Mad about Madeira

The funny thing was, I had come to Madeira looking for paradise on Earth because that's what people say about this lovely Atlantic island. But on my very first walk through lonely, sweet-scented forest tracks, I came face to face with a hound.

It was big, cross and dashing down the trail towards me amid howls of rage and a flash of saliva-flecked teeth.

Luckily, I had a stick and swiped left, swiped right, shouted, picked up a stone — and it eventually eased off, though for the next hundred yards I had to stumble backwards, stick raised in a slightly embarrassed fashion, until the creature finally gave up.

And I can't tell you how ironic this opening scene seemed to be at the time.

I had arrived in Madeira worried that one of the worst years in its tourism history might have ruined the place. Visitors flock here for the beautiful countryside, spring-like weather and an exquisite sense of tranquillity.

Just before I landed in late summer, a spate of forest fires scarred 12 per cent of its forests.

But Madeira refuses to surrender to bad luck. I sampled three hotels, toured the capital, Funchal, and walked kilometres of trails. It quickly became apparent that Madeira was still lovely.

The first sight

During my ride from the airport up to the village of Santo da Serra, 20 miles northeast of Funchal, squeezing round breathless bends, we climbed to a cooler 670 metres, past terraces crammed with life: mangoes, grapes, bananas, outbursts of hydrangeas, azaleas and camellias; heads of pink, purple, white, yellow and every kind of lavish, exotic tree.

Then, as we reached my hotel, the Serra Golf, my impression in the dying light of evening was of a pink-frosted Art Deco confection presented on a platter of vivid lawns and brilliant flowerbeds; a cool, tranquil place, built as a grand house in 1920.

That night, sitting beside the restaurant's picture windows, I ate baked scabbard-fish; Elvis Presley soft and gentle on the sound system. Madeiran peace.

Next day, I was off to the mountains on a 148-metre climb that took me to a breathtaking view. The sea was unrippled and expansive, cut by the line of a single toy-township far below.

Later, in woodland shade, the planet shut down to a sense of verdant richness.

Madeira's levadas are considered one of the world's great walking pleasures. Covering more than 1,931 kilometres, these narrow waterways link the wetter north to the dry south. Most of these routes were intact.

Struggling up from the Levada da Serra to the Pico da Suna fire-watch tower, I saw some signs of scorched earth in the distance but close by all was unscathed.

Next morning I walked 16 kilometres, mostly along the Levada da Serra's tunnel of leaves to another hotel, the Estalagem Relogio in the busy village of Camacha. The way was graced by ancient oaks planted a century or more ago and though the walking was exquisite, flower-lined and comfortingly lonely (I shared lunch with a solitary goat), I came across an expanse of forest-burn at one point.

It was like walking through a modern-art studio, bleak and stark, a woodland made up of darkened trunks and oddly green-topped branches.

Incredible skills

Camacha was fun. It's the island's wickerwork capital, where I watched the craftsman in the village centre, fingers moving so fast and with such infernal delicacy that I actually applauded.

That evening, after eating in the restaurant overlooking the finest sea view I've witnessed over dinner, I strolled back to the village square.

To Monte next, along another dozen kilometres of fresh levada path and forest trail. At one stage, I met forest-burn bad enough to warrant a detour, so I dropped down a small valley to pick up a lower levada leading through a clear area.

Around 10 per cent of paths are affected by fires. As for those dreadful February storms, Andrew Zino, who runs the company Nature Meetings, said: "Forget storm damage. Madeira has made an amazing recovery."

Monte provided an exotic ending to my journey. Arriving hot and sweaty from the trail, I hopped into a cable car to whoosh down the mountain into the red-roofed spread of Funchal 20 minutes below.

One moment, the reserved height of the mountain; next, I was by the sea, strolling through the atmospheric fish market.

The Quinta do Monte, my final hotel, was so serene it seemed a shame to feel hurried through my meal by anxious waiters. But walking the tranquil gardens later, I reflected on flower-fringed paths, cool glades and cheerful villages — glad to have found Madeira's pleasures still thriving, still charming.

Madeira, Portugal

FLY... Emirates

From Dubai to Funchal via London (Gatwick)

for Dh5,145

Or try Tap Air Portugal

— Information courtesy the Holiday Lounge by Dnata. Ph: 04 3492886