june 8-11 ~imagining how jules verne felt on the precipice~
The day after our exhausting La Palma arrival, April and I duly set off for the beach, where we sat and sat and sat for the better part of a day. Heavenly, but not really of much interest. The day after (the 9th), however, my aunt and uncle took us for a little drive to the southern tip of the island where we visited the Teneguia volcano, one of many volcanoes scattered across the island. Teneguia is the most recently active of the islands’ native fiery fissures, having last erupted in 1971. It’s both beautiful and a bit intimidating and we, ever the explorers (or so we’d like to believe), bravely tromped across its craggy surface searching for openings, from which you can still feel the hot, moist air rising from its molten core far below.
In the image below you can see the slopes of the volcano and the hardened lava on which some industrious soul has fostered a successful vineyard!
And here’s me trying to look stalwart and adventurous while unfortunately my aunt looks like a mini version of herself. Funny, that camera angle…
On our return home from the volcano, we also drove by the Teneguia salt mines (unfortunately, on the ride home, April also became queasy—a recurring incident on La Palma’s twisty-turny road system…the things we go through to experience beauty). Although these heaps of salt may seem nothing more than mild, unintentional allusions to Sodom and Gomorrah, I found them oddly fascinating and strangely beautiful. And, of course, ever the fledging foodies, we took a bag of Teneguia sea salt home with us. This will come in handy should we ever try to make what quickly be came my favorite local dish. Papas arraguadas are small potatoes boiled in and encrusted with sea salt and tradionally served with another local favorite, mojo, a red or green (depending on the ingredients) coarse puree of cilantro, peppers and garlic. This is truly the food of the gods. Well, Pele at least.
The salt mines:
Banana plantations, another local crop, also cover the island, leaving much of the land—from a birds-eye view—covered in an eerily leafy and textured green.
On the way home from Teneguia, we also stopped by an incredible plaza (called “La Glorieta” and located in the town of Las Manchas). The entire plaza was covered in mosaics—the ground, the surrounding walls, the benches—and teeming with artfully arranged plantlife.
After a day like this, all we really could do was eat—lots and lots of mojo and papas—and collapse into bed. What happy exhaustion!
june 12-14 ~water, water, everywhere~
My parents joined us on the island on the 10th, and their arrival involved some more driving tours of the island—which involved, unfortunately, more battles with car sickness—and more revelry (i.e. Spanish champagne and general gluttony). On the 12th, my father, aunt and uncle, April and I embarked on a mini-expedition to hike along an incredible cliff-face. Getting there was hard enough—the last 12km of our journey took almost an hour (in a car!) as we slowly wound our way over an unpaved and very rocky road up the hike’s starting point. The hike itself came complete with a death-defying drop on one side and a series of thirteen tunnels along its route, which had to be navigated with flashlight and cautious steps. My favorite tunnel, the thirthteenth, was completely waterlogged due to excessive winter rains; we had to navigate the passage over only a foot of exposed rock floor (the rest was under a foor or so of streaming water) and large, continuous trickles of water from overhead. (My mother, smart lady, stayed home and did crossword puzzles by the pool. I really can’t blame her.) It was one of the most terrific hikes I’ve ever been on though we frequently hit our heads on the sharp tunnel ceilings and both of our flashlights went out going through the third tunnel (so that, for the next three hours, we had to navigate by touch and the meager sparkles of light from families’ beams). The views were spectacular, the tunnels fantastically fun and the drops breathtaking. Here’s a sampling:
One of the earlier tunnels, made so bright only because of my camera’s flash:
And the views:
Despite all the gorgeous vistas, my favorite moment (and also one of my favorite photographs from the trip) of the hike was the moment I discovered the rock rose. So much smaller than her towering surroundings and yet magnificent all the same, she grows where nothing so beautiful and lush would seem to be capable of taking root:
The hike was surely the climax of our time in La Palma—all of which was fantastic—and a few days later we said our adieus and traveled on to Germany, land of the terrific French fries, never-ending cathedral construction sites, and much, much more.
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