Day 3
The weather here is very odd. My iPhone weather app assured me all last week, and continues to assure me this week, that it was going to be raining all week. Yesterday it was a bit damp in the morning but soon cleared up and today it was frankly scorching. I was sweltering in jeans, trainers and a T-shirt and walking past people in bikinis and flip flops. I told Richard about this and he reminded me that being inappropriately dressed is a family tradition. This was coming from someone who climbed a snowy volcano in Iceland wearing daps and a Topman jacket. He's absolutely right, but I do wish I'd brought a pair of shorts.
To get to Praia Formosa the footpath takes you through a long dark tunnel through a rocky headland. It was lovely and cool in there and I was inclined to loiter about and cool off but then I thought it might be a bit alarming to come across someone just loitering, if you were walking through there on your own, and then the thought of that creeped me out a bit and I practically sprinted the rest of the way. Praia Formosa is a very long, very steep beach, composed entirely of huge pebbles. The first third and the last third have a sort of walkway built on the pebbles but the middle third doesn't for some reason, so you have to walk, or rather stumble, for a few hundred yards. This was the final straw for my poor leg muscles, and when I stepped back onto the walkway at the other end, it was like my legs had become detached from my body. I stopped and sat down to give them a rest whilst I ate my lunch.
I was now past the point of no return so I soldiered on another couple of miles to Câmara de Lobos. This is a picturesque little cove with striped fishing boats, where Churchill used to set up his easel and do watercolours. I sat in a nice little bar drinking a cool glass of white wine, contemplating my return journey and wondering how my legs would stand up to it.
With the help of an audiobook (Love in a Cold Climate) to distract me from the pain, I plodded the four or five miles back and arrived in Funchal totally bloody knackered. I was asleep by 9pm.
Day 4
Got up at something past 9am. Didn't sleep all that well due to the fact that I was woken up by the pain in my leg muscles every time I tried to move an inch during the night. Decided to probably take it easy today, and wandered over to the big market, Mercado dos Lavradores, which is only a couple of blocks from my apartment. I love markets, and this one is particularly lovely, with huge weird veg and unbelievable things made out of cork. But the best bit was the huge variety of bulbs and seeds and plants for sale (Witchy Woman's sign was a blatant lie). I was so excited by the variety I practically had palpitations. I didn't buy anything because I'm going to go back tomorrow with a huge shopping bag. I can't wait.
Then I wandered up and down the old town for a bit - very pretty with lots of nice bars and restaurants - and as my legs felt OK-ish I decided to stroll up to the Botanical Gardens. On the map it's about half the distance that Monte was and about a third of the distance to Camara dos Lobos. So off I set. Up the mountain. Turns out that the road is SO STEEP that cars can't drive up it (they have to do the windy zigzag road instead) and you almost literally have to scramble up using your hands as well as your feet. It was practically rock climbing.
(I'd like to point out, indignantly, that I'm not unfit. I run 10 miles a week and walk the dogs all the time. It's just that my leg muscles aren't used to climbing - we don't even have any stairs any more.)
The Botanical Gardens are lovely if you're a plant enthusiast like me blah blah blah blah and then after a couple of serene hours I made the descent, during which I fantasised about being a fell-runner, or a downhill skier, or an abseiler, all of which I'm quite sure would be less painful than trying to walk down that slope. Had a wonderful pot of tea when I got back to Funchal, and then later, in the marina, I had an octopus salad which I regretted partly because it wasn't very nice and also because octopuses are sweet and highly intelligent creatures.
Legs surprisingly not too bad this morning, so packed my backpack with too much stuff, including lunch (when exactly did I become a ‘packed lunch’ sort of woman, I wonder?) and set off West. Strolled through Sé and the Municipal Park (only one block large, but packed with trees and very lovely) and then climbed up through the Jardim de Santa Catarina, from where there is a great view back towards Funchal. Or at least there would be if you could Photoshop the fucking cruise liners out.
Carried on west along the coast, getting diverted en route by a big sign on the pavement pointing down some steps saying ‘Biggest Collection of bulbs, plants and seeds in Madeira! Only 20 metres!’
I OBVIOUSLY had to have a look and as I peered through the windows of the glass-walked establishment, floor-to-ceiling full of plants, was startled by a very small and toothless, very old woman, leering back at me through the hanging plants and beckoning me in with a gnarled fore-finger. She reminded me very much of a witch I saw at our kitchen window as a child who everyone tells me I imagined but I definitely didn’t.
Anyway, I was too polite (scared) not to obey her and in I went like a fly into a spider’s web. She was about 4 feet tall and built like a twig, and dressed in layers and layers of clothes, most of them hand knitted, and she told me in Portuguese how terribly cold it was, even though it was sweltering and I was wearing a T-shirt. And she smelt really bad. I don’t say this in a mean way, she was really old and very lovely, but she really did smell very bad. Then she insisted in showing me ALL of her hundreds of plants via a strung-together photo album, that had photographs of them from all over the world, with handwritten biro legends on the back of each one which she read out. I couldn’t work out what it was all about, but it was important to her so I went along with it. I eventually managed to extract myself after holding both her hands earnestly and promising I’d come back on Thursday. I don’t actually intend to go back on Thursday and I feel a bit bad about that.
I trekked on. Past Reid’s Palace Hotel, the big posh place that Winston Churchill used to visit, and Margaret Thatcher and Dennis honeymooned in (ugh, the very thought makes me want to pour bleach into my brain), that hogs a chunk of coastline and doesn’t let anyone near it, and then on to the uppy-downy, twisty-turny promenade that clings to the sea, past the Lido and the ‘hotel zone’ and then on westwards towards Praia Formosa and then Câmara de Lobos, a little fishing village I'd read about and which I was heading for.
The weather here is very odd. My iPhone weather app assured me all last week, and continues to assure me this week, that it was going to be raining all week. Yesterday it was a bit damp in the morning but soon cleared up and today it was frankly scorching. I was sweltering in jeans, trainers and a T-shirt and walking past people in bikinis and flip flops. I told Richard about this and he reminded me that being inappropriately dressed is a family tradition. This was coming from someone who climbed a snowy volcano in Iceland wearing daps and a Topman jacket. He's absolutely right, but I do wish I'd brought a pair of shorts.
To get to Praia Formosa the footpath takes you through a long dark tunnel through a rocky headland. It was lovely and cool in there and I was inclined to loiter about and cool off but then I thought it might be a bit alarming to come across someone just loitering, if you were walking through there on your own, and then the thought of that creeped me out a bit and I practically sprinted the rest of the way. Praia Formosa is a very long, very steep beach, composed entirely of huge pebbles. The first third and the last third have a sort of walkway built on the pebbles but the middle third doesn't for some reason, so you have to walk, or rather stumble, for a few hundred yards. This was the final straw for my poor leg muscles, and when I stepped back onto the walkway at the other end, it was like my legs had become detached from my body. I stopped and sat down to give them a rest whilst I ate my lunch.
I was now past the point of no return so I soldiered on another couple of miles to Câmara de Lobos. This is a picturesque little cove with striped fishing boats, where Churchill used to set up his easel and do watercolours. I sat in a nice little bar drinking a cool glass of white wine, contemplating my return journey and wondering how my legs would stand up to it.
With the help of an audiobook (Love in a Cold Climate) to distract me from the pain, I plodded the four or five miles back and arrived in Funchal totally bloody knackered. I was asleep by 9pm.
Day 4
Got up at something past 9am. Didn't sleep all that well due to the fact that I was woken up by the pain in my leg muscles every time I tried to move an inch during the night. Decided to probably take it easy today, and wandered over to the big market, Mercado dos Lavradores, which is only a couple of blocks from my apartment. I love markets, and this one is particularly lovely, with huge weird veg and unbelievable things made out of cork. But the best bit was the huge variety of bulbs and seeds and plants for sale (Witchy Woman's sign was a blatant lie). I was so excited by the variety I practically had palpitations. I didn't buy anything because I'm going to go back tomorrow with a huge shopping bag. I can't wait.
Then I wandered up and down the old town for a bit - very pretty with lots of nice bars and restaurants - and as my legs felt OK-ish I decided to stroll up to the Botanical Gardens. On the map it's about half the distance that Monte was and about a third of the distance to Camara dos Lobos. So off I set. Up the mountain. Turns out that the road is SO STEEP that cars can't drive up it (they have to do the windy zigzag road instead) and you almost literally have to scramble up using your hands as well as your feet. It was practically rock climbing.
(I'd like to point out, indignantly, that I'm not unfit. I run 10 miles a week and walk the dogs all the time. It's just that my leg muscles aren't used to climbing - we don't even have any stairs any more.)
The Botanical Gardens are lovely if you're a plant enthusiast like me blah blah blah blah and then after a couple of serene hours I made the descent, during which I fantasised about being a fell-runner, or a downhill skier, or an abseiler, all of which I'm quite sure would be less painful than trying to walk down that slope. Had a wonderful pot of tea when I got back to Funchal, and then later, in the marina, I had an octopus salad which I regretted partly because it wasn't very nice and also because octopuses are sweet and highly intelligent creatures.
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