We were asked the other day if we had started to take the beauty of the island for granted. Luckily, I cannot imagine this ever happening particularly with sights like this just a 50 minute drive from home.
It's a pretty impressive drive too, rising up from 500 metres above sea level where we live to 2426 metres, the top of the island, driving through sun-dappled pine forests to burst through into a moon-like landscape dotted with state of the art observatories. The contrast is nothing short of crazy.



The photo here shows the Caldera, the largest erosion crater in the world. It measures a fairly unmissable 10km in diameter and is 2000 metres deep.

In the far distance, you can see the southern spine of the island which forms the famous volcano route, the last section of the GR 131. We walked this route in February last year having camped overnight at El Pilar, the start of the final part of the walk. It's pretty amazing looking at it from an entirely different perspective and thinking, 'We were there!'

Flat footed

The car needed some work on it having ingloriously failed its MOT last week, or ITV as it is called here, and it was booked in to the garage for 8 a.m. Monday. The only problem was, the garage is an hour and half away from our comfortable bed to which we are generally quite attached during hours of darkness. Oh well, we would just have to be brave and set the alarm for 6 a.m. - a time hitherto only referred to in horror movies.
The mechanic had already warned us that he wouldn't be able to start work on the car immediately. After all, as he pointed out, he didn't want to burn his hands. This was also his way of saying that the car wouldn't be ready until 1 p.m. If we were lucky.
And that's when our walking rucksack and poles started jumping up and down shouting 'Take me! Take me!' Oh well, alright then.
Our last walk along the GR 130 was from Tijarafe to Los Llanos and before that Puntagorda to Tijarafe, so we have been working our way very nicely down the west coast. We decided then to continue and walk the route between Los Llanos and San Nicholas. We already did San Nicholas to Fuencaliente a while ago with a walking group on the island, so it would be good to fill in this little section.
I had heard that finding the route leading from Los Llanos was tricky so we decided to start at San Nicholas and walk our way back. It is probably a good job that we did – not that we didn't have trouble finding the route heading north out of San Nicholas! Then, at the end of the village, we spotted the good old royal colours of the GR130 walking sign - only 10.5 km to go ..

The walk, was a great pleasure looking at houses hidden from the view of the main road. And projects such as this one -


And cactus we had never seen before, presumably called 'paddle cactus' growing alongside an explosion of bourganvilia -

Yes, it was a treat to be surrounded by the gentle sights and sounds of nature walking along an easy track, somewhat of a departure from what we have become used to. It was the flatest walk we have done in the last 8 years – in other words, since we moved here! Not a mountain, ravine or even so much as a hillock to climb. What? No steep tracks sliding on loose gravel, no pencil-thin paths balancing over a 300 metre precipice. Where's the fun in that?

But we did enjoy it and at least the car was fixed – and went on to pass the ITV – so we could head home to fill in a little bit more on the map of our walked sections of the GR130. Just Barlovento to Los Llanos and Puntallana to Fuencaliente to go.
On the way home, we made just one more stop at the country bar in Hoya Grande. It was the car's idea, honest!

A walk into the green

It was one of those walks – not meticulously planned but with a desire to spend some special time with a special person, don a rucksack and just GO! Admittedly, there was the general idea that we would head down to La Fajana, up to El Tablado then probably up towards Roque Faro and hopefully catch the bus back. Or maybe just down to the sea and back. Clearly a plan which would amply suffice.
The route from the finca down to La Fajana is a well marked one, once on the GR130. It would be difficult to go wrong. Which is precisely why I chose to try and find my way through the unmarked and unofficial section which is not maintained or cleared.
In mitigation, it does make a welcome shortcut and we have done it before several times. In fact, we have even cleared it ourselves. But now it was winter and seriously overgrown and, as we peered down a twenty metre drop wondering how we could join the official path, the cacti had the final word. What a pity – we wouldn't see the lovely cobbled track, laid by noble fellows donkey's years ago.
Ah well, my walking companion was patient enough to not complain when it came to retracing our steps. And the added bonus was that the usual path took us by the mirador which allowed us to see the dramatic sight of La Fajana 400 metres directly below us.
We carried on our walk almost down to the village where we hung a left, crossing the barranco and then headed up the other side towards El Tablado. Here we paused for a bite to eat, enjoying a sit down at the new mirador. From here we could enjoy the view of where we had just walked and the tip of the house.
With rucksacks now a little lighter, we set off to Rosa's bar for a coffee and chat. Rosa never fails to surprise me by the fact that she always remembers who I am and welcomes me as if I am her errant niece. These days, her back forces her to walk with a deep stoop although her sprightly sense of humour is perfectly in tact. How are you Rosa? I asked. 'Ever lower,' she replied with a wry grin.
Waving our good-byes and wishing her good health, we set off up the road and out of the village.
Walking on the road is not always great fun and we were pleased to dive into the bushes where a signpost promised us that this was the way 'Roque del Faro.'
Trudging upwards, we passed goats munching the greenery at the side of the track and houses which had strayed from the village. A couple of times we crossed the road which was taking a more circuitous route than the steep track.
After a goodly time, houses, goats and roads all deserted us and we were alone in the greenness. Occasionally, as energy threatened to flag, we were allowed a peek at the view from where the bushes parted. It was nothing short of awe-inspiring to realise how far we had come and to be in a place which, from the finca, had only ever looked like impenetrable green-covered rock. We even enjoyed some flat sections – always a cause for excitement! (And to sing and dance along in a very stupid manner).
But the best moments, from where the photo was taken, where when we were in our secret world of green. From here, there were no tell-tale signs that the island was even inhabited: we were alone and time was something that did not belong here.