Madeira walk number 1: The Twenty-Five Springs Walk
In which the author goes on a levada walk, marvels at mist and moss and ends up between roaring lions and gorillas.
The first walk I went on (with a professional guide and a bunch of total strangers) was the “Twenty-Five Springs Walk” from Rabaçal, a tiny little nook of the Madeiran plateau. We were all rather apprehensive as we drove there, as the spectacular scenery I’d seen a few days earlier was not much in evidence; the plateau was shrouded in mist, and all around us was white, startlingly white. I can only remember only one other time I’ve come across fog that thick: in the Philippines, where a friend and I visited the famous viewpoint of Banaue, only to find it hidden behind a thick, white veil of mist. That veil miraculously lifted after about twenty minutes; thankfully, so did this one. By the time we got to the start-off point for the walk, visibility was almost back to normal. All that remained of the mist were some highly picturesque clouds of white which literally rolled down the hills as we commenced our walk into the valley. It was an amazingly beautiful sight - almost like a Chinese painting at times, only with motion.
The walk itself was very enjoyable - neither spectacular nor strenuous, but lovely. We followed a levada (man-made irrigation channel), and while we didn't come anywhere close to seeing twenty-five springs (I doubt we saw as many as five), we did see two nice waterfalls, and had lunch at one of them, which (joy of joys) was frequented by some immensely pretty birds I suspect were goldfinches. So I fed the birds, chatted with a fellow Dutch group member, took lots of photos of misty mountains and mossy trees and managed not to break a single bone, or indeed to make a single misstep. (Those of you who are familiar with my clumsiness will appreciate the magnitude of the latter statement). Eight miles later, I made my way through a long, dark tunnel (without bats, sadly) to emerge into thick mist again and had a drink in a place called the Jungle Bar, where they had some huge gorilla and lion puppets which once every fifteen minutes would start beating themselves on the chests and roaring. It was a rather tacky ending to the occasionally ethereally beautiful walk, but definitely entertaining - the startled disbelief on my elderly British fellow walkers’ faces when the gorillas started doing their thing was priceless.
Anyhow, I enjoyed the experience so much that I decided to sign up for another walk the very next day.
Here’s why.
The view at the start-off point of the walk. The white stuff you see in the middle is mist.
And yes, that’s me wearing white trainers (gasp). I solemnly declare I’ll invest in a pair of decent black walking shoes before my next hike in order to prevent the further proliferation of such shocking photos.
Waves of mist rolling down the hills. A staggeringly beautiful thing to behold in real life, but I guess you had to be there to really appreciate it.
How green was my path, and how beautiful the trees. The barren-tree fetishist in me quietly rejoiced.
The water you see in the middle is a levada, and the glinting stuff next to it is the path we walked on. As you can see, the levada overflowed at points, so the narrow stone path became rather slippery at times.
I’m proud to report I didn’t slip a single time, let alone break a leg.
A dead tree I came across, with a beautifully live one and some mist in the background.
A picturesque little something in front of the waterfall near which we had lunch.
The waterfall itself, or part of it, anyway.
Towards the end of the walk, we walked straight into the mist again, where I spotted these insanely beautiful, spooky trees.
My inner tree fetishist gasped with ecstasy.
