Serendipity (noun): A combination of events which have come together by chance to make a surprisingly good or wonderful outcome.
That right there summarises our trip to Madeira. How lucky we were to spend our time there.
- Wednesday 19th July
- Thursday 20th July
- Friday 21st July
- Saturday 22nd July
- Sunday 23rd July
- Monday 24th July
- Tuesday 25th July
Wednesday 19th July
My three favourite things in the world are hiking, a good view and Mathew. Today we’re heading up to walk PR1 Pico do Ariero to Pico Ruivo, so naturally, that’s my idea of a perfect day.
So far, our time travelling has been relatively plain sailing, apart from the odd mishap here and there where one of us (usually me, as I do most of the planning) has overlooked a minor detail. These typically result in us getting lost, stranded in Monaco, baking like Christmas hams in overnight FlixBuses. Or, in today’s instance, taking on the highly unadvisable Pico do Ariero to Pico Ruivo return hike.
You see, Pico do Ariero to Pico Ruivo is a challenging walk. It’s not long by any means, only 6.5km, but it’s relentless, boasting 800 meters of include. You’re supposed to attempt it s a bit like the Tongariro Crossing. You park your car at one end, take a transfer to the other and then, as if by magic, your car is waiting for you once you finish walking. However, I didn’t realise you must book your transfers three weeks in advance. Whoops.
One of the reasons I wanted to come to Maderia was to tackle this legendary hike, so obviously, I’m not leaving without having checked it off my bucket list. A quick back-and-forth with Mathew says we’re both on the same page, and he, too, is as game as I am.
So at the ripe old time of 4:30 am, I wake up to do my due diligence in the ‘sorry I’m making you walk for 8 hours today department and make us both packed lunches, breakfast and an extra strong coffee. By 5:45 am, we’re on the road and driving one hour to the top of Pico do Ariero. Why so early, might you add? We happen to be staying an hour away, and obviously, we’re going to watch the sunrise.
An hour later, we arrive, only to find that the entire population of Madeira has had the same bright idea as us (did I mention this is the first good weather day Maderia has had in a week?), and there is nowhere to park except the overflow car park. Twenty minutes away. Down the hill, we just came up. No time to hang around, Mathew just about handbrake turns into our parking space, and we march “Olympic Speed Walker” style up to Miradouro Juncal. We’re cutting it close for a time as usually (keyword: usually) you should arrive for sunrise half an hour before the sun actually, you know, rises. So we’re, as Mathew would say, hooning up the hill, and my lungs are burning. Seriously, I’ve never moved this quickly this early in the morning. If I’m puffed, I can only imagine that Mathew’s lungs must be on fire – what with being sick and all.
But he takes the journey like a champ, and 25 minutes later, we collapse onto the first patch of grass we see and are greeted by the best sunrise I have ever seen in my entire life. At first, the sky is illuminated in this blue-green glow and then erupts into a golden-orange light as the sun rises above the clouds like a ball of fire. Did I mention we’re above the clouds? So flipping cool.
We both sit and catch our breath for what seems like ten minutes, but it is closer to an hour, and we watch the world wake up. I can’t get over how magical it feels to be above the clouds; it’s like a fairytale or a lovely nursery rhyme.
Over the past few days, I’ve had SO many people message me about the photo below!! It’s so cool, but I have to burst your bubble (and my own!) and let you into a little secret. It’s just an optical illusion. Even though it looks like we’re standing on top of the clouds, there’s a great grassy verge behind me to stop me from plummeting to my inevitable death. Thank god.
Around 8:30 am, we begin the walk to the start of PR1.
If you’ve been on social media and seen Madeira, you’ll likely have come across a video or photo of Pico do Ariero. However, what social media fails (thanks very much, guys) to tell you is that the iconic viewpoint (Miradouro Juncal) and Stairway to Heaven are located just twenty minutes into your walk. Talk about false advertising!!!
The rest of the walk was nothing like I had expected. We’ve done long walks in our time (most notably Roys Peak in Wanaka, New Zealand). Still, nothing could have prepared me for how physically demanding, varied, unforgiving and beautiful this hike is.
Once you pass Miradouro Juncal, you walk around the mountains on narrow pathways – similar to the walkways on Leveda tracks. And when I say around, I actually mean straight down. We walked straight downhill for approximately an hour before eventually levelling out at our first break stop. All Mathew and I could say to each other was, “Good god, that’s going to be fun on the way back” (spoiler alert: relationship testing might have been a better phrase).
At 9:45, we had our first break for snacks (sweets, of course) before we began to scale up to the top of Pico Ruivo.
We could glimpse the track from our rest stop, and when I tell you it’s worse than we were expecting, I’m not lying hahaha the walk-up Pico Ruivo is so steep that iron steps drilled into the rock face to help you up to the top. However, ‘step’ isn’t really the right word. They were so steep it was like climbing a ladder!
When we visited PR 11 – Vereda dos Balcões last week, we were supposed to be rewarded with amazing views of the Valley of the Nuns. However, we all know how that story goes (fog, fog and more fog). This walk loops around nearby to PR 11 – Vereda dos Balcões and as it was a clear day today (we were SO lucky with the weather!), we finally got the views we were after.
We had a quick break at the top of our climb (and made some friends, which another hiker affectionately nicknamed a Portuguese Mountain Chicken) before heading down the other side into the clouds.
By this point, even though it was so early in the day, Mathew and I had called a truce on all forms of communication, given each other a camaraderie-filled hand to squeeze and told one another we’d meet the other at the top. Don’t you love when you’re on the same page? No stress, no arguments and no expectations. Just pure, love-filled silence and the understanding that IF Mathew was to try and mention how goddamn humid it is one more time, I might throw him off the side of this bloody mountain ❤
Twenty-five silence-filled minutes later, we arrive at the top of Pico Ruivo. It’s busy here, thanks to the fully operational cafe (again, mountain-side cafes, so cool!). Mathew begins eying up a can of Coke so cold there is condensation dripping down the sides. One sugary drink was acquired, and one mortgage was taken out to fund said sugary drink, and we collapsed into two seats in the shade. Then, before we know it, it’s time to pack up our things and begin the gruelling walk back to the car. How delightful.
Our spirits are high on the return journey. I don’t know if this is down to the sugar in the Coke or the prospect of having no hills to climb up for another two hours. But what I do know is that 10 am is the time tours start because, boy, is this walk busy on the return journey.
The narrow passages and stairs we climbed to Pico Ruivo are now jam-packed. I can’t quite put into words how busy it is, so the photos below may do the trick!
The group we ended up walking with (none of whom we knew, they were walking in the same direction as us) began to get frustrated every time we had to pause to let other walkers up the stairs. I think it’s just good hikers’ etiquette to allow people coming “up” to go first. They’ve got a more demanding job than anyone coming down, and if someone had tried to get in my way on the journey to Pico Ruivo, I would have thrown them off the side of the cliff.
And, if I’m honest with you, I think there are bigger things to worry about in life than waiting for (MAXIMUM) ten minutes for tour groups to pass. However, it was clear that the rest of the hikers didn’t share this idea.
After dodging around tour groups and a stop for lunch, we were back walking full steam ahead to the end of the track.
The last part of our day was tough going. We were right in thinking this morning that the walk back up Pico do Ariero would be challenging. The final 2km, straight up the mountain, was a good test for the old mental stamina, and poor Mathews cough had just about reached a breaking point.
I like the story of the Hare and the Tortoise; slow and steady wins the race. And that was our mantra for this afternoon. We both agreed that as long as neither of us stopped walking, it didn’t matter how slow we took it. Legs burning and lungs on fire, we used the handrail on the side of the path to half walk, half drag ourselves to the end. And god, was it a good feeling to reach the top!!! Job bloody well done, if I do say so myself.
After our hike, adrenaline and moods were at an all-time high. You get a feeling – accomplishment mixed with fatigue – after hiking that I can’t put into words. But you feel like you could do anything. I think it’s the most beautiful emotion in the world.
We head back to the car, legs shaking, retracing the steps we took so many hours before as we raced up the hill for sunrise. And then it was time to drive half an hour to Santa Cruz, where we checked into our next Air BnB – the base for our remaining time in Madeira.
The Air BnB, unannounced to me, was just a room (or rather, suite) in our host’s house. No cooking facilities but a super comfy bed and ensuite – score. So a trip to the supermarket was on the cards for ‘mixed biscuits and spiders’ as my parents would say (really, that’s just Whittaker slang for a bits and bobs dinner) – my favourite.
And with that, I’m falling into bed on a high and absolutely exhausted. This is going in the memory bank as one of my top three days from our trip so far. See you tomorrow!
Thursday 20th July
After our day yesterday, a lay-in was on the cards this morning. We haven’t had one in a while, so it was delicious to wake up without an alarm and have no plans except sleepily arise from my slumber to the sun streaming through the curtains.
I told Mathew that all I wanted to do today was lay on the beach and bake in the sun like a lizard. Luckily, we’re usually on the same page regarding our day’s plans, and today was no different. An hour later, we’re walking out of our front door, beach bags in tow, to find a half-sunny (for me), half-shady (for Mathew) spot by the water.
The European beaches have varied from pebbly in Nice to sandy in Marseille and Lisbon. Beaches in Madeira, however, are made up of huge, bolderous rocks that would have offered some sadistic hot stone massage should we have chosen to lay down on them. Luckily for us, umbrellas and wooden pallets fashioned into seats were strewn across the beach (free to use, might I add!!!).
After four hours in the sun (most of which Mathew spent playing Jetpack Joyride on his phone – go figure), we rewarded our hard work with ice cream. What did you expect? I’m not going to say that this lived up to the gelato in Italy (or Nannarella in Lisbon), but it hit the spot.
We didn’t want to spend our whole day doing nothing on the beach (although that is my idea of heaven), so once we had soaked up a month’s worth of Vitamin D, Mathew and I jumped back in the car and drove to Miradouro da Ponta do Rosto.
Miradouro da Ponta do Rosto is another of Madeira’s manyyyy viewpoints and, located at the Easternmost point of the island, boasts insane views out to the Atlantic Ocean and Porto Santo.
It was busy here, but not so much so that it wasn’t enjoyable. However, the ground is extremely dusty, and after a sweaty day at the beach, a mixture of gale-force winds, dust and sweat doesn’t do much to boost morale.
After spending an hour standing on the side of the cliffs, staring into oblivion, we head back to our apartment for a (very) much-needed shower and an early bite to eat. Dinner was another ‘mixed biscuits and spiders’ concoction of half sandwiches, cheese wedges and carrot sticks (delicious) as we lay in bed with the air conditioning on full blast.
The golden hour struck around 7 pm, and I watched out of our window as the world turned from vivid green to glisteningly gold. This gave us the bright idea to drive and watch the sunset from one of the nearby viewpoints. And we decided to go big or go home. Instead of driving 15 minutes down the road, we bolted out the door and drove half an hour back up to the top of Pico do Ariero.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. They’re crazy. You spent the whole day here yesterday – why would you possibly want to go back? But let me tell you, this was the best sunset I have ever seen in my whole life. I’m not kidding. Pico do Ariero might be the most famous sunrise spot on the island, but I think it’s much better for sunset.
We arrived just as the mountains became shrouded in a golden-orange glow, and as time went on, the sky became a gorgeous pink. Ugh – I love nature. Mathew held down the fort back at the car park (shoutout to him for finding us quiet, front-row seats to Mother Nature’s best show of the day), and I went exploring.
Mathew said he was valiantly holding down the fort. Still, I think he was hoping and praying he wouldn’t have to walk back down the god-forsaken path we climbed up yesterday, hahaha.
I lost track of time until, after half an hour of exploring, I realised I’d left Mathew on his lonesome and was copping out on date night (sorry, love).
And the evening passed in a golden-red haze of oohs and ahhs.
As I sat watching another day come to an end, I realised how much I would miss it here on this funny little island. My favourite part of travelling is finding new places that feel like home ❤
Friday 21st July
Two lay-ins in a row? Who are we?
This morning, we woke up at a reasonable hour (okay, it was 7:30, but that seems like a result after the last few days) to make the most of our second to last day with the rental car.
It’s another overcast and gloomy day in Madeira (although those are starting to grow on me). I’ve got one more hike on my bucket list to tick off before we head back to England on Monday.
According to All Trails, our walk today (Caldereo do Verde) was supposed to be very difficult. We were geared up, ready to go and expecting a challenge. However, it’s very, very easy and perhaps my favourite leveda track of the trip so far. Caleredo do Verde started from a small (somewhat deserted) car park on the island’s northeastern side and took us through bush and jungle, past mini waterfalls and long tunnels carved into the rock walls.
Caldereo do Verde is an out-and-back trail (again, not my fave, but the views made up for it!!) to another waterfall. This time, it’s the tallest waterfall on the island, standing at over 100 meters, and gives Kitekite Falls in Auckland a bloody good run for its money!
Although it was early, we sat down and ate lunch (or rather, I ate lunch, and Mathew chowed down on a bag of lollies) and watched a couple of brave hikers dip in the freezing cold water hole. Good on them – it’s freaking freezing.
The clock struck 11 am, and we returned the way we came, encountering a few more tour groups en route. Rush hour on the trail meant that the return trip took a little longer than the walk there (and also involved a lot of climbing and hoisting ourselves up onto rock walls to avoid the other walkers).
By the time we reached the hike’s end, it was noon, and the sun was peaking out from behind the clouds and in the distance. One quick look at the horizon showed us that the sun was, in fact, in the direction of the beach (!!!), and we could see the beautiful blue sky (clearly, someone was looking down on us today!).
The change in weather gave us a newfound spring in our step, and we jumped into the car and drove half an hour from Caldereo do Verde back to our apartment to change, and now I’m off to the beach. Bliss!!
See you tomorrow ❤
Saturday 22nd July
Don’t you love waking up to the sun streaming through your windows?
We wanted to make the most of our last day with the car and (as we had just filled the beast up) thought a trip over to Santana would do the trick.
On the drive over, Mathew and I passed a massive cruise ship and started discussing the idea of doing one together one day.
I’ve wanted to do a cruise for as long as I can remember; I feel like they’ve got the same vibe as a hotel buffet breakfast but on a colossal scale. I can’t imagine anything better than lounging on deck chairs for a week, drinking little cocktails and island hopping. But I understand why other people don’t like them. The idea of being trapped in a floating hotel for a week with a bunch of strangers is enough to make most people weak at the knees. Luckily for me, Mathew isn’t one of these guys. Before I know it, we’ve researched almost every cruise departing from Auckland in 2024/2025 and planned our next holiday. Settle down – we’re not back from this one yet.
The sun is BEAMING today, and it’s so hot that after lunch, we decide to continue driving west onto Porto Moniz. Porto Moniz is home to these amazing natural swimming holes. We passed them earlier this week, but the weather wasn’t as good as today, so we decided to give them a miss. I’m so pleased that we came back!! After half an hour in the car, we pulled up, parked, and paid the 3 euro entry fee.
Mathew decides to be brave and go for a dip but quickly realises that the ocean is FREEZING (go figure). So, he joins me on the rocks, and we close our eyes to soak up the sun for the next three hours.
The alarm I’ve set on my phone goes off, signalling it’s 5 pm, and we wake up to find that the tide has come in. Because we’re at the back of Porto Moniz Pools and overlooking the ocean, the waves are just about crashing around us.
Whilst we were asleep, a family of five set up camp next to us: a couple and their three daughters, who must be between fifteen and eighteen. Two of their daughters seem great fun, jumping in and out of the pools with their parents, screeching at each other and playing mermaids. On the other hand, the third seems like a diva from hell and is point-blank refusing to acknowledge her family’s existence. Instead, she’s talking to her boyfriend on the phone and applying pale pink lipstick for the eighth time.
Suddenly, a huge wave the size of a small tsunami (okay, that might be an over-exaggeration) crashes against the shore and drenches her from head to toe. I shouldn’t laugh, but the look of horror on her face is hilarious. Her sisters spot her out of the corner of their eyes, and they’re bent double in one of the nearby pools, trying to stifle their laughs.
By this time, we should have left to get back to our car and near-expiring parking ticket, but it’s so funny playing a game of ‘who can spot the biggest wave that’s going to soak the 16-year-old’ (we’re mean, I know) that we hang around for another hour. I’m almost ashamed to admit that by the time we leave, we’re in fits of giggles, and she’s soaked from head to toe. I don’t feel too bad, though. Her mum is laughing, and I imagine my mum would be, too.
Once home and showered, we push the boat out and treat ourselves to a restaurant dinner to celebrate wrapping up our time in Madeira. If you’ve been following these daily diaries, you’ll know that Mathew and I are HUGE sushi lovers. I could eat the stuff for breakfast, lunch and dinner. A few days ago, we spotted a nearby sushi restaurant and decided to give it a go for tea tonight.
We sit in the restaurant, order our food, and I can’t quite believe my eyes when it arrives. It’s pretty and beautifully presented, don’t get me wrong, but I’m gobsmacked at the number of weird and wacky combinations the Europeans try on sushi. This isn’t the first time either – we had a similar experience in Porto. Tonight we’ve got tuna and mango rolls, salmon with cream cheese and strawberries, deep-fried pickled carrot and cucumber and (okay, this one is taking the piss) whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Let that sink in. Rice, nori, whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Bizarre, to say the least.
Mathew decides to brave it and try our desert sushi and can confirm that it is a Japanese hate crime. I feel like I’m in an episode of Ready Steady Cook gone wrong. It’s a far cry from my favourite sushi spot in New Zealand, Sushi Time, but it is a story to tell none the less hahaha.
Sunday 23rd July
I’ve talked so much about wanting to fit as much into our time in Madeira as possible. So, I’ll forgive you if you thought our last full day would have started early.
Instead of being the early bird that gets the worm, we’re in bed till 11 am checking our flight details, planning our UK adventure and catching up on writing. I’m so behind and promised myself I wouldn’t let it snowball, so if you’ve stuck around, thank you (hi!!).
Today, Mathew is on a mission to try poncha. Poncha is a local drink made from fruit juice, honey and liquor. It sounds incredible, and we’ve seen it all over the island in various restaurants and bars, but never tried the stuff for ourselves. On the other hand, I want to check our one final viewpoint before we wrap up this leg of our trip. So, we head in the direction of Cristo Rei for both.
A little cafe at the top of the viewpoint and cable car sells just about everything under the sun, from traditional island delicacies to ham and cheese toasties gelato to those discontinued push-pop Smarties ice creams. But, no poncha in sight – booooo. However, we did stumble upon one of the best ocean views of our trip so far, which made the visit worth our while.
After another half an hour of staring into oblivion and contemplating our place in the universe as we stare out to sea, we drop our car off at the airport. The little seaside town of Santa Cruz is near the airport, so we decided to walk 45 minutes to the beach and make the most of the afternoon sun.
Madeira is getting better the longer we’re here. I’m beginning to get sad that we are flying back to England tomorrow. I feel like we’ve finally found our feet, and now the first leg of our travels is ending.
Of course, I’m excited to show Mathew around and see my family, but I wish we had a few more days or weeks in our lovely little travel bubble. The last two and a half months have been exactly what I thought travelling would be like, and also nothing I had expected. We’ve talked about everything under the sun, grown closer, leaned on each other and been our own social support system. Mathew has been an absolute rockstar, and I feel I have truly found my person. How bloody lovely is that?
I’ve always been an extrovert and I thrive off the company of others. In 2019, I used to count the minutes till the weekend, longing to arrive at my best friend’s doorstep on Friday night and not leave till Sunday afternoon. Earlier this year, I worried that travelling would be challenging, purely because (unless you’re constantly staying in hostels) you lose most of your social network. But it’s been lovely having unlimited quality time with Mathew, only worrying about each other and getting to know one another more than we might have been able to do in a lifetime had we stayed home.
The Santa Cruz seaside is gorgeous, and we spot a cocktail bar selling poncha. Score! Sign us right up. Mathew tries his first shot of poncha, and Jesus, it’s strong. I’m secretly pleased that I can’t eat honey and have opted for a safer option a la 4€ mojito. Mathew’s face is in a permanent grimace as he tries to chug his drink (rookie mistake branching out from the usual). No luck, and in less than ten minutes flat, I’ve lost my drink, and he’s had two. I hate the phrase “sharing is caring”.
We soak up the evening sun and enjoy our drinks (and free snacks!) before walking half an hour back to our apartment. We liked the beach here so much that we’re going to come back and sunbathe here (what did you expect) before our flight tomorrow, but for now, it’s back home for another mixed biscuits and spiders dinner and to pack our bags :((
The walk home takes us past Madeira airport. As you walk past, you’re so close to the planes that you can feel the ground shake as they fly over you. I’ve worked in audiology for nearly four years now, and Mathew spent ten minutes laughing at me as I plugged my index fingers in each ear as the planes flew over us. Jokes on you, love when we’re 70, and I can hear and you can’t.
The rest of the evening passed in a haze of laughter, dirty washing and boarding passes, and before we knew it, it was time for bed. See you tomorrow!
Monday 24th July
Post-holiday blues is real, and our holiday isn’t even over. I woke up this morning feeling down in the dumps and resentful that we were leaving the Maderian sun’s warmth. In a way, I wish we had planned our trip differently and spent our time chasing the sun through small European cities. But I know that as soon as we return to UK soil, I will be pleased to be there. Familiarity, family and the thought of being another day closer to seeing Johanna ❤
I rose as the sun did, taking in another beautiful sunrise and wishing we were up at the top of Pico do Arierio, about to start one of the best hikes I’ve ever done.
At 10 am, we check out of our apartment and walk back down to Santa Cruz Beach. The sun is shining, and I am so happy to be back soaking up a week’s worth of vitamin D in one morning.
Before we know it, the clock strikes 2 pm, and we begin our walk to the airport to check in for our flight to Heathrow. As we stand in line, ready to go through security, Mathew holds our bags (thanks for always carrying my luggage, love) and I sift through my backpack to retrieve our passports.
We’ve got this little passport holder that my bothers girlfriend (hi Brody!!) got me for my 21st birthday (before I was supposed to start by OE – thanks very much, COVID). It’s been dead handy and we’ve been keeping both passports together so that we ALWAYS know where they are.
Anyway, as my brother Josh would say, peril strikes. I open the bag and find, to my absolute horror, that our passports are nowhere to be found. I know the last time I had them was when we rented our car. Almost two weeks ago. Three air BnBs ago. On the other side of the island. Jesus Christ.
The words “I don’t know where our passports are” come spilling out of my mouth before I can stop them, without thinking how Mathew, an anxious flyer as it is, will take this dreadful news. Well, just about as well as I had expected and in less than two seconds, all of the colour drains from his face.
We remove ourselves from the security line and collapse into a corner of the airport to sift (when I say sift, I mean we tear limb from limb) our luggage. I have no plan B if we can’t find them. Call the NZ embassy? Book another Airbnb and spend the next week searching the island? Call the police? Set up shop in Madeira and live here forever?
Thankfully, after a butt-clenching five minutes, we found both passports at the bottom of my laptop case. Heart attack over. The colour returns to Mathew’s face, and we erupt in a fit of nervous laughter. That was a close one.
The rest of our check-in was a smooth process, and before I knew it, we were squished next to each other on our 3.5-hour British Airways flight back to England.
We arrive back on solid ground at 9:30 pm, and the weather greets us in true UK fashion: grey skies and drizzle. Thankfully, my lovely grandparents are both standing at the arrivals gate, arms outstretched, ready to greet us and take us home. Thanks, Grandma and Grandpa, you guys are the best ❤
Tuesday 25th July
I can’t tell you how nice it is to wake up in a soft, familiar bed and walk downstairs to make a cup of coffee in a familiar kitchen. I think that’s the thing I’ve missed most whilst travelling (except for my family, of course) – familiarity. I don’t, and never have, coped well with change. Given how much I’ve always wanted to travel, you’d think I did. But, despite how much I try to be adaptable, resilient and go with the flow, I love the comfort of a familiar safety blanket. There are few better feelings in the world.
We’ve got zilch on our to-do list today, except find a new sim car (thanks to Airlo e-sim for ruining my last one), some grocery shopping and a lovely lunch at my grandparent’s favourite Spanish restaurant. How wholesome.
I wanted to tell you we had something more exciting and jam-packed planned for our first day back in England. But we both needed a full day of rest and nothing on our agenda. I don’t have more than a single photo on my camera roll to prove it, so you’ll have to take my word for it! I’ll save the excitement for next week – see you then!
Notes to Home 