Day 1 Thursday 24th January
Bloody hell it was cold at five fifteen this morning when I was scraping the ice off the Qashqai. Our flight from Gatport Airwick was at seven forty, so we had to get up at stupid-o-clock on the coldest day of the year.
The EasyJet flight was late taking off but made up the time with a tailwind and landed at the scheduled time. I sat next to a talkative man who loved telling me all about his wonderful life, preventing me from reading about even more about Brexit in my free copy of the Times.
At Arrecife airport, we collected an Opel Corsa from Autoreisen, which was great once we found out how to start the car (you hold the accelerator to the floor before turning the ignition key).
Julie drove slowly and carefully while I wrangled the Google Maps. Normally I have a good relationship with Google, but today it behaved like a bitch. I think Google must have heard about my flirtation with Alexa and was annoyed with me. My phone kept telling me to follow signs for Aeroporto, but there were no signs for the sodding Aeroporto! We drove round in circles for a short while and I swore at the phone and figured out which way to go. But I am “Tim the Navigator” (self-appointed), and found the LZ2 road to Playa Blanca. Julie confidently drove us there following the instructions from an AI somewhere in Seattle.
Then I got us lost again in Playa Blanca. The instructions we had been sent on how to find the apartment were shit (IMHO) and I had to phone the AirBnB agent to get directions to the flat. Anyway, after a short tour of Papagayo, it all came good and we met Karen at the door and got moved into the flat. It was literally spitting distance from the beach with big French windows that open up and a great view of Fuerteventura in the distance.
First things first, we had a lovely sleep for an hour, before walking along the prom to see what’s up in Playa Blanc. Lots of restaurants and shops, that’s what’s up. There is a harbour full of fishing boats and a quay where the Fred Olson Express ferry approached at substantial speed, swivels on its twin hulls and backs into the quay. Every time it does this the ferry generates big waves which wash the beach and alarms paddlers. It rapidly disgorges its load of lorries and cars, ready to fill up again and go back to Fuerteventura.
We stopped at the Superdino to buy some vital supplies of groceries and San Miguel, at roughly twice the price of our local Lidl back home. Julie was still feeling lousy, so we had a sandwich for dinner and watched some bad TV in the flat before an early night.
Day 2 Friday 25th January
When I woke up the sun was shining and the promenade was empty, so I got my running gear on and went for a run along the seafront. It was most enjoyable, compared to running around the cold streets of Twickenham.
Julie had done the washing up when I got back (ideal) and had the kettle on. As seasoned travellers, we know that having breakfast out means either a fry-up or pastries, neither of which fit in with our current healthy-eating , post-Christmas lifestyle. We are fat and don’t want to get any fatter. So we ate the Asda meusli we brought with us, with some yoghurt and fruit that was left in the fridge.
We walked east along the promenade to the marina. There is a strip of restaurants along the front with menus in several languages. They are interspersed with souvenir shops selling wind chimes, dream catchers and all sorts of other useless tat. Lanzarote (named after a Genoese bloke called Lancelot) is very volcanic, so there are few proper trees and no grass. The flower beds appear to be made up of crushed clinker and no proper soil. Cacti thrive, and there are poinsettias growing outside in thew black gravel. There are a few little Dunlins running around on the beach, but the only land wildlife I saw was this lizard.
At the end of the promenade is a big marina and more up-market hotels and cafes. Beyond that are several beaches, we’ll save those for another day.
We had a sandwich for lunch with some San Miguel, and then a nap because we could! The sun was shining in the afternoon, so we walked for about a minute to get to the beach outside the flat. I had a swim with my goggles on and saw loads of fish around the rocks in the cold clear water. I sat against the wall and read my paperback, Bruce Dickinson’s autobiography. I have never been an Iron Maiden fan, but I do like rock music and aeroplanes, like Bruce.
We had dinner La Romantica, which is right underneath our flat. It was recommended on TripAdvisor, and both the service and food was really good. The wine I chose was El Grifo, a local Malvesi white wine from central Lanzarote. It was good wine, but not outstanding.
Day 3 Saturday 26th January
After an uncomfortable sleep due to a stiff neck, I was woken by someone dragging furniture in the flat above, bastards!
But by Saturday I was properly oriented and ready to see some volcanos. Lanzarote is totally volcanic, and the greatest eruptions were between 1730 and 1736.
We set off before nine for Timanfaya National Park, which is about half an hour away by car up the LZ2 main road. The Park is entirely made up of extinct volcanos and lava fields, which are completely barren and in various shades of black and ochre, it looks like Mars. I kept expecting to see Matt Damon trudging aroiund in a spacesuit trying to find his way homeThe winding road leads up to what looks like the lair of a James Bond villain at the top of a mountain. You can’t walk or drive around the park on your own, you must take the coach tour which is included in the entry price (10€). The coach drove us on a winding narrow road across fields of lumpy black lava and red gravel which looks like it could have been thrown out from the volcanos last week.
The only thing growing is lichens which can survive on the bare rock, and one valley with some tussocks of hardy grass. The scenery is amazing, and it was well worth arriving early to avoid the later crowds.
At the end of the forty-minute tour, the coach takes us back to the visitors centre. A park ranger puts some dead brash into a hole in the ground and it caught on fire immediately. Then he chucked half a bucket of water down a pipe in the ground and it exploded into a geyser of hot steam and made everyone jump!
Inside the visitor’s centre, there is a twenty foot deep well exuding hot air, which bakes potatoes that sit on a grill over the hole.
Getting ahead of the crowd we dashed into the cafe for cafe con leche and a tortilla, which was bloody lovely. A nice man from Broadstairs sat next to us, who had paid more to hire his scooter for the week than we paid for our car! Schadenfreude is a wonderful thing.
After lava-land we went to the south west coast of the island to see the sites. First, we stopped at the Salinas de Janubio, photogenic salt pans which were good for a ten-minute viewing. A local travel blogger described it as one of the most beautiful places in the world, I think her world didn’t extend far.
Then a bit further north is Los Hervidoros, a scenic part of the coast where the lava flows meet the sea. The sea beats against basalt cliffs and has carved out caves in the rocks. There are man-made viewing positions right over holes in the roofs of the caves, where you can look down into the swirling sea.
Back on the road again we went north to El Golfo, a pretty village full of seafood restaurants, and no golf courses!. Beer beckoned, so I had just a small one in a cafe next to the beach and watched the rollers bashing onto the beach – bliss.
It only took half an hour to drive back, the whole island is only thirty-six miles long. I had another swim to freshen up and saw plenty of fish around the submerged rocks. Our restaurant this evening was one the talkative man on the plane described to me, Typico Espanol. I had sardines and very substantial beef stroganoff, a proper belt-buster.
Day 4 Sunday 27th January
Last night I had horrible neck ache again. I writhed around in bed but the best thing for it was to swear and then find a comfortable position. In the morning Julie administered Ibruprofen and massages my neck, which made me feel better.
Karen, who had let us into the flat, suggested the market at Teguise as a Sunday destination. The drive from Yaisa through La Geria is very scenic and strange. It is the main Lanzarote wine district, which is like no other in the world. There is hardly any proper soil on the island, so the plant grow in volcanic gravel. Grape vines are planted in an individual pit in the black gravel, with a low stone semi-circular wall that protects it from the wind. Dew forms on the gravel and trickles to the bottom of the pit to feed the vine. Consequently, there is a low density of vines, but the wine they produce is very good.
Teguise is the former capital of the island and is in the middle well away from the pirates and slavers that plagued Lanzarote for hundreds of years. There are four hundred stalls at the market, all of them selling stuff I don’t want. But it is a pretty town, and lively with the market and swarms of tourists who do want to buy tat. In a large square a row of caravans sold junk food to eager buyers, the sort of shit they sell outside of sports stadiums, Type Diabetes 2 on a plate.
Against all expectations, I actually bought something, a pocket-sized set of binoculars, from a nice African gentleman. I can now examine the ferry close up from the flat when arrives and departs several times a day. Yes I am a nerd, but I blame reading “Look and Learn” in the school library and watching “How” on TV.
The town is high on a hillside with excellent views of the surrounding countryside, and a small castle up on a hill. It appears to be one of the few places on the island with historic buildings.
After lunch, we drove back past the vineyards and avoided mocking any cyclists off their bikes. There were several recumbent cyclists pedaling using their arms lying flat on their machine. What a fucking stupid way to ride a bike!
The landscape is very weird and interesting, some parts look like a desert, other parts look like the world biggest fly-tipping site
Back in Playa Blanca I read more of Bruce Dickinson’s life story in the sunshine and then went for a swim in the sea. It’s about as warm as the sea at Lyme Regis in the summer, i.e. freezing cold. But the water is beautifully clear and there are a few fish to see around the rocks; Turkish Wrasse, Sole and very pretty Bluefin Damselfish
Dinner tonight was at La Rustica, about two hundred yards from our flat. The pizzas were exceptionally good, and the waiter was attentive without being subservient. Dear Reader, I implore you to eat at La Rustica.
Day 5 Monday 29th January
Julie is learning to run using the “Couch to 5K” method, which is a combination of walking and running while listening to encouragement on an app. She usually goes out with her mate Rowena, but had to settle for me today. We walked and jogged to the marina and back, and then had scrambled eggs for breakfast.
It felt like a good idea to see another seaside resort, so we drove to Puerto Del Carmen half an hour east. It was my turn to drive the hired Corsa and I was fine with it. We parked in the hilly back streets and walked past the harbour and along the seafront. It’s much bigger than Playa Blanca, and has an unfeasible number of restaurants and tat shops. By the way, tat is stuff I’m not interested in buying, which is most stuff. There are several big beaches, and we came across a big group of people having a Scandinavian horseshoe tossing contest. Man, it was riveting.
For lunch, we had Chinese food, which made a change. Then we found a bench in the sunshine and read our books, we know how to have a wild time.
After we returned to Playa Blanca I went for a proper run along the prom to build up an appetite for another dinner at La Rustica. I had chicken and chips (with token salad) and it was bloody lovely.
Julie wouldn’t come with me into the Irish bar next door to our flat. Live music doesn’t really interest her, but I just love it! The singer was Gerry Cassidy, a really nice Irish guy in his fifties who can sing and play beautifully, as long as you like songs from the 60s and 70s. He actually sang Matchstalk Men and Dogs, a catchy song but hardly a rock classic. The song was perfect for his audience of mostly men with white hair and no hair at all, I am somewhere in between the two. He sang with enthusiasm and love for the songs, and of course, I started singing along. Julie would have hated it.
He then sang “A Horse With No Name” by America, which has really daft lyrics (the first thing I met was a fly with a buzz) but a great melody and Gerry sang it so well “Oive been true the desert on a horse with no name..”.
Day 6 Tuesday 30th January
The north of Lanzarote beckons for further adventure. There is a cluster of interesting places to visit right up in the north of the island, about an hours drive away. Julie drove us up to Yaiza and then through La Geria where all the vineyards are, which is also the most popular route with cyclists. Lanzarote is very popular with cyclists since most of it can be reached in a day and the mountains aren’t enormous. The road wasn’t wide, so she had to slow down to get past them. After that a rubbish truck trundled along at 40 kph causing more baaad language from my driver.
The road wound up a big hill to a cafe at Los Helechos, with a fantastic view about 1700 feet down to the coast. We had cafe con leche and a big wee, which is always nice to do.
Then there was a zigzag road down the hill to Haria to visit the Cesar Manrique house and museum. Cesar is quite a geezer in Lanzarote, an overwhelming cultural figure on the island whose mark is everywhere across the island. He was an artist and architect who fought keep hi-rise hotels, which have blighted much of the Spanish coast, away from Lanzarote. He mostly succeeded, and buildings are mostly one or two stories and painted white. Little white boxes mostly (made of ticky tacky), which I find quite dull. His museum is the house he lived in until he was killed in his Jaguar in 1992 aged seventy-three.
His museum was OK, it was his house just as he left it. The art in the place is mostly other people’s rather than his own, I wasn’t inspired. But it’s about the only Culture on the entire island and as a member of the Metropolitan Elite (and possibly the Chattering Classes as well), I felt obliged to appreciate it.
Lanzarote is entirely volcanic, and one of the features of that landscape are lava tubes. These are natural tunnels where liquid lava once flowed and emptied out, leaving a void. The Cuervo de Los Verdes is a seven-kilometre lava tube, that is partially open to tourists to explore. We were taken on a guided tour of the long cave by a guide who had won the first prize in All Spain Fast Talking Competition. She had a script to get through, and not quite enough time to do it. I love a good cave, but this didn’t have all the stalagmites and stalagmites that there are in limestone caves, and it was mostly dry and warm which was a novelty.
The cave has a low roof in some places, waiting to catch out tall tourists taking photos and not paying attention. That wasn’t me by the way. There is a surprise – and it’s a good one – in the cave, but I won’t spoil it by describing it here.
Day 7 Wednesday 31st January
I had a short run/walk with Julie this morning and then had proper run between the harbour and marina and back home. After a shower and cuppa, we walked up the Montana Roja, our friendly local volcano behind the town. It’s 194 metres high, so it’s only a hill really, but it is a proper volcano with a crater. It takes about twenty-five minutes to walk up it, and there are wonderful views of Playa Blanca, Fuertaventura and up the coast to El Golfo. It’s also very windy at the top, so I was careful not to walk too close to the edge while I walked around the top of the crater.
The volcano is popular with local dog walkers, who allow their dogs to poop in the nature reserve and then leave it behind. That made me just a tiny tiny bit pro-Brexit.
The area of Playa Blanca is rapidly being expanded, and it’s all small white boxes on sale for between €200,000 and €500,000. Some are quite pretty with cactus gardens and a sea view, others are crammed together with just small patios and several miles from the town centre.
After all that exercise, we decided to have lunch on the seafront. I had a “large” San Miguel (400 ml, about ⅔ of a pint) and a tortilla (Spanish potato omelette). Because they cater to the English market, it came with chips!
After lunch, I started reading a book I found in the flat, “The Fox” by Frederick Forsyth. It’s an excellent thriller about spying and cybersecurity, very topical. After a bit of a rest, I went for my final swim in the cold Atlantic.
In Conclusion..
I had a great holiday for a week, I think I could have managed ten days in Lanzarote. The weather was good and the accommodation and restaurants were great as well. As winter holidays go, it was better than Hurghada in Egypt, but not as good a tropical destinations like Mirissa in Sri Lanka.
But Lanzarote is very light on beautiful old buildings, museums, art galleries, street life and the other things that make European destinations so worthwhile.
As an escape from nasty British weather for a week to eat pizza and drink beer it’s totally spot on!
The best times were spent in our flat with the doors open looking at the sea with a cold beer and olives (stuffed with anchovies) to hand.
timharnesstravels 