LA GOMERA 20th JAN

A cosy night in the outhouse listening to more howling wind outside was followed by a morning climbing. First on tarred road then dirt track followed by sandy trails and earthern paths and wooden steps to reach a road at over 1000mt.

The town had an imposing lump of rock hanging over it and fantastic flowers clung to the walls above the road into the mountains.

When the tar ran out the tracks weaved their way steeply back and forth past more and more isolated terraces and fincas. Eventually the farms ran out too and the narrow path plunged into dense vegetation to emerge every so often to ever higher viewpoints.

The cloud was on the mountain tops but they were still a fair bit higher and I was grateful for the shade they provided as I walked the varied ways.

I entered the Parque Nacional de Garajonay, the protected area taking up most of the highlands and containing the largest juniper forest in the Canaries.
But I was in the giant laurisilver cloud forest where the common mists dressed the trees in garlands of dripping lichen.

Once I had reached the high road I had to share the nice gently flat trails with many other hikers, and there were many other trails signed to left and right.

As on El Hierro I had entered the cloud around 1000mt and it was wet and cold enough for waterproofs and gloves. The sun was tantalisingly shining brightly behind the thin veil of misty drizzle which would wear out every so often to let the light shine through.
At Las Hayas it was bright and warm momentarily

And then as the scenery became increasingly dramatic it became increasingly hidden.

A narrow stone paved path led down a cliff edge and across a pretty stream bed through terraces overlooking the gorge of Valle Gran Rey.

With the rain and mist still swirling around and after another 1500 mt climb it was with relief that I walked into Chipude, past the communal washing area.

I was glad, with the cloudy and damp conditions to have a bed awaiting me in the hikers favorite Hotel Sonia but the cod and wet couldn’t take away the beauty of this isand and in the sun I imagine it could look like Shangri La.

LA GOMERA 19th JAN

Last night the resort of Los Christianos on Tenerife was a throbbing mass of humanity on holiday, mostly elderly, out to have a good time. The streets were busy with mobility scooters and lined with outlets for intoxicants.
Sucked into the vortex of the unholy alliance between cheap drink and holiday Bon homme I hung out for awhile in a dispiriting English karaoke bar where a slick suited and haired master of ceremonies tried to whip up some enthusiasm. I liked the sign announcing that due to local “noise pollution” laws, the doors would have to shut at 12!
I retired upstairs to the Irish bar where the fun was warm and open and I enjoyed a Jameson’s and a Guinness.

After all the excitement I had a good nights sleep in a dorm with six others at a sea front dive centre, and after a few errands in the morning ( I found a great replacement for my lost long sleeve top in a charity shop) I was back on a ferry.

Just over an hour later we dock at San Sebastián on Gomera with just enough time to get the bus to Vallehermoso where the route starts at the beach.

The bus journey took me through a big chunk of the island and my first impressions were of wild green lushness. High topped with deep canyons and jagged peaks. Palms and cactus and cloud over red tiled roofs.

Signs for hiking routes that snaked away through the mountains, orange trees gone feral and vertigo inducing switchback roads.
Steps of neat and fertile, stone walled terraces stacked one above the other in the water fed ravines and across the mountain slopes.

The seafront was windy with crashing waves, certainly no call for the thatched sunshades or loungers.
The cliff bottom road to the strange Castillo del Mar had been completely destroyed by both the sea and the crumbling cliff. Originally built to process, store and load bananas onto boats it had become a private property and is now a cut off folly.

Certainly no sheltered spots down on the coast so I started to walk up the valley and found myself a little abandoned finca to call home for the night.

It’s another 1500mt climb tomorrow so I shall let the croaking of the frogs in the barranco serenade me to sleep.

EL HIERRO 18th JAN

A mercifully short days hike today after what I consider to be the Herculean efforts of yesterday. In fact I could have had a couple of extra hours in bed I overestimated the time needed so much.
Still when I got out to where I had finished last night I was glad I hadn’t camped. It was still in the cloud and cold and wet.
I started off through a kind of forest park and then continued slowly downhill on old cobbled and sandy tracks.

It really was as if I was on a Sunday walk at home with muddy boreens and Friesian cows.

The stone walls were coated in signs of clinging damp.

The way was lined with plants both familiar from home like brambles, bracken willow and lush clover and also more exotic species that differentiated it from Ireland.

There was agave, giant cistus(?),heather trees, avocado, eucalyptus and geranium hedges. A host of other plants I don’t know the name of but am sure I’ve seen them in pots in garden centres with expensive labels attached.
I stayed up In the mist until back down in Valverde.

The path down to the ferry port was the old road where all goods arriving or leaving the island would have been taken by mule.

The end in sight it started to get sunny and by the time I arrived the island looked different.

I spotted a plaque commemorating 400 years of the pilgrimage down the road I had just travelled over the spine of El Hierro.

So now a ferry to Tenerife in order to catch a ferry to Gomera. And just to let you know I have now taken over half a million steps. 500819

EL HIERRO 17th JAN

Last night the wind settled a bit, the clouds cleared and I lay in my bivvy looking up at an infinite number of twinkling stars above me, and watched them circle slowly through the sky as the night wore on.
Up in the half light, the flashes of the lighthouse intermittently revealing the way ahead, I climbed steeply through the lava fields up to the road I had been left at the night before.

It was a fine clear morning and the clouds seemed to be off the top of the mountains but still a strong wind to struggle against.

Leaving the road I continued to climb on a rocky path up through the lush vegetation, passing a few simple cave houses, to the Ermita de Los Reyes.
New Year’s Eve 1545 a boat is becalmed off the coast where the faro is now. The sailors row ashore and tell the local shepherds they have no food. Food is exchanged for a statue of the Virgin Mary and when the statue leaves the boat the wind picks up and they sail away.
The sheperds are very pleased with the statue, place it in a cave for 20 years then build the capel for it.

In 1614 there is a terrible drought and other folk remedies and deities having failed to sort things out the statue of the Virgin Mary is carried to the capital, Valverde, whereupon the heavens open and disaster is averted.
Even since thousands of pilgrims have re enacted the event every 4 years.

Struggling ever higher the landscape grew greener with real grass and cows sheep and goats that were free to roam. If it wasn’t for the presence of many volcano craters it could have been Galway.

I reached a point where I could see over the northern side of the island and the village of Sabinosa I’d got the bus to.

At this point I was at 980mt, but still had to climb to just over 1500mt.
At about 1200mt as I was huffing and puffing my way up a miraculous vision burst upon me. No, not the Virgin but three beautiful fit young Lycra clad Spanish women running down the track and smiling sweetly as they passed. They were soon gone leaving only their fresh perfume in their wake.

Then things started to get cold as I got up into the cloud passing the Cruz de Los Humilladeros at 1220mt.

Passing heather trees, juniper, pines and laurisilva I walked on high forest tracks.

Untill eventually after working my way up a bare ash slope with the wind howling and the cloud and most swirling I was rewarded by the views from the top of El Hierro, Malpaso.

Ah well at least it was down hill from there. Although not a lot and not very rapidly. The cloud did part from time to time allowing snatches of views to the south.

I finally got to the end of the day’s stage. It had taken me 9 hours and was supposed to take 7. I blame a heavy pack and a very strong wind against me. Trouble was I was still in the cloud and still cold and didn’t facing camping there.
I decided to carry on another 9km to San Andrés where my phone told me there was a Casa rural and an Air B+B so hopefully I’d find a room.
I couldn’t.
But I had a good meal with a Norwegian couple and a taxi to a cheap room in Valverde for a hot bath and warm bed.

EL HIERRO 16th JAN

I have made it to the Faro ( lighthouse ) de Orchilla, the start of the GR131 on El Hierro.
It took me 2 plane flights, 2 buses, a walk,a lucky lift and another walk.
It was simpler, quicker and nearly as cheap for me to get a through flight via Tenerife than get a plane and then ferry.
The planes operated by Binter are twin prop and connect all the islands. They also fly to the Portuguese islands and a few cities in Africa. It’s half price for residents as it is on the ferries too.
All very civilised on board with attentive hostesses handing out free papers,water,snackbars,boiled sweets and scented wipes.
The landing strip was a bit tight between the cliffs and the sea but no bother.
I have just walked past a monument to the zero meridian.
Before Columbus set sail from here to America this was the end of the western world.
It seems a very quiet laid back kind of place and very green. I was struck to see trees again. I was also struck by how steep and mountainous the island is, since I have to go from sea level to the top tomorrow.
It has actually got pretty wild here at the moment and I have got my rain coat out for the first time.
I got a bus to the end of the line at Sabinosa and hiked down to the northern coast road hoping for a lift some of the way out here. As I said, it’s quiet here so there were no cars on the road. I hadn’t realised the height of the mountains between me and the starting point and was reluctantly shouldering my pack when a German couple stopped and took me way beyond where they had intended going. And thank god they did, it was a hard enough climb for the hire car.

The view towards the faro.

It’s totally rigged lava flow here. Different again to what I saw on fuerteventura and lanzarote with lots of tubes and bubbles.

But it’s getting even wilder and I need to batten the hatches, get some rest before I walk the Camino of the Virgin tomorrow.

LANZAROTE 15 JAN

24 km today to Orzola, to finish the GR131 in Lanzarote.
It was a beautiful day, both in terms of walking and weather.
Leaving a sleeping household in Teguise I crossed the plaza that containers the biggest market on the island every Sunday, past the football ground and school and headed for the hills. Literally, because today I crossed the highest ground on Lanzarote.
A dirt track took me passed more vegetable plots and then I started to ascend on a stony track.
Looking back I could see Teguise and the castle above it turning rosy in the rising sunlight.

At the top of the crest I joined a broad dirt road that continued to climb towards the distant mountain top.
The little chapel de las Nieves, originally Moorish, stood out against the blue sky at 590mts.
Around the back of it began a dramatic cliff path, not routed as part of the 131, that avoids a few kms of tarmac and gives the finest trekking on the whole route.

Penas Del Cache, the highest point on the island comes into view, crowned with the domes of a military installation.

A truly beautiful route with spectacular volcanic cliffs towering over a view of the whole southend of the island.
A less attractive view was supplied by the farm I could smell way before I could see it.

Not exactly free range.
On the steep descent towards Haria a stony path formed a double helix with a zig zag hairpin road

I exchanged waves with a man out pruning his grapes.

On the village edge I stopped for a rest in the garden of the Cesar Manrique house and museum. The artist and architect who died in 1992 spent the last years of his life transforming a traditional house in a style that is still so redolent in the design of buildings on the island. His ideas, taken on board by authorities, enabled the island to preserve its visual integrity and stopped the Costa becoming a high rise hell. The simple elegant cubist villages were there before Manrique but he saw their value and showed how to adapt them for modern times.
Even the toilets in the garden oozed with style.

Pushing on through Haria and Montana Los Llanos I spotted a taxi driver pulling over and dashing into some prickly pears before going back and showing his customers what he had. Guessing they were the cochineal beetle I went over for a look. Sure enough, and when he smudged the poor little things it was dramatic how much vivid red came from them.

A further longish climb had me sweating and wishing for the wind back because it did cool.
Mind you the lengths people go to to protect their plants from the wind is extreme.

At the foot of Monte Corona I looked back at the hills id crossed earlier.

Finally it was a long decent down dirt track and nice ash path through the jagged lava towards the Aloe Vera fields outside Orzola.

Where disappointingly there was no signboard to announce the finish of the 73 kms of the Lanzarote leg of the Canaries Gr131. However there was a Christmas tree

LANZAROTE 14th JAN

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.

LANZAROTE 13 th Jan

My tent is up for the first time this trip. So far I’ve just been in the bivvy bag but it could be windy or drizzly tonight so thought I’d risk it ( it’s technically illegal )

I’m up here with the parascenders and the hangliders on the slopes of Montana Tinasoria about 10km past the end of the 1st stage in Yaiza.
I was glad to get out of Playa Blanca although if I’d made it to the kariokie it seems I would never had wanted to.

A bit of a haul through the outskirts of the resort and a dirt track had me hiking past more of the empty developments

but soon enough I was on the trail proper through the recently marked and signed lava fields. The day was dull and cloudy and the black ash fields did little to brighten it.

I could see over to the west coast as I picked my way carefully over the rocks. With my hiking poles probing and searching for solid ground and balance I felt like some kind of insect with twitching feelers.
Up past a goat farm into Brena which had the best cactus gardens I’ve seen and the first of the grape pits I was to see thousands of later.

On again on some ancient old laid stone track for awhile as I struggled into the accursed headwind yet again.
I stopped for awhile in the Aloe Vera museum in Yaiza to get out of it and discovered thatChristopher Columbus said it was one of the four indispensable veg for wellbeing along with the grape the olive and wheat. It was also what sustained Gandhi during his long fasts.
I also found out that the lichen I’d been seeing aplenty was orchilla and had been a major earner as a source of a purple or violet dye, the colour of kings and bishops. And the cochineal beatle that supplied the valuable red dye breeds and lives on the prickly pear cactus and was introduced after the conquistadores saw it in Mexico.
The best quality in the world is still produced by hand here in a couple of villages.
Between Yaiza and Uga is a narrow path through the lava field that the camels who work in the natural park use.

It was from here that the parish priest of Yaiza watched and wrote about the huge eruption of Timanfaya in 1730 that spread all this lava about.
In Uga the information signs ran out temporarily

Before coming back in droves

Then we were really up into the ashfields and grape pits

After seeing no one hiking the route on Fuerteventura this afternoon I passed 3 couples coming the other way. On and on up and up to the pass where I saw the gliders and chutes and it was nice to watch them.

But now I’ve been standing In a cold wind for too long to get a signal and I’m glad I have the tent to get warm in.

FUERTEVENTURA 12th Jan

On my way down to the harbour for the ferry to Lobos I came upon more signs that the surfing community are work shy. What is it about the enjoyment of that particular element that makes it so militant in its urging that we all drop out. You don’t get that kind of rhetoric from climbers or hang gliders. I don’t know about pyromaniacs.

Anyway if no one works, whose gonna grow your food dude.
Came across a nice guy busking with his sand sculptures.

In the harbour a man who I’d seen collecting rubbish was throwing loads of bread rolls to the fish which were plentiful and big.

A busy harbour with the ferries to Lanzarote, sports fishing boats, sailing boats and some with glass bottoms.

I nearly missed my boat to the island because as the time for departure arrived I was standing on the quay next to the Los Lobos vessel as featured on the info, waving at the English walking group id met yesterday who were about to depart on, as it happens, a glass bottomed boat when the crew started to gesticulate for me to join them. I guess there’s not enough people around for both operators to be running so they doubled up.
15 mins later I was heading off on the very last little bit of the GR 131 on Fuerteventura, and it turned out to be a microcosm of it, with a volcano, sand and resilient people.

My first little detour was to see the salt pans that had been built in the 50’s just before refrigeration made them redundant for preservation. Big clay lined stone walled ponds for evaporation and then crystallisation. Clever stuff but actually nothing compared to what had been going on for century’s on this little dry volcanic lump of land.
The inhabitants had been utilising whatever resources they had to grow barley, wheat and lentils on mass. In other irrigated bits of volcano they grew hemp and flax for rope, they had an industry of salt production and , of course, lime.

Hard to imagine in a landscape like this.
I learnt about a few of the wild plants growing in specialised environments and photographed a lot but no room on this posting. There were a lot of Euphorbia Balsamifera and I got their sticky sap all over me.

At the northern end was the lighthouse that marked the end of the trail but a loop took me around in a circuit.

After passing saltmarches and little shelters and camps I suspect the surfers of making I came up some giant pebble steps to the tiny El Puertito.

A strange little place with fancy modern wood clad restaurant which was shut and a collection of little houses.

Back around to the little harbour with enough time to visit the information centre and get some.
On the return voyage I went below decks to marvel at the wonders of the undersea world but I couldn’t really see any.

Quick turnaround to the Lanzarote ferry had me over here by 3.30 but still to late to pull out of town to find a place to sleep rough in. There was only one thing for it.

FUERTEVENTURA 11th Jan

Coming down from my hilltop eyrie in the soft dawn light, listening ,fittingly to Sigur Ross as I crossed the lava fields, I looked across the stone walled fields to the mountains beyond and thought I could be home in Western Ireland.

Moving down the trail I passed more signs of recent settlers. Some nice new traditional style and modern looking buildings with Adobe walls and clay and straw roofs, unpainted and blending in to the colours of the surrounding landscape. Well tended plots and more windmills and solar panels. I guess the’re off the grid out there. An English horsebox, smart stables and fine looking horses next to a sign advertising Finca Julie riding centre. Right next door another sign for an Eco Farm and the standard collection of buildings, vans and growing spaces. I wondered what drew them to this particular spot. If you feel the urge to leave it all behind there is a parcel available.

Here’s the number to call.
When I got to the road on the approach to Lajares I discovered a mini suburb of shacks and sheds, caravans and vans and a couple of converted shipping containers on what looked to the unfamiliar eye to be waste ground. A call to the wild without much cash ?
Or maybe devoted surfers, there’s certainly plenty of the vibe around. Surf schools, boards, wet suits and branded clothing- it’s all here. And the posters, signs and bumper stickers exhorting you to give it all up to the ocean.
Next door to the Clean Ocean Project
Which looked like it did positive work promoting clean seas, and selling surf gear was the estate agent…FreeLifeFuerteventura – Property and Life.

A good looking bar cafe restaurant gallery on the way out of town was definitely tuned to the lifestyle and it did look attractive but I’m here to walk so I turned my back on it all and gave myself an additional big climb by detouring up a volcano to see the crater.
The sun which had been sulking behind clouds all morning briefly came out to light the scene.

At the top the view was too wide to be able to do justice with my phone.

I was joined at the top by a group of English retiree hikers, one of whom was 86. It gives you hope.
So it was nearly all dirt road walking today and mostly cloudy. In fact even a little bit of hesitant drizzle.
The lava landscape was quite interesting and there was another caldera right next to the road ( could have saved some legwork).

The final approach into Corralejo was a bit dispiriting. I had a view of Lobos ,the little island I hike around tomorrow, behind an empty expanse of failed development dreams.

So that’s Fuerteventura from end to end. I apologise to anyone reading this looking for a route guide. There are two forms of rambling, and I do both.

Steve Barham

Rambling Man