Portugal (feat. Anita, Emily, and Venecia)

We’re seven hours into our flight from London to LA, a route that we’re going to get to know really, really well over the next two months. We’ll spend the next few days at Linda’s wedding in Cuixmala, the first time we’ll be in a big social setting since our goodbye party seven months ago. Alice has been helping me to remember how to eat with proper table manners.

This trip to Portugal started out as the annual-ish reunion of the Cliff Crew / fruit analysts club among the ocean cliffs and cloud-covered peaks of Madeira, but ended up including trips to Lisbon, Sintra, and the Douro Valley. The people of Portugal were some of the friendliest we’d met throughout our travels, and the sheer variety of landscapes on display in Madeira and the mainland was pretty spectacular. On the other hand, Portuguese food largely couldn’t stand up to the group’s detailed and often withering food criticism (Madeiran queijadas got more than their fair shot). Time with good friends this week was a nice reminder of what we have to look forward to once we’re back home in New York.

The mist

Our first morning in Madeira was spent in the mist, a kilometer or so above sea level. In the parking lot of PR6, we watched the fog roll over a trail that descended into gray blank space, and even by mid-day at the Fanal Forest, people would suddenly appear from nothingness from fifty feet away. It was surprisingly impossible to even walk in a straight line when we weren’t on a trail; it’s no wonder the mist inspires the sorts of stories it does.

Levada Nova

Venecia found a levada hike that led us deep into a lush valley. The word verdant came repeatedly to my mind, and we were treated to near-continuous views of the interlocking spurs carved out by the meandering river below us, the orange roofs of the town at the mouth of the valley, and a hint of the ocean lying just beyond. 

Above the clouds II

PR1 is Madeira’s most famous hike, and it’s not hard to understand why. You stare directly into the rising sun at Miradouro do Juncal, squinting against blinding purples and oranges over a thick sea of clouds. You hike along a mountain ridge looking out over deep green valleys, their scale a little confusing to your eyes, on both sides. The landscapes change minute by minute as clouds spill out through and around the jagged peaks.

California to Ireland

The diversity of landscapes on an island that takes an hour or two to drive across is pretty incredible. The black rock cliffs of the northern shore look like the Galapagos or Iceland, while spending a couple of hours in the central mountain ranges more than made up for any remaining wish to have explored the Na’pali Coast while we were in Hawaii. On our last day in Madeira, at the eastern tip of the island on PR8, we saw hints of California desert and Irish seacliffs within minutes of each other. 

Sundrying

Portugal is a place where people hang their laundry out on clotheslines to dry. In the gardens of Monserrate, when the sun finally came out after a morning of heavy rain, we also hung ourselves out to dry a bit. The warmth of the sun rarely feels so good, or so at risk of disappearing: I’ve never seen as many sunny showers as I did in our few days around Lisbon.

Pastel de nata

Egg tarts tell the story of the highs and lows of our time in Lisbon. There were the ones Alice ran across the street to grab in the minute before our Bolt arrived to pick us up; the ones our Airbnb host left for us along with the name of a good Nepalese restaurant and a bottle of wine; and ones that managed to unite all of us in our displeasure with every aspect of them, from the soggy crust to the grainy custard.

Cliff Crew

The history of the Cliff Crew is tied up with a period that seems likely to be among the most memorable of our lives, starting with our time in San Diego in late 2020 up through these late months of our sabbatical. I’ve known Anita for almost thirteen years now, and sharing these experiences with her and her (now our) friends has been one of the highlights of the past few years.

Wine country

While this nine-month trip has led us to appreciate the value of traveling slowly—six weeks in Japan, almost two weeks in Seoul—we’ve also come to develop a real fondness for quick trips. Over two nights in the Douro Valley, we tasted (and felt) the rich caramel and honey of a fifty-year tawny port, dumped buckets of ice water over our heads after the sauna, had a perfect little lunch on the patio, and saw this view tinged with a lovely haze from our last wine tasting for the day.