Location:

Madeira Island

Dates of Trek

4th-11th January 2026

Distance Hiked

105km - 5,400m elevation gain

Where to begin...

In May 2023, Matt, Oli and I arrived at Manchester airport to fly to Madeira for a few days of hiking. However, due to strong winds and Funchal's short runway, we didn't even make it on the plane and went to Snowdonia instead; lovely but not quite Madeira.

Fast-forward to January 2026 and, one man down, Matt and I retried our luck and made it to Madeira in one piece. The plan: to hike from Porto Moniz in the North-West, back to Machico on the East, where we would conclude our trip. This didn't quite go to plan, for a number of reasons that will become obvious within the first few sentences, but it was still an adventure nonetheless.

Walking up a stream...

After landing at Funchal airport, we headed to Porto Moniz, stopping at Decathlon en route to grab a few supplies, including our gas (mistake number 1 - you'll see why).

Upon arriving in Porto Moniz, Matt noticed that one of the straps on his bag was about to snap off. Good start. Some electrical tape from a nearby mini-market did the trick whilst we ate a pre-trek salami and mozzarella sandwich.

The previous week had seen storms across the island, and we were clearly experiencing the tail end of this. Constant showers and strong winds summed up the first day, with an ascent up a stream to top it all off. Maps said it was a footpath, however I think we would both beg to differ. Looking back we probably should have just followed the MIUT route.

After a few hours, around 10:30pm, we made it the campsite in Fanal Forest where even with torches we could hardly see more than 2 metres in front of us due to fog. This would have been helpful as we would have noticed that there was a small hut where we could pitch our tent and bivvy bag. Instead, we pitched on a soggy field and had to endure torrential rain for the next few hours, getting very little sleep.

Gas problems and drying socks on the beach...

The next morning, we got up at around 7:30am, excited for some warm oats and a coffee. Only to find out the gas we bought was a push top rather than screw top. Who knew there were 2 different types? (probably everyone other than me). I had also left the filter and top of my Aeropress at home, which made me question whether I was facing cognitive decline.

Miserable, we packed our gear into our bags and headed off, fuelled by Decathlon cereal bars, aiming to stay at Estanquinhos tonight. A couple of hours in, we decided it might be a good idea to get to a town and buy some gas that would work for our stove. We met a lovely German guy, Marco, who gave us a lift down to Ponta do Sol where we managed to buy gas, dry all our gear out on the beach and eat our first of many Prego sandwiches, possibly the greatest cuisine ever created, or maybe we were just starving. A nice change of weather though.

Instead of Entanquinhos, we ended up staying in hammocks covered by a tarp in the middle of no where. Note, it isn't actually legal to wild camp in Madeira, but if you arrive late and leave early, leaving no trace, then you should be okay.

A million stairs and some Finnish Friends...

After a comfortable night in the hammocks, we planned to make our way to Pico Grande. We then realised the trail there was closed from near where we stayed so, for what felt like the tenth time, had to alter our plan. It would have been a good idea to do a bit of research on this.

So we ended up going back to the original plan, to stay at Chao dos Louros, which we had previously booked. Campsites on Madeira are free to book, but if you are found to be staying there without booking you can face pretty hefty fines. However, a lot of people we met had said they didn't face this problem, and neither did we on the final two nights of our trip.

This then meant an 800m descent, almost all of it down stairs. There must have been at least two and a half thousand. With 15kg bags this took a lot out of the knees. Once we eventually reached the bottom, we faced 1000m back up again. Who would have thought Madeira was so hilly.

We also faced a few kilometres of the VE4, the main road dissecting Madeira Island down the middle. There was no pavement, and the drivers are a bit mad so hitchhiking to Serra de Agua was our best bet. A few minutes later, a Finnish couple picked us up offered to take us all the way to the top. It would have been rude to say no. Not like we were supposed to be hiking the island or anything.

They dropped us at a lovely Cafe they had recommended, and I would highly recommend it too. It is called Snack Bar Restaurante Boca Da Encumeda. Great food, coffee, very friendly staff, and luckily for us, only a 20 minute walk to our camp site.

We did a bit of exploring on the PR17 in the rain, fed some hobnobs to some wild chickens and made our way to camp for the night. Matt started having a problem with his knee at this point.

Tonight I was smart and stayed under shelter in my tent, though it miraculously didn't really rain much anyway.

A chewy steak sandwich...

An uncomfortable nights sleep with a fairly thin inflatable sleeping mat on a concrete floor left me feeling fresh in the morning. Today was supposed to be around 24km with 1,500m of elevation gain. We made our way north towards Sao Vicente on the coast, aiming to then go east and stay at Boca das Voltas.

A nice trail walk, fairly flat compared to previous days, commenced before reaching roads. Madeira must have the steepest roads on earth. Some of them are ridiculous. From here a few more kilometres and we made it to Sao Vicente where we stopped for our daily Prego, a bit underwhelming this one. Too chewy.

We checked the weather, and tonight and the following morning looked very promising on Pico Ruivo, the highest point on the island. We had to take the chance. Also, not really fancying walking on the ER101, like I said, some of the drivers are mad.

Turns out the bus drivers are equally, if not more, mad than the people driving cars. We discovered this as we decided to get a bus over to Arco de Sao Jorge. It was such a scenic bus journey, detouring up in mountain villages to drop off and pick people up. For $2.50 it was a nice way to see these parts of the island we wouldn't have seen otherwise. The driver was a bit insane though. Probably could have been in Formula 1 if he'd tried.

From here, Ilha was the destination, where the PR1.1 awaited with 8km and 1400m of elevation gain to reach the Pico Ruivo camp site, just below the summit. A lovely couple from Sheffield gave us a lift. It was great to chat about our times at university in Sheffield, and they gave us some cake as well. Absolute legends.

Another broken bag strap and lots of tape...

After a coffee in Ilha, we started hiking at around 4:30pm. Originally thinking that we would wild camp part way up the route, we thought we might as well try and get to the campsite near the top, where we would have a nice short walk in the morning to the summit.

An hour and a half later, we got head torches and extra layers out. Which was when Matt's other bag strap decided it didn't want to hang on anymore and snapped. His back then also decided it couldn't be arsed and he felt it ping. The high spirits very quickly deteriorated.

Luckily, Matt still had tape from fixing the other strap on day one. About 20 layers of this ensured it held up for the rest of the trip, although I think the end probably marked the bag's retirement.

After a 20 minute break we continued. This was one of Matt's bucket list items, so a broken bag, dodgy knee, and half a back wasn't going to stop us. He also said that walking uphill hurt a lot less than going downhill. So this seemed like the only logical resolution (very safe).

From here, it was purely uphill for the next two hours. Matt set the pace and we made it to the camp site at around 8:30pm. There was no moon, and the milky way was visible to the eye. This is one of those core memories you'll remember for years, although it was trumped about 12 hours later.

I made a dehydrated spicy pork noodle meal, and watched Man United draw 2-2 with Burnley; tragic use of my time whilst camping below the summit of the biggest mountain in Madeira. Then a few hours of cold sleep, apparently I was snoring really loud too.

Am I the first person to watch a Man United game on top of Pico Ruivo? We'll never know. If I am I'm deeply ashamed.

The sunrise that made it all worth it...

The alarm went off at 6:30am, signalling it was time to pack up and make our way to the summit to hopefully see a sunrise and a cloud inversion. At around 7:15am we made it after a quick 5 minute walk from camp. We were beaten by a Dutch couple, and two Ukrainian men who walked past the campsite playing drum and bass music at full volume. Not my cup of tea at the crack of dawn.

The atmosphere felt surreal. It reminded me of being at the summit of Mt Fansipan in North Vietnam for sunrise; other than the lack of a giant Buddha statue. Something I would recommend to anyone travelling South East Asia. (Read my blog post on this trek here)

I set a timelapse on my camera and we waited patiently for the sun to creep above the bed of clouds. It was a really special moment. It made the whole previous 4 days of a lot of shit decisions and circumstances seem worth it. If everything had gone to plan, we'd have been here the next morning, and we might not have been so lucky. It's all about perspective.

We got talking to the winners of the summit push, the Dutch couple, who offered to give us a lift down to the coast from the PR 1.2 car park. Again, we couldn't say no, and smelling like mouldy cheese we made our way down. This was when we decided it was worth getting a room with a shower tonight, we were probably walking around with a green cloud engulfing us.

We made it to Porto do Cruz, where they were staying, went for a coffee and a pastry, and then got a taxi to Funchal where we got a cheap hotel room, went out for some ramen and got a good nights sleep.

Very expensive fruit and camping with a group of Latvians...

We had a nice lie in, went downstairs for our mediocre breakfast that was included in the price of the hotel, then packed up ready to get the 113 bus from Funchal to Caniçal. Eager to explore Ponta de São Lourenço which was a few km from there. You can get the bus all the way there, but we needed to grab a few supplies (which we could have easily done in Funchal, again questioning the thought process).

We decided to buy some exotic fruits in Funchal before leaving, and ended up paying €15 for a dragonfruit that tasted like soap. And €8 for a mango. Again, wondering why we actually paid that instead of putting them back on the shelf.

Anyway, we made it to the bus stop and boarded. We got to Caniçal, got another coffee and a pastry, bought some supplies and headed off to Ponta de São Lourenço. A few kilometres on roads, then we made it to the PR8 trail. Ponta de São Lourenço is a headland off the East coast of the island. It feels like a different planet. It has clearly been battered by strong weather and the sea, with dramatic rock formations and distinct colourful layers in the cliffs.

We made it to the campsite down the headland, and there were already 6 tents set up. Turns out a group of Latvians were on a guided trek, and this was their first night. We got speaking to them and they were really nice. I wondered whether me setting my tent up next to theirs had really pissed them off, but maybe it was just their natural Eastern European facial expressions.

The final stretch...

It was a really warm night, the opposite problem to camping on Pico Ruivo. Matt was woken at 5:30am by an alarm he described as sounding like 'the beep you hear at the McDonalds service counter', that went on for about 5 minutes. This was followed by constant talking before our fellow campers left at 8am.

As our final night before our flight early the following morning was going to be spent in the airport, we weren't in a rush to get there.

The walk back covered the same ground as the previous day, followed by another 5 or 6 km to Machico, where we stopped off for lunch. I got the last half an hour Macclesfield vs Crystal Palace on my phone. Much better result than United vs Burnley.

We then went to the beach for a couple of hours, a nice way to relax before heading to the airport, 4km away. We made it to the airport at around 6pm, and decided to go to a small cove down some steps that we'd seen on Google Maps. It seemed to be a popular spot with fishermen, but it was a really peaceful, quiet area. We cooked our final dehydrated meal of the trip and watched the final sunset. This was another really serene moment.

We said goodbye to the Ronaldo statue outside the airport and went inside for a ten hour shift until our flight. For whatever reason I decided it would be a good idea to run 5k around the departures area, eating a Pastel de Nata after every kilometre. This was probably a culmination of many questionable choices over the previous week. Half-way through a police man came up to me and told me I had to run outside - what a spoilsport.

Surprisingly, I wasn't sick. I then sat down for the subsequent eight hours until we boarded the flight. I had the row to myself on the plane, until a guy who I can only guess was severely hungover sat on the aisle seat. He had to go to the toilet a few times with a sick bag.

We touched down in Manchester at 10:30am to some serious heavy rain. It gave me flashbacks from the first night in Fanal Forest.

The conclusion...

Having had a couple of weeks to reflect on the experience, it has made me incredibly grateful to have faced everything that we did. We went with a solid plan of what we wanted to do. Within a few hours, that plan was out of the window and we were sat on the beach. This has given me a greater perspective on something I was always a big believer in anyway: don't go into anything with a detailed plan and expect it to work that way. 9 times out of 10 something will happen and you have to completely change course. This probably happened an average of two times per day on this trip.

In the moment a lot of the experiences in Madeira weren't much fun, angry dogs barking and following us in small mountain villages, lots of rain, having wet socks and clothes and tents, and a lot of hills. But these are the moments that shape the stories when we look back. I'm very lucky to have had this adventure, and what's fun about everything going to plan anyway?

I'm sure they won't see this, but I am hugely grateful and thankful to anyone who helped us out on the trip, particularly people who gave us a lift when we smelled horrible. I can't remember their names, and I wish I could. Other than Marco, thank you Marco. I hope to pay these gestures forwards one day.

Anyway, that's the story of mine and Matt's 'hike from one side of Madeira to the other' that didn't end up being that. I hope you enjoyed.

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