Watching the sunrise from the peaks of Madeira is a quintessential part of any visit to this wild Atlantic island. That also means you should expect to share the view with hordes of fellow travellers, which didn’t sound particularly appealing, so on our first morning we headed to a lesser-known spot. 

Our legs felt heavy as we made our way up hundreds of steps from our studio apartment, which was nestled at the bottom of a banana plantation. 

A fast highway led us west, passing through endless tunnels, until it was time to peel-off and climb over 1000m in elevation. The sharp twists and turns abruptly ended as we reached the top of a plateau, where fog enshrouded our view. It was like we’d arrived on another planet, and a light dusting of snow coated the road – a testament to how high we were at around 1500m 

The fog seemed to disperse and we wondered if we’d risen above it or if it had just drifted away. We pulled over at a trailhead where we had a ten-minute uphill walk to the viewpoint. We were both trying to manifest standing above the clouds and who knows if it was our positive mindsets or just Mother Nature doing her thing, but we lucked out with the most spectacular view.

There was a vast blanket of cloud below us which was moving quickly, spilling over mountain edges and wrapping around pinnacles. 

In the other direction was an intense pink colour filling the horizon – known officially as the Belt of Venus. It’s a scientific marvel that happens before sunrise and after sunset, and it’s all too technical for me to understand – but, the blue area below the pink is the Earth’s shadow – at least I understood that bit of the scientific explanation. 

Huge wind turbines sat on the plateau, backed by the pink sky while fog drifted around the huge metal poles. 

Gradually the sun pierced above the mountain peaks and cast a golden glow on the clouds. It was an absolutely stunning morning, and the day was still young, so after sunrise we set off on a hike. 

There were a couple of different starting points for the hike, and the one I chose avoided a 1 km-long tunnel which is pitch-black and filled with knee-high water after rain. 

It was a bit of an off-the-beaten-track area, which I began to regret as we started losing elevation – there’s something about going downhill first and having to climb back up at the end that I really hate, although maybe it’s ptsd from running out of water after descending into one of the deepest canyons in the world in Peru. 

I spotted a shortcut on my map which was a little risky because some trails in Maderia can cling onto precarious cliffs, or not be maintained at all, suffering from landslides in the heavy rains. We made a compromise because there were actually two shortcuts, but we deemed one to be too steep and wild, so off we went down the other track, made of mud and rocks. 

As we navigated our way under low-hanging branches, and over trickling streams, we came across a sort of cave which had a pile of animal bones at the entrance. We weren’t sure if Maderia had any predators, but something had clearly dragged the bones around as it hadn’t just died in that position which gave the rest of the hike through the forest a bit of an eerie feel. 

Eventually, the steep path totally flattened out as we followed a levada, which is a historic irrigation system. I was enjoying the walk a lot more as we passed through a short tunnel that opened out onto a stunning view of the valley, made up of towering, forested hills.

The main goal was to reach a sort of forested ridge line that cut across the valley, revealing a 360° view. While it was an impressive sight, it wasn’t as ‘wow’ as people had described, and I think that has a lot to do with those people owning drones. An elevated view of someone walking along the ridge looks incredible – but being on the ridge itself was a little anticlimactic in comparison. 

The steep green hills had some nice tall waterfalls plummeting down the sheer walls, and in the other direction was a village, nestled at the end of the valley as it opened out into the sea. 

Walking back wasn’t as brutal as I expected, cloud quickly rolled in, drifting around the summits and blocking the sun which made the elevation gain easier, and eventually, after not passing a single other person, we arrived back at our little rental car. 

It was just a short drive to our next hike – our first proper levada trail. They were built to move water from the wet, northern mountains down to the drier, southern part of the island. 

The area was very popular and laced with trails that followed the levadas and led to gushing waterfalls. Mystical fog blocked most of the views, but it was very atmospheric, seeing the trees fade into the mist and constantly having the sound of tickling water beside us.

The highlight was when the levada climbed uphill – creating a sort of gradual waterfall that would have been so much fun to tube down. Steps led alongside the gushing water and it was quite hard to focus on my footing as the water was moving in the opposite direction to me. 

We ended the hike at a beautiful waterfall that poured down a cliff made from basalt columns, similar to the ones we’d seen in Iceland and Northern Ireland. But these had a bit more character to them, with curved edges and twists in the rock, like someone had dried to wring them out before they solidified. 

A bizarre red layer of rock cut horizontally across the cliff, creating a strange pop of colour against the black wall, and the pool beneath the waterfall was a delight in itself – with crystal clear, bright blue water. 

A couple of brave souls went for a nice big swim, but there was a slight chill in the air which kept us from stripping off. 

We still had about a 45-minute drive to get back to our accommodation and we were wiped out after another action-packed day – but excited to get some rest and prepare ourselves for another day exploring Madeira.