We head for the southeastern tip as we have reserved a mooring at Quinta do Lorde. Sailing by the calendar begins, because moorings are rare on Madeira and later on the Canary Islands. Firstly because there are very few harbors and secondly because more and more boats arrive there on their way across the Atlantic. The hurricane season is coming to an end and the window of opportunity for an Atlantic crossing is opening. More and more sailors with ARC flags can be seen. It’s as if the organizer of this transatlantic rally has blown the horn and everyone is getting ready for the hunt for the nautical miles.

We are also heading to Quinta do Lorde because we are waiting for a package of boat accessories that has been directed to the port. From now on, we are moving into areas where logistical tasks become tricky. The harbor itself is adjacent to a huge hotel area that has been dormant for years, eking out an existence as a well-kept ghost village. As a Hyatt, it will soon be welcoming guests and radiating life again – tasteful life, of course. We can already see ourselves sitting at the hotel bar and booking a massage. But no, the opening date is exactly one day after our departure.

Fortunately, the beach – one of the few sandy beaches on the island – is located directly behind the harbor pier. Only a mountain blocks the way. Like everywhere else on Madeira. So we take the dinghy up to the floating barrier of the bathing area and maneuver our little non-swimmer in her life jacket to the beach. We are getting quickly better at this: the second time we pull the towels and our clothes dry out of the waterproof bag. The first time we tried, we didn’t close it tight enough and we pulled out the dripping wet contents under pitying glances.

We spend the rest of the time driving around the island in a rental car. North, west, south, east, everything wants to be seen and every corner has its own charm. We hike along the Llevadas, buy fresh trout in the mountains and feel quite homely at the sight of freshwater fish. At the saltwater pool of Porto Moniz, we let the Atlantic waves wash us off the pool wall. In the west, we climb promising lookouts only to stare two meters into the fog. In our minds, we picture the scenery: lush, green and mountainous, or the waterfall that can at least be heard. Strangely enough, even that somehow makes us happy.

In the capital, Funchal, we bustle through city life and with some pity watch how the boats dance at anchor. The waiting list for the harbor itself is endless and we are twice as glad to have found a quiet berth at Quinta do Lorde. The rest of Madeira’s southern cost is lush green with spectacular cliffs.

Only with the national dish we lack luck: Espada (black scabbardfish) with banana. Every time we order it we are told that there are no bananas at the moment. Hard to imagine given the density of banana plants on the island. To make up for this, we try the various local fruits and eat plenty of passion fruit and pineapple bananas.

The nature on Madeira is impressive. And so are the people there. There is virtually no level ground. The inhabitants laboriously wrest every usable meter from the earth to build houses, gardens and traffic routes in the steep terrain. The island resembles a Swiss cheese, with all the tunnels perforating it. Where there are none, there are dizzyingly high, breakneck ascents and descents. Not ideal for people with a fear of heights or timid drivers. The tourists don’t seem to mind, as we hear more German and English than Portuguese. Tourism has the island firmly in its grip and perhaps that explains the considerable investment in the infrastructure. We spend a total of eight days on Madeira before setting off for the Canary Islands. La Palma will be our first destination – after all, the harbor is already booked.