Levada do Furado

Pico Alto (1130m)

I’ve been to Madeira several times now but not really written much on this blog of mine about the walks and mountains to be found on this beautiful mountainous volcanic island which does seem a bit of a shame so I am going to right that wrong and I am going to start pulling together some notes about a few of the walks that I have done during the times that I have been there. Don’t be surprised if random Madeira articles appear on this blog from time to time. I know it does seem a bit random and not the general idea of a blog but just humour me, eh?

These look promising! :-) I can feel a return visit is required..

Madeira is famous for its system of “levadas” which is basically an open canal system that developed from the early 16th century and this canal system carries water across the island from the rainfall heavy and wet regions on the north of the island to the drier sun parched regions of the south. Madeira really can have two different climates going on at the same time only a few miles apart which makes walking here all the more interesting.

The start of the walk. A wide path runs next to the levada

The Ribeiro Frio to Portela Levada walk follows the Levada do Furado. It appears to be the most popular of the levada walks in Madeira and its easy to see why, it is a short, only about 7 miles, flat (actually its slightly downhill) point to point walk along what is a wide maintained trail and it is easily accessible from Funchal. Like many other walkers we used the very good Madeiran bus service to get us from Funchal to Ribero Frio and from the finish of the walk in Portela back to Funchal. It is also possible to get off the bus one stop earlier and start the walk at Poiso. Due to the popularity of the walk it is advisable to get the early bus particularly during the height of the tourist season as it can be mega busy.

This is the description lifted from the Visit Madeira Islands website - http://www.visitmadeira.pt/en-gb/madeira

This levada, which begins in Ribeiro Frio, is one of the first acquired by the State to irrigate the farmlands of Porto da Cruz. The walk ends with a descent to the village of Portela.

This trail begins at Ribeiro Frio in the municipality of Santana and follows the pathway accompanying the levada of Serra do Faial at an elevation of 860 metres up to the station where the waters divide, descending from there to the area of Lamaceiros and terminating at the Portela belvedere in the municipality of Machico.

The Levada do Furado is one of the oldest levadas belonging to the state, having been acquired through a contract signed in 1822 between the first Count of Carvalhal and the Board of the Royal Treasury, for the purpose of irrigating the farmlands of Porto da Cruz. Due to its connection with the levadas of Juncal and of Serra do Faial, which join it soon after its beginning and continue on beyond its terminal point at Lamaceiros, it is said that this levada carries three waters: the water that is gathered in the valley of Ribeiro Frio and irrigates the terraces of Porto da Cruz; and those that come from the mountains of Santana and are stored in the reservoir at Santo da Serra for later distribution.

Along this levada you will note the manifold tones of green presented by this well-preserved zone of the island’s native forest - the Laurisilva - made up predominantly of the laurel, or bay tree (Laurus novocanariensis), the lily-of-the-valley tree (Clethra arborea), the Madeira laurel (Ocotea foetens), Madeira mahogany (Persea indica), as well as the yellow, or Madeira foxglove (Isoplexis sceptrum), the pride of Madeira (Echium candicans), Mandon's Chrysanthemum (Argyranthemum pinnatifidum), and the Madeiran orchid (Dactylorhiza foliosa).

One may see the firecrest (Regulus ignicapillus madeirensis), the smallest bird residing in Madeira, and the intrepid chaffinch (Fringila coelebs). Less likely to be seen is the Madeira long-toed pigeon (Columba trocaz trocaz), a species endemic to Madeira.

The landscape is dominated by the valley of Ribeiro Frio, with the amazing farm fields of Faial, São Roque do Faial and Porto da Cruz. The spectacular rock formation of Penha de Águia protects the bay of Faial to the east, and to the west the Ponta dos Clérigos.

It is at Lamaceiros that the waters are separated and here ends the Furado Levada and the descent to Portela begins. Crossing the forested area of Lamaceiros and passing the Forestry Station of Lamaceiros, the trail follows a dirt road until it meets the Portela Levada, which goes around the left side of Lombo das Faias, coming to an end where it meets the Regional Highway ER102.

Not much more I can add to that really.

If the public transport option was popular with walkers then the guided tour option was even more so and it would be fair to say that at times the path was quite crowded with groups being led by their guide. 

The path was very obvious and well maintained as were the concrete edges of the levada, the rock cut outs through which they passed and the handrails next to the slightly more exposed sections so you didn’t experience that moment of heart flutter as you do in some other levada walks where balancing along a broken concrete edge of a levada above a significant drop is a required skill. At times the path did narrow but all sections where exposure might have been an issue had sturdy well maintained handrails installed firmly in place. The condition of the trail is probably indicative of the popularity of the walk, after all losing a tourist or two over the edge can’t be good for the tourist industry. The only warning the guidebook gave was that it “can be wet” and as the levada runs through pretty dense forest of laurel trees in the heart of the island that is understandable however it was a warm dry sunny morning when we set off.

As the levada wound its way through the trees you got enticing glimpses of the rocky summits of Madeira’s high peaks around Pico Ruivo towering above the forest in the centre of the island or of the coast and the little town of Santana nestled in its cove next to the blue ocean. At two places you have to cross waterfalls but well used paths cater for this so that circumnavigating them is not remotely difficult.  

In some places the route for the levada has been cut through the rock creating little gorges and tunnels. There are trout in this levada, presumably these are scaly escapees from the trout farm in Ribeiro Frio, but  we didn’t spot any and there is plenty of birdlife however I have to say that the number of people doing the walk is not conducive to spotting birdlife because people apparently cant walk without gibbering loudly. Happily we seemed to put some distance between ourselves and the groups at last as they tended to move slowly.

View of the mountains in the centre of Madeira

And a view of Santana on the north west coast

The walk finally dropped down past the Lamaceriros water house to the Lamerceiros forest house where there were a couple of picnic tables in the shade of some huge fir trees overlooking the viewpoint to the reservoir. From here the trail leaves the dense forest and goes past a small holding which had a flock of, in my opinion, remarkably large sheep. This, of course, could be my imagination. This farm was in a superb location and was up for sale so of course within 2 minutes I had mentally relocated my life there and this was going to be my runners retreat for hill runners to train on the mountains of madeira and there would also be a relaxation pool, home grown organic food for runners, yoga classes…you’ve got to have dreams, huh? I was swiftly brought back out of my fantasy other life by the first spots of rain on the back of my neck. Turning back to look at the high mountains I saw that they were being quickly shrouded in dark clouds. There was just enough time to pull on a waterproof top before the heavens opened and the final half mile of the walk was completed in a downpour.

Dark clouds gathering...

Add caption

And on go the waterproofs

Drying off

On reaching Portela we had a wee wait for the bus and, to add to the fun, the online bus timetable seemed to bear no resemblance to the one on the wall of the bus shelter so it was just a case of watching to see a growing number of people gathering at the bus shelter before assuming that a bus was due. We surveyed the bus stop from the inside of a nearby bar while eating a hot cheese sandwich and drinking poncha and getting a great deal of amusement from watching some very soggy walkers who may have got a little complacent with the Madeiran mild sunny weather and not packed as much kit as they maybe would have had they been at home wandering over say, the Yorkshire dales. Cruel? Yes, probably, but you’d do the same now wouldn’t you? Don’t try to deny it.

Out of the darkness...

Winter days are short. Bright sunny winter days are in short supply. So why when then sun shines do we shut it out? Probably to stop folk like me from whiling away the office hours by staring out of the window. Mind you, the view really isn’t that inspiring, just the office car park. Not sure what I really expect to see though? herds of wildebeest roaming the prairie? the Niagara Falls? To be honest I would have settled for the car park.

Apparently, the solstice fell on a nice clear winters day but who could tell. And they say work place depression is on the rise - no shit, Sherlock.

Out of the darkness comes light, so they say. Even though I was late and missed the actual solstice by a day I ran up to the top of Clachnaben to watch the sun set and I was rewarded with stunning skies, reds and pinks and blues and although the pictures below are pretty good given they were taken with just a phone they don’t in any way capture the intensity of the colour and the dazzling brightness that I was met with as I summited the hill against the back drop of the black mountainsides.

I took a lot of photos. I stayed until I had got pretty chilled, I was shivering so much I was taking blurry photos before it occurred to me it would be a good idea to put a jacket on before reluctantly turning around and descending the hill slowly in the encroaching darkness. I went on to a party thrown by a hill runner for a lot of other hill runners who themselves had gone to the summit of Morven in the dark. Now that’s a good way to celebrate the solstice. In fact, I’m all in favour of replacing the commercial hell of Christmas with solstice celebrations, bring back standing stones, mistletoe and druids! Basically, any form of celebration that doesn’t involve going to Union Square to actually have to buy something. 

I wonder what would really happen if we were to celebrate the solstice or yuletide instead of or (heaven forbid) as well as Christmas? It would almost certainly be hijacked by commercialism if the chance to make money out of it presents itself like so many other little traditions have been. Do you think B&Q would stock various types of yule log to cater for all tastes and sizes of house? Only to be undercut by cheaper versions from Aldi or Asda? Maybe you would also be able to buy Plastic Living flame style yule logs which could be put in the attic and carted out every year. Maybe you would be able to buy a mini Stonehenge for the back garden. 

Throughout the world there were all sorts of variations on the theme of celebrations of the winter solstice ranging from the chinese Dongzhi Festival, the Scandinavian Feast of Juul to my own personal favourite, the Roman feast of Saturnalia which basically amounted to a week-long bender. If anyone is thinking of re-enacting the Feast of Saturnalia then I believe, according to roman custom, that there was the necessity for a human sacrifice to close the celebrations. After the last two weeks I've had that’s not an entirely unappealing thought right now.

Even then I suspect M&S would be desperate to convince us that no Roman party would be truly complete with out a knocked down price Vienetta and a box of Ferrero Rocher.

Happy Solstice folks!

The Magic of Marcothon and midweek mountain mental floss

Woah Woah, we’re half way there…. Woah Woah, Livin’ on a (wing and a) prayer…*

Half way there. Well, more than halfway I suppose. It’s actually going quite quickly but I suspect that has more to do with the speed of Christmas approaching being inversely proportional to the amount of necessary Christmas chores I have managed to complete rather than anything to do with the Marcothon itself. 

This year Marcothon has come at exactly the right time for me. It’s given me a focus, a target, when everything else seemed a little bit hopeless so thank you Marchothon. If you thought the introduction to my last blog was bordering on the self-pitying side then this one was building up to be a full on misery fest but a change of work circumstances in the last two days has changed all that. You’ll be glad of that, there’s nothing worse than a self-pitying blog post or Facebook post. 

The thing about Marcothon is that it takes away any decision making which is ideal as you plunge into the darkness of the winter months in Aberdeen. You will be going running today. Come what may. There is no other option. And, like running success or failure in general, it is down to you, not a decision made by someone else, you either run or you don’t there’s no office politics behind it, no individual can do it for you or stop you. Only maybe illness or injury could do that, or by your own decision. That’s the beauty of it, the simplicity compared with the everyday crap of everyday life. Similarly for quite a while I’ve found my “midweek mountain mental floss” has been an essential part of keeping me sane. And not requiring bail money.

Therefore I have had days of amusingly slow runs as I negotiate the sheet ice lining the city streets and the country trails interspersed with what I like to think were convincing Torvill and Dean impressions but, which I suspect from a bystanders point of view, were actually more like Bambi impressions. For anyone too nervous to venture out running on the ice in town I have a tip for you. Go and do a night race on frozen tracks in a forest with only a head torch to guide you and after that the well lit city streets seem far less treacherous in comparison.

Reflective course markers

Time keeping was a chilly job tonight!

I actually like running in the winter and there are some great races such as the night series put on by Deeside runners. The first race in the series is the Cnoc Dubh night race near Cambus O May. The race start itself was moved by a couple of hundred yards so that the runners didn’t have to negotiate the sheet of ice covering the car park. Lining up on the start line we were warned it was going to be slippy on the track and down to the river and then we were set off into the darkness. The car thermometer had registered -5 deg C in the car park and it was definitely an icy blast I felt as we started the climb.  Some brave souls were wearing shorts too. Sure enough the gravel on the wide landrover track was frozen solid and so I tried to stick to the very edges of the track to get some traction from the grass and twigs at the side. Being pretty worn out at the moment with legs that felt as heavy as lead I could only watch as the torchlight of the majority of the field disappeared into the blackness but the course was very well marked with reflective markers so I wasn’t too concerned about losing my way. The first exciting bit was the descent down the gulley to the river crossing. I had managed to catch a few people up so there were four of us running together by the time we reached the gulley, all tackling the descent from different directions and so when the race marshal at the bottom of the descent started yelling that someone was too far over and not to head over the cliff it was a little difficult to tell who he meant was about to plummet headlong over the cliff. On balance not going over the cliff did seem like good advice though. I carefully slithered my way down the gulley which ordinarily is pretty muddy but tonight was frozen solid and crossed the burn while managing to keep my feet dry. Always a bonus. With it being so cold and frozen keeping the feet dry wasn’t as much of a challenge tonight as it often is but still I wasn’t spared that heart stopping moment when your feet break though the crisp snowy surface and plunge into icy boggy water underneath. Oh joy.

I got across the second stream crossing without further soaking my feet but almost face planted as I jumped across not realising that the other side of the path was sheet ice. I got up, no damage done and carried on. I don’t think I was really going fast enough to damage myself if the truth be told. The squeals and yelps I heard behind me suggested that the runners following me had just done exactly the same. Eventually these runners over took me as I picked my way down the track to the finish as well as stopping to give directions to folk who were on their way out to assist an injured runner. 

Given the conditions it was probably inevitable that someone would come a cropper but happily no one did any major structural damage to themselves and we all made it back to the Riverside café for soup and tea, coffee and cakes in front of a fantastic woodburning stove while enjoying the post race chat with other runners and generally feeling as though we had all had a bit of an adventure. I love the simplicity of these events. It’s a great form of escapism and the camaraderie is second to none. There is something magical about running in the ice and the cold and then warming up in front of a fire.

Soup, cakes and prizes

The race is a bargain at an entry fee of £2 and the prizes were chocolate Santas. Lets hope this batch of chocolate Santas won’t be re-called by the store for some “wee problem” like last years were…

Race winner Fiona with her chocolate Santa

*Song lyric credits to Jon Bon Jovi. Sort of.