In Spain, the association of Las Pueblos más Bonitos de España award towns with the label of ‘one of the most beautiful towns in Spain’ based on whether they meet certain criteria – the population must be under 15,000; it must be certified as a site of architectural or natural heritage; buildings must be well preserved and there must be pedestrianised areas; and there has to be green zones. Towns can be added and removed from the list. Currently there are five in the Canary Islands. Which, in theory, makes them…

The prettiest towns in the Canary Islands

Agulo, La Gomera

Despite being a natural stunner of an island, La Gomera’s small towns aren’t particularly pretty. Even the historic capital, San Sebastián, isn’t a great looker. It has some nice pockets, but overall it’s a workaday Canarian town. In that respect, Agulo does stand out from the Gomeran crowd. But it’s not the narrow streets lined by colonial buildings which earns it a place on the list, it is the location. Agulo sits on a shelf between towering cliffs, a natural viewpoint with Mount Teide on Tenerife being the spectacular focus point. Tourism is small scale – there are a handful of restaurants, pensions, and a couple of small hotels. In all the times I’ve visited Agulo, I’ve never been when it’s sunny, hence the dull photo.

Betancuria, Fuerteventura

Small in size, big in historic stature, Fuerteventura was founded in 1404, making it one of the earliest post-conquest settlements in the Canary Islands and, as such, it was once considered the capital of all the islands – the ones that were settled at that time at least. The former capital of Fuerteventura is postcard pretty – or maybe that should be ‘Instagram pretty’ these days – with immaculate whitewashed traditional Canarian buildings and bursts of vibrant bougainvillea cascading over walls. During the day, its shops and restaurants bustle with day-trippers. During the night it is, well, shut. We’ve stayed there overnight and were shocked to see just how much everything closes up when the day trade vanishes. Lovely for a visit though … when the sun’s still up.

Garachico, Tenerife

My favourite of the bunch, Garachico in the north west of Tenerife has traditional Canarian architecture, grand churches, pretty plazas, swimming pools made from lava, and lots of very good restaurants. It also has two of the best boutique hotels in the Canaries. As the town sits on a semi-circular peninsula hemmed in by steep cliffs, there’s been no room for expansion, which means it hasn’t changed much in hundreds of years. Like Betancuria, Garachico also welcomes coach excursions during the day. Unlike Betancuria, there’s a thriving local population which means it maintains its traditional Canarian town vibe 24 hours a day. For me, Garachico is the prettiest town in the Canary Islands.

Teguise, Lanzarote

Indisputably picturesque, Teguise in the north east of Lanzarote is possibly the second prettiest town in the Canary Islands. Another one of the oldest conquistador settlements in the Canary Islands, it was the island’s capital for over four hundred years. Like most places on Lanzarote, its buildings are blindingly white, contrasting sharply and pleasingly with the surrounding volcanic landscape. The town is immaculately maintained and home to artisan shops, intriguing small museums – including a pirate one in the Santa Barbara Fort overlooking the town – and restaurants and cafes tucked away in historic buildings. What’s interesting is, each of the towns on the list have a very different personality. Teguise’s is arty and slightly Bohemian, its residents a mix of Canarian and more recent settlers.

Tejeda, Gran Canaria

Whilst I go along with the inclusion of the other Canarian towns on the list, Tejeda in the centre of Gran Canaria is where I part company with Las Pueblos más Bonitos de España. My measure for whether a town is pretty or not is how photogenic it is. There are places I could go back to time after time and still find plenty to photograph. Tejeda isn’t one of them. The setting is spectacular, the town facing out over Gran Canaria’s mountainous hinterland. Some of the architecture is pleasant enough, but nothing special. I think the biggest problem for me is Tejeda caters more for day-trippers (lots of establishments close when the day visitors leave) and people with second homes and therefore doesn’t feel as authentic as others on the list. But it does occupy a breath-taking position.

Whether anyone agrees with all of the towns on the list or not, there is one thing that is certain, this is not one of those randomly and quickly compiled lists. It is that increasingly rare creature – a considered travel list that is useful when travellers are seeking somewhere picturesque in Spain to visit.

Try to answer without Googling, and I’m willing to bet few will get it spot on.

That’s partly because there are different ways of approaching this question. And it’s partly because the answer is liable to change. A few years ago, the generally accepted number of main Canary Islands was seven. Now it’s eight. In a way neither are right and yet, in another way, both are.

For a start, what is an island?

This is National Geographic’s definition: “An island is a body of land surrounded by water. Continents are also surrounded by water, but because they are so big, they are not considered islands.”

National Geographic also go on to say – “Many islands are quite small, covering less than half a hectare (one acre). These tiny islands are often called islets.”

There’s nothing about whether they are inhabited or not. And that makes those subtropical waters very murky.

So, how many Canary Islands are there?

The Canaries are made up of large islands, small islands (islets), and lumps of land protruding from the sea that ambiguously lie somewhere between being tiny islets and big rocks. Wikipedia states there are eight main islands, five islets, and eight ‘roques.’

The main Canary Islands

Up until a few years ago it was generally accepted there were seven main islands. Tenerife, Fuerteventura, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, La Palma, La Gomera, and El Hierro. In 2018, Spain’s Comisión General de las Comunidades Autónomas officially recognised La Graciosa as the eighth inhabited Canary Island. Until then, it had been classed as an islet.

Subsequently, La Graciosa is now classed as one of the main Canary Islands … but it isn’t the same as the others, and it isn’t the eighth island, but I’ll come back to the latter later.

The reason it isn’t the same is the others all have their own island governments, independent of each other. La Graciosa, with a population that hovers around the 700 mark, administratively belongs to Lanzarote. That makes it different. Having lived in the Canary Islands, that not insignificant fact makes it difficult to treat La Graciosa on quite the same level as the other seven. Then there’s the next level down.

Canary Island islets

The five islets consist of Islote de Lobos (Fuerteventura), Montaña Clara, Alegranza, Roque del Este and Roque del Oeste. The last four, along with La Graciosa, also make up the Chinijo Archipelago, one of the largest marine reserves in the European Union. Although not inhabited, a couple of the islets have had inhabitants and Los Lobos still has buildings which are occupied at certain times of the year.

Canary Island ‘roques’

Finally, there are the ‘roques,’ big chunks of land rising from the ocean. They are not big enough to be considered an islet, yet too big to be simply classed as a rock. Wikipedia lists eight of these, but one of these is connected to the land and, offhand, I can think of at least three ‘roques’ that aren’t included. But these lumps of rock are just a distraction from the main question.

I previously mentioned that I didn’t consider La Graciosa as the eighth island. That’s because in all the years I lived in the Canaries, I regularly saw references to an eighth island, and it wasn’t La Graciosa. Every week, in a Spanish newspaper, I would read news from all seven main islands followed by reports from a place historically considered the eighth island, Venezuela. Admittedly, that’s a bit of a curve ball, but I wasn’t the one who named it the eighth island.

Anyway, there’s another eighth island, a proper Canary Island. Canarios know what it is and so do others who know the Canaries well. It makes an appearance in my upcoming book set on the islands. If you want to know more about it, keep an eye on my website and Facebook page for more information.

For twenty five years we’ve followed a weekly diet that involves preparing mainly non-meat meals during the week, with meat/fish dishes creeping in at the weekend. In this age of labels I guess people would call it flexitarian, even though we’ve been doing this since long before the word was a germinating seed in some lexicologist’s mind.

For the same period of time, our favourite way of freeing our minds from the clutter and dust of daily grind has been to head deep into a forest where the simple act of walking in the woods distracts from the outside world. Forests embrace, they wrap themselves around you physically and mentally. Enter a forest and an unseen entity gently detaches your problems and deposits them at the treeline to be collected, or not, when you depart with renewed spring in your step and a glow in your heart (sorry, I strayed into a Disney construct there). Forests can have that invigorating effect, we’ve refuelled on it for years.

Not so long ago I learned this is now called forest bathing, taken from the Japanese practice of Shinrin-yoku. Like I said, we live in an age of labels and trendy terms which play well in PR circles and social media streams. The first time I read about forest bathing was in an excellent Guardian article by Charlotte Church. It resonated because the restorative world she wrote about was so familiar.

One of the things we’ve discovered about taking ‘a wash in the woods’ is that different forests offer quite contrasting ‘bathing’ experiences.

Cork forests in Portugal
Our work pattern is travel, travel, then sit in an office for weeks writing about travel, gradually going stir crazy. Brief escapes are provided by short jaunts in the small cork forest which lies next to the quinta where we live. A few steps and we’re immersed in a world shaped by humans and nature; the cork trees looking like finger-less gloves of varying shades of ruddy brown, each with a chalky number scratched onto its trunk – a date which informs when it was last stripped of its bark. The path winding through them changes from an earthy track in winter to a sandy trough by the end of summer. At parts there are mounds of freshly furrowed earth, the tell tale signs of snuffling wild boar. In the trees, Eurasian jays squawk, sing and make all sorts of noises They’re supported by the clack-clack-clacking of nearby storks perched in a nest atop some man-made construction. It is an open book of nature’s making, one which is full of diverting information.

Ancient laurisilva forest on La Gomera
The laurel forests still found on some Macronesian islands offer a portal into a long gone past when laurisilva forests covered much of Europe and North Africa. Garajonay on La Gomera is a relic of these ancient rainforests and feels it – spindly, twisted, moss-covered trunks close in around hikers, creating an atmospheric environment where bruma (low cloud) drifts through the trees like ghostly sprites. Walking through the laurisilva forest when bruma descends can be both magical and slightly unsettling; the mist strangles sounds and obscures the way ahead, tree branches drip water even though there’s no rain. We walk with reverence, talking in hushed tones. In winter, the mist’s dank, dampness can chill through to the bone; in summer it brings sauna-like qualities to the forest, ones which drench the clothes – you could say true forest bathing.

Pine forest on Tenerife
By contrast, the Corona Forestal in the La Orotava Valley on Tenerife across the water is generally a warm, dry environment to wander and wallow in; the air filled with the aromatic scent of warm pine needles. Lying above 1000m, the dense carpet of pine trees sweep toward Mount Teide above the cloud line, meaning dappled sunshine is the default setting. This is heady, exhilarating forest bathing, the pure air buzzing with the hum from industrious black bees is occasionally pierced by the shrill cry of a circling buzzard. It is a world of eternal springtime, and spring always wraps us in a comforting blanket of optimism.

The Black Forest in Germany
“I talk to the trees, but they don’t listen to me…”
That’s because they’re too busy gossiping among themselves. Read the Hidden Life of Trees if you think that nonsensical. If ever a forest could make you believe fairy tales might be true it is the Schwarzwald, the Black Forest in Germany. It is immense (11,400 square metres of Scots pine, Norway Spruce, beech, firs, oak and more) and feels as old as time; a place where the earthy scents of decay and rebirth create an intoxicating blend. The Black Forest has multiple personalities; sometimes warm and welcoming, at others oppressive and threatening. When we ventured deep into its dark, dense heart I often felt humbled and insignificant; a minute insect amidst its great bulk. In places the air was heavy with something intangible, an imprint from another realm perhaps, which created a sense we were in the midst of incredibly wise beings… perhaps Ents. A flight of fancy clearly, but that’s part of the draw of being swallowed by a forest; opening your mind to its particular, possibly peculiar, influences.

“So, do you have to take your clothes off?” A friend asked when we were musing about the term ‘forest bathing’ being used for doing something thousands if not millions of people do automatically. I laughed and pondered about the prospect of rolling about in a pile of dry leaves; not an unpleasant idea. But it triggered a memory from many years ago of Andy and I walking through a musty forest somewhere in Wales on a warm, summer day. At one point I was overwhelmed by a primeval urge to rip off all my clothes and lope off into the trees. The urge was so strong it was disconcerting. I told Andy, but instead of laughing and saying “don’t be ridiculous,” she replied she’d had the exact same thoughts. It was as though the forest was calling us to join it, but in undiluted natural form.
We’d have given in to the impulse if we hadn’t been so spooked at having the identical feeling at the same time. It hadn’t happened before and hasn’t happened since.

It’s a shame we didn’t, it would have been proper forest bathing in its purest form.

There are also things we think we know.

Social media can often be a forum full of people spouting things they think they know and doing so with unshakeable, definitive confidence.

An example of this caught my eye the other morning. It was a comment on a sponsored post about the Canary Islands which popped up in my facebook feed. The comment wasn’t about the contents of the article, it was prompted by the photo which accompanied it – a section of verdant coastline. The person who posted it questioned the image’s authenticity as they had been to the Canary Islands and had never seen any greenery at all, only thirsty, barren landscapes. They knew for a fact the Canary Islands were dry rocks so the image was “too green to be the Canaries”. They had seen so for themselves. You can’t argue with first hand experiences.

A few years ago a Tripadvisor Destination Expert from one of the eastern Canary Islands questioned a similarly green photo posted on the site’s Tenerife forum because, again, it seemed too green to be Tenerife.

The things we think we know.

Like thinking something is widely known; something which seems so obvious, partly because millions upon millions of people have visited the place, it would seem insulting to the intelligence to even mention it.  And that is huge swathes of some Canary Islands (Tenerife, Gran Canaria, La Palma, La Gomera, El Hierro) are green, lushly so, rainforest green in fact; ancient forests that are recognised by UNESCO as being natural sites of special importance.

“Not far off the north-west coast of Africa lies the island of La Gomera, one of the seven islands that make up the Canary Islands archipelago in the Atlantic. These high, volcanic islands are the first to receive the rains arriving from the west, and have thus retained the remnants of a rich and luxuriant forest — the laurisilva or Laurel forest — on their windward peaks.”

There might be things we do know, but we sure as hell don’t know what the next person does or doesn’t know.

There are also parts of the Canary Islands which are as barren as Mars, the places which get the least rain and so tend to attract the most people, which is why perceptions of the Canary Islands, in the United Kingdom especially, have been skewed for decades. Plenty of visitors know the reality, but they are still in a statistical minority.

The Canary Islands known by Canarios is a quite different place to the one ‘known’ by a huge chunk of visitors. When I mentioned to a Spanish friend that the recent UK Celebrity MasterChef episode filmed on Tenerife was filmed in Santa Cruz and showcased the best of Canarian cuisine, both traditional and contemporary, her response was “I’m glad… in Canarias, we think British people only know about our sun.”

In a way parallel universes do exist.

Back in the 1990s Jo, Andy and I would lap up adventurer Benedict Allen’s exploits in dangerous, unforgiving places – being bullied by huskies in Alaska because he was too soft with them, losing his petulant camel in the Gobi. He was a hero because he wasn’t always as savvy as you’d expect from someone who was a modern-day explorer. To us he seemed an extraordinary ordinary bloke and a true traveller.

Jo will be gutted when I tell her Benedict Allen almost chose La Gomera as a place to lay his dusty, old wide-brimmed hat for a while. She’ll be furious when I tell her why he didn’t. La Gomera was discarded after a reconnaissance visit because of a lack of trees – “invigoratingly barren” was how he described it in an article in The Telegraph.

This will come as a surprise to our female, modern-day adventurer friend. I call her that because she lives on her own in a serenely idyllic spot; a valley beyond valleys right on the edge of the Garajonay National Park, an ancient laurisilva rainforest which is often shrouded in mist. Her house is like an outpost and she a frontierswoman fighting an army of saplings that constantly launch attacks, threatening to engulf her small slice of remote paradise. There are only about eight other inhabitants dotted around the forest-clad slopes of the valley. There is a road, but Jo walks when visiting friends on the opposing flank as, like many parts of La Gomera, it’s less hassle and quicker than driving anyway.

There is no road to her one-story longhouse. The closest tarmac is downhill, reached via a goat trail. I once made the mistake of trying to lug a bottle of butano up it in the rain. I’d carry it so far, dump it and go for a rest (i.e. cerveza) then return and lug it a bit more, and repeat until I finally carried it aloft, tired and triumphant into the house. “I am man, returning with my spoils. Now we can eat.” The alternative is easier. Park the car in the forest above the house and drag the heavy bottle downwards along another narrow goat trail on a hessian sack. This is how Jo normally does it. But there had been heavy rain and the forest track was a mire – a trap for cars which didn’t have tractor-sized wheels. If we wanted hot water and hot food, the gas bottle had to be carried up. It’s just one example of extreme living. Although, she’d shrug off any suggestion it was extreme. The rewards tend to help erase the hardness of life on the edge of Garajonay.

In the sunshine it is a glorious place; a special place; a unique place. The deep, shaggy carpet which spreads outwards from your feet when you dangle them over her tastefully ramshackle tiled terrace (mirror wind-chimes, silver Buddha, pyramids of lemons and oranges, walnuts in neat rows, a sign for Bass ale on draught, which confused the hell out of one particularly adventurous hiker) is jade; a bumpy forest canopy rolling to the horizon. How green is my valley? Heart-wrenchingly so. The only breaks are a few white spots, other lonely cottages. In the morning, as the sun burns off the bruma (low cloud) still hanging in the valley, spiralling wisps rise from the treetops below, they are like freed souls making their way to the heavens above. Sometimes a dog barks, sometime a chain-smoking cockerel croaks, sometimes there are voices from the tiny plaza in the centre (a term used very loosely) of the hamlet. Mostly it is silent, save for birdsong. Across the treetops, Mount Teide on Tenerife towers above the archipelago, reminding why the Guanche islanders once thought of it as a mystical place, the home of a devil. It is a mythical and hypnotic vista; one we have toasted on numerous occasions.

Benedict Allen was looking at La Gomera as an alternative the Amazon. He ended up in Prague. His instinct was right, La Gomera would have been a perfect halfway house, as he would have known if he had found his way to Jo’s valley. I’ve still no idea where it was he stayed which made him believe it was a ‘barren island’. Maybe he veered off course and accidentally ended up on Lanzarote or Fuerteventura. Thinking back to some of the reasons we enjoyed watching his travels so much, that is not beyond the realms of possibility.

In the travel blogosphere there’s a tendency for people to talk as though everyone who travels is internet savvy – clicking links galore and posting Instagram pictures of anything that moves… or doesn’t. Contrastingly, on mainstream travel sites location experts talk among themselves about travel blogs as though they’re things to be treated with suspicion, and fear anything which involves the word ‘update’. Many of us inhabit a universe which exists somewhere in the middle.

Tripadvisor got me thinking about parallel universes, especially in relation to destination perception. Not for the first time a question about the differences between the Canary Islands was met with a response that there wasn’t much. This no doubt reinforced the original poster’s research which had failed to come up with significant variations between the islands.

The reason why is simple. There are no differences in the Tripadvisor travel universe they inhabit. In ten Canary Islands forum pages, each with twenty different questions, only four posts were about locations or subjects that weren’t related to resorts – a measly 2%. Some islands rarely get a mention. I’ve carried out this research a number of times and the outcome is always similar.

I don’t need to labour the point about the image people who don’t know the islands will get from this picture. And yet it is light years away from reality… another universe away. On all the Canary Islands resorts make up only a small percentage of the land mass, yet it’s their image which dominates.

Going into detail about the differences between the Canary Islands would fill a book, so I’m only going to provide a brief snapshot as an illustration why it’s essential to universe-hop when carrying out travel research.

El Hierro

Scenery: Lying on the western edge of the archipelago, El Hierro’s scenery ranges from green fields and forests to stark volcanic slopes. Parts are more like Yorkshire than a subtropical island.
Beaches: Not the island to visit for a beach holiday, although there are black sand beaches and sea pools.
Culture & tradition: Having only a tiny population means cultural and traditional activities are on a lower scale than the larger islands, but they are deep-rooted and there’s nowhere that isn’t authentic.
Gastronomy: The weakest of all the Canary Islands in our view, but you are guaranteed good Canarian cuisine wherever you stay.
Accommodation: Seriously limited with no big hotels and, apart from a couple of small hotels, mostly quite basic accommodation. Ideal for people who don’t want slick, resort type places to stay.
More information about El Hierro.

Fuerteventura

Scenery: Mostly curvaceous, tangerine hills dotted with white hamlets. There are green ravines to be found but overall the landscape seems closer to North Africa than any other Canary Island.
Beaches: They’re stunners – generally long, golden sand affairs. The Corralejos Dunes are like a mini Sahara.
Culture & tradition: The arid landscape isn’t great for farming and so there’s never been a substantial local population – the former capital is still smaller than the average village. Like all islands there are interesting traditions and the Canarian culture is evident away from the resorts, but again not as strong as in the more populated islands.
Gastronomy: Away from resort and coastal areas, choice can be limited and, as many restaurants cater for a day-tripping clientele, it can be difficult to find a good restaurants open after a certain time.
Accommodation: Fuerteventura is one of the islands with the highest percentage of all inclusive visitors. There are some interesting smaller hotels, but accommodation with a difference is limited.
More information about Fuerteventura.

Gran Canaria

Scenery: A wonderful variety ranging from epic valleys and dense forests to volcanic cauldrons and tropical ravines. Superb for exploring on foot.
Beaches: Being located where the eastern Canary Islands meets the western ones you get the best of both worlds when it comes to beaches, from black volcanic sand to the golden Maspalomas Dunes.
Culture & tradition: A large Canarian population means lots of traditional fiestas as well as a sophisticated cultural scene in the bigger towns.
Gastronomy: Resorts offer a wide range of international choice… as resorts generally do. Outside of the resorts there’s a good range of Canarian restaurants serving food which ranges from the traditional to the more creative. Las Palmas is one of the best locations for tapas in the islands.
Accommodation: From standard and luxury resort hotels to small rural hotels with bags of personality, Gran Canary is one of the islands with the most varied choices of accommodation.
More information about Gran Canaria.

La Gomera

Scenery: The south is quite arid whilst the north is green and lush with terrain that can switch from looking like South America to African rainforest to the Atlas Mountains. Crowning its centre is the ancient laurisilva forest in Garajonay National Park. Deep ravines cut into the land make it an island where getting around involves constantly veering in and out from the coast or ascending and descending steep slopes – in many ways La Gomera remains untamed.
Beaches: Another island which isn’t great for beaches, there are plenty of black sand playas but none are standouts.
Culture & tradition: Another island with a low Canarian population means that although you know you’re on one of the less developed of the island in tourism terms there isn’t the same depth of traditional or cultural scene as you’ll find in the likes of Gran Canaria and Tenerife.
Gastronomy: For its size there’s a good choice of Canarian restaurants most places, even inland thanks to it being a popular walking destination. In coastal areas, like Valle Gran Rey, there are some interesting restaurants due to a neo-hippy influence.
Accommodation: There are no intrusive resort hotels. Even the biggest, the Hotel Jardin Tecina, blends nicely into the scenery above Playa Santiago. Again thanks to its popularity as a walking destination, there’s a good choice of individualistic rural hotels.
More information about La Gomera.

Lanzarote

Scenery: Although the terrain is generally tree-free like Fuerteventura, Lanzarote looks completely different from its neighbour – it is the most obviously volcanic of the islands and possibly most other-worldly of the islands with a few unusual and quirky natural attractions.
Beaches: Another good choice if golden, sandy beaches are at the top of anyone’s holiday preferences list.
Culture & tradition: See entry for Fuerteventura.
Gastronomy: There’s a good blend of the traditional and the contemporary both in coastal areas and inland. Maybe not the strongest as far as traditional Canarian cuisine goes, but lots of good restaurants to try.
Accommodation: The other island with a ‘too-high’ level of all inclusive accommodation (more than 50%) which means a more limited choice of smaller, individualistic hotels. But there are some.
More information about Lanzarote.

La Palma

Scenery: It’s known as La Isla Bonita – the beautiful island – and that’s what it is. One of the most diverse in scenery terms with waterfalls and rivers, Jurassic Park ravines, volcanic landscapes and forests.
Beaches: A weak spot, there are black sand playas but La Palma isn’t a place we’d choose for a beach holiday.
Culture & tradition: One of three Canary Islands with the richest historic pasts (Gran Canaria and Tenerife being the other two) La Palma hasn’t been as affected as much by mass tourism. Subsequently, as far as traditions and cultural activities goes it occupies a perfect spot between the most populated and least populated islands.
Gastronomy: It’s always been good for traditional food but in the last few years there has been a blossoming of a more contemporary Canarian cuisine scene. It’s now one of our favourites for interesting restaurants serving local dishes with a difference.
Accommodation: Staying below the mass tourism market has one downside – accommodation on La Palma is more limited than it should be. There are some interesting plans to improve the situation, including a hotel in a lighthouse.
More information about La Palma.

Tenerife

Scenery: With pine forests, ancient laurisilva woods, the volcanic wonderland of Teide National Park, banana plantations and surreally wind-sculpted pumice rock formations along the east coast, Tenerife is the most scenically diverse of the islands in our view.
Beaches: The best of the western islands for beaches but no match for any of the eastern islands. There are good beaches with black sand and not such black sand. Any golden beaches, and there are a few, have been imported.
Culture & tradition: With the highest Canarian population and boasting a colonial city which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Tenerife is one of the islands to experience Canarian culture at its strongest, as long as you stay in the areas favoured by Canarios since the conquest of the island.
Gastronomy: It’s not just the fact the island has five Michelin star restaurants which makes it tops for gastronomy, there’s a huge culture of eating out among the local population – there are restaurants everywhere; and many of the best are far away from the main tourist resorts.
Accommodation: Like Gran Canaria, Tenerife has the most varied selection of accommodation – from high end luxury resort hotels to stylish boutique hotels in gorgeous colonial buildings.
More information about Tenerife.

Like I said, these are only meant as snapshots, brief tasters designed to highlight there are differences between the Canary Islands… but only those in the universe I inhabit.

There have been many mornings we’ve sat, hypnotized amidst tropical plants, citrus trees, crystal butterflies and Chinese wind chimes, on our friend’s eclectic terrace 1000m above sea level, gazing in quiet amazement (a feeling which has never diminished over the years) across lush, sleepy Los Aceviños as misty fingers perform their captivating dance around the valley’s verdant crevasses. It feels like a world completely cut off from civilisation which, in a way, applies to La Gomera as a whole.

Our Canary Island mantra is that each island has a distinct personality. Forget the lazy ‘over developed for mass tourism’ tag applied to the most popular bigger islands in some travel articles; those betray a superficial knowledge of the islands. Each one is fascinating in its own right and even in the best known islands, tourist resorts occupy only a small geographical area. These are seven unique islands (I’m talking about the main ones) with distinctly different qualities. Those differences also apply to walking in the Canary Islands.

’10 reasons we enjoy walking on La Gomera’ is the first in a series where we pick out the best of what we particularly like about walking on each of the Canary Islands. And, to show we don’t just see the world through lovely rose-tinted sunglasses, one aspect we’re not so keen on.

Walking on La Gomera – it’s small

La Gomera is the second smallest island in the archipelago. A memory which sticks in my mind is many years ago we travelled around La Gomera using public transport. After three days we’d get on a bus and say a couple of ‘holas’ to locals we already recognised from various towns we’d visited during our short time on the island. A week’s walking on La Gomera gives a real insight into the island and its people. In the past we’ve more or less circumnavigated La Gomera on foot in that time.

Walking on La Gomera – cosy accommodation

‘Cosy’ may not be the appropriate word for winter stays in rural accommodation in the Gomeran hills as central heating is a rarity and Canarios will simply put on another layer before lighting a fire. But intimate, yes. Even in the small-scale coastal resorts of the south of the island there’s a family feel to tourist accommodation. When not visiting our friend we mostly stay in small rural hotels in inland towns like Hermigua and Vallehermoso. These places give you a feeling of being more immersed in local life.

Walking on La Gomera – straight from hotel onto to the trail

It doesn’t really matter where you base yourself, you can access walking routes from just about any town or village on La Gomera without a long trek through an urban jungle, even in the capital San Sebastian. Our favourite base is Vallehermoso where there is a selection of excellent walking routes starting in or passing through the town.

Walking on La Gomera – routes are well signposted

La Gomera is the Canary Island best known for walking. The local authorities there know it. Subsequently, and apart from the occasional glitch, it’s an island well geared to a walking market, especially a German one. Anyone who’s walked in Germany will know that you can get an overdose of signposts on walking routes. La Gomera isn’t quite at that level but, probably not coincidentally, it’s got the best signage of any of the Canary Islands.

Walking on La Gomera – 3 continents

You find an impressive range of diverse terrain on most of the Canary Islands, but what that actually consists of varies enormously from island to island. On La Gomera at times you can be marvelling at Mediterranean-looking slopes with narrow, stepped terraces reminiscent of the Atlas Mountains. At others, the forest canopy is so dense it doesn’t take much imagination to think you could easily stumble across a troop of silverback gorillas. And in other parts, scenes of tall, skinny palm trees towering above lone cottages with woodsmoke billowing from their chimneys are pure South America.

Walking on La Gomera – it’s challenging

In altitude terms, La Gomera doesn’t get close to reaching the giddy heights of its neighbour Tenerife. But when tackling some of Gomera’s undulating barrancos on foot it definitely feels like it does. The nature of the island’s topography is such that it’s a circular island with deep ravines cut into it which makes driving a winding in and out affair and walking often an up and down one. The best routes involve climbing steeply, then descending steeply, then repeat… a few times over. This is a rugged, exhilarating landscape which can be underestimated by some. Taming those paths is immensely satisfying.

Walking on La Gomera – food and drink

What there is to eat and drink in any walking destination is important to us. Most Gomeran towns have a handful of very good tascas in which to eat or enjoy a post-walk cerveza. The food is generally simple, hearty traditional Canarian fare, but there are a few interesting alternatives – e.g. Casa Efigenia at Las Hayas, where Efigenia has been dishing up the same set vegetarian menu for years. Then there’s the snazzy new kid on the block, Mirador de Abrante with its glass walkway, Silbo whistling waiters and sophisticated tapas. Distinctly local goodies to look out for are almogrote (a strong cheese pate) and miel de palma (palm honey).

Walking on La Gomera – walking in an ancient forest

Garajonay National Park is a UNESCO World Heritage Site – a misty rainforest carpeting around 11% of the island and consisting mostly of laurisilva. Once such forests covered much of Europe and North Africa, but now they only can be found in the Macaronesian Islands. That’s the official UNESCO blurb, but what does it really mean? It means you get to step back in time to another era and walk through a forest which can be a) enchanting, b) atmospheric c) damp d) misty e) cool f) quite spooky.

Walking on La Gomera – the views

Great walking needs to have sensational views. La Gomera ticks that box, again and again. Picturesque valleys – tick. Dramatic ravines – tick. Towering peaks – tick. Sparkling ocean views – tick… and so on. Icing on the cake is Mount Teide on neighbouring Tenerife which muscles its way into many vistas.

Walking on La Gomera – quirks

Our favourite places for walking have ingredients that extend beyond plenty of routes with good views. We want extras, those aspects which make locations uniquely different. Some can be natural, some are courtesy of human hands. Quirks if you may. La Gomera boasts plenty of these including a fountain in a tree, a mini Louisiana-style swamp with ghost trees splitting the water, and a rather complicated magic drinking fountain at Epina.

Walking on La Gomera – the downside

Everybody already knows La Gomera is a top walking destination. As a result, some of the most popular routes can be quite busy during the height of the walking season.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

She was right. One of the most picturesque towns in the Canary Islands, Garachico, pales into plain Jane-ness when compared with the likes of Besalú in Catalonia or Halstatt in Austria.

But neither is it fair to compare the historic towns in the Canaries with their mainland equivalents. Their charm comes from a different well, one which was constructed by a mini united nations of explorers, adventurers, merchants and colonists. Various architectural influences have resulted in a legacy of colonial towns and districts with streets which are rather unique.

Their original designs in the 15th century owed much to the influence of mainly Portuguese and Andalucian settlers as well as Castilians from Extremadura. Most were simplistic agricultural abodes, evolving in style and grandeur as the centuries passed and colonists made their fortunes. An eclectic mix of humble cottages and noble townhouses can still be found in traditional areas across the Canary Islands, sometimes in bigger towns and cities whose historic attractions are well known to visitors, at others in villages and hamlets which still lie off the beaten track.

Tenerife, the big

The most famous example of perfectly preserved colonial streets in the Canary Islands is in San Cristobál de La Laguna on Tenerife. It is so perfectly preserved the old town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Within the old quarter 627 buildings are classed as having preserved status, 361 of these were built between the 16th and 18th centuries. It’s a university city, so it’s historic but with a youthful vibrancy.

Tenerife, the small

Remaining off the beaten track, Los Silos in Isla Baja was founded by Portuguese, Castilians, Genoese and Catalans in the late 15th century. The colonial streets spread out from a central plaza with a church, Nuestra Señora de la Luz, unlike any other on Tenerife. This not very well known town plays host to an International Storytelling Festival each December.

Gran Canaria, the big

For centuries, since it’s foundation in the late 15th century, Gran Canarias’ capital Las Palmas de Gran Canaria was confined to two districts, Vegueta and Triana and this is where the best examples of colonial architecture are to be found; it’s also good for a tapas crawl and some decent live music bars.

Gran Canaria, the small

This town with two names, San Bartolomé de Tirajana and Tunte, was the location of a battle between the island’s aborigines and the conquistadors, with the locals winning against a better equipped army. A signposted route leads to all the historic points of interest, including the most beautiful street in the village… which you probably wouldn’t find without the way being pointed out.

La Palma, the big

One of our favourite ‘big’ (a relative term) Canary towns, Santa Cruz de La Palma was razed to the ground by French pirates in 1553. That’s obviously not particularly good news. But every cloud has a silver lining. The town had to be completely rebuilt more or less from scratch which means there’s a colonial consistency to the architectural style which isn’t found to the same extent elsewhere in the Canary Islands.

La Palma, the small

La Palma’s colonial buildings tend to be more colourful than those on other Canary Islands. There are a few places where this is evident, one of the least well known being Santo Domingo in Garafia, a town which was isolated for centuries, the main road not connecting it with the outside world until the 1960s. This was an area settled by wealthy Portuguese Jews who’d been expelled from Portugal in the late 15th century.

Fuerteventura, the big

Big is relative once you move away from the more populated Canary Islands whose history tends to be richer. Founded in 1404, postcard pretty Betancuria is one of the oldest Canarian towns. Nowadays it’s one of the biggest attractions on Fuerteventura with excursionists filling its picturesque immaculate streets during the day. After dark it’s a ghost town.

Fuerteventura, small

La Oliva, thought to be named after the wild olive trees which thrived here, is more sprawled out than most historic Canarian towns. There’s more of a colonial North African outpost about it as a result, especially around the 17th century Casa de los Coroneles.

Lanzarote, the big

Teguise, with its hilltop fort, whitewashed buildings and maze of streets is one of the most attractive of the historic towns found on the Canary Islands. It was Lanzarote’s capital until 1852 and deserves a visit, but maybe not on market day when it draws hordes of handicraft seeking visitors.

Lanzarote, the small

With a low Canarian population, Lanzarote isn’t the best island for finding lots of examples of colonial architecture. Yaiza beside Timanfay National Park claims to be one of the best preserved villages in the Canary Islands. In all honesty it didn’t leave a lasting impression on me as being in the same league as other historic towns on other islands which is why the photo is of Castillo de las Coloradasa on the coast in the municipality of Yaiza rather than of the town.

La Gomera, the big

La Gomera is perfect for walking holidays but not so great for pretty, historic towns. San Sebastián de la Gomera is the biggest and Columbus stopped off here to stock up on water, and have a romantic dalliance perhaps. The older quarter of town has colonial houses, but it doesn’t have quite the same charm as traditional towns on other Canary Islands.

La Gomera, the small

Agulo is another Canarian village which claims to be one of the best preserved in the islands. For me it is probably the most charming village on La Gomera due to its clifftop location and also because there are plenty of examples of colonial buildings. It’s name comes from either the aboriginal word for waterfall, a Berber town of similar name, or a term used for a ‘cut-off’ place. Take your pick as nobody can say for sure.

El Hierro, the big

The most magical of the Canary Islands is possibly the poorest in terms of colonial architecture. Capital Valverde is best bet, but there’s nothing which really stands out.

El Hierro, the small

What El Hierro does have that other Canary Islands don’t is the best example of very early colonial architecture. Guinea in the El Golfo Valley is colonial in the purest sense in that the basic hamlet of stone huts with thatched roofs was home to very early colonists. It might not boast the most elegant examples of colonial architecture, but it does have some of the most evocatively interesting and as such is now an Eco-Museum. It also has giant El Hierro lizards. We’re not talking Komodo dragon sizes, but impressive enough.

These are only meant to serve as examples to counter views of the Canary Islands being simply made up of soulless tourist resorts. There are many, many more towns with colonial districts to be found across the Canary Islands, many of which remain strangers to the millions of sun-seeking visitors who worship on the archipelago’s beaches each year.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+