Lava [the Lanzarote logbook, pt. II]

DAY 4 (19.04.23)

The day kicked off under a cloudy sky. Things quickly went south when the previous night’s salad decided to stage a revolt, leaving me desperately seeking a restroom. To add insult to injury, my iPhone charger decided to call it quits. Forced to endure an unwanted breakfast just for restroom privileges, I then embarked on a quest to Tinajo, which, with its rapper-esque name, felt like a detour into the absurd. After snagging a new charger and power bank, I found myself wandering aimlessly through Tinajo’s unremarkable streets, waiting for my gadgets to power up. Not exactly the auspicious start I had in mind!

After waiting for the elusive sun to make its grand appearance, I wasted no time diving headfirst into my day’s agenda. First up on the list: Cesar Manrique Foundation, a tantalizing blend of seventies minimalism and architectural genius that seemed to dance with the surrounding landscape. The result? Pure eye candy. Manrique, the island’s artistic virtuoso, not only painted masterpieces but sculpted the very essence of Lanzarote’s style, paying homage to its heritage and embracing its untamed nature. And let’s not forget his rebellious spirit – a hedonist and a true iconoclast who danced to the beat of his own drum and never seemed to care about labels. His refusal to conform and the way he embraced his identity resonated with me.

Under a blazing midday sun, I ventured East to the naturist village of Charco del Palo, where a mischievous wave baptised my belongings and I got sunburnt in the most inconvenient spot. Note to self: sunscreen application is an art form that unfortunately I still don’t master. Despite the aquatic interruption, I managed to squeeze in a few refreshing swims and some cliffside contemplation.

After donning my clothes once more, I made my way to the Cueva de los Verdes, a subterranean marvel connecting a volcano to the ocean. Impressive, yes, but it lacked the wow factor of past adventures (Gruta do Algar do Carvão in Terceira, Azores, just to name one) – and with a tour group the size of a small army, the pace was more tortoise than hare. But fear not, for the day ended on a tremendously high note at Jameos del Agua, another masterpiece by Manrique. This place, designed as a cultural and recreational centre within Lanzarote’s volcanic cave system, showcases the island’s natural beauty through art and architecture. It includes underground caves, natural pools, and an iconic natural auditorium, all designed to provide an immersive cultural experience for visitors and celebrate the island’s heritage. With an everlasting late afternoon perfect light, I couldn’t literally hold myself from keep on shooting.

As the golden hour cast its magic, I found myself torn on where to venture next, so I took a scenic drive North along the coast, with sandy beaches, lava rocks, and lush bushes painting the landscape. Then, fate guided me southwest towards Teguise, beginning with a breathtaking journey through Lanzarote’s highest peak and culminating in the discovery of a charming cluster of volcanoes and quirky rock formations, reigniting my shutterbug instinct.

With enthusiasm still buzzing, I returned to Teguise and relished a delightful dinner at Ikarus, treating myself to fried fish with squid ink sauce and a biemesabe, the quintessential Canarian almond dessert. Exhausted from a day packed with adventure, my initial plan to park near a volcano for the next day’s exploration took a spooky turn as dark and windy conditions resembled a scene from a horror movie, prompting me to retreat to the comforting familiarity of the beachside park in Famara instead.

DAY 5 (20.4.23

After a night of tossing and turning, I gave up on sleeping and waited for dawn, which arrived as a gentle comfort. Following breakfast in the van and a much-needed espresso pit stop (mainly to visit the restroom) at a local café, I meandered along Famara’s cloudy beach, observing the surfers’ morning rituals and questioning if this gloomy weather was a daily affair in this part of the island.

Back at the wheel, I embarked on the scenic route to Haría through a picturesque mountain pass, discovering it to be a hidden oasis, rivaling Teguise for the title of Lanzarote’s prettiest village. Exploring Manrique’s Casa Museo, the former residence of the renowned artist, now turned into a museum, was a calming retreat, surrounded by his artistic prowess and seemingly endless reservoir of creativity. Haría practically begged to be photographed, its sugar cube houses and lush greenery providing ample inspiration around every corner. Lunch in the sun followed, with traditional chickpea and pork stew stealing the show alongside red and green sauces.

The journey to Mirador del Rio, perched on the northern cliffs with sweeping views of La Graciosa, the neighbouring island, and the Atlantic Ocean, was a feast for the eyes. Once again, Manrique’s architectural brilliance shone through, seamlessly blending with the natural landscape. However, amidst the breathtaking scenery, the sight of countless tourists indulging in everlasting selfie sessions brought several eye-rolls to my day.

Basking in the late afternoon glow at Caleton Blanco, I embraced the serenity of the white sands, opting for a liberating nude sunbathing session sheltered by the embracing curves of black lava rocks. But as the tide retreated, so did the cozy warmth of the shallows, nudging me to bid a reluctant farewell and venture forth to explore the neighbouring village of Punta Mujeres. Its narrow streets radiating an authentic charm untouched by the commercial trappings of tourism.

After a liberating sunset shower in a lava field next to the ocean—I swear, my hair has never felt softer, I had a breaded cod fillet and gofio flour mousse delicious dinner at the family run Os Gallegos, in Orzola, an off the-beaten-track fishermen village on the northernmost tip of the island. The owner, a shy but sweet lady, even kept the place open longer just for me. A bit tipsy from some generously gifted local liquor, I made my way back to the lava field where I had parked my van and geared up for the following day’s early wake-up call.