The Levadas of Madeira
‘This is the only laurel forest left in the world,’ Tony dos Santos Gomes tells me, ‘and it covers about 60 percent of Madeira.’
This is not the conifer laurel but the bay laurel, provider of the bay leaf to cooks worldwide. In the forest lives the laurel pigeon which, because it only lives in laurel forests, therefore now only lives on Madeira. ‘At one time it was down to twenty breeding pairs,’ Tony says, ‘but now it is up to about 5000. We probably won’t see one today as there aren’t too many on this part of the island, but we will see lots of other things.’
We are to follow part of the course of just one of them, the Levada do Furado. It runs from the mountain village of Ribiero Frio, where we are fortified with a cup of coffee before setting off, all the way down to near the Botanical Gardens just outside the island’s capital, Funchal. Its total length is 34 miles, during which the tiny channel, averaging no more than eighteen inches across, descends gently all the way, the water coursing smoothly down. It was begun in 1911, but took sixty years before it was completed, and every last inch of it was hacked out by hand. Our walk will take in just 8 miles of this engineering miracle.
‘Of course people wonder how they built the levadas,’ our guide Tony tells us at one stop. ‘In fact they used a very simple theodolite system to get the line. Three poles to form a standard height. A man – always the same man – would stand the same distance behind the poles and line up the right angle of descent, signalling across the valley to the men who were marking the path the levada had to take. More recently they examined the lines of lots of the levadas to see if they could be improved using modern equipment, and they discovered it was impossible to improve on them.’
The water in the Levada do Furado gurgles and gushes down through the laurel forests, and we follow it. At first the path is wide, if a bit muddy from recent rain. Tony stops frequently to point out the plants and trees.
‘Smell this,’ he says, hauling a few leaves out from the mass of undergrowth, all of which looks identical to me. ‘Crush the leaves and smell it. What does this remind you of? Yes, it’s Friar’s Balsam. This is the Balm of Giliad, good for clearing the lungs, and you can find references to it in the Bible, such as in the Book of Genesis when Jeremiah asks: “Where is my healing Balm of Giliad?”’
Tony was born on Madeira 61 years ago, and seems to know every plant on the island. ‘This is the liverwort, good if you have had too much whiskey…. This is the kidneywort, for if you have trouble spending a penny…. Here is the butcher’s broom, which is a most wonderful plant as you make it into a tea and it clears out all the cholesterol from the arteries…. And this is maiden’s hair fern, which is good for diabetics as it cuts down on the amount of insulin you need to take…. This little thing is called Euphorium. Take it before you see your bank manager. Mothers on Madeira give it to their children in salads and on their sandwiches before exams, as it reduces anxiety…. This plant in South Africa they call the Happiness of the Home, but in Holland they call it the Luck of the Bedroom. I have no idea what it does….’
As the levada flows further along the valley, the path gets narrower and you become aware that on your left-hand side is now a drop of several hundred feet. It is filled with trees and bushes rather than being an open drop, but you can still see the ground falling away. ‘Careful here,’ Tony yells from the front rather redundantly, as the path narrows to little more than a foot wide, and you hope that the wire fence between you and the drop is stronger than it looks. In places where there is no wire fence, you just hope.
Where the path widens, Tony stops and tells us about the Curandeiras, the wise old women of the Madeiran mountain villages, who know all the plants and their uses. ‘The Curandeiras are wise women, like medicine women, and are always over sixty years old and dressed in black. Their knowledge of the plants of the forest is so great that they are acknowledged by doctors in Funchal who will seek their help. You know, one day recently I was telling all this to a group and I referred to it as alternative medicine, like I always have, but an English woman pointed out to me that it is not alternative. This is the original medicine. When mankind moved from the forests and the mountains into the cities, their doctors and chemists would still provide these herbal remedies. It was only later that synthetic remedies were introduced, and that is the alternative medicine. Not this.’
Tony shows us several plants whose medicinal properties are accepted, but which cannot yet be replicated in the laboratory. ‘This,’ he says, indicating what looks like a parasite branch climbing round a dying laurel tree, ‘is la madre do laurel, the mother of laurel. When it is dried and made into a tea it is used to ease Parkinson’s Disease. Of course they didn’t know it as Parkinson’s Disease, it was called the Old Person’s Nods. My own granny, who I loved dearly, used to suffer from this and when I was a little boy growing up in Monte I would be sent out into the forest to find some to help my granny. Last year I took scientists from Belgium and Switzerland into the forest as they had been given permission to gather some and take it back to their laboratories so they could continue their research into what it is inside the plant that helps with Parkinson’s Disease. The forest has many secrets it has not yet given up.’
We edge our way around a precipice, and tread gingerly through some short tunnels cut from the rock face, before emerging in a small forest clearing where a tall stone house stands.
‘This is a Water House,’ Tony tells us, ‘where the water is divided into different levadas. This is the exact point where one part of the valley is north and the other side is south, so it is the last chance for villagers in the north of the island to retain some of this water. Beyond this house it will continue to flow south, so some is diverted down and back towards the north. It is an amazing microclimate here, because within a space of 15 yards the whole ecology changes. To the north it is the laurel forest, and to the south it is the cypress forest. You will be pleased to know that you have now passed the most difficult part of the levada, and it is an easy walk down into Portela.’
And so it is, though as we emerge from the forest and onto a switchback mountain road, Tony points to a dandelion growing on the verge. ‘Just look at that little dandelion,’ he says, ‘which all we gardeners regard as a weed. Oh no, we cry, and chop it down as soon as we see it. Yet it is one of the most remarkable plants in nature, and the most useful. Its petals are full of Vitamin C. To get the body’s daily need of Vitamin C you must eat fifteen oranges. Who is going to eat fifteen oranges? Yet if you eat just six dandelion heads, you get the same dosage. Just take the petals off and chew them. Then there is the stem, which you can make into lovely dandelion wine. And the roots can be boiled to make into a coffee. Come on, let’s go to the bar and have a coffee, a beer, whatever you like.’
After the hair-raising walks, I opt for a puncha, a fiery cocktail made from sugar cane and lemon. Next time someone tells me that Madeira is a destination only suited to geriatric colonels, I shall ask them to walk the Levada do Furado first, and wait for them at the other end.