Spotting wild specimens of our garden plants is a thrill of visiting Madeira
There was one plant I really wanted to photograph in Madeira last month. The disc houseleek (Aeonium glandulosum) is a common species on this tiny Atlantic island, marooned off Africa. At this time of the year, before its flattened rosette of succulent leaves erupts into a froth of yellow flowers, it is just a comical green splat of foliage on the vertical rock faces that are a feature of this volcanic island. It presses so tightly against the sheer walls of black basalt that it might be glued in place.
Although you wouldn't expect it from a succulent, which are more often sun-lovers, it lives mainly on the misty and damp north side of the island. Here the roads are narrow, winding and precipitous, and no matter how often I shouted "Aeonium!" - as instructed by my husband, who was busy keeping the car from plunging thousands of metres - we never found a place that was safe to stop for a photograph.
I had better luck with Melanoselinum decipiens, or black parsley. A fine specimen was perfectly posed right by the roadside (with parking a few convenient paces away), its caps of faded pink blossom and jagged leaves set importantly against a majestic backdrop of roughly scissored peaks and drifting cloud.
This noble umbellifer is biennial or monocarpic; that is, it takes two or more years to flower - which it does prolifically - then dies. But, as with most plants that have only one shot at reproducing, it leaves thousands of seeds behind to carry on its bloodline. Melanoselinum can grow to three metres tall, which earns it another of its common names, tree angelica; but here, 1,000m above sea level on an exposed mountainside, it was a chunky and close-knit, metre-high individual.
Keen Irish gardeners will recognise it as a plant that has become all the rage in recent years. Its strong and wild appearance make it a desirable candidate for today's naturalistic gardens. It's not pretty, but it has a handsome and slightly brutal presence, especially when being buzzed from all directions by bees and flies, and lit upon by the occasional butterfly.
Madeira is a small island, just 63km by 23km at its longest and widest measurements, with a roster of more than 1,200 native plant species. More than 10 per cent are endemic; that is, they are found nowhere else. Others, such as the dome-shaped and honey-scented shrub Euphorbia mellifera, and the dainty orange-flowered ground-hugger Lotus glaucus, are shared with the Canary Islands.
Yet this tiny scrap of a place, 100 times smaller than our own small island, has the world's largest remaining indigenous laurel forest, or "laurisilva", a vegetation type that was once widespread across Europe but is now almost extinct. It covers about 20 per cent of Madeira (150 sq km) between the altitudes of 300m and 1,300m, where it mops up the mist and fog and rain. Its survival until now must be largely thanks to its inaccessibility, for much of the island is crumpled and rumpled into deep valleys and near-perpendicular mountains. In most places these sudden heights and dips are traversed only (if at all) by a lacework of narrow paths and irrigation channels - Madeira's famous levadas - making it a paradise for fearless walkers immune to vertigo.
The laurisilva is garlanded with a host of ecological designations, including being designated a World Heritage site by Unesco in 1999. Madeirans are rightly proud of this ancient treasure, and they protect it from development and other human interference - although some of the lower levels are interspersed with acacia, eucalyptus and pine, planted for timber during the last century. In parts, however, these fast-growing, thirsty aliens are being removed.
Recolonising of native species is carried on with gusto. Last month, while we motored along the high plateau of Paul da Serra, admiring hundreds of neatly rabbit-proofed saplings, a large black saloon raced by us, followed by a convoy of jeeps and pick-up trucks. We discovered that we had narrowly missed (both in time and with our small car) the island province's president, Alberto João Jardim, who had just attended a ceremony celebrating the reforestation of 4,841 hectares of barren land. According to the next day's Jornal da Madeira, 37,587 indigenous laurels, wax myrtles, tree heathers and Madeiran bilberries had been planted, thanks to a €226,270 grant from the EU.
One of the more common laurisilva inhabitants familiar to Irish gardeners is Clethra arborea, the lily-of-the-valley tree, whose large panicles of scented, bell-like flowers give it its name. As with most plants that have emigrated from their balmy home to our island, it needs a milder garden. It also requires an acid soil.
The most famous Madeiran special, however, Echium candicans, is unfussy about the pH at its feet, as long as there is plenty of good drainage. Also known as "pride of Madeira", this grey-leaved shrub hoists up candles of bluey-mauve blossom from April until summer. It thrives in Irish gardens, especially if you give it poor soil in a sunny spot. It is fast growing, so it becomes gangly and threadbare after a few years, but because it usually produces seedlings at its feet, there is a new generation waiting to take over when the old plant is put out of its misery. E nervosum, a slightly less glamorous relative, with smaller drumsticks of flower, blooms from late winter until late summer, and is more prevalent at lower altitudes in Madeira, including along the coast - so it is this shrubby echium that most visitors see first.
Another of this small island's plants that has driven Irish gardeners to distraction is Geranium maderense. This monocarpic plant (sometimes short-lived perennial) makes a great mound of beautifully dissected foliage, out of which erupts a fireworks display of cerise stars, borne on brown stalks with purple hairs. For years this was a must-have for all "good" (ie, competitive) gardeners. It's a fine sight, but the slightly less posh G palmatum, also from Madeira, is easier to place in the garden, as it doesn't need so much space and isn't such a show-off.
Spotting wild specimens of our garden plants is one of the thrills of visiting Madeira, but equally interesting are the ingenious agricultural terraces that march hundreds of metres up the steep mountainsides. These diminutive patches of order on loan from the mountains were originally built and maintained by African slaves, centuries ago. Bananas - an important export - now prevail on the south side of the island, while on the north a black tracery of grapevines is underplanted with potatoes, broad beans and other vegetables. In every way, this Atlantic island is a cornucopia for gardeners.
We paid under €800 each for flights and one week's B&B in Madeira. See www.panoramaholidays.ie