Tenerife in March was exactly the sweet escape I desperately needed. After burning out, getting fired, and filing a lawsuit against my boss, it felt like the ground beneath me was constantly shifting, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Life had become a pressure cooker.

During one of our late-night talks, I opened up to my dear friend Marta, who was also going through a rough patch. We decided to rent a van and spend a week exploring Tenerife, inspired by the mindset I had during my solo trip to Lanzarote the year before: an experience that completely transformed my mental health. I hoped this trip would have had the same impact.

Tenerife, with its rugged coastlines, volcanic landscapes, and year-round spring weather, is a natural refuge for anyone seeking a reset. Its diverse terrain, ranging from black-sand beaches to lush forest, offers a perfect balance of adventure and serenity.

DAY 1 (14.3.24)

The sun was warmer than I’d expected as I stepped off the  plane. On the way to Santa Cruz, the island’s capital, the landscape seemed underwhelming: dry plains, clouds hanging halfway over the mountains, sprawling coastal towns, and a busy highway cutting through it all.

As I started to walk towards the Art Hostel, the accommodation we booked for the night, the city unfolded in front of me: big, modern, with a distinctly continental Spanish feel, nothing like the charm of Teguise in Lanzarote. Jagged peaks framed the skyline, and while most of the city felt ordinary, there were glimpses of architectural gems, like the Auditorio de Tenerife.

At the hostel I wore lighter clothes and waited for Marta, who was flying in from Milan. We spent the evening strolling through town, taking in the promenade and popping into a tapas bar.

DAY 2 (15.3.24)

After a quick shower at the hostel, we had breakfast at L’Epice in Santa Cruz. The coffee was disappointing, but the pastries were decent. Then came a hiccup with the van rental: turned out we had to make our way back to San Isidro, a town right next to airport, to meet Alberto, our Airbnb host/owner of the van.

The van was a surprise: new, small, practical and packed with features (almost too many). You could tell Alberto had put a lot of effort into it, which added a bit of pressure to keep everything perfect since, as he made very clear “si lo rompes, lo pagas” (if you break it you pay for it). Made me miss for a second the “bulldozer” I had rented in Lanzarote and how nobody seemed to care much about me potentially crashing into something.

After stocking up we hit our first snag: the van’s handbrake, a pedal on the left, which couldn’t have been trickier. We shrugged it off and hiked up Montaña Roja (“Red Mountain”), a volcanic cone on the coast near El Médano. The landscape was dry and windswept, with amazing views over the beaches below. We ended up on Playa Baja la Arena, a secluded, black-sand beach where few people ventured, but the wind made it too cold for swimming.  

By evening, we decided to drive up towards Paesaje Lunar, aiming to camp for the night. On the way, we stopped for dinner at Tasca Tierras del Sur. A pretty fancy spot, but vegetarian options were sparse, as usual in the Canaries, unless you stick to cheese and potatoes. The contrast between us, sweaty tourists in flip-flops, and well-dressed locals was amusing.

The attempt to reach Paesaje Lunar failed: fog, narrow streets, and steep inclines forced us to turn back. We ended up back at the Montaña Roja car park.

The attempt to reach Paesaje Lunar failed: fog, narrow streets, and steep inclines forced us to turn back. We ended up back at the Montaña Roja car park. As we settled into van life, Marta’s first outdoor shower became a strange experience when a random guy opened his car door mid-shower, as he smoked a joint naked…

DAY 3 (16.3.24)

We woke up to a beautiful dawn from the van’s rear door, sharing coffee in bed as the sun painted the sky. As we continued along the highway on the south coast, the scenery became more and more touristic: resort towns like Los Cristianos and Costa Adeje dominate this part of the island, catering to sun-seeking tourists, and the once-quiet beaches now bristle with high-rise hotels. A big pass for us.

The morning took a turn when we hit an uphill stretch, and the van refused to move forward. Panic set in for both me and Marta as we nearly rolled backward into the dozens of cars piled up behind us. Things that happen when your hand break is actually a foot pedal next to the accelerator. A close call, but with the help of a couple of locals we made it through.

Next up was Barranco del Infierno, a three-hour hike through a rugged gorge that led to an underwhelming waterfall. Despite the lackluster ending, the hike itself was incredible. Marta and I couldn’t stop talking, our conversation flowing effortlessly as we navigated the rocky terrain.

Afterward, we headed to Puerto de Santiago, a town that felt entirely built for tourists, with hardly a local in sight. Massive resorts lined the coast, catering to mostly Russian tourists. We had lunch at Playa de Neptuno, watching a cute gay couple play in the rough ocean and cuddle on the shore. The waves were strong, and the rocky ground made swimming uninviting, so we moved on to Playa de la Arena, literally just around the corner, which, absurdly, was the total opposite: a black sand paradise. The beach was crowded, but with its flour-soft sand and crystalline water, it was hard to blame anyone for flocking there. We had a playful moment, and I slipped into photographer mode, capturing the vibrancy of the beach. It was touristic, sure, but undeniably beautiful.

We had plans to visit a beach near Los Gigantes, towering cliffs that dominate the northwestern edge of the island. But traffic was a nightmare, and parking was impossible, so we had to give up on that idea.

We settled for a dusty, dodgy car park instead. Our stroll along the coast led to the most breathtaking view of Los Gigantes, the cliffs dramatically rising against the pink-tinted skyline. We stumbled upon a closed natural pool where waves crashed in. While most people focused on the sun setting on the horizon, we found magic in contemplating los Gigantes being painted a soft tone of orange by the golden hour. The holiday spirit finally, truly kicked in.

On our way back to the van, we grabbed a beer, shopped at Lidl (perhaps a bit tipsy) and then headed back to the secluded Playa de Neptuno, where we had previously spotted some showers. Under the starry sky, we showered naked, the waves in the distance our only company. We ended the night with a picnic dinner on the beach, a moment that felt utterly magical.

DAY 4 (17.3.24)

We woke early to drive to Masca, one of Tenerife’s most scenic mountain villages. Nestled in a valley, Masca feels like a hidden gem, with steep, winding roads leading to its picturesque houses. The drive, known for its hairpin turns and dramatic drops, was stressful (especially without a hand break) but worth it. While the village itself was charming and kinda resembled the one in Encanto, it didn’t quite live up to the hype. We tried the local prickly pear juice (very underwhelming) before heading further north.

We found solace at El Rajo, a natural seawater pool near Buenavista del Norte, hidden amongst banana plantations, common along the northern coast. Since it wasn’t a spot on the usual tourist trail, we shared the pool with just a few locals, and eventually, it was ours alone. Absolutely perfect for a skinny dipping session!

A stroll along the dramatic volcanic black coast followed, letting the rugged beauty of the landscape sink in before driving to Garachico, a town with a rich history as Tenerife’s former main port. After a volcanic eruption in 1706 destroyed much of it, the town was rebuilt and retains a quaint charm. We strolled through its cobbled streets, down to the coast where natural pools formed by lava flow still attract swimmers, and enjoyed sangria in a lively square as a religious procession passed and the sun set.

Dinner at a local guachinche (a family-run eatery), was the best of the trip, with delicious fried baby squid, fried green peppers, a cod and sweet potato soufflé and local wine (poor Marta had once again, cheese and papas bravas).

We drove to a neighboring town to sleep by the ocean, and despite the strong winds, we took another cold shower using the van’s water tank. The wind added a challenge, but it had become a ritual by this point.

DAY 5 (18.3.24)

We had a slow morning, easing into the day with breakfast in the van. The northern coast kept us on our toes with its unpredictable weather, much moodier than the sunny south.

A short ride took us to Puerto de la Cruz, which immediately gave off a bit of a San Francisco vibe: hilly, with a blend of modern and traditional architecture. We made a deliberate choice to boycott Loro Parque (orcas in captivity in 2024? Hard pass). After some minor hiccups filling the water tank, we parked the van near a raging ocean and watched waves slam against the dock and laughing at tourists getting soaked.

We took a walk along the coast, heading west until we reached the polished touristic promenade with its complex of black sand beaches. The further west we went, the quainter and more unkempt the village felt, which took us by surprise.

In the afternoon, after some people watching and a quick snack, we headed toward the botanical garden, planning to hit the beach afterward. But the weather had other ideas. Dark clouds rolled in as we made the 40-minute walk to the garden. Petite and cheap (only 3 euro entrance), it was a good spot to explore as the sky turned grey. On the way out, we wandered into a surprisingly upscale neighborhood just as the rain started to fall.

We took shelter from the rain in a local restaurant where we found ourselves sipping sangria as we watched elderly locals, dolled up to the nines, giving it all on the dance floor. It was an unexpected but absolutely fun break from the day’s plans.

As sunset approached, we ventured downhill and stumbled upon a whole buzzing part of town on the east side of the car park we hadn’t even noticed before. Restaurants, a commercial promenade, artsy houses, lush plants: it was a lively mix of tourists and locals coexisting. We grabbed a beer and wandered, but the menus weren’t inspiring, so for the first and only time on the trip, we skipped dinner and, even more shockingly, our outdoors van shower. But we figured we could forgive ourselves just this once.

DAY 6 (19.3.24)

Our day was dedicated to El Teide, Spain’s highest peak and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We started the ascent from La Orotava, a lush valley strewn with traditional Canarian villages, where it feels like every turn reveals a postcard-perfect scene. As we wound our way up, the clouds dropped below us, and the landscape morphed into something out of a sci-fi movie: barren lava fields, ancient craters, and jagged rock formations that wouldn’t look out of place on Mars.

Though we missed the cable car ride to the summit (a lofty 3,718 meters), we hiked around the “Catedral” formations, an imposing set of volcanic rocks that seemed frozen mid-eruption. The landscape, both brutal and beautiful, was easily the most striking we’d seen all trip. By the time we clocked over 30,000 steps, our bodies were protesting, but we couldn’t resist a few more photos of this surreal scenery.

We had big plans to camp under the stars, but the freezing night temperatures up there quickly made us change our minds. Instead, we made a white-knuckled descent back to Puerto de la Cruz through a fog thick enough to make you question every bend in the road. When we finally reached the coast and took a quick cold shower by the ocean, it felt like a small victory.

DAY 7 (20.03.24)
The next morning began with us reluctantly returning the van to Alberto, which also meant cutting short our plans to explore Tenerife’s wild north-west. The weather wasn’t exactly calling for adventure either: dull skies and a chill that didn’t invite outdoor pursuits. So, we pivoted south to El Médano, Tenerife’s mecca for windsurfing, in search of a more relaxed vibe. The town delivered: laid-back streets, the constant hum of the wind, and a salty breeze that seemed to slow time down.

While Marta was busy with an online class, I made my way to Playa Montaña Roja, the local nudist beach. The backdrop, a striking red volcanic cone, made it feel like a secluded paradise—until you noticed the slightly odd atmosphere. There was something voyeuristic in the air, men quietly watching each other, which made the whole scene more awkward than liberating. Marta arrived just in time to break the tension, and together we wandered along the coast, completely unaware that we were drifting into a gay cruising area. In retrospect, the discreet nods and lingering gazes probably should have clued me in.

Back on the beach, we struck up a conversation with a friendly Cuban couple who quickly escalated from chatty to suspiciously generous: offering cigarettes, drinks, and a little too much enthusiasm. By the time the sun dipped, their real intentions became clear: they were swingers, angling for more than a beachside chat. We made a graceful exit, but as we left, both of us felt oddly light-headed. Marta suspected we’d been drugged; I figured the sun and wind had just drained us. Either way, we walked away with nothing worse than a weird story.

Despite the day’s bizarre twists, El Médano still charmed us. We ended the evening with an unexpectedly great Indian dinner, strolling the quiet streets, and soaking up the town’s quirky, offbeat energy. It was the perfect end to a trip full of the kind of adventures you couldn’t plan if you tried