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Published: April 10th 2009
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Madeira is a Portuguese island in the Atlantic approximately 300 miles off the coast of Morocco. I first read about the island’s beauty about 20 years ago. It must have been from a motorcycle magazine because that’s all I read back in those days. I had my first visit two years ago when I travelled there with the girl friend unit. Although we were in a rental car, I was impressed with the twisty mountain roads and made a note to myself that I must return and ride the roads on two wheels.
Last week, I got my wish. I made arrangements to rent a BMW 650GS and explore the island’s backroads. Only 36 miles long and 18 miles wide, Madeira squeezes in some of the world’s most breathtaking scenery. Dramatic mountain peaks and valleys tumble down to an ocean covered in an abundance of exotic flowers.
Overcast skies greeted me on my first morning as I took delivery of the bike. Not wishing to risk rain in the central highlands, I headed for the north coast, skirting the mountains. Even though I was avoiding the mountain peaks, the road was still pleasingly sinuous. My first view of the
North Coast
Dropping down into Porto da Cruz under overcast skies. northern coast was from the ridgeline high above the sleepy fishing village of Porto da Cruz.
From Porto da Cruz, I would snake my way along the treacherous coastal road. Before the influx of European Union funds helped build a modern highway system, this was the only way to travel from town to town. Now, they have built a modern freeway comprising of a series of tunnels that greatly reduces travel time. While most of the locals use this modern, new highway system, this leaves the old road free for local villagers and motorcycle-crazed foreigners. If you’re a flower lover, it would be impossible to ride these roads. You would wind up so overcome by the intoxicating display of flora that you would soon drive off a cliff. Passing through small towns, dogs claimed patches of roadway as a good place to take a snooze, testament to the amount of traffic. Old men feigned indifference, as if they hadn’t been sitting and watching traffic go by for the better part of the morning.
The little Beemer proved itself well suited to the Island’s rugged terrain. As most of the island’s backroads were so twisty, the 650cc single cylinder
Looking West
Looking westward along the northern coast, a torturous road heads inland. Rotax powerplant was more than capable. What little slow moving traffic I encountered was dispatched with alarming alacrity, with the engine emitting a properly angry exhaust note. During the short spurts on the island’s freeway, the bike easily kept up with all but the fastest four wheelers. The heated grips proved to be a blessing in the highlands of the interior and the suspension absorbed the sometimes rough patches.
I found a seaside hotel near the town of Santana with awesome views of the coast so, I decided this would be a good place to stay the night. The small dimensions of the island meant that each nights stop might only be some 5 miles from the previous night’s stop. Even so, I still managed to burn up a tank of gas a day. The skies cleared at sunset providing a promise for better weather to come.
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