Mountain Climbing in a Fiat 500 on Madeira
The Portuguese Island of Madeira, a few hundred miles off the north coast of Africa, is essentially one huge extinct volcano protruding from the Atlantic Ocean. There is little to no flat land on the entire island and as such many of the roads are twisted, narrow and steeply inclined. The cities are built like stadium seating and any house more than a couple of kilometres inland is all but guaranteed a stunning view of the ocean. At night the island lights up like a giant rocky Christmas tree.
Cámara de lobos. Madeira (by J. A. Alcaide is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)
The last 20 years or so have seen the Madeirans attempt to master mother nature by building an impressive network of tunnels cut into the mountains, and an airport that is literally built out over the sea. If you take the main motorway through the south-east of the island you will drive underneath the main runway, its huge supporting columns looming over you on all sides. Aircraft often approach this runway in an almost sideways fashion to counter the more or less constant cross winds. Scary, but the pilots are evidently used to it and pull straight in the last few seconds before landing.
There are over 150 road tunnels on Madeira, the longest being over 3km. Overtaking within a two lane bi-directional tunnel is perfectly acceptable, and usually carried out by locals in a safe manner. Tailgating, however, seems to be the norm. At the entrance to the tunnels and at regular intervals, a system of traffic lights that remain green for the majority of the time will switch to amber if caution needs to be exercised - think ‘yellow flag’ in a Formula 1 race. Red will appear if you cannot proceed and the tunnel is blocked or a serious incident has occurred.
Despite the incredible infrastructure, much of the island remains accessible only by traditional roads - roads that twist and turn and climb, up and up, above the clouds.
Enter the diminutive 1.2 litre Fiat 500 rental car.
Evidently it’s a common experience when hiring a small city car in Madeira, that the car rental staff will do their best to persuade you into a larger category of car. Their argument being that these small underpowered superminis “will struggle to cope with the steep roads of Madeira”. Listening to their “advice” my brain quickly explores the worst that could happen. Could it really be that the car will reach somewhere so steep that it physically couldn’t climb, even in first gear? A little clutch slipping, tyre burning - it’s a hire car after all, right?
“If these cars aren’t suited to the roads, why am I able to hire one at all?”, I ask. There followed a mumbled response about being part of a big organisation that has to provide all types of car.
A small car, I reason, would in many ways be more suited to the narrow streets of Funchal, the capital, where I was staying - not to mention the equally narrow twisting roads leading towards the centre of the island. The Fiat 500 is as small as it gets, and even has a “city mode” to lighten the (already light and numb) steering for tight city driving. It also felt like the hire car company had set me a challenge —that and the price of the next category up would have doubled my financial outlay! So I politely decline, fire up the 1.2 litre 69 bhp engine and set off down the dual carriageway for the 30 minute drive to Funchal.
After fluffing a few gear changes with my out of practice British right hand, concentrating hard on keeping the little car in the centre of the lane and watching for the fast-merging traffic from the very short onramps, the 500 made it there with just a couple of down-changes into fourth for the steeper parts. If you can catch that familiar drop in power as the car starts to complain, you will hopefully keep out of third gear. Add one or two passengers into the equation however and third gear may start to show its face more regularly.
An embarrassing three point turn later, to get round a 90-degree corner in Funchal - think Jeremy Clarkson in a Lamborghini on the cobbled streets of an historic Italian town - I’ve made it to my temporary home.
Driving through the clouds
After a couple of days of nice flat(ish) coastal driving, my brain is almost fully adapted to its new position on the left of the car. Feeling confident, I head to the centre of the island - where the challenge really begins. The road up to the beautiful viewpoint of Miradouro do Paredão, though sublimely well-paved, is very steep.
In particular, the 2.7km section climbing from 950 to 1450 metres in a Google Maps determined time of just 6 minutes. Turning off the main VE6, you’re met with a sharp hairpin turn on to the road that leads to the spectacular viewpoint. With a mass of two humans in the car and a couple of bags, I take a standard approach and accelerate to around 3,000 rpm and change up into second gear.
The little Fiat immediately bogs down. That all too familiar drop in tempo and the chugging of an unhappy engine - I quickly rethink and downchange into first. Not really surprised, I decide on a new method of 4,000 RPM followed by a quick rally-driver-style change - simple to do with the high mounted gear stick which is always close to hand. The engine is starting to protest loudly now and the gear change indicator has been there for some time - the car is far more optimistic about its ability than I am - and I slam it into second. Perhaps this will be enough, with the engine now sitting at around 3,000 rpm, we should be near peak torque.
Gradually however, the revs begin to die again and amidst the noise of the tortured engine, I hear a familiar synthetic sound. “Bing. Bing. Bing.” - oh no, what’s that then?
I look down at the instrument cluster. “Low fuel warning”. I can relax a little - the combination of petrol guzzling high RPM and the steep incline have triggered the sensors - the car is getting thirsty. No bother I think, manufacturers give you many miles of warning before you’re truly in trouble.
Really going for it this time, I try a 5,500 RPM change. With the engine screaming and my mechanical sympathy starting to kick in - even for a hire car - it’s another quick change into second. Perhaps that was enough! The car has picked up a little momentum and progress is being made up this first part of the climb. The engine is still working hard, but it sounds as though it might be able to hang on. Foot to the floor, not increasing in RPM but also not dropping. Third gear is just pie-in-the-sky wishful thinking at this point.
Feeling pleased with my efforts, I realise that I have already reached the first hairpin bend, and I have to release the accelerator to let the car slow. In a split second, the progress is lost, the engine begins to struggle, and it’s back to first gear. For the next section I resolve to give up my second gear dream, stick to first and drive up at around 3,000 RPM - the now static pitch of the engine beginning to remind me of cars with the famously unloved CVT gearbox.
At this point I take a moment, look across at my passenger who is remaining surprisingly calm. Perhaps there’s internal turmoil but their apparent trust in my car control doesn’t go unnoticed. As a bad passenger and a happy driver, I don’t know if I would feel the same, roles reversed.
Reaching the viewpoint, I pull in and switch the car off. Despite having done very little physically, I feel I share in the Fiats struggle - not quite like I’ve hiked up here myself, but there’s a certain feeling of shared achievement. To add to this feeling of pioneering mountain climbing adventure, there is not a soul to be seen and no other cars. Just a panorama of mountains, low vegetation and the most incredible looking ‘sea’ of marshmallow-like clouds below.
After a stroll over to the designated view point - and around an un-designated one - as I re-approach the car I see a 1960’s Austin Mini cruising past, quickly followed by the subsidence of my feeling of pioneering accomplishment.
The trip downhill is more uneventful. Modern brakes are really well engineered. Despite this I keep the revs high for a little engine braking, and brake in phases rather than keeping them on permanently to allow some cooling. Necessary? possibly not, but I don’t fancy taking the chance.
I don’t think there is a standard paved road in Madeira that an entry level city car can’t handle in first gear. Yes, your poor little right arm might get tired stirring that gearstick and your ears may bleed from the sounds of a tortured engine - but personally I believe it adds a little extra to the experience, and lets you feel you’re part of the drive rather than just a passenger.
With its tiny dimensions, light city mode steering and gear stick directly to hand, the quirky Fiat handled itself gracefully. Even the parking sensors which I normally pretend I don’t need came in handy on many occasions.
Would I hire a Fiat 500 in Madeira again? Yes, I would.
See my video review of a Fiat 500 TwinAir here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-13BfNYw5VM
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