Our conversation at breakfast was a strange mixture of Italian/French/English/Spanish, seemed to work. The resident hens provided superb fresh scrambled eggs for breakfast and the ginger kitten wanted to come with me. A detour around an observatory had me back on route. The Canary Islands are famous for their star gazing opportunities and observatories, it would have been good to spend time in this one. A prominent windmill was my next point, this one having originally six sails where most have four. An information board here told of las parcelas – plots of land given to settlers last century and now mostly abandoned. The photo from yesterday showed the modern version of ‘parcelas’ distribution. Full circle.
The next stage was desolate barren land, I could see why a trail shelter I passed would be useful. The rolling hills to the north looked beautiful though and little rural houses reminded me of Tunisia which I used to visit often, how times have changed there! Further on, approaching a town identical unimaginative modern properties built on parcels of land lining the road. Each had its own barking dog tethered to a kennel, there must be a good business in prefabricated kennels. The village of Llanos de la Concepcion had nothing to offer apart from an 18th century chapel so I pushed on to Valle de Sante Ines where there was a very welcoming roadside shop/bar run by a delightful lady who provided lunch on the terrace watching the world go by. The world consisted of the occasional local popping into the shop for a minor item and on the road a steady stream of cycling clubs powering through. When I arrived the music was Spanish but subtlety changed to a Rod Stewart rock album whilst I dined – nice touch señora, hasta luego.
Convoluted lanes eventually led me out of town into a fertile valley heading to the hills where yesterday’s storms had been raging. Height was gained on roads then suddenly the GR went off at right angles onto a paved path straight into the hills. A fairly direct ascent took me towards Coral de Guize at 588m, human statues on the pass seemed to be belittling my slow upward progress. On arrival at the windy pass I fell into conversation with a German cyclist with tales of yesterday’s floods and the wonderful winter training opportunities. We collaborated with photos emphasing the scale of the statues, indigenous Guanche chieftains from the Island’s past.
An ancient path led down into Betancuria whilst the road wound its modern way down on the other side of the valley. Betancuria was at one time capital of the Island and is dominated by its church. Little lanes run everywhere, Little cafes serve coffee. I had been unable to find accommodation here prior to leaving UK and was due to catch the last bus out at 4.30 to Puerto del Rosario. This gave me time to inquire about Tomas who has rooms in town. The first cafe I went into knew him, phoned him and arranged for me to meet him. His apartments were not easy to find but having done so I obtained contact details for a subsequent visit, all very useful. On the bus out were two ladies who had forsaken their all inclusive holiday in Fuste to experience inland villages off the tourist trail – good on them and I hope they made it back for happy hour. I was happy with my simple hotel at the heart of Puerto del Rosario overlooking the harbour.