Busy doing nothing

‘But what do you do?’ is one of the desperately searching questions we receive from time to time from puzzled guests. It is a fair point. After all, they have usually just arrived at our haven of ‘splendid isolation’ having driven from the nearest town of Barlovento some 25 minutes away. It is a fairly tortuous route which will take them on a switch-back of mountain road, swooping helplessly in and out of ravines and clinging nervously to single track sections with their charming, yet sincere, no-coming-back drop-offs. Plus of course they will have been through the numerous reflex testers - blind bends - meeting with a 4 x 4/ bus/ horse/ cow-laden lorry/ hire car on the wrong side of the road. Or even more unnervingly, a herd of goats gazing into space or a thoughtless rock fall just around the corner. In the course of those 25 stimulating minutes and through some of the most spectacular and up-lifting scenery on the island, they will have travelled only 13 km.

At the suggestion that we might exist in a rabid vacuum of boredom, our little hermit-like backs ruffle as we absent-mindedly plait escaping ear hair.

But in an effort to try and not be too prickly, I try and analyse it and wonder just what we do do on this secluded island.

I think the whole debacle simply comes down to the fact that we live on this beautiful island and we are not on a holiday where the prime requisites are eating out, laying on the beach and evening entertainment, all of which to some extent can be done even in the rural north. And so, since we live here, we find the days are just never long enough to fit in all the varied things we want to do. Of course, we have the usual chores that house owning brings – cleaning, general maintenance, home improvements, to name but a few. Not to mention around 2 acres of land where we try and coax life into vegetables which will in turn coax life into us. Then there is shopping which, due to our ‘remote’ location is usually a whole day event from which we return exhausted and with such a huge amount of groceries, we declare that we will ‘never have to shop again’. Then there are our neighbours who deserve at least the occasional visit to assure them that we are still alive (though not always visibly) and to check that none of them have accidently got kicked in the face by a bull, chopped their thumb off or turned their car upside down in a ditch – all of which have happened, incidentally.

Then there is writing (ah yes, there is a book in it – the void is being filled as we speak AKA: watch this space), learning to play the guitar (of which approximately 3 minutes per occasional day is allocated until frustration sets in), walking and swimming.

In addition to which we are lucky enough to be able to socialise further afield. A visit to our time-generous friends for an afternoon of bar-b-que and banter (and maybe some guitar playing for a real treat, though not by us I hasten to add) is unexpectedly mind-soothing and always makes us wonder why we can’t be that nice.

And camping.

Ah, the bliss of camping. And so we pack up and set off to find some more splendid isolation on another part of the island. And La Palma offers this reckless past-time in such a seemingly inadvertent, almost casual way that makes it such a surprising delight. The recipe is simple. Take an altitude of 1,500 metres above sea level, plant more pine trees than you can possibly count, sit back for more years than you can ever remember and watch them grow. Then put a camp site in the middle of it with a generous, yet semi-secluded, scattering of bar-b-que cabins complete with free fire wood.

It is a formula for success. To wake up in the woods, washed by dappled sunlight, has got to be one of the more special moments in life. To stretch your arms in still sleepy wakefulness, where the trees reach to the sky has got to be, well, where it's all about.

Flying the flag of freedom

Pictured here is a friendly raven who resides ‘up top,’ namely the Roque de Muchachos. We call him Ronaldo Raven (obviously) and he really is quite a poser for the camera. First he sits atop the trig point and then when he feels he has attracted all the photos he reasonably can expect, he has a short fly over to the information hut for more snaps.

The raven is a member of the chough family which is the symbolic bird of the island. This bird has a distinctive red beak and likes to inhabit caves, of which there are any number on the island, so housing will certainly not be an issue.

However, bird watching is probably not the first thought that will spring to mind when you think of La Palma. And it is true that to the undiscerning eye, the skies will appear to be fairly devoid of bird life, and since hedgerows are not necessarily abundant, it could be claimed to be true.

But it is in fact far from the truth as you will readily discover and even while you are still in bed, you will be aware of bird life. First the blackbird will have a good splash in the pond, carrying out its ablutions with amazing efficiency and zest. And once you are ready to start the day yourself, you can begin to enjoy the varied bird life.

Hawks are a very common sighting on La Palma, both the sparrow hawk and the Common Kestrel. The raucous mating call will often attract your first attention, or you will spot them swooping in the barrancos looking for prey or sitting on top of a nearby post. The kestrels will often swoop surprisingly low, especially when you are out driving in the car when you may also spot an impressively large common buzzard.

Excitement comes when you see the swifts out in ‘air-force’, sweeping and swooping in joyous unity. One swallow may not make a summer, but you can be sure that it will swiftly be with us. (sorry about that)

The humble pigeon is not always viewed as a treat to see but they are beautiful none the less. Many you will see are ringed, as racing is a popular sport among the islands, and they will often try and stay with us longer than they should. But if you get the chance, duck into laurasilva forest of Los Tilos or nearby La Zarza and you may see the laurel pigeon, Bolle’s pigeon or the collared dove, beautiful with their fascinating plumage.

And in the evening, settle back for your free in-flight display courtesy of the Canarian chiffchaff. Similar to the robin but with a yellow-green chest, they will delight you with their unrehearsed choreography. Watch entranced as they move as one, like a swirling cloak, first this way and that, momentarily all landing in a fig tree or cactus where they are hardly visible until they take flight again, as one.

Truly a delight and one of the many things I love about La Palma.