Cabo Girão

Feel the floor beneath your feet. It is glass, cool and faintly smudged by thousands of other shoes. Below it there is nothing at all — only air, then a long drop to a strip of green fields, then the white edge of the Atlantic breaking on dark stones. Wind comes up the face of the cliff and presses against you. Gulls hang in it without moving their wings. This is Cabo Girão, on the south coast of Madeira, and you are standing at one of the highest sea cliffs in Europe.

The figure most often given is around 580 metres from the edge to the water. That number is hard to feel, so try this. Look down at the waves. The white foam looks soft and slow, like something in a photograph. In fact, those are heavy Atlantic swells hitting rock with real force. They only look gentle because they are so far away. Many visitors spend their first minute here very quiet. That is a normal reaction. Your body understands the height before your mind does.

The glass platform you may be standing on is often called the skywalk. It was added in the early 2010s, built out from the old viewpoint so that people could stand directly above the void. Before it existed, visitors leaned on a railing and looked out. Now you can look straight down between your own feet. Some people walk to the centre at once. Others edge forward slowly, holding the rail. Both approaches are fine. The cliff has been here far longer than any of us, and it is not in a hurry.

Now look at the rock face itself, to your left and right. You can see bands in it — darker layers and lighter layers, stacked like pages in a closed book. Madeira is a volcanic island. These layers formed as lava flows and ash built up, one on top of another, over a very long time. Then the sea began to cut into the edge of the island. The waves worked at the base, the rock above fell away, and slowly this wall was exposed. You are looking at the inside of a volcano, opened by water.

The name has a story attached to it. According to a popular tradition, when Portuguese navigators first explored this coast in the early fifteenth century, this cape was the point where they turned back. The word girão is linked to the Portuguese verb girar, which means to turn. So the name is often explained as the cape of turning. It is a tidy and appealing story. Treat it as a local tradition rather than a settled fact — but it is easy to imagine a small wooden ship stopping here, faced with this wall.

Now look down to the base of the cliff. There, between the rock and the sea, you will see small fields. They look almost impossible. These pieces of flat land are called fajãs. A fajã forms when part of a cliff collapses, or when debris builds up at the bottom, and creates a low shelf beside the ocean. The soil is good, the sun is strong, and the sea keeps the air mild. For generations, farmers have worked these tiny plots, growing vegetables and vines.

Here is something many visitors miss. For a long time, the only way down to those fields was by steep paths or by boat. Imagine carrying tools, seed and harvests up and down a wall like this one. Today there is a cable car that runs from the top of the cliff down to the fajãs. Its cabins look very small against the rock. If you watch for a few minutes, you may see one moving along its line. It is a working route for farmers as well as a ride for visitors.

Lift your eyes now and look east, along the coast. On a clear day you can see Funchal, the capital of Madeira, spread across the hills around its bay. White houses with orange roofs climb the slopes. Closer to you is the town of Câmara de Lobos, with its small harbour and fishing boats. The town's name refers to sea wolves — an old Portuguese way of describing the monk seals that once lived in the coves here. The seals are rare now, but the name stayed.

Câmara de Lobos has another well-known visitor in its story. Winston Churchill came to Madeira in 1950 and painted the harbour of the town. He set up his easel and worked on the view of boats and houses by the water. People in the town still remember this visit with some pride. When you go down to the harbour later, you can look at the same scene. The boats are still painted in strong colours, and fishermen still mend their lines there.

Now turn around and look inland, at the slopes behind the viewpoint. You will probably see terraces cut into the hillsides. These narrow steps of land are called poios on Madeira. They were built by hand, with walls of stone holding back the soil. Many of them grow grapes for Madeira wine, a fortified wine that this island has exported for centuries. Banana plants are also common on the warmer lower slopes. Almost every flat surface you can see on this island was made flat by people.

The weather here changes quickly, and it is worth paying attention to it. Clouds often form over the mountains in the centre of the island and roll down towards the coast. At Cabo Girão, you may see a cloud drift over the cliff edge and pour down the face like slow water. A few minutes later, the view can be completely clear again. If you arrive and see only grey, wait a little. The island often gives the view back. Morning light usually falls more gently on the coast.

Listen for a moment. Under the voices of other visitors, you can hear the wind moving across the edge of the cliff. Sometimes you can hear birds calling below you — and that is a strange experience, hearing birds from above. You might notice the smell of eucalyptus or pine from the trees around the car park. On warm days there is also the faint salt smell of the sea, carried up the cliff by the wind. These small sensations are part of the place.

Before you leave, stand still at the railing for one more minute. Look at the line where the sea meets the sky. Look at the fields at the bottom, and try to find a single path or a single wall. Somebody built that wall, stone by stone, with the ocean at their back. Then look at the glass under your feet, and at the people around you, all leaning forward over the same drop.

When you walk back towards the road, notice how the noise of the wind fades as soon as you step away from the edge. The ground feels very solid again. The cliff is still there behind you, as it was for the first sailors and the first farmers. Take the quiet with you down the hill — into Câmara de Lobos, to the harbour, to the boats, and to the sea that you have just seen from so very high above.