I hate to do this to you, but I’m gonna start with The Bad, just so you don’t leave with the sour taste & sinking feeling I had to endure when I arrived.
Where to begin?
Honestly, there’s just so much wrong with this place that it’s hard to know which sins to highlight. Don’t get me wrong. I knew Gran Canaria was “touristy”, but just as (to my chagrin) I had woefully underestimated the damage in Sri Lanka and Baja, I was completely unprepared for The European Elephants’ Graveyard. Worse still, I’d come from Sao Miguel, which remains virtually untouched and untrammelled. Even if I tell you that there were 4.5 million “visitors” here last year on an island you could drive all the way around on the beautiful 6 lane ring road in 2 hours, it still wouldn’t prepare you for the devastation. The entire East coast, starting at the capital, Las Palmas (which is, for all intents and purposes, just a big city with a tiny, quaint historical center and a very long beach), is a giant industrial area/strip mall. But it’s the South coast that’s the real jewel in the crown. Allow me to demonstrate:
This is a Google Earth shot of Maspalomas, where I’m staying. I mean, just look at the size of it - all hotels, tiny condos, restaurants and shopping centres. The San Augustine one near me has, aside from all the usual suspects, a raft of bars & restaurants, including, but not limited to an English pub, Italian, German, Greek, Swiss, Swedish, Indian, Chinese and We Serve Everything. But that’s nothing. The Yumbo Centre in Playa Del Ingles has all that plus at least 2 drag bars (more on that later).
Here...maybe this will give you a better idea of the idyllic atmosphere:
My fellow vacationers - kindred spirits all.
And all the way down the coast, it’s more of the same, as I discovered on my first bike ride along the busy highway. Everywhere there’s even the smallest strip of sand, the plague has taken over.
Here’s Puerto Rico. Note just how teensy-weensy the beach is compared to the buildings. And yes, they go all the way back to the superhighway - and beyond. Dreamy.
Here’s what it looks like in real life:
Now imagine that going back half a kilometre on both sides. Ah, nature! And this scenario is repeated at least 5 more times in less than 30 kms, ending in Puerto Mogán, the “Venice of the Canary Islands” (I kid you not), which does have a cutesy, and very expensive, central quarter
but whose canals are as dry as a bone and resemble nothing so much as sewage drains.
Just in case you were wondering, at one time there were indigenous farmers and fishermen here, but, as was their wont, the Spaniards made short work of them upon arrival. Aside from some abandoned caves, this is what’s left:
Very fitting, no?
Before I tell you about my next nightmare - the biking and driving - a little background. Like Sao Miguel, this is a volcanic island, so it has ridiculously steep hills from the coast to the centre. However, for whatever reason, it has been cleaved into innumerable valleys/canyons. The results:
1. Instead of just going up, you go up & down, up & down, back & forth, etc.
2. The only way to build roads is by carving them out of the mountainside. Best case scenario: they’re actually 2 cars wide, paved AND have a guardrail. In reality...
As you can plainly see, there’s not much room for error.
For the gaggle of serious Freds here - resplendent in their full kits and riding only high-end bikes - this is heaven on Earth. For a geriatric sissy, it’s hell on wheels. Honestly, it’s impossible to decide which is worse - my agonizing, never-ending climbs up or my terrifying descents, feverishly gripping the brakes with cramped hands while I wait for my tire to explode from the overheated rims. Now add traffic, including petrified, unskilled tourists, crazed motorcyclists and innumerable, gigantic trucks and buses (no railways here) and perhaps you can see why this is not my ideal cycling destination.
As a point of reference, the Gatineau Parkway’s STEEPEST pitch is 7%. Some hills here are 25%!
Just waiting for these losers to catch up.
Basically, the driving is a classic case of “too much of a good thing”.
Initially I thought,”Wow! Wouldn’t this be great on the Norton!”
But then you realize, just as Sarah and I did when we got directions for the “scenic” route from Las Pozas to Mexico City, that going around and around gets very tiring very quickly and you’re left with nausea and the feeling you’ll NEVER actually reach your destination. Same here, but with the added bonus of knowing that if you, or someone else, makes a mistake it could easily be,”Adios caballero.”
Okay, enough. I realize I promised to regale you with The Good, but I’m both too tired and too lazy to keep going or shift everything around. It’s also hard to imagine that you’d have the stamina to continue. So tough titty. I will return - eventually - and your patience will be rewarded. The Good is VERY good.
Next Time: Return of The Good, The Bad and The Unusual.
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