The whole point of going travelling is to go travelling. In the past 10 days Ruffian has failed to take on board this most basic of tasks as she has sat in a marina weathering storms and providing a base for Iain & Fiona to explore the island of Madeira. Although Ruffian has not moved her crew feel like they have journeyed from the lush valleys of Borneo to the surfing beaches of Californian after managing to explore this spot of land out in the middle of the Atlantic.

Being in a marina, although unusual for us is not a new experience. The marina we are currently holed up in has however given us some experiences that we are not going to forget and not all good. We have been blessed with the local tourist office hosting Madeira wine parties, the local bar giving 50% discounts on beer to those 'stuck' here and most memorable of all have been the Russian body building contingent who seem to want to remove every piece of hair from their entire bodies in the communal showers. I shudder thinking about it as I write.

To explore this rocky island, where everything is either bonkersly uphill or scarily downhill, is really only possible by car and we were lucky enough to spend time with Nigel & Karen from Persephone and Tim & Aoife from Waimangu. The types of cars that were rented personify the people in them. Nigel & Karen sourced a brand new happy little Fiat Panda, whilst the car that we had with Waimangu looked like it had been driven off some the enormous cliffs that we were about to drive around.

On our road trip we discovered waterfalls cascading down rock faces 1000 feet high and landscapes that could have some straight out of Spielberg's epic, Jurassic Park. We were told that the best way to really take in this landscape is to follow one of the Lavada walks. A lavada is basically a man made water channel that transports water slowly downhill from the wet northern part of the island to the sunny south. This system of irrigation has enabled locals to cultivate every piece of land and we mean every piece from the impossibly steep slopes of the hills to road verges and roundabouts. Everywhere you look produce is popping out of the fertile soil. It really does seem like magic but we know it's taken years of backbreaking hard work.

At the start of our walk we were adopted by a local farmer who gave us a tour of his land and home. He showered us with avocados picked straight off the tree and tried to fortify us with his local brew Poncho which was brewed from his sugar cane. Knowing that we'd be walking along a narrow ledge for miles we declined, but in hindsight it may have given us Dutch courage to tackle the ledges and sheer drops in a more manly fashion. As we ventured along the ledges we had rainbows forming right in front of our eyes with sheer cliff faces in the background and as the walk persisted we found out why this was the rainy north. Raindrops the size of watermelons dropped from the heavens with such speed they looked like lasers. This is one walk we will not forget in a hurry and one of the few ones where Iain hasn't said that he'd like his mountain bike.

Back at the marina a dangerous disease is starting to take hold, it's called marina fever. Everybody including those on Ruffian wants to head sound and all the talk is about when we should leave, how the swell will calm down and how big the weather window is before the next depression rolls across the Atlantic. We think that there window big enough to get us to the Canaries over the weekend, before once again we have to batten down the hatches as another unseasonal low pressure system and its southwesterlies, from which there is no shelter, lands on the islands once again.


Welcome to Madeira. Quite what a big blue Walrus has to do with anything we don't know.


Miradouro. Miradouro. We walked amongst hanging valleys with Nigel and Karen from Persephone.


The swell in the marina was quite something and managed to pull out one of our stern fairleads. We utilised the skills of Justin from Selkie to help put things right.


The boat maintenance never stops. Fiona in the midst of working her magic on the gooseneck.


Roadtrip. Honk. Honk. Chief driver Tim and Chief Navigator Aoife.


Meat on skewers. Exactly as the menu described. Super garlicky, super salty, super rare and super yummy.


Can someone please tell us what is going on with this bizarre apron? We were afraid, very afraid.


Tim tries to work out how high we are in the valley of the nuns, also known as the belly button of Madeira. We think that finger measuring should be adopted as an international standard technique.


Miradouro. Miradouro. Imagine waking up to this view everyday. We were shown around a local farmer's house and fed some of his scrummy produce.


The lavadas working their magic and collecting water. We can certify that the north side of the island is rather damp.


We walked along a precipice for mile upon mile. Well done Fiona for conquering her vertigo. Well done Iain for not falling off.


The Atlantic swell battering the north of the island and blown flat by the unseasonal southerly winds.


Miradouro. Miradouro Nothing is level on the island.


Miradouro. Miradouro. Fiona braving the elements that have formed this island.


The calm before the storm at Quinta do Lorde. For the first time in a long time we are pleased to be tucked up in a friendly harbour.