I said yesterday’s walk was the Island’s most popular, well maybe for serious hikers as this morning there were crowds heading to the lighthouse. Not Virginia Woolf’s soul searching one. We had a leisurely start after the usual bar desayuno – freshly pulped orange, tomato tostada and a coffee, not bad for 3euro. The coffee on the Canary Islands varies in quality, I think they grow and roast their own which often has an unusual taste.
Navigating out of town was made easier than usual by heading for a black volcano cone. A large visitor centre has been built here, Volcan de San Antonio which erupted 1677. It looked interesting but only accessible through the centre who charge for the privilege.
We followed the fence around it down ash slopes where vineyards have been established.
Ahead was Volcan Teneguia which erupted as recently as 1971, it makes you wonder when the next one will be. [watch the video below] The path alternated between blocky larva flow and very loose ash, all the time aiming for the Atlantic and the two lighthouses at Faro. The last time I’d seen such young rock was on Iceland from where I picked up a specimen only 2 years old.
A few fishing boats were bobbing in the waves off what looked an inhospitable coast. We commented on the fact that you hardly ever see a seagull.
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead—
There were no birds to fly.
By now there was a steady stream of walkers coming down the paths to join the crowds of tourists arriving by car to look around the salt pans at the Faro. The original basalt lighthouse had been decommissioned following tremor damage and replaced with the more modern one in 1985, but this is automated now.
On the larva beach there are extensive salt pans and today men were working in them, not sure how much of a commercial venture this is or more of a tourist attraction.
We retreated to the pleasant veranda above the shops’ hustle and bustle for a beer and tapas, papas arrugadus and cheese croquettes with mojo sauce. We were feeling pleased with ourselves for finishing this difficult four day section of the GR131 and planned the next two days. We had descended from 2426m to sea level and in those days also climbed 2200m if you see what I mean – no easy downhill.
Slowly the place filled up with walkers quenching their thirsts before catching the bus back to their hotel or Fuencaliente. We joined them for the bus trip first along the coast through all enclosing banana plantations to a ghastly looking hotel complex in the middle of nowhere then back up the twisting roads to town. We picked up our rucksacs from the pension, yes we had enjoyed an easy morning unburdened, and caught the next bus up to the east coast, Los Cancajos. Strangely it was only when we alighted here that I realised I could hardly walk for pain in my hip. On that recent trip to Cornwall I had noticed pain with all the steep steps but ignored it prior to coming here. Presuming it was just spasm from sitting I soaked in the bath and had a beer only to find I could hardly walk to the restaurant for supper. Tomorrow was to be another long committing walk down the central caldera from Roque de los Muchachos towards the west coast with no escape possibilities. I agonised over dinner and prompted by JD cancelled the early morning taxi to the summit. Once that was decided we enjoyed a very good local red, Tamanca Negramoll, changed plans and hobbled off to bed.
[ Just a word of praise for our apartment block, La Caleta. The staff couldn’t have been more friendly, they were interested in our exploits and very helpful with our change of plans. The rooms were basic but spacious, lovely pool area, tranquil atmosphere and good dining. https://www.lacaletaapartamentos.com/en/home.html ]
What it really was like…