After the goldrush
In Barbarian Days, Finnegan laments that after a few years as an uncrowded nirvana, his “nightmare of an overrun, despoiled Madeira seemed to be slowly coming true”. Busier lineups, the staging of an international big wave contest around the turn of the century, and the “feral denizens of the world surf-paradise trail” are, he fears, ruining the place. Twenty years later, however, I saw little sign that Finnegan’s portent had come to pass.
If Madeira is known at all as a surf destination today, it’s mostly for its big waves. But unlike Nazaré, on the Portuguese mainland, tow-in surfing using jetskis is not encouraged in Madeira. Instead, according to Ruben, there’s a small crew of about half-a-dozen locals who prefer to paddle the island’s big wave spots on the biggest days, and they do it for love, not money. In Nazaré, the local mayor embraced the attention the town’s record-breaking waves were bringing. But in Madeira, monster swells roll in regularly with little fanfare from the world’s surf media.
We saw very little conspicuous surf infrastructure: no surf clubs for kids, and little enthusiasm for trying to make a career of surfing among the Madeiran surf community. Again, this contrasted starkly with surf towns I’ve visited elsewhere, where pushy parents and surf coaches line the beach to film what they hope will be the stars of tomorrow. In fact, there seemed to be few surfers in Madeira at all, and those we did encounter were friendly enough and willing to share their bounty with us interlopers—provided we were respectful and waited our turn.
Rodrigues offered further explanation on how and why Madeira was still uncrowded. Various coastal defence projects around the turn of the century affected some of Madeira’s most famous waves, including the right-hand point break at Jardim Do Mar that had captivated Finnegan. At least five other waves were also affected, or lost entirely. Once word got out that these marquee spots had been ruined, many surfers stopped coming—not knowing, perhaps, that Madeira was home to plenty of other gems.
At the same time, in 2002, Indonesia re-established diplomatic relations with Portugal after years of conflict (Portugal had supported independence for East Timor, angering the Indonesian dictator Suharto, explained Rodrigues). Overnight, ‘Indo’—arguably the world’s premier surf destination, and previously forbidden fruit—became the hot surf travel option for surfers from the Portuguese mainland, pulling further attention away from this domestic island outpost.
The other side of the coastal defence coin was a programme of tunnel and road building that has radically transformed driving around and across Madeira. One of the more alluring-sounding spots described in Barbarian Days was a mystical wave on the north coast that Finnegan called “Madonna”. A silky lefthander in the lee of a huge cliff, it took hours to get to when the author visited two decades ago, but less than half-an-hour from our south coast base in 2023.
Finding it was still no easy feat though, and nor was getting in and out. We had to traverse a minefield of round, slippery boulders being washed by a difficult shorebreak. The powerful peak and ensuing wall broke relatively close to shore. Like many of Madeira’s spots it was undeniably intimidating on first appearance and tricky to reach. But during the course of three terrific sessions—never with more than a handful of local guys for company—we built our confidence and managed to snag some of the best waves any of us had surfed in years. Scrabbling uncertainly back to shore across the treacherous boulders was a fitting final reminder that in Madeira, if you’re willing to make the effort, the juice is very much worth the squeeze.
