Return of The Good, The Bad and The Unusual

THE GOOD

And here’s what you’ve all been asking yourselves:
“Why in God’s name has he not gouged his eyes out and run naked through the streets decrying the infidels?”
Good question.
The answer is that once you head inland and leave the urban blight, Gran Canaria can be achingly and breathtakingly beautiful. I could continue to bore you with endless, although quite accurate, cliches but, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. And so...

Roque Nublo: highest volcanic rock in the world, worshipped by the indigenous people (for obvious reasons) and over 80 metres high - that’s Peace Tower height. And yes, those are people in the lower photo.

Roque Bentagya: also worshipped in olden times. And again, yes, that’s a person in the lower photo. I wish I could truthfully say it was me, but my ever-worsening  vertigo stopped me WAY before that point. Some fellow French oldsters and I simply sat and watched. “Fou!” I stated as my companions nodded sagely.

La Forteleza: Gran Canaria’s version of Masada. At one time these pillars were actually lived in and they’ve also found altars & fortifications. All that came to an end in 1438, when the Spaniards arrived. According to legend, when defeat was inevitable, the chiefs hurled themselves from the summit rather than be captured. No word on anyone else. Even without the story - awe-inspiring.

Pico de las Nieves: highest point on the island. Often shrouded in clouds, but for me... 

In the above photo, you can see Roque Nublo, Roque Bentayga and, in the far background, Tenerife.

Random Stunning Landscapes: as I said, everywhere you look (when you can at last manage to take your eyes off the road for more than a split second), there’s serious eye candy. This is what I imagine Wyoming & Utah must be like, but crammed onto a tiny island.

Villages & Towns: these are scattered everywhere, and many are picturesquely clinging to the sides of mountains. What the hell did people do when there were only rough dirt tracks and no vehicles whatsoever? Fortunately, the vast majority have retained their character & charm. Hallelujah!

 

Hiking: supposedly there are over 400 hiking trails here and I’m frequently stumbling across both signposts and shorts&boots&backpack clad “serious” hikers (you can tell, trust me). While I’ve only done a few, they’ve all been quite enjoyable, although, as with the biking, many of the ones I’ve seen (and obviously not done) are, as they say, “challenging”.

This is Bandama Crater, which I hiked around - with my heart in my throat quite often since it drops off on both sides of the trail. It’s MUCH bigger than it appears. That’s a house at the bottom and a hotel on the right side.

Caldera de los Marteles: yet another goat track that just kept going down & down, while I scrabbled  down & then clawed my way back up. Imagine my surprise when someone behind me yelled and then zoomed by on mountain bikes.

Playa Gui Gui: supposedly an idyllic, deserted beach. This is the “easy” route. I never actually made it there, since it took me an hour and a half to climb up and I realized I’d have to climb all the way down and then back. How good could it really be?

Going up

Looking back down

This is what I would have had to walk down to get to the beach.

BONUS: if you’d like a preview of what’s coming up in “The Unusual”, just zoom in on my fellow hiking enthusiast. And yes, we had a lovely chat. 

I was going to add the weather to this list, since it had been at least 25 degrees and sunny every single day since my arrival, but then last weekend The Apocalypse descended. It’s usually fairly windy during the day here, but then it dies down in the evening. On Friday night however, it actually seemed to pick up, and when I awoke on Saturday an eerie fog had enveloped everything and the wind was howling. No problem - a day off and since I had no-one to ask, I thought it was simply some common phenomenon. By Sunday, I got bored, figured “What the hell?” and decided to drive up into the Mountains to check out the highest village on the island. (Yeah, I know. Don’t even bother saying it). 

Well, obviously I survived, but just barely. I had to stop 3 times along the way for fallen trees, not to mention flying debris. At last reached the village and tried to walk up to “La Emita de la Cuevita” - a “charming” grotto church according to the guide book and a Devil’s Toenail if ever there was one.

C’mon man!

Unfortunately, I literally could not walk forward and had to stand there watching and listening to hydro wires whipping back & forth over my head. Fun times. 

Long story short: all caused by the “Calima”, a ferocious wind from Africa that literally engulfed the Canary Islands in a giant sandstorm. Check these photos I took 2 days apart - same beach, same time of day:

Okay then. If you haven’t gotten the idea yet, you’re never going to get it, although I could easily add about a hundred more photos just as stunning. Enough already. As Caitlin once told me when I asked her if she’d been reading my masterpieces, “But Dad, they’re soooooo long!”

Bottom line: Gran Canaria has some VERY redeeming qualities, and hypothetically, you could come here, race from the airport to the hills and convince yourself this was, well, like Sao Miguel. But when it comes right down to it, it isn’t. 

Next Time: Bride of The Good, The Bad and The Unusual.