From Boca da Encumeada to Curral Jangão

A few days ago, with a full morning to spare, I decided to hike for the first time this small trail. Located at the top North end of the Ribeira Brava valley, this easy path connects Boca da Encumeada to Curral Jangão by a well marked and straight forward track. Regardless of the fact that the trail itself is far from being dangerous or even strenuous, the magic of it is quite present from the beginning. Stopping the car in a small parking area on the right side of the main road, a couple hundred meters before arriving to the Encumeada pass, you'll soon see the sign pointing your destination: the hanging valley of Curral Jangão. The first 500 or so meters are in a well marked forest road, accessible only for all-terrain vehicles. But as soon as you arrive near the large pipe conduct that leads the water from the Levada do Norte, high above, to the Power Plant of Serra de Água located in the valley below, the road ends and you make a detour to the right. You descend a few stony steps, pass under the conduct, and the mountain trail is in front of your eyes.

Map source: Instituto Geográfico do Exército, Chart nº5 (Ilha da Madeira - Curral das Freiras) Scale: 1/25.000

The first kilometre is, actually, quite boring. We walk in a forest of eucalyptus; not the most endemic flora if you know what I mean. However, as soon as we reach open ground things change and we are once again surrounded by the magnificent Madeira mountain landscape.

When we reach open ground, on the "grass floor", the trail opens to the beautiful mountain landscape that characterizes Madeira.

At this point we are already surrounded by some of the highest peaks in the island. Curral Jangão is, itself, a natural amphitheatre. The birth place of Ribeiro do Poço and a perfect and cosy hanging valley, Curral Jangão, at a high of roughly 850 meters, is surrounded by peaks that rise to almost 1600 meters high. So, a dramatic landscape and orography is something that we can expect when arriving there.

Curral Jangão, with its dramatic orography, seen from afar.

After the "grass floor", the path becomes more intimate and we find ourselves surrounded by native forest and vegetation. Sometimes we cross a few "green tunnels", where vegetation completely embraces the trail, and on others we cross some small streams with improvised wooden bridges.

Sometimes, small streams are crossed with wooden bridges...

...other times we cross them with stone ones, like this one, already in the Curral.

One hour, since departure, is more or less the time to reach Curral Jangão. Pacing ourselves, stopping a few times to take some pictures, and the full hike should take us about three hours from Boca da Encumeada and back. For the ones of us that love stronger emotions the path continues, from Curral Jangão, and at an additional 10 kilometres, to Boca da Corrida, passing close to Pico Grande. In fact, Curral Jangão is located in the old path that used to connect Boca da Corrida to Encumeada and also Serra de Água. So it comes as no surprise that we find, in the middle of nowhere, the perfect architecture of the stone bridge above.

The trails that we use nowadays for fun, were, for centuries, the only way possible for the Madeira inhabitants to travel within it.

Upon arrival to Curral Jangão, I meditated for awhile about that. Here, in this peaceful and sheltered high valley, while eating a few chestnuts that I've picked up from the trees, I cannot feel less than amazed for the centuries of efforts taken to vanquish Madeira's violent orography. Without anything more than manual tools and muscle power, these people built a net of water channels (the "levadas"), hundreds of kilometres long, to bring water from the moistly North coast to the sunnier and agricultural-friendly fields on the South. For this hydraulic effort, they vanquished the natural barriers with tunnels and suspended aqueducts, many of them in vertiginous places.

Then the connection between the several human settlements in the island. The net of trails (or "veredas" like they call them in Portuguese) is, certainly, older than the "levadas". But not less difficult to achieve, as we can see in so many parts of the island. Not all of them are so easy to build like this one where I'm standing. There are so many others where nature was uncooperative. Even today, after a more rough Winter, we still face difficulties in returning to the mountain paths. A rock fall here, a mud slide there and some paths become impractical for months. And today we have mechanical tools. How it would be like, in the fifteen century? I think about those ancient construction workers. If their spirits are somewhere, in a nice balcony with a view to their works of art, they must be glad to see their legacy still being used by the new generations.

I know I would.

And with this comforting thought on my mind I return home.

Terraced agricultural fields on the South face of Pico da Encumeada, Curral Jangão.

Bye, bye Armas

Well, it's a fact. The ferry "Volcan de Tijarafe" made her last call in Funchal on the past 30th of January, coming from Portimão and heading to Canary islands, thus ending a commercial operation of nearly four years and her contribution in approaching the populations of Madeira, continental Portugal and Canary islands to each other.

Madeira and Azores remain, therefore, two of the few ultra peripheral European regions without a ferry connection to the European mainland. I don't now about you, but to me it sounds as a regression in time... back to the medieval age. I had the pleasure of being a customer once. And since I'm in an island where when you think travel you think flying, I loved the very refreshing idea of driving my car from Funchal to Portimão and all the way to Singapore and back if I wanted. And so I did it. Not to Singapore, granted. Just to my hometown, in the continental mainland. To me the experience was worth the (comparatively low) cost. And I dare to bet that if you ask that same question to each and one of the thousands of passengers and tourists transported in the past four years, they will give you the same positive answer.

Some carried goods were also arriving to the market shelves with lesser prices than before, namely fruit and fresh vegetables.

And thanks to that ferry line, Madeira got acquainted with a new type of tourist. New, at least, in the island history:  the camper van tourist.

Motor biker expeditions became also common, with several motard clubs in the three vertices of the triangle Madeira-Portuguese mainland-Canary organizing trips within it.

All that is, at least for the near future, gone. And strangely as it may seem, people were not convinced about the reasons. Some say it was due to commercial reasons. The line simply could not be profitable. Others will give the politics answer, eventually colouring it with a few words that we cannot say, for the sake of decency, in front of children. Well I don't know about that. I'm not versed enough in shipping economics to know if the line had the slightest chance to survive since the beginning.

And the politics. Oh, yes... the politics. Well, I couldn't care less about the low level of the regional politics that surrounds us (the same statement is valid to the national one also, by the way!) and it's eventual intervention - or lack of it - in all the process.

However, as a common citizen, living in the "Atlantic Pearl", I'm worried. I'm worried about our increasingly narrow quality of life. And with the reductions in alternatives. With the disappearing of this shipping line we are today one step further away from Europe, when yesterday we were one step closer.

The Armas farewell is only a symptom of the difficulties and solitude that lay ahead. Maybe I'm exaggerating, seeing a black canvas. Maybe they'll return in Summer time, bringing the nice weather and more peaceful voyages. I can only hope so. However, until that day comes, my last memory of that visionary enterprise is a peaceful Winter evening in the bay of Funchal and a departing ship greeting her for the last time. On that evening of January, we all felt a little bit poorer.

Ilhéu da Cal at dusk

Ilhéu da Cal is a small islet SW of Porto Santo island and distant about 400 meters from the later. For many years this islet was the heart of a calcium oxide mining industry that no longer exists and is now a nature reserve, hiding within rare flora and fauna. The inaccessibility of the island protects the delicate ecosystem and visits are only allowed with a special permit.

Nikon D40X with Nikkor 18-55mm kit lens

Cokin Graduated Neutral Density Filter

Manfrotto tripod and ball head

Chestnut tree and Pico Grande at evening time

Chestnut trees are quite common in Madeira. In particular, the months of November and December (when chestnuts are mature and ready to crop) witness several parties all over the island where this fruit is king. Following the general Portuguese tradition, chestnuts are either roasted or cooked/boiled with a mix of spices and sweet herbs. They are also included in the Portuguese culinary in several meals. Particularly meat ones. Also edible in raw condition.

The chestnut tree in the picture grew up in Boca da Corrida-Pico Grande-Encumeada trail and, sadly, was also destroyed in the 2010 Summer forest fire.

Picture taken with Nikon FM10 body and cheap Nikkor (Cosina?) 35-70mm f:3.5-4.8 kit lens.

Fujichrome Velvia ASA50, scanned in Nikon Coolscan V ED

New Year's Eve in Funchal port

The preparation for the New Year's Eve in the port of Funchal sometimes takes place several months before the actual event. Upon receiving the cruise ships schedules, it's our job (toghether with the port Coordination) to place these ships in the anchorage areas and alongside in order to permit to the passengers the best view of the upcoming world famous fireworks show. Here, in a picture taken in the S. Gonçalo belvedere, around 1845 GMT of the 31st of December, we see already at anchor the cruise ships Queen Elisabeth, Aida Bella and Saga Pearl II. Alongside are the Aurora, the Boudicca, the ferry Lobo Marinho and, on the North quay, the Aida Sol. Out of the picture are still the Princess Danae and the MSC Fantasia, both of them with late ETA's to the anchorage.

Photo taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-FT3 with resizing post-work in Photoshop CS3

Domke Toad 20 waist pack - Review

There are three major ways of transporting our photographic stuff in the field. They are: shoulder packs, backpacks and waist packs. All of the shapes have its pluses and minuses and the "one kind fits all" philosophy is an approach that is quite useless in this area. 

Regardless of the system that we adopt, we have to understand one's decision as the best compromise between weight, load capacity, carrying comfort, ergonomics and durability. Of the three, we can immediately reject the shoulder pack (or shoulder bag). Although being the most user-friendly design of the bunch, its asymmetrical placement over the body for transportation makes it a nightmare for long distance walking. They have their use in photojournalism, in (several) sports photography, in the studio. Ergonomically speaking, shoulder bags are the best of all. By a large margin. Lots of space for stowage, they come in a variety of shapes and sizes in a variation of the concept single body/single compartment. However, as practical as they might be, just imagine yourself in a fifteen mile hike on the mountains with ten kilograms of material suspended from one of your shoulders. 

That leaves us with the last two options: backpacks and waist packs. I'm a big fan of waist packs. For one important reason: they keep your back dry. It might not be important to someone hiking in the desert or in the jungle (out there, you are already wet anyway!). But in the mountains of Madeira island,where you face low temperatures and high humidity in the air in every season other then Summer, being wet is not an option that you should take lightly. But this option forces you to a compromise in... space. With a backpack (particularly for those with double compartment)  you'll always have a small space for a rain jacket, for a snack, for an additional polar fleece. 

With a waist pack you can forget all of it. A water bottle, an energy bar and a few crackers, a Swiss army knife and torch and you are done in terms of survival items for the wild. Not forgetting to mention that, compared to the other two systems described above, you'll always take to the field less equipment due to the smaller size of these packs, what do you gain by using one of them? You gain freedom. 

How?

Easy. All the clothes needed you are already dressing them. You are dressing for the occasion. Not more, not less. Actually, if possible, a little bit for the less. Your rain jacket (your third layer), during the hike goes around your waist. You are walking and feeling hot. Your body is working as a radiator. Let it release all the heat and the sweat, so you always stay dry during walking time. The rain jacket is to be used when stopping, so that you are protected from the cold temperatures... and from rain showers. A pair of light fleece gloves goes to a pocket in the pants when not in use. And the same goes to a fleece hood.

On the waist pack itself you take a medium size DSLR body with 18-55mm lens attached, a 55-200mm and a flash. Add to the mix a handful of needed accessories and a couple of spare batteries and you are done. The tripod, if needed, is transported over your shoulders (military style) and if you opt, instead, for the monopod you get at the same time a hiking stick.

I've told you about freedom, didn't I?
There are several waist packs on the market. From several makers. LowePro, Mountainsmith, Tamrac and Domke are just a few. A few years ago I've decided to buy one of them and, somehow, influenced by the cost factor I've made a choice for the Domke Toad 20. At the time was one of the cheapest on the market and for the price paid I still consider it as a very good equipment in terms of cost/quality.
I bought it in Adorama (www.adorama.com) in July of 2008, by a mere 29.99 USD. And as you can see on the pictures below, there's a lot of bang for the buck.

The general aspect of the Domke Toad 20, on the picture above. A simple but effective design, punctuated by three colours: black, blue and yellow.

The zippers (all them a bit too tight) have yellow rope extensions on them, allowing for the operation with gloved hands. The same applies to the side pockets. The main belt, made with a smooth and silky mesh is easily adjustable and on each side of the main body two adjusting loops assure a snug fit to the body.

The main compartment, in bright yellow, makes all the equipment easily seen even in somehow murky conditions. Velcro dividers in the same color allows for a more personal division of the space inside. However, make no mistake, the space inside is exiguous. In the configuration shown above, the widest part of the compartment accepts a Nikon D40x (or any DSLR with similar size) with 18-55mm attached. The smaller space accepts a medium zoom in upright position or any other extra lens. Both side pockets can also be used to the stowage of accessories. The top cover, opening away from the body (well done Domke) has capacity for thin accessories, so all the small things can be placed there (filters, batteries, cables, cleaning items, etc).

The main compartment is accessible by the front zippered pocket, even if you have the top cover closed.  To fulfill that second option you just have to remove the longest yellow separator, which is connected to the "walls" of the main compartment by velcro stripes. Sadly, this main divider is not "velcroed" to the bottom of the main compartment. Therefore, some small accessories that you might stow on the small front pocket sometimes migrate (due to the walking movements) to the main compartment and you end up looking for them under the camera body or the extra lens. Not a big drama if we pay attention, but can eventually damage paintings, scratch plastics or lenses if we are not aware.

Under the bag we see these two slots that gives this waist pack an additional transport capacity. For that, you'll need two loops (that also come as standard accessories). Although it seems these slots were designed to carry a tripod, I don't feel they are resistant enough for that kind of weight. I use them to carry an additional piece of cloth. And that's about it.

Finally, the spares and accessories, from top to bottom: the all-weather cover, two spare velcro dividers for additional customization, two loops for additional transport capacity and a small mesh bag for carrying the all-weather cover.

Conclusion:

All in all a very nice waist pack. Certain details on it gave me the impression that some inputs from sports and active photographers were taken into account for the development of the product. The (few) minor cons cannot make me forget that this is a very good equipment. Probably, at the time, the best for the price. And, although I upgraded recently for a more recent item, I still look for it when I want to travel light or when I don't need to carry to much stuff. And that's freedom. Because we are only truly free when we give up.

Missing the forest for the trees!

Or actually... missing the trees for the forest. Most of the times I'm to concerned with the big picture (after all it's what landscape photography is all about, right?). But a few weeks ago I've decided to go to my cherished mountains with the Nikon D300 and just two lenses: the trusty Tamron SP 90mm Macro AF and my new Sigma 18-50mm EX DC. I have to tell you that my first true attempt to macro photography ended in complete frustration. I was expecting that things were easier. But I guess in photography, as much as in everything, if we don't feel the pain we'll not experience any gain. So, I devoted an entire afternoon to a single drop of water. I can hear you, macro-pros, already, crying: A whole afternoon????

Yep. Give it or take it a few minutes. But I'm a newbie. So I guess I deserve a little slack. First I had to find the right background. Then... the bloody wind was refusing to stop. Finally I had to deal with tripod vibration. It can actually be huge with that lens focused half'n inch from the famous drop. Focus. That, I think, is the major problem. To make it perfect requires... surgical eyes. Forget auto-focus. I'm not sure if it works for the demanded sharpness. And the best way seems to be pre-focusing the lens and then moving the whole rig using  a macro/micro plate connecting the camera to the tripod head. I've tried the old method: let's call it focus bracketing. Several pictures in a row, from front focus to rear focus. One of them would, hopefully, be on focus. This was the best result. Nevertheless, sharpness in the picture is somewhat still compromised.
I guess the wind was too much for that afternoon attempt. And the pine limb wasn't stopping for a second.

Nikon D300
Tamron SP AF 90mm f2.8
Manfrotto 190XDB tripod
Manfrotto 490 RC4 ballhead


Already on the descent, I've noticed this kind Chrysanthemum (in portuguese: Malmequer) flourishing in a rock crack. I shifted lens and snapped this one:

Nikon D300
Sigma DC 18-50mm f2.8 EX Macro HSM
Manfrotto 190XDB tripod
Manfrotto 490 RC4 ballhead