Walking the Cubo de la Galga

Last week we walked the Cubo de la Galga, a high-sided gorge in the east of La Palma and the most prolific laurel forest in the Canaries.  A beautiful walk and now part of our La Palma Highlights Tour!
You can read our blog post about it along with photos at our other blog site which is dedicated to walking on La Palma :
http://gr130-lapalma.blogspot.com.es/2015/08/walking-cuba-de-la-galga-puntallana-la.html

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!

The GR 130, El Roque to Tijarafe

So! Onward with our quest to walk some more of the GR 130. (Apologies to those who are not remotely interested, but you might have to bear with me for a while).

Yesterday, we decided to walk from a little place called El Roque which is near Puntagorda in the west and sits rather conveniently at an intersection of the GR 130 where it crosses the main road. Not only was it convenient to park (unlike Las Tricias which was our first port of call but rejected on the basis of being heaving with cars and enthusiastic-looking walkers, like us), but it also has a beautiful bus stop!
El Roque sits behind the main road, so we could almost be forgiven for not having noticed it in the past, but we were immediately impressed with its facilities – nothing less than a telecentro with internet connection. But that is not of course what we were there for. It seemed that music classes were also in progress as the lilting notes of a clarinet floated out onto the streets. And nice people nodded and smiled -what a good start!
We followed the little lane along – in fact we guessed that this had probably been the main road at one time – and congratulated ourselves on our good luck. The sun was shining, the lane quickly turned into a miniature cobbled streets lined by interesting looking houses and we had all day to do the walk.
Within five minutes we were lost. And five minutes later were were lost again. This was not such a good start and we made many mutterings about the lack of a sign just where we needed it. Well, we would just have to guess that the route took us over a pile of sand which formed the building site of somebody's restoration project and sure enough – just where there was no fork in the path, there was the trusty red and white stripe confirming that we were in fact still en route.
Now the route seemed more obvious and we could follow wooden railings. Oh no, this wasn't it – this was up the famous dragon tree, we should have followed the unmarked track without railings.
In spite of a less than auspicious first half hour, it was a day for enjoying ourselves and the route provided an ever changing set of landscapes for us to walk in.
At one point, we were up in the pine forest walking high above the road, then we were down in the bottom of a barranco, clambering over rocks and next walking along a sunny flower-lined path. It was all glorious.







Then there were places with an accumulation or even just a scattering of houses. David and I are of course fascinated by all things building and since the GR 130 is lined in parts by houses, there was plenty for us to admire. And otherwise. There are the old stone dwellings, some of them sadly giving way to collapse, flat roofed houses with many extensions of various sorts, grand Canarian houses in the middle of nowhere and all styles in between.
It wasn't until we had been on the route for around three hours and enjoyed a leisurely picnic lunch that we realised we had in fact been dawdling and if we didn't get a move on, we would miss our bus in Tijarafe, the idea being that we would catch the bus back to our start point of El Roque. And being a Saturday, buses are fairly few and far between.
Luckily, the route was now much easier and what could be called almost flat – well, to someone who has lived on La Palma for a while anyway! Now we contented ourselves to comment and admire on the move - a sweet kitten, an intricately carved door, potatoes growing in super-neat lines, a tree in an orchard dripping with a hundred lemons, an industrial tank with Koi carp in it, huge (and I mean huge) dandelion clocks growing at the side of the path, terraces filled with lush-looking avocado trees and how the GR 130 signs were now rapidly revealing that we only had 6.3 km, 4.8 km, 2.4 km, 1.1 km to walk to Tijarafe.

At this rate we would even have time for a cold beer before the bus came!
Well, in actual fact, there was just time to get lost again. Our suspicions that we were now 'off route' were confirmed when we passed two more junctions in the track with no indication of where to go. But by now we could see Tijarafe very close by and we just followed our noses, practically leaping up a rough old path, half covered in long grass, incentive firing our boots into action.
Ah, time for a beer after all and be ready for the bus whose expected arrival we noted was 'approximate.' Happily, we were there waiting when it arrived almost ten minutes early.

Walking the GR 130

I've been blethering on about the GR 130 for some weeks now. Poor David. It seems that recently all my sentences either end or begin with 'The GR 130' or at least feature somewhere in the middle. In mitigation, quite a few of our guests for the bed and breakfast accommodation are 'doing the GR 130' and I can't help but feel a little bit of input on my part would make it a more enjoyable experience for people – especially when they don't have the benefit of living here and we do.

For example, I have noticed that many websites suggest that you walk right from Barlovento to Santo Domingo – the hardest part of the entire route and right across the north, all in one go. Perfectly possible of course, but you would probably need to be scooped up and poured into your own rucksack at the end of it.
Ah well, that's all OK if you like pain I suppose. Not to mention an eleven hour walk, almost all of which is up and down ravines.

Hence me doing a new website and my own suggested itinerary for the route.

Anyway, imagine my surprise when I said this morning, out of the blue (well, whilst preparing breakfast for our guests), 'why don't we catch the 10 o'clock bus to Gallegos and walk back?' and the reply was, 'OK then.'
Not that we haven't walked this section of the GR 130 before – just that it's been a couple of years. And it's a relatively short walk given that we needed to be back for more guests arriving. Ah, playing hookey when I should be making beds - lovely!

The adventure begins with catching the bus. There is something completely surreal about it – from the speed it is driven at to the subject matter of its occupants, which generally revolves around goats or potatoes. As usual, the bus was fairly empty, just us and Miguel who thought our plan hilarious and the further away we got from our start point the funnier he thought it was.
'Ha, ha, your house is so far away,' and 'Ha ha, your going to have to walk all the way back again,' and 'Ha ha, ...,' etc. Since this was the entire point, I thought it pretty funny too.

The other bit I like about the bus journey is when you get to Gallegos and the bus driver takes you at great speed down a steep single track road, closely lined with houses. 'You have to watch out for loose dogs,' he calls out to us as we cling on to our seats. Yes, we know from previous experience when there was an oncoming vehicle that at any given second we will make a screeching stop and we all go flying off our seats. It's like having a bit part in a disaster movie. The bit you don't want.

And then of course, arriving in Gallegos, is another adventure. The people there are so different. Our neighbour says it is because many are Cuban or Venezuelan. I can't explain it myself without being rude about certain individuals but you do get the impression you have just blundered onto a hospital ward where everybody is suffering from some sort of physcotic illness. Or just that the party started long before you got there. Enough said.

So of course I haven't even explained yet what the GR 130 is. Well, it is the ancient route which goes right round the island, is approximately 200km long and takes seven or eight days. Preferably more. I call it the Palmathon. David and I however are taking a laid back approach – completing it in something like 8 years. No, no really, this year, we promise to tackle the southern sections that we haven't done yet ....




The walk was wonderful you will be pleased to hear. For most of the time (not the steep, slippery bits with a vertical drop off), I had a daft grin on my face and exclaiming, 'It's just amazing ... what a view ... just look at it ...' and so on. Luckily, we took 71 photos and now that we are back, I can look at the them all again, still with a daft grin on my face.



Photos:
Spying on La Fajana
Going Mexican in Barranco de Franceses
Back at Franceses, consulting the map for the next adventure

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.

Who is calling, please?

A walk on La Palma is not like a walk anywhere else I know.

What brings this about I wonder. Is it the diversity of the scenery, the views, the stillness? Well, yes in a way. These very things are all brought about by the landscape which could be described as harsh yet beautiful. It depends on your point of view – whether you are a keen walker with plenty of time on your hands and keen to explore or a subsistence farmer with 10 hungry children to feed and inhospitable land on which to grow your crops.

One thing is for sure though, life was hard in the old days with families scattered across the unyielding countryside. Communication could therefore be a problem when you lived practically in the middle of nowhere.

But for us casual hikers, there is an almost guaranteed surprise to be found on some part of almost any route. This photo was taken on a walk from La Zarza to Santo Domingo. Having left San Antonio and any possible civilization, we were soon in a desolate wilderness with nothing but undulating countryside and long abandoned terraces. There were no hamlets in sight, let alone villages, and no sign of habitation except one elderly man sitting silently outside his remote house apparently also looking at the emptiness. After another half hour or so of walking, there stood a second house made of local rocks and tea wood, the heart of the pine tree. It looked abandoned (as do many of the inhabited houses deep in the country) and we headed toward it to seek some shade in which to enjoy our picnic.

It was in fact abandoned, but imagine our surprise to discover that it once hosted the local telephone. In its time, it was doubtless an incredible boon to anyone who would be glad to walk however many hours to get to it. An amazing advancement.

And now deserted, no longer of use. Quite sad, but beautiful in its way, and it felt special to discover this evidence of a past way of life even, or especially, in this remote outpost.

It seemed to quietly say, ‘it wasn’t always like this you know.’

The jewel in the crown

I wonder what springs to mind when you think of the Canary Islands. Crowded beaches, noisy night clubs? Well, if you are thinking of La Palma, you are definitely barking up the wrong tree because the only place you will find a crowd is in the banana plantations.

The fifth largest of the Canary Islands, it sits to the north west of its larger and busier sisters. Bobbing about in the Atlantic Ocean, there is nothing between it and Florida to the west - except for an awful lot of water.

And that is what makes La Palma the perfect place to be – in the middle of nowhere – a place that is secretly hidden from the masses. As she serenely sits, the jewel in the crown with mountainous cloaks in shades of aching green, awesome, amazing and astonishing are the words you are most likely think.

For such a quiet place, there is plenty to do. Known as a walking destination, your legs may just ache a little but I promise you, you will not be bored. Add to that swimming and cycling, sight-seeing and culture and you have an experience to remember.

And the good old favourite which I mustn’t forget to mention. Sitting on the Patio. It is practically a sport in itself and much to be recommended: Simply doing Nothing.