Lava [the Lanzarote logbook, pt. I] | andrejrusskovskij.com

Prologue

If someone had told me a few years ago that a solo trip could end up causing me trauma, I would never have believed them.

Blame it on the bad weather, on the lack of human encounters, or on the very fragile emotional state I was in, with the exception of a few days spent traveling together with my now-friend Barbara, the whole Azores experience turned out to be a big flop.

And no matter how I could rationally acknowledge the reasons why things didn’t work out as expected, something clicked inside of me and made me question if I was really still capable of traveling alone. Lanzarote was a little challenge for me. A way to see if the adventurous and independent side of me was still somewhere to be found.

I remember doing coaching with my dear friend Joana before the trip and being terrified at the idea of feeling lonely and miserable in those moments that were meant to be the highlights. Those moments of pure bliss that are basically the main reason behind my urge to travel. When everything is aligned and you simply feel connected with yourself an everything around you. This natural mechanism got somehow damaged in the Azores. Each time I was about to grasp that feeling, a huge haze of sadness took over and made me question the point of even being there.

I was very determined not to let a bad experience destroy something that normally means the world to me. I got ready to face my demons and, as advised by Joana, developed a technique to not let them have the best of me.

In case they showed up, how could I possibly take them seriously if they spoke in Jennifer Coolidge’s voice?

Simple as it might sound, it did the trick. A few days into the trip, I was already feeling like myself again. And the feeling was priceless!

DAY 1 (16.04.23)

Embarking on my Canary Island adventure, I hopped off a four/five-hour flight from Berlin, greeted by a blast of dry, hot wind that instantly set the tone for my journey. Dani, my Airbnb host/van rental guy, entertained me with tales of leaving Italy behind in favour of a laid back, stress-free island life as we made our way to Teguise, the historic capital of Lanzarote. Fueling up with coffee and a massive tuna salad at Restaurante Cejas, I found myself tongue tied a couple of times and marveled at how my Spanish took a nosedive since my time in Mexico. After handing me over the van keys and a quick briefing about dos and donts on the island, Dani hugged me goodbye and wished me good luck. I stocked up on basic groceries and braved my first attempts behind the wheel (which were admittedly a bit traumatic), direction South. Despite the bone-jarring ride on a horrible dirt road, where I literally drove at a speed of 10 Km/h and still thought the van could not make it in one piece, reaching Playa Papagayo was worth every bump. The beach was stunning, albeit packed and crazy windy, leaving me feeling a tad overwhelmed. Following a tip from a friend, I sought refuge at the less crowded Playa San Marcial Caleton, stripped down naked (a tradition I would stick to throughout the holiday while on a beach) and went skinny dipping.

As dusk fell, I took a long stroll along the promenade of Playa Blanca, a touristic hub on the south coast of the island, walking past crowds of quintessential Brits, before indulging in mouthwatering, yet pricey, fish and seafood based tapas at La Katedral. With a full belly and high spirits, I decided to drive back to Playa Mujeres (on the same bumpy road leading to Playa Papagayo) in total darkness. There I parked by the beach to bask in the serenity of the night. Illuminated by flickering candlelight coming from few teacandles, I opened the van’s barn doors, laid on my back and gazed up at the constellations, letting the gentle ocean breeze rock me into a state of bliss. Which luckily was not affected by the unpleased thought of making it to bed without taking a shower, all covered in sun screen, sweat and sand. Perks of travelling solo, I guess!

DAY 2 (17.4.23)

Awakening before the sun, I momentarily braced myself for gloomy weather reminiscent of the Azores. To my delight, however, dawn broke at a leisurely 8 AM, There’s something truly magical about witnessing the day unfold before you, and I did it with the van’s rear doors open, under cozy blankets, with a freshly brewed coffee in hand.

I embarked on a beach workout session, on the notes of Taylor’s Reputation, followed by a heathy cereals and fresh fruit breakfast and an invigorating ice-cold shower outside the rear end of the van. This resourceful carefree attitude evoked childhood memories of the camping days with my parents — simple pleasures I’ll forever be grateful for.

I left the coast and drove uphill to the picturesque village of Femes, where I marveled at the breathtaking views over the south coast, and captured snapshots of charming sugar cube houses nestled amidst palms and gigantic cacti. My quest for unique travel photos was off to a promising start. I took a quick break at the modest Casa Juan where I treated myself to a Canarian goat cheese based lunch for 4,90 euro.

A daring drive on yet another dirt road led me to the surreal Piscinas Naturales Charcones. Despite the initial challenges, and me second guessing the choice to keep driving instead of parking as many other people opted for, the sight of massive abandoned buildings looming on the coastline hinted at a hidden gem, which luckily for me, wasn’t on most tourists’ radar. Black lava bubbles of different sizes and shapes stretched all over the coast, forming inviting pools when the ebb is high. Dripping in sweat for the time I spent exploring this completely unusual site under an early afternoon burning sun, I eventually plunged into the crystalline waters, basking the refreshing feeling on my skin as colourful fish darted around me.

Next, a quick stop to the impressive Salinas de Janubio transported me to the salt flats of Sicily, with rugged and epic charm. After taking a few ritual pics, I continued my journey through the jaw dropping volcanic landscapes on the south-western tip on Lanzarote, heading to Playa El Golfo, a striking black beach flanked by Charco Verde, a bizarre lagoon, painted in green by a large growth of algae. While rightfully a landmark, it felt like most people just ventured there to take a panoramic picture from a viewpoint and very few actually took some time to take a stroll on its mesmerising shore. And how could I say no to the golden hour on a black pebbled beach in such a setup?

As the day drew to a close, I found myself drawn to the quaint fishermen village of El Golfo, where a delicious dinner of seafood soup and garlicky shrimps awaited. After a nice glass of island white wine and indulging in a lively chat with two italians girls I stole a cigarette from, I returned to the van before the clock struck 10, and took some time to reflect on the day’s adventures with a contented sigh. Lanzarote had cast its spell on me, each moment more enchanting than the last. It was just the beginning but enough for my worries to disappear and for me to linger on a very welcome newfound sense of empowerment.

DAY 3 (18.04.202318.4.23

Waking up in El Golf’s playground car park, greeted by yet another cloudy sky – seems Mother Nature has a tendency to deja vu! A quick fix of coffee, breakfast, and a bracing cold shower had me primed for the day’s adventure: tackling Timanfaya National Park before the tourist rush.

Paid the 12 euro entrance fee and embarked on a scenic 45-minute bus ride through lunar-looking lava fields and volcanic calderas, marveling at the island’s turbulent past – six years of volcanic chaos in the 17th century, burying a quarter of Lanzarote under molten rock! The scenery was among the most striking I’ve encountered: vast lava fields extended as far as the eye could see, interspersed with dusty plains and dormant volcanoes adorned in hues of red, purple, grey, black, and brown. The sole inhabitants were lichens, adding a touch of life to the rugged landscape. The ‘Shining’-reminiscing National Park restaurant served up a quirky chicken sandwich, courtesy of geothermal steam.

Next stop: Caldera Blanca. A two minor mishaps when, on the way to get there, I first hit a lava rock with the van and the turned a supposed 30-minute hike into a hours-long odyssey, circling the base of the volcano like a lost wanderer before finding my way to the rim. The cloudy weather played havoc with photography, but the breathtaking views made it all worth the blistered feet (Converse sneakers, once again, on sharp lava rocks, why do I even bother?).

Uga proved to be a bit of a snooze fest, obviously the little town doesn’t have much to offer outside of its animal market days. Restaurante Casa Juan offered a silver lining with its delectable Canarian fare – breaded veal, papas bravas, and homemade bread with anise seeds, served with a tantalizing dip of cheese and chorizo.

Onward to the unique vineyards of Lanzarote, where the elusive sun teased me endlessly, delaying my photo ops. In Lanzarote, vine cultivation is characterised by sunken pits and gracefully curved dry stone walls called zocos, which shield the vines from the fierce north-easterly trade winds. Driving through La Geria valley offered a one of a kind show, where the contrast between the black volcanic soil and the bright green of the vines played protagonist. Tempted by the hip and touristy La Geria winery and Stadivs, I resisted the urge – driving duties kept me in check.

Driving in the golden hour light, I sped northward to Caleta de Famara, a surf town paradise akin to Lofoten but with a tropical twist. The clearing sky revealed some badass cliffs towering over the coast, providing a fitting backdrop for a refreshing salad and caña at the hipster haunt La Mar. Exhausted but fulfilled, I settled into a car park near Playa de San Juan, reflecting on a day filled with adventure and a few unexpected twists. Loneliness? Not a chance – that day, the company of my thoughts proved to be more than enough.