Mature Flâneur

Madeira’s Magical, Mist-ical Forest

Plus a Star Wars Adventure: Flâneur vs. Storm Troopers

One of the main attractions of Madeira is the mysterious, mist-covered laurel forest of Fanal, the last of its kind in the world. 15–40 million years ago this type of forest covered most of southern Europe. But wave upon wave of ice ages wiped these vast forests out, except in Madeira (and smaller remnants in the Azores and Canary Islands). Only 20% of the island’s primary laurisilva remain in the 21st century. Many individual trees at Fanal have actually survived since before human settlement of the island in the fifteenth century, and have been dated between 500–800 years old. Thankfully the government has turned the forest into a protected park, now listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

But visiting the Fanal forest is not simply taking a walk in the woods. The laurels thrive in the steep inner hills of the island where the ocean air rises and cools, creating a near-perpetual mist that swirls and lingers. Moist, cool air from the Atlantic Ocean pushes up over the ridge and across the rolling meadow of Fanal. These mists are what the trees need to thrive, and in these mists is where visitors will encounter the oldest of the trees, with their black and gnarled branches that twist into strange shapes as they appear and then vanish into their grey-white world. The experience is misterious, mistical — and I almost missed it!

Teresa (my beloved spouse) decided to take a spa day, and so I drove to Fanal Park alone, passing in and out of the top layer of mist that moves almost like ocean waves crashing into the ridge tops. I found the gates of the parking lot barred and guarded by an Imperial Storm Trooper wearing white battle armour. She pointed a laser blaster at me and told me to move along. Fanal Park was closed for the rest of the week.

Damn! I remembered a movie crew was shooting an episode of a new Star Wars series (The Acolyte) on Madeira this month. A local guide had told me earlier that to avoid attracting unwanted crowds, the production team told no one where and when they would be filming. Obviously, at some point they would be shooting at Fanal, given its otherworldly atmosphere.

“These are not the droids you are searching for,” I said to the storm trooper, waving a hand in front of her face. But my Jedi mind-tricks did not work on her. I could see now that she was not in fact wearing a storm trooper uniform, but a dark security-guard coat. She explained patiently, but kindly, for she was Portuguese, that I would have to turn around and find another place to visit today. She suggested a hiking trail on the other side of the island.

I turned the car around sulkily, drove back up the road a few kilometres, pulled over and checked my helpful hiking app (AllTrails.com). One feature of the app shows nearby hiking paths. I quickly found one called the Vereda do Fanal. I could see the road intersected this path about 5 km from Fanal. The trail ran just below the ridge line that led all the way to the park. Aha! A back way in. The worst that could happen would be that the guards would find me again and turn me away. Or perhaps a Sith Lord would choke me using the Force. I decided to take my chances.

The trail dropped over the ridge and quickly took me into the mist. At a fork, I took the path that headed towards Fanal. I was completely alone, which was a rare treat on Madeira, where even in the off season the most popular hikes can seem like a ride-line at Disneyland. Because the storm troopers were telling everyone to go away, I had this route all to myself.

The forest was mostly small cedars at first, but then turned into laurels. The slope was too steep to support big trees though, so these laurels were relatively small. Their roots clung tenaciously to the rocks and rubble. Their branches stretched out over the steep hillside, covered in thick moss. Indeed, though all was still, the branches seemed to writhe like a legion of green-black snakes, blindly seeking a sun that did not exist. I knew that just beyond the branches was a gaping gorge, and yet the path felt small, the world enclosed by the fog.

I realized I had never been in a forest like this before. It felt otherworldly. No — it felt other-timely. Indeed, most of humanity had never walked beneath such trees, for the forest was gone from Europe before even Neanderthals arrived on the scene.

Then my science-brain kicked in. It was suddenly obvious what the guidebooks said about the role these laurels play in regulating the hydrology of the island. The trees trap the moisture from the mists, keeping the whole hillside damp and cool even when the sun is shining. Droplets condense on the mosses which retain water like a sponge. The excess drains down the trunks, into the rocks, filling the underground aquifers. Water then trickles out through streams and springs that keep the lower valleys green.

These water sources allowed early farmers to build eleborate channeling systems. These levadas take the water from the springs high in the hills to the tiered fields further down, ensuring cash crops such as sugarcane and bananas can grow. Today, while much of the world — especially nearby North Africa — faces drought induced by climate change, Madeira (though it does experience dry spells) has abundant reservoirs of clean, fresh water.

Eventually the Vereda do Fanal rose back up and flattened out at the far edge of the Fanal meadow. I encountered a newly erected cattle fence. Wow, even the cows are forbidden entry to the film sites. I imagined an exciting fight scene, lasers blasting, terse quips passed between heroes, outnumbered, desperate, and then: moooooo. A ladder leaned against each side of the fence, so I hopped over, savoring the delicious knowledge that I had penetrated the perimeter. The path took me down to a viewpoint, from where one could see all the way down the valley to the little town of Seixal. Theoretically…

Turning around from the viewpoint, I faced a large hill with a trail running to the left and right of it. I could see on my map that on the other side of the hill was the Fanal meadow: home of the biggest and oldest trees. That was probably where the Star Wars crews were filming, and I would most likely be discovered and be forced to turn back. So I decided to take the steeper way round the hill that would keep me next to the ridge, were the path would be narrow and hopefully too precipicous for a film crew.

I was right. The trail was unobstructed. The mist rose and fell as the path skimmed the surface of the white ocean. Old laurel giants appeared and then vanished in the fog. The moment was magical.

I watched the mist rise through branches of one tree and saw the individual droplets swirling like a swarm of tiny translucent gnats. The sun, shining through from the top branches, suddenly turned the droplets into beams of white light. I watched, transfixed, until the mist pulled back and the tree was just a tree again.

Eventually the trail opened up into the main Fanal meadow. For the first time in a long time, I heard voices. I scanned the mists ahead. Yes, there were strange, otherworldly shapes just faintly visible: blocky house-like structures with lingam-like upper floors, a few spindly antenna, pyramid-like monuments. I had left my home planet and was in a galaxy far, far, away.

“Oi!” a voice yelled, as I sauntered jauntily along the trail as if I hadn’t a care in the world. A pair of storm troopers rushed in my direction. They spoke only Portuguese, but the message was clear: “Go back the way you came!” I was not about to argue. But of course, I was not about to give up either. So, I walked back around the hill the way I came, and then walked around the other side of it.

The landscape on the other side of the hill was a completely different: the air was dry, hot. Chaff-coloured grasses and scrub dominated hillside. The mountain, though not very tall, must hold back the ocean of mist. A few tall laurels held their ground on the arid slope. Lower down, a large field had been cleared for cattle grazing.

As I approached Fanal meadow, I had my third and final encounter with a storm trooper. She was a cheerful woman from Lisbon and she spoke good English. Via walkie-talkie she conferred with high command on the Death Star. Then she escorted me a short way down the road and out the front gate of the parking lot. I said I felt like her prisoner, and she laughed, playfully nudging me with her laser blaster. I asked her what the job was like and she complained about the long hours. But I suppose we all must make sacrifices for the good of the Empire.

And so, as the credits roll on my personal Star Wars adventure, I’m glad I persevered and thwarted the Evil Empire, just long enough that I had my magical moment in the last of the laurisilva.

If you are interested in some great photos of old trees in the parts of Fanal forest that I missed, here’s two I recommend. None of them include encounters with Imperial Storm Troopers, though:

And here are two stories that inspired me to write about how water can create a magical green world:

Erika Burkhalter writes about a primordial muskeg bog in Alaska

Kua Lina writes about a green volcanic island that us also part of Portual — in the Azores. Similar, but oh so different.

And finally, here are my other top stories about Madiera.

Want even more Madeira? You can find all six of my Madeira stories at the top of this list: