Madeira, Dec. 2

Today’s forecast promised rain from morning til night.  Said the sun: “frankly, Madeira, I don’t give a damn” about your forecast – and we were favored with a gorgeous morning to explore a bit of this charming island.  (Oh, the lengths to which I’ll go!)

Under patchy skies pierced by occasional bursts of sun, we skirted Madeira’s south shore and entered Funchal harbor this morning, with the city stretching in a horseshoe along the ocean.  We sailed past a mustard yellow fort and the obligatory 16^th century cathedral before docking – and upon doing so, the sun won the battle.

With only a limited time in port, our tour concentrated on two scenic spots:  Cabo Girão, a clifftop lookout perched nearly 600 meters above the ocean, and Câmara de Lobos, a picturesque town where Winston Churchill spent time painting.  (There’s a statue of him seated in front of an easel facing the bay, with a chair alongside for people like me who wish to cozy up to his eminence.)

Cabo Girão offers sweeping vistas of the island’s south coast as well as a view straight down to the ocean through a reassuringly thick glass floor.  It’s surrounded with beautiful plantings, including hydrangeas, the largest yuccas I’ve ever seen, bird of paradise flowers, and red acacia trees. 

Madeira is an agricultural powerhouse despite its steep terrain.  Banana plantations and terraced vineyards are crammed into every nook of the land, irrigated by “levadas” that pipe in water from the rainier north side of the island.  (Our tour guide was particularly proud of Madeira’s bananas and waxed eloquent for several minutes about the life cycle of the banana plant.  Nerd that I am, I found it fascinating.)

Câmara de Lobos hugs a crystal-clear bay named after the “sea wolfs” – monk seals – that used to populate the area.  Although no seals remain on Madeira, some nearby, uninhabited islands – the Islas Desoladas – are designated as protected habitats.  The setting and feel of the place remind me of the Greek isles; neat white houses rise toward serried vineyards, and tiny bars and cafes adorn the waterfront.  I saw no cigar stores, but I assume Mr. Churchill brought an ample supply to fuel his artistic efforts.