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Tracks.
The hidden Oasis on top of Grand Canaria
There is something exciting about going on a trip to a foreign place.
You become an explorer looking for hidden treasure or a lost village.
Discovering an abandon windmill perched high along an eroding cliff side or an old Spanish
church tucked away in the mountains, fills you with a sense of wonder and excitement.
My adventure began in the Canary Islands. The islands are windy and subtropical with
year-round high temperatures near 70 degrees. The Canary Islands are off the northwestern
coast of Africa. They consist of 7 individual islands: La Palma, Hierro, Gomera, Tenerife,
Gran Canaria, Fuerteuentura and Lanzarote. The dramatic landscape of these islands was
formed by volcanic eruptions. The primary visitors to the islands are mostly Europeans.
The Canary Islands are to Europe what the Hawaiian Islands are to the U.S, a vacation
destination. I was there attending the PWA (Professional Windsurfing Association)
windsurfing contest that is held annually in Pozo Iquierdo.
I arrived at the (Aeropuerto International) in Las Palmas the 20th of June, six days prior
to the event. I was hoping to train a bit before the competition.
I met up with my travel companion Levi Siver, another competitor from Maui, Hawaii at the
rental agency. We rented a fairly large car due to the amount of equipment we were both
forced to haul around. Renting a foreign car is always an adventure in itself.
Trying to guess what each mysterious dashboard icons means as well as what kind of gas
the car might run on was our first challenge. Our second challenge was packing all the
windsurfing equipment in and on the car. Lucky for me I had a veteran along (Levi),
who has packed much more than just six bags on top of a tiny car! We managed to pull out
of a tightly parked row of cars and headed for the hotel.
The Gloria Palace hotel was one of the sponsors for the event. It is also where the
opening and closing ceremonies are held. The hotel is located in San Agustin, a 20 minute
drive on GC-1 from the airport or a 10 minute drive if you're a local!
The local Canarian people are perfectly comfortable with driving 200km or faster on their
Sunday afternoon. In miles per hour it equals 120mph.
The posted speed limit is 120km but the trucks don't even drive that "slow".
Understanding other countries driving etiquette is an important part of traveling.
In the Canaries if you're in the fast lane and someone wants to pass you,
they will simply ride your ass; flash their Mercedes lights and honk their horn until
you change lanes. In the U.S that kind of behavior could get you into a road rage battle,
but it is considered as quit normal behavior in the Canary Islands.
The next day we hit the beach only to find that the wind report was looking grim for
the next couple of days. Levi and I decided to take a road trip around the island.
While having our morning cup of coffee at the new restaurant in Pozo, Iquierdo which
is over looking the competition site. A couple of locals had told us about the northern
part of the island. They spoke of jagged cliff lined roads that wind up into the sky
and something about the heart of the island being a green heaven in the sky.
When I heard that I couldn't wait to see it for myself.
My mind was filled with excitement and curiosity. We were off to find an oasis in the
middle of a desert island. Levi turned the key, the engine began to hum and the feeling
of anticipation rushed over me. Behind the wheel of a car, the world appears more intense,
like your watching a movie or in a dream. Your sense become slightly heightened and your
imagination begins to wonder (not too much if you're driving).
We headed for the GC-1, the only main highway that ran south to north.
It was high noon when we reached (Las Palmas de Gran Canary) the last metropolis
along the eastern shore. The coast was outlined with hotels, restaurants and shopping
centers. There were people every where! Cabanas and umbrellas for as far as the eye
could see, not one stretch of beach lay unclaimed or unmarked.
The further north we traveled the smaller and more treacherous the roads became.
Cities slowly evaporated into towns and villages, which snuggle up against the arid,
parched hills. The tightly group dwellings painted the barren, sun scorched hill with
a touch of traditional Spanish life. I would have never imagined that driving through
the Canary Islands hidden road ways and towns would provide me with my strongest
impression of the Canary Islands as a whole.
We reached (Playa de las Canteros), a small village by the seas edge.
One wouldn't expect that such a little quiet village would be the harbor
to a giant transport ferry. As we approach the dock we were surprised to see
that the harbor lined streets were alive with people and merchants.
There were Spanish, French, Italians and I believe some Americans besides ourselves,
all together on holiday, escaping from there daily routines. From the quant little
town of (Playa de las Canteros) we began climbing up the side of the mountain.
Switch back after switch back, higher and higher we drove.
The peaks were still hidden in the clouds above and the steep rock cliffs seem to eat away at the road
in front of our eyes. The road hugged narrow, twisty ridges perch several hundred
feet above a rugged sea coast of enormous jagged rocks and the crashing Atlantic Ocean.
We were truly living on the edge! The muscle aching hair pen turns began to settle and
I realized a thing or two about the etiquette of Canarian driving as well as there road
systems. Most people never even take the time to learn something new,
especially something they have been doing for so long like driving an automobile.
Learning the language of someone else's road ways is half the adventure of going
on a road trip. Especially in Europe where the city and towns retain their medieval
street plans. Your virtually traveling along the same traffic ways that were once
traveled by wagons and horses. The slow climb up the mountain side started to reveal
a new landscape and climate.
The barren deserts like island began to turn into a lush, fertile environment, steaming with
life.
We passed a couple of homes built right into the rock faces, which were mysteriously
beautiful. Barren shrubs transformed into purple flowering bushes and green plants.
Along the mountain ridges you could see what looked like trees.
I couldn't wait to smell the fresh pine aroma and to feel the cool moisture in the air.
It took us six hours of driving to find our hidden oasis in the sky. The entire top of the
mountain was a giant forest of pine trees surrounded by clouds. You could see neighboring
islands in the distance with there mountain tops engulfed in clouds. It was truly a green
heaven, majestically beautiful. In that moment I realized how grand the Canary Islands are
and to never judge a book or island by its cover.
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