The wind got up on Montana Tinasoria in the night and it was fairly cold when I packed up before dawn and headed down towards all the sparking lights of the towns below.
No sign of life in La Asomada or Tegoyo, where a whole hillside had been concreted to catch and syphon water into tanks, a giant version of some in the Burren.
Hoping for a cafe con leche I was disappointed that the bar in Concil was also shut.
By now there were people working in the black ash fields. Women in straw hats with head scarves were planting out the seedlings while the men raked away the weeds.
This ash, I think called lapalii, is fertile and holds moisture so is actually layed on land without it as a topsoil.
Coming from an Irish garden it was amazing to see the spuds, peas, onion, corn and beans all well up already.
The land was surprising green in many places.

If you look closely you may, in the left hand distance see the little white dot that was my home last night. You know what they say in the song” wherever I lay my pack, that’s my home”

There was a bit of a slog up to a gap on Montana Blanca before dropping down to the village where the bar was also shut.

By now in need of refreshment and servicios I headed into San Bartolome rather than take the looped path.
I discovered a wonderful ethnographical museum there stuffed with thousands of artifacts from the island throughout all ages and lovely gardens and terraces covered in mosaics.

A long and winding dirt road then led me through a sandy area where the produce is known as El Jable (the sand)crops

The track stretched into the distance but the walk was made pleasant by the sweet smell of the countless allysums(?) floating on the breeze.
I approached Teguise on a curving sandy track passed simple little houses with veg plots.

On the outskirts of town, an ancient capital I spied this strange collection of sculpture and many mora like it.

The town was full of old buildings and spacious plazas and terraces. It seemed artistic and trendy with a wealth of restaurants, galleries,interior designer, fashionable clothes shops and well heeled foreigners, but no hostels, pensions or Casa rurals.

Exploring a back alley to photograph this dog on the roof

I came upon a surf shop ( this town is in the middle of the island) and thought I bet they would help a traveller. And they did. Lovely people from France Madrid and Venezuela.
A comfy bed, a good meal with fresh veg and a real bathroom to wash the sand and ash away.

So I take back any negative comments I may have made earlier on in the blog about the good people of the waves.