Madeira

Leaving Porto Santo, it was only a matter of hoisting our sails and pointing Southwest, the wind providing us with all the transport energy we needed. After an easy downwind day sail we arrived in Baia do Obra, a small bay to the south of a crooked finger shaped peninsula at the Eastern tip of Madeira Grande.

Although we had the anchorage to ourselves, the area is popular with hillwalkers and land based sightseers. The bay is sheltered from any wind with a Northerly component, which at this time of year is any wind at all. However despite assurances to the contrary, the swell came in and we had quite a rolly time of it. “Rolly”, we were soon to discover, applies to every anchorage in the Madeiras. After a couple of nights we decamped to the nearby marina in Quinto do Lorde to provision and “check-in” with the authorities.

We were impressed by the friendliness of the marina staff, the courtesy bus to and from the supermarket in the nearby town of Machico, and the cleanliness and standard of the showers. But that was it. The fairways were too narrow and the pontoons too small, so much so that only a single boat could be moored in each marina bay, and all the berths on the opposite side of our fairway had to be left empty to avoid a blockage. In addition, aside from a half dozen or so completed buildings in the immediate vicinity of the marina, the place was a building site. However, the worst of it is what they are building looks like a pathetically twee dinky town, perhaps suitable for the lowest common denominator tabloid tourist market, but not great for cruising boats.

Enamoured as we were by the marina we left the next day to sail the fifteen miles to the Islas Desertas, three small uninhabited islands to the South, a privelage we had to get special permission for. However our two day pass only allowed us access to a short tourist trail within the rangers' compound. We were escorted around by a polite young student, however he had very little knowledge and the rangers themselves seemed unenthused by visitors.

While there we explored some of the caves by dinghy, and I made my first attempt at snorkelling. The crystal clear water was ideal and we could plainly see the rocks on the seabed. But I confess, I couldn't quite master breathing with my face under the water, and I eventually settled for swimming without the snorkel.

The return trip to Madeira Grande was a Northwesterly course to the capital Funchal, about half way along the South coast. With a tiny bit of East in the Northerly wind we were able to sail close hauled, bashing into wind it was not the most comfortable of sails, but at only twenty five miles it was still an easy trip. As we approached Funchal I called up the marina on VHF to see if they had room, but as I expected they were full, so we anchored outside.

You might think from what I have written thus far that Madeira failed to impress. Up to our arrival in Funchal, you'd be right. Rolly anchorage or not, Funchal is as pretty a city as I have seen. The land rises steeply up the 1500 metre mountains which are almost permanently in cloud; the cloud provides the city, indeed the island, with shade from the ferocity of the sun; the damp climate cloaking the mountainside in rich green; the suburbs snuggling into the vegetation; and from the anchorage in the middle of Funchal's crescent shaped bay the panorama that surrounds you is Tolkienesque.


We arrived in Funchal on Sunday 30th August, our tenth wedding anniversary. We celebrated in some style, finding a classy little restaurant beyond the tourist zone, where we dined on kid and duck.

Another day we hired a car and drove around and through the Island. Near the tops of the mountains the clouds rolled and tumbled and flowed. One minute we'd be driving in fog, only to emerge suddenly in bright sunlight, to an amazing view of a mountain valley, or the steep cliffs of the coast. The hills were so steep that our car frequently struggled, sometimes even in second gear. The rainwater from further up the mountains ran in fast little streams by the side of the road, we speculated what it would be like in rainy season later in the year. But don't be put off by all this talk of rain, for in the heat it evaporated so quickly that frequently the ground remained dry.

One day we travelled by bus and cable car to the suburb of Monte. This is the final resting place of the Emperor Charles, the last of the Hapsburgs, who died in 1922 barely six months after arriving. Monte is also peculiar for its road sledges, literally sledges that slide down the steep roads, contolled by two drivers standing at the back, the punters pay about €15 a head for a five minute ride.

Other days we just walked the town, or sat in the cockpit reading, and glancing up from time to time at the beautiful view.

One final thing, that in my opinion encapsulates the friendliness and generousity of the local population. The marina here is tiny, with only a handful of visitors berths, so most visitors are obliged to anchor outside. The plus side of this is it's free. But, even if anchored off and not paying a penny, the marina facilities, including showers and water, are available free.

We'll be leaving in a couple of days, but Madeira, and especially Funchal, is already on our places to come back to list.