Of course there’s evidence of volcanic activity, the southern tip is a volcanologist’s theme park. We used to describe walking there as standing on land that was younger than we were. But, just like us, the rugged, burnt terrain around Las Salinas no longer feels quite so youthful. Especially as there is a new kid on the cinder block.

As we venture further north, there are further glimpses of the earth’s violent regurgitation. Black fans spread out like a bride of Satan’s train across the green slopes of the ‘beautiful island.’ But whether they are from the most recent eruption or from previous ones, it is difficult to tell. We’ve crossed lava fields on La Palma’s western slopes many times, using volcanic tubes to manoeuvre through Las Coladas de San Juan. These existed long before the 2021 eruption, even lending their existence to the name of the village we’re heading for, Las Manchas (the stains).

It is all so normal, not what we expected, and it’s a relief to see that most of the island has escaped the volcanic apocalypse shown in news footage. And then, after 18 kilometres, we round a hillside to arrive in Las Manchas to find a moody, russet mountain looming over the centre of the village.

“That wasn’t there before,” I say to Andy.

2021 Volcanic eruption on La Palma

At around 14:10 on 19 September 2021, La Palma erupted, or the area of Cabeza de Vaca below Cumbre Vieja did. For the following 85 days, volcanic devastation ensued. Lava spewed over 1000 hectares, destroying 1345 homes, and displacing around 7,000 people (local sources claim it is far higher). Nine percent of La Palma’s population had to flee their homes, some losing everything. A year and a half later, many are still living in temporary accommodation … still waiting for the appropriate financial support from their government.

Jonas, a guide we’ve known for over a decade, explains why this eruption was so different from when Teneguía exploded above the southern tip in 1971. “People treated that one like a spectacle. Families took picnics and sat on the hills to watch it.”

There were no houses or people in Teneguía’s path.

It’s a shock to discover the immediate impact spread beyond the destructive reach of molten lava. From a distance, the resort of Puerto Naos looks like it was lucky; the lava didn’t quite reach it. Yet it is a ghost town, a potential death trap; its houses shielding an invisible killer, toxic gas. A year and a half after the eruption and its residents are unable to return home.

The road across the lava

La Palma’s world changes at Las Manchas. As well as the new ‘mountain’, the Volcán de Tajogaite (a name voted for by the islanders), there are smaller hills of ash, glistening in the sunshine as JCBs attempt to shovel them into some sense of order. The road we used to travel to reach Los Llanos de Aridane is gone. From our position outside Bar El Americano we can see its replacement below, a narrow charcoal strip dissecting the three-and-a-half-kilometre wide band of volcanic badlands.

From a distance it looks much like any new road, but as we drive onto it, it’s clear it is anything but. Despite newly planted palm trees bringing a touch of subtropical normality to the scene, the sense of entering a disaster area hangs heavy in the sulphuric air. Triangular yellow signs warn drivers they’re in a ‘zona caliente’ – hot zone. Other signs instruct us not to stop, to keep driving, which we do … silently, except for the occasional, hushed ‘my god’ when we pass houses with lava spewing from doors and windows. Imposing its presence, Tajogaite does a passable impression of Tolkien’s Mordor in the background, reminding everyone who is responsible for this devastation.

The most profound sight comes just as we reach the end of the ‘hot zone’ at the barrio of La Laguna, where buildings with collapsed roofs and gabled ends ripped away, leaving interiors exposed, look like they are in a war zone. At one end of a two-storey block, where the makeshift road ends, lava has spewed through the lower floors, filling rooms with a basaltic deposit. A few meters away is a café where locals sit on the pavement drinking café con leche as if they might be enjoying their morning coffee in a town’s tranquil plaza.

It is an incongruous scene. And set against such a violently destructive background, it feels like it’s a symbol of the determination to prevail in the face of adversity.

After the sobering impact of the terrain we’ve driven through, this snapshot of normality in such an unusual setting is surprisingly uplifting.

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.

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.

The Binter experience
Flying Binter (the main Canary Islands airline) is like meeting up with an old friend. It’s how air travel should be; enjoyable. Admittedly we’re not talking long distances here, but jumping on the twin-engine turboprop from Tenerife Norte airport to hop across to La Palma is as easy as catching a bus. You grab your unassigned seat, take-off without any fuss, are given a local Spanish paper by the air stewardess, and then the famous Binter biscuit plus a cup of water, which often has to be quickly glugged. By the time you eat the biscuit and get to the water the destination runway is coming up to meet you rapidly. Collecting bags on the other side is equally painless; within an hour of stepping onto the tarmac to board the plane you’re free of the destination airport, feeling relaxed and ready to explore.

Songs of Santa Cruz
Our stay in Santa Cruz de la Palma was more a brief pause; a stopover at the 350 year-old Hotel San Telmo located next to the plaza and church of the same name. We’d met owners Richard and Bernhard the first time we stayed at the hotel in February 2016. Although not on an Inntravel ‘mission’ then, we were keeping eyes open for any appropriate hotels on the island which might dovetail into plans for a new holiday there. We were instantly charmed by the small hotel, and the care with which it was managed. It felt right – from a breakfast featuring quality produce to the therapeutic song of water trickling from a fountain into a stone pool in the old courtyard. On this visit we barely had time before dinner for a cerveza from the honesty bar, sipped on our room’s tea wood balcony as we listened to another guest below us croon softly and sweetly “All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces…” It was spellbinding.
You can virtually fall from the San Telmo into a couple of good restaurants. Cinnamon is a gastrobar with an interesting menu. Despite knowing that what is a small portion to Canarios isn’t small to the rest of us, we went one fried dish too far. Churros de pescado were crispy and filled with moist white fillets, but were more like a full-sized portion of fish and chips (albeit without the chips). A tray of ibérico croquetas numbered half a dozen delicious savoury bites too many.

In flowery fields
Our path onward was along a former merchant trail undulating southwards. Within moments of being dropped in the village of Mazo I was reminded how small La Palma is. A man approached with a cheery “Hola. ¿Que tal?” and thrust a map in our direction. It was the taxi driver who’d driven us from airport to the hotel the previous day. The map was a walking one. He’d done a Sherlock based on the gear we were wearing and the fact we were spinning around looking for clues as to where our route might start.
A couple of hundred metres climb along a cobbled lane and we emerged in a rural landscape which time-travelled us backward over a decade to the first time we’d experienced flower-rich La Palma in glorious bloom. Bejeques (house leeks) the size of small bushes burst from cracks in dry-stone walls. Sweet peas, snapdragons, and California poppies devoured whole sections of embankments outside traditional cottages. On grassy tracks between hamlets, wild flowers – proud tajinastes and aromatic wild lavender – took over the reins. Every so often we passed silken crosses, draped and dressed in advance of Semana Santa (Easter). At Monte de Luna, the terrain switched to pines, tabaiba and lava rivers before we finally descended to Los Canarios and Los Quemados, perched precariously on steep volcanic slopes at La Palma’s southern tip.

Burnt slopes
Fuencaliente is one of those areas where the more you get to know it, the more it reveals of itself. An uninspiring first visit involved a weekend in a depressing pension and mediocre meals in a noisy, bright café. We’ve since been bewitched by the passionate enthusiasm of local winemaker Victoria Torres; drunk sweet juice from grapes freshly pressed on an old wooden lagar beside the Volcan San Antonio; and, at El Jardín de la Sal, dipped bread into olive oil and then flavoured salts from the adjacent Las Salinas. It’s a very good restaurant, but even better by a La Palma mile is Puesta del Sol in Los Quemados. Describing a restaurant as being close to Michelin star standard is a grand and often overused claim. However, a few nights previously we’d eaten at Nub, one of Tenerife’s Michelin star restaurants, and the creations which emerged from chef Vidal Perez Ranal’s tiny kitchen were close to the astral standard of creative nosh we’d devoured there. Over two gastronomically, super-charged nights we were treated to lime-coloured parsley alioli; delicate salad parcels; a modern take on queso asado (grilled cheese); tuna with roasted garlic; croquettes with banana and chistorra; and a whimsical slice of the seabed. All served with a dazzling sunset and unlabelled bottles of wine from vine-covered volcanic slopes surrounding Los Quemados.

Rebirth of the pines
On a hot August day in 2016 we stood on the edge of a scorched battlefield where nature had razed the terrain. It was shocking and distressing to see such a huge part of la Isla Bonita transformed into a blackened wasteland. On a hot April day in the same spot in 2019 only a keen eye would be able to spot there had ever been a fire. Nature had done a Phoenix. It was uplifting to walk through a blossoming forest we’d last seen looking sorry and singed. The fires had put the Coladas de San Juan out of bounds, so it was especially satisfying to once again be able to cross an alien landscape consisting of deep scars and open volcanic tubes. Our route descended to a small ravine in El Paso where spirals had been etched into the rocky facades of caves by Benahoarites, the island’s pre-conquest inhabitants. Being La Palma, these ancient engravings are ignored by locals and not on the radar of most visitors.

The secret capital
Our initial meeting with San Telmo’s Richard and Bernhard in 2016 had been fortuitous. We learned they had just taken over a (to that point) typically nondescript town centre hotel in Los Llanos de Aridane. It was in a perfect location for a new La Palma slow travel holiday we’d been working on with friends at Inntravel. Since then, we’ve watched them work their magic, transforming the hotel into a friendly, comfortable, attractive, modern hotel in a fab location on the edge of the old town. The Benahoare is unrecognisable from the days when it was the Trocadero; its Cafe Idafe is proving as popular with locals as it is with hotel guests. To give an example of the care that goes into the running of it, there’s a choice of four breakfasts – senderismo, Italian, Hispano, and Benahoare – each featuring a different selection of breakfast goodies.

Spending time in Los Llanos, known as La Palma’s secret capital, is always a pleasure; there’s something about the vibe there which had us hooked from day one. It can be little things, like sitting in the main plaza with a barraquito and a craft beer chaser eavesdropping on locals at the next table talking about the situation in Venezuela with which the Canaries has close links (the father of Maduro’s nemesis, Juan Guaidó, is a taxi driver on Tenerife). Subsequently, on the islands you get to hear a more personalised take on events than you do from mainstream and alt news sources in the UK.

To the coast
A final walk from Los Llanos to the coast at Puerto Tazacorte took us across a mini version of Barcelona’s Parc Guell and through banana plantations to the historic centre of Tazacorte, a town whose pastel-coloured houses line a curved balcony overlooking banana palms and the Atlantic beyond. We’d passed through it many times but this was the first on foot, which allowed us scope to explore more. A flower-lined, cobbled path descended past colonial haciendas and mini plazas toward the coast. Where the centre of Tazacorte bustled on a warm Sunday, the historic quarter directly below the town was mostly devoid of people, and totally charming.

There aren’t many good beaches on La Palma, Puerto Tazacorte boasts one of them as well as a handful of decent fish and seafood restaurants. We already knew how good the chopitos (tiny, fried squid) and chipirones (bigger squid) at La Taberna del Puerto were, so ordered both as well as grilled local cheese with fig jam.

We’d started our journey on the east coast and ended it almost geographically opposite on the west coast. Despite visiting La Palma many times, it felt as fresh and new as the profusion of spring flowers we’d encountered along the paths, tracks and lanes of the Canary’s la Isla Bonita. Any concerns regarding having ‘been there, seen it, and done it before’ had dissipated from the moment we’d touched town.

Water does that, it hypnotises. And anything that happens to be nearby is touched by its magical spell.

Sunset on the Tagus
As the wintery sun yawns and slips towards the duvet of the horizon there’s a mini pilgrimage in Alcochete on the southern banks of the Tagus. The place of worship is Alcach, a bar with jazzy sounds and chairs facing west. At first the glare from the last sunburst is too much to look at and we turn our attention to watching the first twinkling lights from the big city on the other side of the water. Then it’s gone, an upside down farewell smile giving way to an endless mauve band. The pastel shade doesn’t streak across the sky like many dramatic sunsets; it more cuddles the heavens in a loving embrace. The still waters of the Tagus act as a mirror, doubling the impact. It’s the sunset of dreams, calming and warming. As a black curtain descends on the dusky performance we finish our drinks and head back to our hotel across the road. After two chilly steps we realise the warming bit was courtesy of the bar’s outdoor heaters.

The dogs of Eilean Donan
Long have I wanted to gaze upon Eilean Donan Castle, a thirteenth century centrepiece where three sea lochs converge. But then so, apparently, has every other visitor to Scotland – eager to take photos of a shortbread tin scene which typifies the wild and wanton romanticism of the Highlands. The castle’s car park is a heaving, multinational meeting place. But I’m canny, I steal away from the pack and head away from the castle to a more serene spot with equally commanding views. It is empty, more or less. The more or less bit being a lone photographer who has carefully positioned three neatly groomed, cuter than cute white dogs wearing tartan collars. They occupy prime position on a flat rock, with the castle on the loch filling the background. The photographer calls for them to look her way. Two does, one doesn’t. It is more interested in what I’m up to and stubbornly refuses to pose for her camera. The defiant wee dug ruins her shot, and in doing so enhances mine.

Wine and water on the Baker River
“You can’t take a bottle back to your chalet, the lodge owners don’t want to risk anyone spilling wine on the bed linen.”
We’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s not late, and the embers of the sunken fire in a showcase-worthy lounge overlooking the Baker River in Chile have been allowed to die down, taking it out of the running as a venue for a post-dinner wind down. We’ve paid a substantial amount to be there.
We explain to the lodge’s manager why it’s a ridiculous rule which deserves to be ignored, and take the wine back to our wooden chalet suspended high above luminescent glacial waters. After dark it’s cool outside, and a wood-burning stove inside makes it invitingly cosy. But a seed has been planted. The bed linen is expensive and snowy white. Every time I raise a glass to my lips I can feel the magnetic pull of the plump duvet. I know exactly how this is going to play out if we stay indoors. We take our wine outside and onto the small balcony-perche. Below us the invisible river roars a lively song whilst from the silhouetted forest canopy opposite, a backing group of unidentified night birds add an exotic, improvised chorus of clicks, howls and haunting chirrups. The manager has done us a favour.

The colourful watery cauldron
The bikini-clad girls sit on a rock washing grit from the soles of their feet. An everyday summer scene of sunbathers at the water’s edge. Except this water’s edge lies kilometres inland, in a gorge leading into the heart of La Palma’s Caldera de Taburiente. It’s an image which feels slightly off kilter. We follow the cooling river upstream to where it narrows and turns mustard-coloured; a mineral-rich teaser of things to come. The walls of the barranco tighten their belt in an apparent attempt to squeeze out inquisitive explorers until, ahead, the path appears to run out at a mini waterfall. We almost give up, convincing ourselves we’ve somehow taken a wrong turning. But we scramble up the slippery rocks… just in case. It was an optical illusion, a false ending. The gorge curves sharply and there before us lies one of the wonders of the Canary Islands, a waterfall cascading over an array of spicy colours – paprika, turmeric, ginger, cumin. We have reached la Cascada de Colores.

What’s in the bottle?
Contrasting bookends. Where the river flows into the estuary there is an Italianate villa, a throwback to a different era; halcyon days when glamorous darlings toasted fame and fortune on a Tuscan-styled balcony overlooking the Sado Estuary. Now it lies abandoned; although its star quality hasn’t completely faded. Beyond the picnic tables at Parque da Comenda, where the river narrows, is a shed of a kiosk. It has a small, make-shift terrace with polythene windows. The terrace is open only on the side facing away from the river; its patrons clearly aren’t there for the views. We need water and the kiosk is open. Not only is it open, it’s doing a brisk trade. Inside the protective wooden arms every chair is occupied by Portugal’s version of the cast of Last of the Summer Wine – the deep etches on their faces betraying a life lived and worked al fresco. They barely glance at me as I “com licença” my way past; too busy listening to gravelly, smoke-ravaged voices sharing local gossip. Every one of them nurses a plastic beaker filled with a murky substance which looks as though it could have been scooped straight from the riverbed. At the counter the female owner, cast from the same mould as her customers, fills more beakers with the same ruddy brown liquid, poured from a 6 litre plastic water bottle. I’m curious, but not that curious. We still have some kilometres of walking to notch up. Next time I’ll try it… or at very least ask what it is.

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.

Although not a big island, La Palma has more in common with Tenerife and Gran Canaria historically than the other smaller, or less populated islands. What this means is as well as having a wild natural beauty, it is also rather sophisticated, with a heritage dating back to the time when the Canary Islands lay at the bustling crossroads between the Old and the New Worlds. That colourful past has left its influence on walking routes as well as in the island’s traditional towns, adding a different aspect to exploring La Palma on foot.

There are numerous factors why we particularly relish the opportunity to hike on La Isla Bonita. But to keep this shorter than it could be, here are ’10 reasons we enjoy walking on La Palma’.

Walking on La Palma – it’s La Isla Bonita

La Palma is gloriously green. Not all of it, obviously. Like the other Canaries it’s a volcanic island and, also like other islands, there are southern parts where the land is parched and barren. Although eye-catching in their own right, the arid volcanic slopes aren’t what leaves the lasting impression, not if you explore La Palma thoroughly. I think of La Palma and I visualise emerald slopes, thick forests, palm trees, banana plantations – a verdant world. Even in August, when other islands aren’t at their visual best, looking ready to expire from a lack of water, huge parts of La Palma can remain as perkily green as freshly cut grass.

Walking on La Palma – water rich

One of the reasons for its perennial prettiness is La Palma is the most water rich of Canary Islands, something which adds a completely different facet to walking. A few years back, when a drought had left reservoirs in all other islands at a fraction of their capacity, we climbed steps cut into the earth which were damp and slippy because of torrents of water cascading down the rock face at our side. Negotiating pitch black tunnels on the Marcos y Cordero route, La Palma’s version of Madeira’s Levadas, involved ducking through watery curtains which drenched us. Topping all of this, La Caldera de Taburiente boasts a Canarian rarity, a river. Water might not create wide-eyed wonder in walkers from northern Europe, but when you spend a lot of time hiking on the Canary Islands you learn to react to it like the sparkling treasure it is. Sin agua no hay vida.

Walking on La Palma – diverse terrain

One of the other traits that La Palma has in common with Tenerife and Gran Canaria is the sheer diversity of terrain on offer in what is ostensibly a small geographic area. You can walk on volcanoes one day and through dense forest the next; explore deep, dark ravines or stand on exposed ridges with huge swathes of the island at your feet. Circumnavigate La Palma and you quickly discover it’s a shape-shifter of an island, revealing more changes of costume than a diva songstress.

Walking on La Palma – undiscovered walking routes

For many years La Palma was somewhat of a forgotten isle, along with tiny El Hierro. A lack of beaches tends to keep it off the mass tourism radar, whilst La Gomera grabs all the accolades as a ‘hiker’s paradise’. Recently I saw it referred to as one of the more touristy islands, possibly the author of the piece confusing La Palma and Las Palmas de Gran Canaria; something which can even happen amongst Canarios. That’s because Canarios drop the final ‘s’ in a word so both places are pronounced ‘La Palmah’, leading to all sorts of confusion. The upshot of all this is, apart from on the most famous walking routes, you don’t tend to find a lot of people on most of the island’s walking trails. Researching routes for two Inntravel holidays over four separate visits in 2016 we didn’t encounter many other walkers at all.

Walking on La Palma – full of surprises

La Palma is possibly the Canary Island which throws up the most surprises on its walking routes, sometimes nature is responsible (Los Tilos Biosphere Reserve, Fuencaliente, La Caldera de Taburiente, the drago tree forest near Las Tricias) at other times it’s because of human intervention (the row of old mills outside Santa Cruz, ancient engravings at La Zarza, the salt pans at Fuencaliente, Bond villain-esque observatories at Roque de los Muchachos). One of the reasons we adore walking routes on La Palma is so many are jam-packed with unusual ingredients as well as the obligatory and sensational, subtropical scenery.

Walking on La Palma – colourful, historic towns

From the colonial streets and flower-filled balconies of Santa Cruz de la Palma and the quaint old quarter of the ‘secret’ capital Los Llanos de Aridane to the steep lanes of Santo Domingo, La Palma’s historic centres make for suitably colourful and interesting bases. I say colourful as over the last decade or so islanders have been encouraged to embrace the old tradition of painting the facades of their houses in a range of pastel colours. César Manrique’s legacy on Lanzarote may have resulted in a North African whiteness to buildings on the easterly island, but old cottages in the western islands were historically boldly multicoloured. Strolling the atmospheric streets of La Palma’s old towns offers another variation on interesting walking routes.

Walking on La Palma – food and drink

There’s been a gastronomic renaissance on La Palma in recent years. It was always good for small scale, family-run bodegas, or for trying locally produced rum. However, the restaurant scene has come on in leaps and bounds of late with a great selection of lovely looking restaurants located in old buildings which ooze character. We like to be wowed as much by the food we eat at the end of the day as by the views we’ve enjoyed on walking routes during it and La Palma has kept us satisfied on both counts during recent visits. Culinary highlights have included some of the most tender octopus we’ve eaten (Don Escaldón in Los Llanos), blue cheese croquettes in a white chocolate sauce in Santa Cruz de la Palma, and a sophisticated salt cod dish at sunset in Fuencaliente.

Walking on La Palma – sea of clouds

In years of walking on the Canary Islands a thrill which has never lost its propensity to leave me open-jawed is to stand on the edge of a sea of clouds. It’s not only La Palma where you can experience this, but La Isla Bonita does the mar de nubes oh so well, and with a few original tweaks. At places like Roque de los Muchachos and Pico de la Nieve you get the classic version. But it’s the incredible cloud tsunami spilling over the island’s ridge and into the Aridane Valley which sets La Palma apart from others.

Walking on La Palma – young volcanic land

Being a fan of green scenes, barren volcanic landscapes don’t generally constitute my favourite walking terrain. That’s possibly because I’ve been spoiled by the surreal and stunning volcanic wonderland of Teide National Park, a place which can make all other volcano ravaged lands seem on the plain side. What La Palma can offer that mighty Mount Teide can’t is the chance to walk on a ragged, rugged land which is younger than you are… that is if you were born before 1971 when Tenerguia erupted and added to La Palma’s coastline.

Walking on La Palma – La Caldera de Taburiente

La Caldera de Taburiente deserves a category all to itself. This gorgeous enclosed cauldron, the result of an enormous landslide, is a must for visiting walkers. It’s a route which includes forest walking, challenging ascents and descents, river crossings, a kaleidoscope of changing scenes, and a multicoloured waterfall. Unsurprisingly it gets busy with walkers, campers and locals who simply want to enjoy its dramatic embrace. But I don’t know anyone who has walked it who wasn’t blown away by the experience. It is simply one of the classic walking routes of the Canary Islands.

Walking on La Palma – the downside

There are not enough good rural hotels. Working with UK specialists Inntravel to create a new Slow Travel holiday on La Palma in 2016 we had to concede defeat in one particularly beautiful part of the island because there simply wasn’t good enough accommodation available. Everyone is aware of the issue and there are plans afoot which should help improve the situation in the future. For now La Palma lags behind the likes of Tenerife, Gran Canaria and La Gomera when it comes to rural hotels with character.

Other articles in this series
10 reasons we enjoy walking on La Gomera

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+

In early November 2017 nearly all Britain’s tabloids published headlines which were a variation of – ‘Fears Tenerife’s Mount Teide volcano is about to ERUPT after more than 20 quakes rock the island in just four days.’

The reports which followed most were scandalous, with some claims which were simply borderline fiction. It was trashy journalism. But there were facts in the articles, and smarter readers should have had their fake news klaxons ringing loudly if they actually added up sections of text which contradicted headlines.

Facts: There were more than 20 tremors registered on Tenerife over the space of a few days, the largest of which was 1.4 on the Richter Scale.

Reality: 1.4 is very low in earth tremor monitoring circles. On 10 November, an unremarkable day in earthquake terms, the European-Mediterranean Seismological Centre recorded 30 tremors on their website, but they only publish tremors above 2.0 on the Richter Scale. These tremors took place in Greece, France, Italy, Austria, Turkey, Portugal, and Switzerland. Despite them all being stronger than Tenerife’s, not a mention in the UK press. 1.4 is so low it wasn’t felt by any of the population even though numerous publications used the phrase ‘rocked the island’.

There was bemusement in Spanish language press where the UK gutter press is often seen as something of a joke, not a particularly funny one. The Tenerife Tourism Board sent out a press release to counter what they referred to as “a number of misleading reports in the UK media”.

“Tenerife is an oceanic active volcanic island and as a typical active volcanic system, has background seismic activity related to its volcanism. Seismic swarms are common in active volcanoes even during dormant periods, and Tenerife is currently experiencing a period of dormant volcanic activity.
The volcano-monitoring programme on Tenerife follows the highest international standards using permanent networks of instruments, as well as periodic scientific campaigns of observation. These instruments enable us to monitor the seismicity, gas emissions and ground deformation with an unprecedented level of detail.
According to the indications of PEVOLCA, the volcano alert level is currently in GREEN position, the lowest level.”

Worse was the case of the La Palma mega-tsunami.

A couple of weeks before Tenerife’s shudder, La Palma experienced a swarm of earth tremors which had tabloid writers churning up mega-tsunami threat stories from more than a decade ago. Tabloids even managed to link heavy November rains (a common occurrence) with volcanic activity. This is one headline.

“Torrential rain emergency as landslides to trigger MEGA ERUPTION”

It is utter nonsense. People who believe “Experts fear the volcano is due to blow at any moment because its last eruption was back in 1971” deserve the sleepless nights reading scare headlines such as these might cause.

Papers lied outright when they reported “Panic has spread among the 86,000 residents on the island”. As one local put it when I told them about what was being claimed in the UK press “we’re panicking so much we went to the beach.”

But there was an unusual swarm of tremors in early October. These were monitored closely by the National Geographic Institute and Involcan (the Canary Islands Volcanological Institute). The conclusion was although the swarm was unusual, it was “within the range of values that can be considered normal for the Cumbre Vieja volcano”.

Long after Spanish papers ran headlines such as “El Volcán Cumbre Vieja ‘respira’ con normalidad” (The Cumbre Vieja volcano breathes normally) British papers were still squeezing out “FEARS are growing that a volcano on the popular Brit tourist destination of La Palma could be on the verge of erupting”.

The basis for the mega-tsunami reports was a Horizon documentary from 2000 where a couple of scientists put forward a theory that a piece of La Palma the size of the Isle of Man could detach itself from the island and slide into the sea creating a mega-tsunami which could wreak havoc across the world.

It is revealing papers carrying the scare stories used phrases like ‘some experts say’ and ‘some scientists believe’ when referencing the mega-tsunami theory. They failed to use the names of the actual scientists responsible for the theory for a very good reason. It’s unlikely the scientists involved would be pleased to have their names linked with some of the more extreme newspaper stories.

Seven years ago I interviewed Dr Simon Day, one of the scientists involved with the Horizon documentary. Dr Day believed that part of La Palma would eventually detach itself and fall into the sea, probably as a result of an eruption. Eventually being the key word.

“It might not be the next eruption, or the one after that, but every time it happens and the Cumbre Vieja moves, it becomes more unstable. Eventually it will detach and slide into the sea,” he told me.

Not everyone agrees with this. Fellow experts don’t and during the UK tabloid frenzy the Spanish press published a report from Involcan stating why they believed the mega-tsunami theory to be wrong.

The other thing tabloids failed to mention was the timescale involved. If Dr Day is actually right, when should we start to worry?

The best I could get from him was he was convinced if he returned in 10,000 years La Palma would be significantly smaller than it is now. Not one newspaper printed anything like the comforting piece of advice he gave me – “Worry more about crossing the road.”

The journalists who wrote the ‘Canary Islands about to erupt’ articles don’t know the Canary Islands or anything about patterns of volcanic activity. But they do know how to write sensationalist, attention grabbing pieces.

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+