Published December 21, 2023
6 min read
“Trust the grip,” my canyoning guide, Filipe Ferreira from Madeira Adventure Kingdom, tells me, more than once. Still, I step slowly. Rushing freshwater sluices past my extra-grippy boots and over smooth boulders, before plunging over a 40ft drop, which I’m expected to rappel down. I look back up the canyon in the direction we came from, but there’s no turning back.
“It’s not like football, where you can decide you don’t want to play anymore,” Filipe had explained on the short ride from Madeira’s capital Funchal to the Ribeira das Cales trail in the Funchal Ecological Park. “Once you start, you must continue.”
A verdant, mountainous Portuguese archipelago with a year-round temperate climate, Madeira is an outdoor enthusiast’s dream. Canyoning is possible in any season and most trails are easy to reach. What’s more, its volcanic terrain of fern-lined waterfalls, natural slides and green-tinged lagoons comes in all kinds of shapes and sizes, making canyoning accessible for beginners and fun for professionals.
A native Madeiran, Filipe has been a guide with Madeira Adventure Kingdom for 12 years, leading everyone from grandmothers to toddlers (including his daughter on his back). The company coordinates group and private trips all over the island, according to ability. But for this adventure, it’s just Filipe and myself.
Starting on the Pico do Arieiro mountain, at about 1,800m, the Ribeira das Cales trail is a Class 1, meaning it’s perfect for beginners. In a scarlet red wetsuit, Filipe looks like Spider-Man as he bounces off the canyon’s dewy walls with sprightly ease. He doesn’t even have to look where to step in the shin-high water, shimmering silver in the September sun.
Along the way, he pauses to point out splashing trout and sour-sweet blueberries that line the trail, occasionally popping a few in his mouth. Virtually vibrating with positive energy, he’s exactly the kind of guide a first-time canyoneer could want.
It takes us under two hours to descend, making our way down five waterfalls, several slides and a few low jumps. Pretty pools, which Filipe calls his “spas”, are peppered throughout. These quickly become my favourite part when he allows me to pause, float on my back and listen to the water as I look up at the sky. But now I need to get down that 40ft waterfall, the biggest on the trail.
“Sometimes,” Filipe marvels, “people are so scared that they don’t listen.” I try to focus as he explains how the ropes work. He points out the safety features: the strong anchors on the rock and a second rope that keeps us secure, even if we let go of our own.
I lean back, trusting the equipment, trusting the grip. I’m facing the waterfall, which helps because I don’t have to look down. Slowly, I move my feet down the rock wall,