Page 50 - DreamScapes Magazine | Winter/Spring 2026

Fly High
and Leave
the Driving
Behind
Canadian travellers can arrive via
SATA Azores Airlines, with a stop in
the Azores. My flight is filled with
honeymooners, babies clad in “my
first flight” onesies, adrenaline
seekers with hiking boots slung over
their shoulders, and families
spanning three generations.
Once here, leave the driving to the
locals. Madeira’s roads twist into
hairpins, climb steep mountainsides,
and often lack guardrails. For me, the
thrill is best left to drivers like Vítor,
who knows every tunnel, cliff, and
hidden valley. I sit back, buckle up,
and let Madeira reveal its mysteries.
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DREAMSCAPES WINTER/SPRING 2026
jokes about the island’s numerous tunnels as
we enter the Cortado Tunnel, stretching
more than three kilometres. Each tunnel exit
is a big reveal from waterfalls tumbling off
emerald heights to cliffs plunging like cathe-
dral walls.
At Ponta de São Lourenço, barren volcanic
cliffs jut into the sea. Pride of Madeira
blooms cling to rock crevices, their blue-
violet flowers vibrating in the gale. A
barefoot boy scrambles up the path beside
his parents. “He never wears shoes,” his
mother laughs.
Lookouts, or miradouros, dot the island.
Europe’s highest sea cliff Cabo Girão, and
Miradouro do Guindaste offer glass platforms
with heart-skipping panoramas. A flatfooted
tourist squirms. My own toes curl against the
transparent surface. Out west, Ribeira da
Janela is commonly known as the “River of
the Window.” Its volcanic sea stacks are carved
by waves into a natural arch. The Acolyte
filmed here too, a galaxy not so far away.
While Fanal’s mist surprises day-trippers,
it’s Madeira’s unexpected climate shifts that
are grappling. We drive across Paul da Serra, a
windswept grassy plateau of volcanic soil. It
stretches silent and empty. “The last volcano
erupted over six thousand years ago,” Vítor
reassures me atop this ancient shield vol-
cano that formed Madeira.
The land feels ancient and raw.
Except for the mist-draped tourist hotspot
of Fanal, the island can feel like your own
private retreat. Whitewashed villages cling
to cliffs, fishing boats bob in pocket har-
bours, and surfboards line black-sand
beaches. There’s a chilled vibe. Stand-up
paddleboarding, whale-watching, and
paragliding compete with lazy afternoons
sipping poncha, Madeira’s potent sugarcane-
rum cocktail.
Dining is its own adventure. Skewers of
beef (espetada) roast over laurel wood, drip-
ping juices onto golden milho frito—fried
cornmeal cubes. Bolos do caco, garlic-slathered
flatbreads, vanish in seconds. One evening, I
dine al fresco at Jardim da Magnolia, where
whimsical sculptures hide among towering
Norfolk pines. The menu is divine: black scab-
bardfish, hauled from Atlantic depths,
appears with bananas, a pairing that sounds
wrong but tastes right. Dessert is bolo de mel,
Madeira’s sticky honey cake.
For my final dinner, I slip down a narrow
lane behind the Savoy Palace. A green carpet
leads into Audax, a discreet MICHELIN-
recommended restaurant. Leafy vines spill
over its glass doors, and the mood crackles
with anticipation. The blind tasting menu
unfolds like a journey through Madeira:
seven courses of sea and mountain, orchard
and forest, all plated with finesse. I taste the
island without leaving my seat.
The mood is electric.
TRAVEL PLANNER
For travel information about Madeira,
visitmadeira.com
PHOTOS: NUNO RODRIGUES/TOURISM MADEIRA | ILONA KAUREMSZKY