An Insider's Guide to Madeira by Nick Maes

I was warned that Madeira is no place to build sandcastles; but quite how depleted it is of rivieran sands still came as a surprise.  Its intriguing primordial rawness – a result of ancient volcanic activity – is omnipresent. Toothy mountains tower dramatically above the capital Funchal, prod clouds and alter the weather patterns on this Atlantic speck. Beaches are pebble-dashed with boulders. In other words it’s just as I like my drinks; on the rocks.

Quinta da Richina is perched on top of a particularly craggy peak in Ponta dol Sol. You need to take an outside lift to the hotel’s reception area some hundred feet above that felt a bit James Bond on a budget – but in a good way. Cliffs shear away to the sea hundreds of feet below, large prehistoric pines and palms grow off impossible edges and my crows-nesty bedroom hovered perilously above eternity below. It’s not for the vertiginous – and I quietly prayed that coastal erosion wasn’t an ongoing problem…

Their chilled out bar is an ambient marvel; terraced lawns and steps were draped with laid-back guests and Funchal’s demimonde – or was it Demi Moore?  Poncha; a local spirit-based lemony tipple, was slugged back in the glutinous heat.  I loved it.  But not as much as the revelatory building situated ten miles up the road.

Contemporary Charms

Centro das Artes is possibly the most beautiful art gallery I’ve ever visited.  Part fort, part bunker, part Neolithic farmstead with a splash of Minoan labyrinth it’s utterly absorbing; so much so that it took two visits, one to soak up the superb architecture and another for the show inside – currently contemporary Portuguese artists, but exhibitions change every six months. The place was empty on my visit; perhaps this gem is a little too well hidden and doesn’t even rate as a blip on the tourist radar.  Yet I’d argue a trip to Madeira was worth it solely to visit this spectacular and innovative building – just be sure not to confuse it with the lacklustre contemporary art gallery in Funchal.

There’s something else that’s squeaky and new about Madeira – the road system.  It seems every main thoroughfare has been rebuilt in the last few years creating an infrastructure of highways and tunnels that’s polished, sleek and works very well.  Travel times around the island have been slashed with this new network; a bonus if you’re headed towards Faja da Ovelha in the west of the island – a trip that used to take five hours, but now takes one.

A car is vital in these parts, not least because of the steep climb needed to reach the village.  Twisting lanes lined with agapanthus spiral past layered fields filled with wheat and plum trees heavy with golden fruits.  It’s easy to get distracted and miss your turn.  An elderly woman baking bread at a traditional open fire by the roadside sent me back in the right direction.  I’ve never seen an alfresco baker before.

A Step Back in Time

Barry and Johannes (originally form South Africa and Germany) have created a smashing little guesthouse hidden up a side road in this farming community.  Summer Place is intimate, urbane and quietly stylish, even though the setting is wholly rural.  I found it difficult to pull away from slobbing out by their black swimming pool – and the dynamite view across farm rooftops to the sea in the far distance.  But Faja da Ovelha is also a step back in time.

On Sunday’s, old ladies, some in wellies, all in headscarves, walk purposefully to church.  These pious old women hold the key to the area: God, the land, the sea and hardship. They cling to mediaeval methods of agriculture and a beguilingly slow life.  But they’re the last to live like this; a thousand years’ worth of subsistence farming, tradition and culture looks set to disappear as the new roads bring opportunity and employment and the younger generation leaves the land.

A gentle walk along the local levada (an aquatic feat of irrigational engineering) takes you through these vanishing communities and into the cool shadows cast by pine and eucalyptus forests.  Hunger dictated my return to Summer Place, a cold beer and the promise of a locally sourced communal dinner cooked by Johannes.  Expect homemade liver pate, dorado with a fresh garden salad and crème brulee on the changing menu; inclusive of wine it’ll set you back an extra 30 euros.

Naturally seafood is big on the islands and Funchal spoilt me for choice – I eventually settled on a set lunch at Celeiro, a small restaurant near the old town where fresh octopus and a glass of wine set me back a very cool ten euros.

Spa Treatments at The Vine

Just up the road from Celeiro is Madeira’s latest and possibly chicest hotel.  The Vine reeks of the quiet slickness and sophistication more normally associated with Manhattan’s designery establishments; yet it doesn’t come with their snotty attitude.  It’s a paean to aerial swimming pools and anthracitic pebbles, beds the size of helipads and of course wine.  The spa is a dipsomaniac’s wet dream: I suppurated in a Jacuzzi filled with wine extracts, a glass of the red stuff in hand.  Not quite the bath of champagne Kate Moss infamously shared with Johnny Depp or the 1st Duke of Clarence’s butt of malmsey, I’d guess you’d call it a gentle re-tox instead.

Newly buffed and miraculously not smelling like an old wino it was time to hit town.  I reckon someone’s bought a job lot of giant white illuminated flower pots – I spotted them at various places around the island including Café Teatro – a cool place to start a late evening.  And down by the harbour-side, on top of another ubiquitous rocky outcrop is the Mohle club.  Ignore the sign that optimistically points out a minimum spend of 250 euros; it’s a remnant of a previous incarnation and P Diddy has yet to make the place a fixture in his summer agenda.  Entry costs a rather more modest five euros (with a drink included), doesn’t get cranked up until 2am and is the perfect place to watch the sunrise.

Ok, so it’s not unadulterated Balearic hedonism; you go to Ibiza for that, but it does seem that Madeira rocks after all.