IWC 61 Epilogue

Epilogue: Farewell Funchal.

Funchal Harbour

Well, the IWC 61 delegates have now left all the meeting halls that we came to know so well. All the small group meetings and co-ordinations have finally ended. (Many European delegates are probably lonely now without someone to coordinate with and wondering how to make decisions outside a co-ordination). The emails have slowed and the Skype alerts have stopped popping up on our screens; no one is asking any more ‘what exactly happen there’, can you explain what Hogarth actually meant’ or things like that. Planes are carrying people back around the world to some 85 different countries, although it should be noted that a fair few are also staying on for a least a little holiday. 

So it is that Team WDCS leaves Madeira but you cannot live in a place for a month without forming some opinion of it. This is true even if you are only venturing out occasionally from the IWC meeting fortress (an enchanted place that emerges somewhere on the planet every year, then goes about its arcane business before disappearing again some weeks later). But I don’t think we can claim to have an opinion of Madeira in total, only Funchal its capital; a warm city of leafy avenues and flowery parks. A place where orange tiled roofs dominate the city slopes and tourists wade slowly through the warm air and falling petals as if locked in a timeless dream. We liked the city. It was safe and fun and, once we have discovered that the food in the supermarket was a quarter (or less) what it cost in the cafes and restaurants, we were more than happy.  

However, crossing the city, bordering it and linking city to airport and town to town are a series of mighty carriageways, something that visitors of just a few years ago would not have recognized. European money has changed the face of Funchal; tunnels pump motorcars through mountains and bridges vault them swiftly over ravines; and the pace of life has speeded up. The big and beautiful botanical garden which hangs on a hillside two cable car journeys from the shore is now complete with a background of less than beautiful traffic noise.

Blandy’s Story Centre Museum in the old town, shows us a more gentile time. The old Pathe Pictorial reels that play here in constant loops show us the period when mass tourism had just started but was constrained because the tourists could only arrive by boat or, for one short glorious period, an air-boat that set off from Southampton and landed in Funchal Bay. (The airport did not arrive until 1964, with its runway extended out over the sea on pillars in 2000.)

Tourists in the 30s, 40s and 50, enjoyed simple pleasures: the warm air and sea breezes (a good combination for chest ailments); a certain quality of service; refreshing walks in the mountains; and being carried around in hammocks by strapping young men. We are not sure when the ‘Funchal slalom’ arrived – the fast slide down a cobbled track in a wicker armchair on rails (with two 'gondoliers' in attendance) – but it seems to have long been popular and is still going strong.

Also still going strong is a certain elegance and remoteness from the faster moving 21^st centaury. Waiters – even in the cheaper places – still dress smartly for their role and take care to arrange their tables just-so. Indeed many tourists are surprised when their own haphazard rearrangements of tables (or even just the condiments) are swiftly returned to their correct (starting) position by a stern waiter.

Madeira has no beaches. Hence lidos have been built in various parts of town, where escalators take lazy tourists down to concrete platforms and pools at sea-level. The old films at Blandy’s museum show ladies in the 50s being super-excited about these opportunities to toast themselves in the sun and parading out to sea in remarkably pointy bikinis (have ladies changed shape in recent decades – I think we should be told).

However, the ancient elegance and simple pleasures of Funchal and Madeira may be threatened. In combination with the newly busy roads comes talk of trying to attract a new type of tourists – the young! Attractions could include further night clubs and white-water rafting. Most significantly comes the notion of making artificial beaches.

You have to speculate that the reason why Madeira is unlike so many other warm European sea-side resorts and not buried under piles of youngsters doing a good impression of the US frantic and booze-fuelled spring-break phenomena, is because it has, so far, no beaches where the young can sleep-it all off. No beaches means no beach-parties, surfing or sleep-overs in the warm sand.

Perhaps the Madeiran authorities need to think about this a little before the developments evolve themselves. The island has a certain old-worldy charm and is certainly dominated by the TOSAs (Tourists of a Senior Age), but perhaps this is not a bad thing. They need somewhere to go and they bring money with them. 

Development may also be an issue for the whales and dolphins that currently come so close to shore. For the sperm whales this is their breeding grounds, for the Bryde’s part of their range, and the sharp topography of the islands makes the waters highly productive. These waters, like those around the Azores seem to be rearing and feeding grounds.

And, as acknowledged during the IWC plenary, whale watching has been developing slowly here and can generally be welcomed. It seems to be mainly well conducted, but here, as in other seaside resorts, there is certainly scope for ‘too much of a good thing’. The old TOSAs don’t like fast moving boats too much, but the youngsters do. More and faster leisure boats, including whale watching craft, may come into play. In fact this is already happening and one afternoon we witnessed the domination of the main shore area by the swift zig-zagging of a small group of seemingly jet-propelled wet bikes. Sometimes know by the trade name ‘jet skis’ these motor-bikes-of-the-sea can reach speeds of up to 80 miles per hour. They can also corral and chase dolphins, as has been shown elsewhere.

St Maria - under sail.

So Funchal/Madeira – we thank you for being a benign and enjoyable place to stay but urge you to take care in your development. Cherish the TOSAs (we all get there eventually) and please keep those pretty little spotted dolphin calves safe.

Finally a list

We thought it might be of interest to readers here just to mention some of the good and bad things that we have enjoyed or not enjoyed during our stay.

Many of us have enjoyed:

Whale (and dolphin watching), although some of us were a little concerned at times that the boats came close to pursuing the animals

Being propelled down a steep hill in a wicker arm chair pushed over cobbles on skies

The local fortified wine and fine cakes (both of which are orders of magnitude cheaper in the supermarkets than in the restaurants)

Simply staring out to sea hoping a whale or dolphin will come by (and sometimes they did)

The colourful lizards (especially the big green ones); the drifts of pigeons over the roof tops and the singing blackbirds.

The extraordinary and huge firework displays every Saturday night (a good half an hour of pyrotechnical splendour with a different national theme – Italy being better than Germany this year)

The company of many like-minded friends.

Saturday Fireworks at Funchal

A few of us have enjoyed:

High tea at Reid’s Hotel (the oldest on the island) with a wonderful view over the main bay of Funchal

The local delicacy of Scabbard fish with banana - a delicate and unique conbition of flavours that, despite initial fears, really seems to work. (However none of us enjoyed meeting the scabbard fish – a true monster of the deep with huge eyes and a mass of oddly protruding teeth. Indeed the animal is so ugly that reproduction is only possible in the deep sea where they cannot see each other.)

Seeing the whale watching galleon (a replica of the Santa Maria which first brought Columbus to the island) coming around the point under full sails, briefly transporting us to another time. 

Spotted dolphins in Funchal Bay

Many of us did not enjoy:

Getting sunburnt (especially around the ears)

The mosquitoes (not numerous but potent killers of sleep and biters of fingers and toes)

Being propelled down a steep hill in a wicker arm chair pushed over cobbles on skies

One of us really did not like:

Having the ancient translation headset earphones disintegrate covering us (and the ears again) in a sooty-gluey substance that cannot be removed from shirts

And goodbye.