

Churchill Bay and Sky-High Views

First stop, or first port of call, was the beautiful fishing village of Camara de Lobos, just along the coast from Funchal. Tony dropped us off at the top of a hill in the village square, and we made our way downhill to the sea.

Wow, what a vista. As we entered the small port area, the bay opened up in front of us. We often use superlatives in a throwaway manner, such as stunning, magnificent or wonderful, but this place deserves every single one of them. It really was rather splendid.

Winston Churchill used to set up his easel here, you can see why, to paint some of his daubs, his words not mine. Two everlasting tributes have been made to the war leader of the then free world. The harbour reminded me very much of Fowey in Cornwall, except without the inflated prices. Even Wells-next-the-Sea came to mind.

It is now named Churchill Bay in the great man’s honour. He also has a bronze statue which, rather disappointingly, we failed to locate, but it can be found on the veranda at the entrance to the Pestana Churchill Bay Hotel.

It apparently depicts him sitting at his easel, paintbrush in hand, diligently working his way to completing another landscape. There is a spare chair next to him where one can sit to have your picture taken with the great man.

This alone, in my mind, is worth another trip back. Wouldn’t the story be complete if he had stayed in the hotel that is clearly a tribute to his legacy? Alas not, at the end of a hard day’s painting he would return to the more salubrious Reid’s for his sundowners, of which, I think, there were plenty.

I know it seems implausible that a blind man can be an art critic, but I used to be able to see once, and my memory tells me that his so-called daubs really weren’t that bad.

The church of Sao Sebastion stands proudly, overlooking Churchill Bay, back when it was built in the fifteenth century. It was used for returning fishermen to offer up thanks for their safe deliverance after a trip out to sea.

Every fisherman, without fail, would be seen on his knees at the end of a very challenging cruise. It was also a place where the fishermen’s wives would gather, especially on days of filthy weather, to offer up prayers for the safe return of their menfolk.

It was, on the odd occasion, noted that not all the wives rocked up to pray for the fishing fleet’s safe return. Talk about being conspicuous by your absence.

For the next stop on this consistently improving tour, we were going to go up in the world. Right from sea level we would be ascending 580 metres to stand on the highest glass-decked platform in Europe and, indeed, the second highest in the world. The record belongs to the Grand Canyon in Arizona.

This one is located on the highest promontory in Europe as well, Cabo Girao. What about the views? Well, they were breathtaking. I mean, what would you expect?

Even in January the crowds were pretty densely packed and, although I could have stopped a while drinking in this lovely prospect, it only felt right to give way to others. I was not at all sure if the entry price of €5 was worth it or not, though what can you get for €5 these days? Forgive me, I am beginning to sound like my dad.

Sometimes, when we have ventured onto glass decks in the past, there are usually a handful clinging on for dear life. I’m not quite sure what they are expecting.

If the entire structure pulls away from the cliff face, they won’t stand a chance. If the glass deck shatters and we all fall through, the result will probably be the same. You might as well give in to the inevitable and enjoy the wildest drop of your life.

A banana plantation was next on the tour, including the alternative cable car we were promised. Yes, I made a mistake, I didn’t record the name of the cable car and later discovered there are seven telefericos on the island. For pity’s sake, who needs seven cable cars?

I have settled for Faja dos Padres. It sounds right and, to be honest, who is going to read this and know for sure anyway?

Hats off to the management, blind people were allowed to go free, though the concession probably wasn’t exclusive to blind folk. It made up for the glass platform disappointment.
As we entered the pod, up popped Tony holding the rest of the line as he took our pictures. I reckon the rest of the queue must have thought we were celebrities of some sort. No idea who, though.

It was an extraordinary feeling to stroll along to a restaurant, banana plant fronds caressing my head as we passed beneath them, gentle waves barely warranting the name. It was bliss, sublime and dreamlike and, most of all, it was January.

It was a tad early for a banana liqueur, so I opted for banana and chocolate ice cream instead. The carbon footprint must have been minimal, plant to plate was a matter of a few metres only.

We were nearly at the end of our time with our brilliant host, so we asked if we could book him for a further two hours. He agreed.

We passed waterfalls in their hundreds, streams and rivers cutting through fertile land. Madeira gets around 3,000mm of rain each year in the mountains, whereas Funchal might only get about 600.

Eventually we arrived in Porto Moniz in the north-west of the island. You would not have believed it was linked to the southern part, nor that the afternoon was linked to the morning. The weather had turned bitter, with sleet and icy shards blasting our faces, so the volcanic pools could wait.

By the time we returned to the ship, the weather had turned welcoming again. This was a fantastic taster for a beautiful island and we are, without doubt, going to return for a better look.

Before we leave Madeira, I shall pass you back to our jocular driver. As we were passing an ancient rockfall, he explained that concerts are held there in the summer.

“Have you had anyone famous play there?” asked an interested Jane.

“Yes,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “The Rolling Stones.”

Jane did cotton on when we both laughed. Just a nanosecond too late.

Thanks, Tony. If I could, I would award you six white canes out of five. You really did go above and beyond.

We thought this a most attractive jewel in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in January. Just imagine what it must be like in June.

We have reserved a room at the beautifully appointed Pestana Churchill Bay in Camara de Lobos and really can’t wait to get to know this place so much more. Madeira, where have you been all my life!

Find Out More
Camara de Lobos: https://www.cm-camaradelobos.pt
Faja dos Padres: https://www.fajadospadres.com
Porto Moniz: https://www.portomoniz.pt
Churchill Bay Hotel: https://www.pestanachurchillbay.guestreservations.com
Reid’s Hotel: https://www.belmond.com
Tony Jardim: https://www.tj-madeira.eu

White Cane Ratings
Camara de Lobos: very good, accessibility to the fore - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
Cabo Girao: good, some steps - 🦯 🦯 🦯 (3)
Faja dos Padres: very good, easy level access - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
Madeira Botanic Garden: good, some slight access concerns around handrails - 🦯 🦯 🦯 (3)