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It was a split second decision. I handed over 15 euro and was ushered towards a whicker toboggan by two men in straw boaters, one considerably older than the other and rather overweight. I sat on the cushions and looked in vain for some sort of safety belt. The hill we were to slide down was so steep it had taken a cable car to bring me here. The men, one each side, gave a mighty scoot and hopped on the back of the cart. We were in free fall, hurtling down the road, polished to a shine by generations of toboggans.

I could hear the older man’s laboured breathing close to my ear as he veered the cart away from the gutter and then narrowly missed a taxi coming the opposite way. Each man pulled and pushed in turn to keep the wooden runners on course, occasionally touching a heel down on to the tarmac to swerve round a pothole. The speed was exhilarating – my hair blew back and my skirt blew up. My heart was palpitating and part of me thought this shouldn’t be allowed, it’s far too dangerous – scarier than skiing, but during the whole of the 2km free fall the smile never left my face. This was living!

I left my chariot and walked the rest of the way down to Funchal harbour – the road so steep I zigzagged to put less strain on my legs. Easy to see why the toboggan, originally used to transport produce to the market, came into being.

That Madeira has developed into such an attractive tourist destination is a tribute to human ingenuity and engineering. Every surface seems to be vertical. Roads snake up the side of mountains or bore straight through them. Pretty colonial-style houses are stacked up like seats in an amphitheatre, overlooking the deep blue ocean. The airport landing strip rests on pillars alongside the sea. Pilots and drivers have to be on their mettle here.

I arrived at the end of the Flower Festival, the airport decked with a floral carpet, giving a preview of the strange, alluring plants that grow all over the island, all year round. The very names are otherworldly: Angel’s Trumpet, Red Passion Flower, Cock’s Comb Coral Tree, African Tulip Tree, Dew Flower. Agapanthus and Bird of Paradise grow wild by the roadside and the startling blue of Jacaranda blossom fills the town squares.

It was night-time when I landed. A taxi sped me up a narrow, tightly curved road until I felt I was airborne again. Lights dotted the hills and the spangled arms of the harbour embraced a black sea. We turned into Casa Velha do Palheiro, a five-star former hunting lodge, built in the early 19th century and part of the Relais & Chateaux group.

In the morning I discovered the magnificent Palheiro Gardens adjacent to the hotel, and Palheiro Golf ¬- an 18-hole course that must have one of the best settings of any golf course in the world, taking in mountains, forest ravines and the bay of Funchal.

Lunch on the clubhouse terrace, 500m above sea level, was memorable for the view and the quality of the food, prepared by the culinarily renowned hotel. We ate espada, a fish only found here and off the coast of Japan. Nowhere else are the waters deep enough for them.

I met up with other guests at Funchal harbour after my toboggan descent. We were to go out dolphin watching on the boat belonging to the Palheiro estate. The further away we sailed, the more beautiful and incongruous the island appeared, a volcanic outcrop in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by deep ocean. We were looking out for bird activity, which indicates the presence of dolphins, but everything was calm and empty, the air purifyingly fresh.

Then a couple of dolphins bounded over to us – then several more, playfully leaping alongside. Two of our group opened the hatch at the back of the boat and slipped out to swim with them. They climbed back aboard when we noticed an inky shadow under the surface – a giant shoal of tiny fish, flashing silver here and there. Seagulls appeared from nowhere and began diving for them and dozens of dolphins came on the scene. It was a feeding frenzy. We were transfixed, privileged witnesses of wild dolphins in their element.

Madeira is a mixture of the wild and untamed and the civilised and sophisticated. We ate that night at the award-winning Choupana Hills Resort and Spa. The bungalow-style units, built on pillars, feature wood and stone and have African and Asian influences. The restaurant offers exciting, exotic and innovative fusion cuisine. We sampled it all – with bite-size portions of everything on offer laid out on a rectangular slate. It was an eating experience not to be forgotten.

The next day it was back to Madeira’s wild side – and you don’t get much wilder than the seemingly impenetrable pre-Ice-Age forests that cover much of the island. It is the only place in the world where such forests still exist. Unesco has deemed it a Total Preservation Area. Yet they open up to even the average walker thanks to 1,500 kms of levadas - paths which run alongside irrigation channels built by the first settlers. They crisscross the island’s basalt rock masses, hugging cliffs and ravines and shaded by mahogany trees and laurels. Unique shrubs, plants and mosses line the way and the song of rare birds accompanies your steps.

The network of trails is best covered with a guide, as the weather can change quickly at high altitude. Some routes are harder than others, but all need a bit of a head for heights. Edging underneath a waterfall, enjoying the spray and trying to avoid being scraped by rock on one side or looking down into a ravine on the other, was a highlight of my holiday.

Another was downing the local firewater, poncha, which would soon erase any fear of heights. It is traditionally drunk with peanuts and the shells thrown on the floor. I’m not sure exactly what the drink contains but there is passion fruit, lemon, honey and rum in there and something with an extra kick.

Madeira was known for attracting elderly British holidaymakers and cruise passengers, but it is outgrowing this reputation with a new generation of hip hotels and spas, and adrenaline-inducing activities, such as paragliding over cliff tops, canyoning and surfing. Golfers, climbers and big-game fishermen are spoilt for choice. Beach bums are better off making for the undeveloped neighbouring island of Porto Santo, 40 kms away, as the dramatic coastline of Madeira has little in the way of long sandy stretches. For nightlife and shopping you’ll need to return to the main island. New shopping malls, one-off small shops tucked away in the old town, wine lodges and flower markets make it unlikely you’ll go home empty-handed.

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