Three hours after leaving British airspace, an unusual thing occurs. After our plane lands, I turn my phone on and receive a message: “Welcome to Ireland.”
In fairness, we are visiting an island in the Atlantic. It’s ever so lush, and gets its fair share of rain, rather like the Emerald Isle, but the topography here is significantly more mountainous and dramatic, and the temperatures — especially now, in the northern winter — are far more appealing.
A few minutes later, as everyone starts disembarking the plane, my phone beeps again.
Another message. “Welcome to Portugal.” That’s more like it, although it doesn’t quite tell the full story.
We’re in Madeira, a subtropical volcanic archipelago and autonomous, self-governing Portuguese region that’s 500km off the north-west coast of Africa, closer to Casablanca than Lisbon.
As we enter the airport terminal and queue at the immigration desk, another odd thing happens.
Unlike certain places that shall remain nameless, we’re not faced with stern looks and suspicion by the passport control officer here. He beckons us forward with a welcoming smile and, in fluent English, he asks: “So, how was the landing?”
I’m briefly taken aback by the question.
But it’s a reasonable thing to ask here. This airport — which is named after Madeira’s most famous son, the footballer Cristiano Ronaldo — is widely billed as one of the most exciting (or terrifying) ones in the world to land at.
Backdropped by craggy forested mountains, the runway is suspended on concrete pillars above the Atlantic and regularly buffeted by strong winds, testing pilots’ technical skills and temperaments and threatening to send passengers’ pulses sky-rocketing.
While some landings aren’t so smooth — check out the videos on YouTube — most, in truth, are and ours was pretty tranquil and trouble-free.
The sun is sinking into the ocean as we approach Funchal, the Madeiran capital, a 30-minute bus ride from the airport, with thousands of lights twinkling on the apartment-peppered hillsides towering above the city.
The next morning, we’re up in those hills, at the Madeira Botanical Garden, looking out over Funchal as the Atlantic sparkles behind. During our week-long stay, there are many aspects of Madeira that we’ll come to love: seafood lunches on the cobbles of Funchal’s Old Town, post-prandial oceanfront strolls, hikes in the mountains, walking on the tops of cliffs rising almost 600m above the Atlantic.
One enchanting, overriding element of Madeira is its luxuriant beauty.
There’s a lot of debate about exactly how many microclimates this island has — some say four, others reckon 16 or 22 — but overall it’s blessed with mild or steamy weather year-round, regularly staying above 15C on a midwinter’s day, boosted by warm ocean currents, and even in high summer it rarely tops 30C when cooling breezes, a bit like the Fremantle Doctor, are a godsend.
The largest island of the archipelago of the same name, Madeira is rainier in the north than the south but an elaborate network of irrigation channels — called levadas — ensure fresh water reaches every corner and agricultural terrace.
We’ve come in the northern winter, as we suggest others might do (say, as a side trip from London). Europe is still in a chilly vice but Funchal’s daytime temperatures are pushing 20C with ample sunshine and occasional showers.
Conditions are ripe for Madeira’s horticulturists, who grow native plants alongside species from across the globe. Madeira Botanical Garden is an especially beguiling spot, rising between 150m and 300m above Funchal.
More than 2000 species flourish in this 8ha retreat from places as varied as Japan and Madagascar, Queensland and New South Wales.
Some flank sloping paths, lawns and ponds, others are fashioned into topiary or ornamental patterned beds.
We pass casuarinas and camelias, palms, ferns and succulents. I can hear frogs droning in a pond. There’s a crowing rooster somewhere. Butterflies are flapping around. Red kites are flying above. Floral aromas spice the warming air.
We pass a cat having a nap and a traditional thatched Madeiran house, one of the adornments of the garden, created in 1960, by Rui Vieira, a Funchal-born engineer, agronomist and politician who’s honoured here in a bust.
I’d be lying if I said the garden was wholly idyllic. In some parts, you can hear the muffled engines of cars and mopeds traversing a highway bridge into a tunnel below the gardens. But, in general, there’s a calmness and serenity here that’s pleasantly surprising considering this is one of Madeira’s top attractions.
We briefly wonder why it’s so (relatively) quiet and empty and the answer arrives when we look out from one of the garden’s terraces. We can see that there’s only one cruise ship in Funchal’s port today. Tomorrow, there will be three big ones and everything will feel much busier.
fact file
+ Madeira Botanical Garden is open daily (apart from December 25) between 9am and 6pm. Admission is €10 ($17.70) for visitors aged over 12. It’s €3 ($5.30) for children aged six to 12 and free for those under-six. For more information on visiting Madeira and Portugal, see visitmadeira.com and visitportugal.com
https://thewest.com.au/travel/happy-landing-on-a-green-cushion-in-the-atlantic-c-20603994
