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Posts Tagged ‘hiking’

At Al Campo yesterday they had this wonderful stand with all the vegetable ingredients for puchero – a traditional Spanish stew. Incidentally, for all you veggies, the translation of puchero as a vegetable stew is a huge misnomer because it contains beef and pork.

I thought it was brilliant that there was a special display to save you gathering all your own ingredients and it’s very typical of the habits of the masses here – it’s post Christmas, so everyone will be using up their leftover cuts of meat to make puchero.

The stand had all the ingredients except the meat and the chickpeas:  cabbage, corncob, pumpkin, chayote, French beans, sweet potato, pears, marrow or courgette, carrot, leek, garlic, onion and tomato.
To make puchero, chickpeas, beef, pork, saffron and thyme are added to the above and the whole lot are simmered into a warming, fragrant stew which is usually served with fresh crusty bread.

For hikers, there’s nothing quite like a steaming bowl of puchero at the end of a long walk when the sweat is drying and the chill of the mountain air kicks in. And I have it on very good authority that the best puchero on the island is to be found at Casa Lala in Arico Viejo.

I have yet to try Casa Lala myself and will have to try out a new walking route that ties in with finishing there, but we’re planning a walk around the Erjos Pools soon and I might just pop into Bar Las Fleytas to try theirs…watch this space.

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Generally speaking, I prefer circular walks to linear ones; somehow I feel that you get double the scenery for the same energy output.

So last week when we went walking in the hills above the south west coast, we took what was essentially a ‘there and back again’ walk and decided to make it circular by finding a different route back to our starting point.
We were making good, downhill progress on a dusty, unmade road until we reached the point where there should have been an old path cutting off over a barranco (ravine) and back through the abandoned terraces to our starting point. But endless searching for the start of the path proved futile, despite the fact that we could see it quite clearly running up the other side of the barranco.

We were left with no choice but to cover the 1 kilometre distance by following the main road which stretched into endless switchbacks for 3½ kilometres in searing calima heat with no pavement. A completely unacceptable end to what had been a glorious walk. Fed up, tired and disappointed, we arrived just a few hundred metres from our starting point to find a newly-erected Cabildo (Island Government) board showing the start of the very path we had been trying to find from the other side. Frustrated and annoyed, we resolved to return and complete the final section the way we had wanted to.

Yesterday we went back into the hills of the south west to do what we considered to be a linear walk. But we discovered that we could in fact easily turn it into a circular one by returning along quiet country lanes through picturesque hamlets, enhancing what we had initially feared might be a fairly uneventful route. The Cabildo had cleared access and put in signposts and wayside markers, making it easy to navigate the many paths and turn them into a thoroughly enjoyable walk.

When we finished we drove back to last week’s route to do the final section of the path we’d failed to find. We parked up and followed the directions given on the fancy Cabildo sign at the start of the path. Within minutes we’d been followed by barking dogs snapping at our heels; we’d taken several wrong turnings through completely overgrown and confusing terrain with no clear path; and we’d finally ended up in what looked like someone’s driveway where two parked vans completely barred the way.
Frustratingly, we could quite clearly see the path climbing up the other side of the barranco – the side we’d been completely unable to see last week – but we couldn’t see where it emerged as it disappeared into undergrowth.
Re-tracing our steps, Jack tried shimmying down the barranco but ended up on a sheer precipice, speared by spiky seed heads that impregnated his shoes and buried themselves into his feet.
Clearly the Cabildo had put up a nice sign at the start of the path but then had done nothing. Any path that may have been there had long since been reclaimed by nature and by man.

You may find some paths have been usurped for 'other purposes'

A couple of old guys whose back yard we’d practically walked through twice, came out to offer their help, one indicating that the path was where Jack had tried, the other sending us in the opposite direction.
Jack sat on a rock and extracted the spikes from his feet while I explored another possible lead which once again led to a precipice over the barranco.
“Right” I said, eventually. “Let’s drive back to where we couldn’t find the path last week and try doing it that way round”.

Less than convinced, Jack agreed and we set off back down the road we were learning to hate as it zig-zagged its way interminably covering very little real distance. After a kilometre or so, we spotted the house where we’d come unstuck and there appeared to be a path alongside. We parked the car and set off to see if the owners were in fact using a public path as their private garage.
“You’ve got the notebook, haven’t you” I said to Jack. The notebook contained all my scribbled descriptions, directions and timings that would turn our experience into a detailed walking guide.
Jack’s face looked as if I’d just asked if I could use his dog and his Granny for target practice.
“It’s still on a rock on the path where I took the spikes out of my feet” he said.

With not another word, he got into the car, drove back up the road which we’d both decided we’d be happy if we never saw it again in our lives, and retraced the gauntlet of snappy dogs and overgrown barranco to retrieve the book. Meanwhile, I followed the path to be confronted by two large, growling, slavering dogs guarding what appeared to be private land with not a path in sight.

When Jack got back with the car, we called time on the whole fiasco.

Some walks are just not meant to be circular.

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A very good friend of mine sent me this from the ‘Things to be Miserable About’ site:

Miserable Fact of the Day
A study found that most people report no increase in happiness after taking a vacation, and even those who do, return to their normal levels of unhappiness after only two weeks. [New York Times]

If you’ve just flown back from Tenerife’s palm-filled paradise, of course you’re going to be miserable when you get back to the cold weather, daily grindstone and concrete of home. But as the excellent Pamela pointed out, there are ways to prolong the benefits and defer the misery.

If all you do while you’re on vacation is lie around a pool or on the beach developing a nice, even tan, then let’s be honest, the holiday’s over the moment you set off for the airport.
After all, what are you going to tell people when you get back?
“Hi – how was the holiday?” they’ll ask.
“Great!” you’ll respond.
“Nice tan!” they’ll remark.
Conversation…and holiday over.

If, on the other hand, you get out and about exploring, discovering tucked away gems of places, charismatic restaurants that turned up the best tapas you’ve ever tasted and scenery that’s even had the kids going “WOW!” you’ll have a whole store of adventures and tales to tell. You can relish, embellish and re-tell experiences endlessly, re-igniting memories and bringing that holiday smile right back!

Leaving your comfort zone and experiencing something different can open the door to a whole new world of adventure. Why not try your hand at diving around the beautiful waters off Las Galletas, or try a tandem paraglide in Adeje or bike rafting down from Teide National Park? You never know, it might spark a latent talent or a passion that’ll have you embarking on a whole new way of life after you get back home!

If the office sends your stress-ometer off the chart, walk it right out of your system by taking to some of Tenerife’s amazing hiking trails. Walking is a great way to relax your mind and tone your muscles while experiencing parts of the island that most visitors never get to see. Your body will feel more refreshed, your mind will be more alert and you’ll be better equipped to keep the stress bar down when the in-tray rises.

Island Walks and Island Drives – for holidays that last longer than the tan!

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Last week we had a meeting in the south of the island at 10am and not being sure how bad the morning traffic into Santa Cruz would be, we decided to set off by 8am. It’s a journey that would normally take us just over an hour so we were erring on the generous side.
At 7am I leapt out of bed and went into the kitchen to put the coffee on. Through my sleepy haze I could see a dozen or more ants running around the draining board. Raising my eyes I noticed a thin black highway of ants running up and down the wall above the sink and slowly, as I scanned the worktop I saw the thin line running to and from the old plastic container in which we keep peelings and egg shells that are destined for the compost heap.

The night before, I’d taken some eggs out of the fridge to make an omelette and had just slightly knocked one against the other (well you know what they say about making an omelette without breaking eggs). When I looked down, there was a small hole in one but as I couldn’t be absolutely certain that it had only appeared that instant, I didn’t take any chances and put it in with the compost peelings. Clearly, I had inadvertently given the local ant population a midnight feast.

View of Los Cristianos from Montaña Guaza

View of Los Cristianos from Montaña Guaza

Immediate action was called for. The ants were ‘tapped’ back up the wall until we could see where they were coming from and then rounded up from all over the worktops and herded back whence they’d come before spraying the wall with ant spray (sorry environment – short on time). We were planning to hike up Montaña Guaza after the meeting and so had to make up sandwiches, pack clothes to change into, hiking shoes and water into the rucksack. Not to mention, have some breakfast.
By 7.30am we were still in our dressing gowns and hadn’t even drunk our coffee.

Half a headless chicken hour later and feeling like we’d already put a full day in, we were driving at a nifty pace up the motorway until we rounded the corner just shy of Santa Úrsula (about 8 km into the journey) and ground to a halt. For the next 45 minutes we watched the clock race and the speedo’ crawl until we finally reached the Tacoronte turn off and took the exit. We crossed the bridge and headed back on the westbound carriageway.
An hour after we’d set off, we were back at the Puerto turn off and heading towards Icod to take the shorter, but considerable slower route over the mountain to the west coast.

Normally a spectacular Tenerife drive to be enjoyed and savoured, it seemed today like just about every other vehicle had developed a top speed of 15 kilometres an hour, causing much high blood pressure and an inordinate amount of swearing. Eventually we arrived at the southern end of the motorway and picked up speed, only to grind to a halt once more in the rush hour traffic heading into the south from the west side of the island.

We finally arrived in Los Cristianos at 10.50 am, the perfect time to not find a parking spot. A brisk ten minute walk later, we arrived at our meeting, 3 hours after we’d set off.

Meeting over, we drove out to Montaña Guaza and parked up. A quick change of clothes, a swiftly swallowed butty,

A barren landscape

A barren landscape

some slapped on sun cream and off we set. We knew we were in for about a three hour hike so Jack set the pace like a greyhound out of the traps. All was going well until the directions we were following told us to ignore the path straight ahead and detour off into the barren, arid wasteland whose only identifying features were a grid of trails leading in every direction, none of them reflecting the instructions in the book.

After going miles out of our way, we finally tracked back to the path we’d left in the first place but by then the humidity and greyhound pace had sent me into light headed land from which I could not escape. No amount of ‘head between the knees’ would banish my near faint and I had to concede that I wasn’t going any further.

We got back home at around 6.30pm to find several ants on the worktop where they’d presumably spent the day running around, directionless and thwarted at every turn. I knew just how they felt.

Some days the Gods are just not with you.

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The views are well worth the uphill slog.

The views are well worth the uphill slog.

I woke up yesterday to one of those perfect summer mornings. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky, the birds were in full voice and the warm air carried the scent of the last of the jasmine. On the mountainside above us, the ochres, mustards and russets of Mount Teide saturated the skyline.
In short, it was the perfect day for taking to the hills.

It’s been a while since our last ‘serious’ walk so I knew the 600 metre ascent from the La Caldera forest pista to the top of the ridge was going to make itself known to my legs and lungs, and I wasn’t wrong.
Stripping layers and pinning hair up as I went I found myself sweating, gasping and grunting my way up the forest path whilst bitching about the 3 litres of water, waterproofs, sunscreen, lunch etc. that I was carrying in the rucksack.

After an hour and a half of re-staging ‘The Hill’, we finally arrived at the

Stunning scenery comes as standard on the La Caldera walk

There aren't many walks where scenery like this keeps you company

stone gate that marks the end of the ascent and took a well deserved break on a promontory looking out over the entire valley with Teide shimmering above the emerald carpet of the Corona Forestal.

For me, this is where the best part of this walk begins. A fairytale dappled path twists, undulates and zigzags its way along the ridge through forests filled with the heady perfume of broom, pine and a multitude of endemic plants with the omnipresent Teide above and the shimmering Atlantic below. It’s a hiker’s paradise up here.

Then we rounded a corner to see something absolutely unspeakably, outrageously incongruous in this rustic Eden; a red wire barrier had been placed right across the path with a sign showing a hand raised in ‘STOP’ position and the words “Alto! No Pasar!” written above it.

Thats what we think of that!

That's what we think of that!

Gobsmacked, we stood and stared at the obscene article before saying almost in unison “Fuck that!”

There is NO WAY that I have huffed and puffed my way for an hour and a half up a 600 metre ascent to be told by some ‘job’s worth’ medio-ambiente worker that I have to turn back.
The sign was given all the respect it deserved and climbed around.

If we arrive at something that seems dangerous or if there’s some kind of activity that we’re encroaching on, we reasoned, then we’ll turn back. But as far as we could see, there was absolutely nothing going on and no earthly reason for the sign to be there.
For the next 6 or 7 kilometres we hiked along the path with no visible sign of

Drama and beauty - if you look closely youll see me holding the handrail on this particularly vertiginous section of the walk.

Drama and beauty - if you look closely you'll see me holding the handrail on this 'squeaky bum' section of the walk.

any activity at all save for a couple of green plastic bags into which forest debris had been cleared and a few bags of cement and some large plastic containers of water lying by the side of the path at one corner.
Eventually we arrived at the other side of this ludicrous path closure and similarly climbed over that to descend through the forest and back to La Caldera.

I’m not advocating anarchy when it comes to warning signs on Tenerife, but with a little bit of commonsense and caution exercised, don’t assume that ‘access denied’ signs on this island are either current or necessary, because sometimes they simply aren’t.

The ‘La Caldera’ walk is available to buy on PDF, sent straight to your inbox

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An idyllic, if somewaht dusty, haven of warm, pine scented tranquility

An idyllic, if somewhat dusty, haven of warm, pine scented tranquility

We gathered up the dead pine needles into a thick square onto the hard baked earth. The needles pricked my fingers and sent clouds of dust into my nose causing an avalanche of sneezes. There were sharp stones, large boulders, tree roots and suspicious looking tissues dotted around the forest floor. We cleared a space as best we could and placed the groundsheet onto the pine needles, attempting to correct a 15° slope by the addition of further needles and creating an echo avalanche of sneezes.
By the time the fly sheet was on and the tent pegs were being hammered into the earth, we were both covered in dust and I had the equivalent of a bad head cold. Hmm, the benefits of fresh air and ‘back to nature’ pursuits.

We’d decided on a hike to Paisajes Lunar near Vilaflor and needed an early start so it was the perfect excuse to enjoy a Tenerife drive up into the pine forests around Teide National Park and try out one of the free campsites that Tenerife has to offer.

Further along the ‘zona de acampada’ or camping area, were two small and one medium sized tent occupied by five boys and two men; presumably a ‘boys and dads’ camping weekend. Other than that, the zone was empty.

It was difficult to see what had determined this area as the camping zone. The ground was exactly the same hard, uneven, stone strewn pine forest as the rest of the park and there were no facilities of any kind.
The only reason we had chosen our spot was because the car couldn’t go any further on the jagged terrain and the ground disappeared on either side into steep barrancos. The amount of space where it was actually possible to pitch a tent at all was minimal and the only nod to the needs of campers was the proximity of the toilet block which, on closer inspection, turned out to be a hole in the ground with a flush pipe and a sink with no water. That explained the tissues.

When the tent was pitched and the guy ropes taut, we cracked a couple of beers and sat in quiet (apart from my sneezing) contemplation of the warm solitude of the pine forest. Three more sets of campers arrived before dusk and there was a flurry of activity as tents were pitched, suppers were prepared and eaten and lamps were lit as the darkness crept like a silent thief amongst us and stole every last vestige of light.
This is Teide National Park, over 2000 metres above sea level in an area of forbidden light pollution; when darkness comes, it’s complete.

Little by little stars began to appear above us and instinctively, one by one, we extinguished our lamps and torches until there was nothing but the night’s canvas to fill our vision. Familiar constellations like the plough and Orion were lost in the multitude of tiny lights that penetrated the black. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, more and more stars appeared until it seemed like the entire sky was one vast Milky Way intermittently slashed with the fiery trails of shooting stars which appeared, streaked and faded before I could even raise a finger to pinpoint their location.

By the time we came back from our hike the following day, all the other campers had packed up and left, leaving the forest and the star studded cosmos to just us; the last two people on earth.

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Walking above the clouds on Mount Guajara in Teide National Park

Walking above the clouds on Mount Guajara in Teide National Park

Which of the following statements would you say was false?

Hiking in the Teide National Park:
a) Exercises your heart and lungs
b) Tones up your leg muscles
c) Leaves your mind free to think
d) Is good publicity
e) Provides stunning, surreal scenery

“The answer is d)!” I hear you cry. Wrong. The answer is that all of the above are true. And whilst the story of how we met Chris and Kath Shaw in the National Park is, in itself an amusing story of illusion, its moral is clear: don’t underestimate the power of networking…wherever you are.

The “couple who passed me at speed” in the story turned out to be the proprietors of a successful, UK based PR Agency called Pink Elephant and, once they’d got over their confusion as to how we’d managed to materialise on the path ahead of them, we exchanged website addresses (the modern equivalent of telephone numbers) and promised to stay in touch.
When they made one of their rare holiday visits back to Tenerife we met up with them for dinner at Cha Paula’s in Puerto and chatted about our respective businesses.

Thanks to Pink Elephant, this week’s Wednesday edition of the Manchester Evening News carried a ¾ page spread on Real Tenerife Island Drives, Jack and myself and an article by Leslie Beeson of Tenerife Property Shop on the continuing good sense of investing in Tenerife property in the prevailing UK downturn.

Whilst we haven’t actually seen the page ourselves (there’s a copy winging its way to us from the UK as I speak), we have already been contacted by several friends and former colleagues in the UK all quoting pieces of it back to us and taking the mickey out of my “former pupil of Stockport Convent High School” reference (I can’t think why that should be so amusing) and Jack’s “raised in Rothesay, Isle of Bute” pedigree and generally enthusing about the article.

While we wait with baited breath to assess the economic impact of the piece, it’s certainly got people talking about us, which is rather splendid.

If you’d like to benefit from seeing Pink Elephants, get in touch with Chris and Kath, or keep an eye out for them when you’re hiking in the crater!

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Those blessed with powers of observation will have noticed that there’s been blog silence here for a couple of weeks.

That’s because we’ve had our 19 year old nephew staying with us and he’s 24/7 maintenance. From the moment he drags himself from his pit at the crack of 10 am to his self-imposed curfew at 1 am, the most common phrase to fall from his lips is “What are we doing now?”
In the few short hours that don’t consist of organizing excursions, driving and playing board games there’s the shopping, cooking, cleaning up, washing, and exhausted sleep.

sardines, wine or beer and a bread roll for €3 at Puerto de la Cruz, oh and a live Latino band too

sardines, wine or beer and a bread roll for €3 at Puerto de la Cruz, oh and a live Latino band too

Having spent as much time with us as he has with his parents since he was old enough to toddle next door to our house and ring the doorbell, we were no strangers to the demands of his company and were prepared(ish) with a list of things to do and places to go.

What we were not prepared for was fate giving us the finger by, just a few days into his sojourn, the car’s power steering packing up and leaving us with an astronomical bill and three days without wheels.

Now for someone who loves walking on Tenerife, this shouldn’t be an issue, but for some reason, hiking repeatedly up the hill, along the banana road, along the pavement til it runs out and down past the Botanical Gardens into La Paz and back again in the hot sun very quickly lost its appeal.

Even the little everyday things like running out of drinking water, which is usually cause for no more than a “D’oh” and a short drive to the supermarket, turned into a two hour outing with the nephew moaning about carrying a five litre bottle back.

It’s at times like this that I question the wisdom of living on a golf course in the middle of banana plantations at the foot of the valley.

Having cleaned out every bank account and borrowed to get the car back, the ‘plans’ resumed and Teide National Park was the first place we headed to for a spot of walking in the volcanic crater.

Exploring amazing rock formations in Teide National Park

Exploring amazing rock formations in Teide National Park

The nephew started out with bounce in his step and an eagerness to examine every rock underfoot but the decision to climb a small volcanic cone and then run down into its crater…and back again, allowed the altitude to do what it does best and by lunchtime there were moans of “I can’t do any more uphill”.

That night was the town’s annual Sardinada and several hours on foot walking around town, queuing for sardines and watching the Latino band. The following day was ‘Embarkation Tuesday’; an all day on the feet affair without the car as the consumption of beer is a mandatory (oh alright, preferable) component of the day’s events.

Another hike through Las Cañades, a coastal walk to a former pirate fort and several T shirt shopping trips later and the nephew has been safely dispatched back to Blighty leaving Jack and I exhausted, skint and seriously behind with work deadlines.

Grabbing a flag from a greasy pole suspended over the harbour; one of the watery games at Puertos July Fiestas

Grabbing a flag from a greasy pole suspended over the harbour; one of the watery games at Puerto's July Fiestas on Embarkation Tuesday

Then yesterday, worried that he was late for an appointment (in the Canaries that constitutes an oxymoronic statement) Jack sprinted back to the house for some forgotten paperwork and strained a muscle in his calf. The shock and pain of the incident was however alleviated when, on looking up how best to treat it, he discovered that it’s an injury normally associated with athletes …there’s always a silver lining.

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D’y think we’ve been walking for more than 15 minutes yet?” asks Jack, re-reading the scant directions in his hand.
More like 40 minutes” Sue and I agree.
We’d been hiking steadily uphill through the forest and, according to the ‘map’, should have taken a right turn 25 minutes ago.
Compass!” Jack was like a surgeon calling for a scalpel.
He laid the compass on the map in what, to my mind, was a series of indecipherable, coded movements.
Directions have always been a mystery to me. Maps are a foreign country. I have no in-built compass or sense of direction whatsoever and could, were it not for the landmark of the house, get lost in my own back yard.

We’re on the wrong path” came the diagnosis, “we need to re-trace our steps and take a left turn”, the prescription.

It was Sue’s second day and first hike with us. We’d been enthusing about this walk ever since she arrived; about the beauty of the Anagas, the difficulty of the terrain, the need to be properly prepared with adequate water supplies, good boots, a hat and of course experienced hiking companions who knew the lay of the land and the language of the forest.

This way!” shouts Jack, “there are stairs to the path.”
Sue and I had resolved to stop walking until satisfactory evidence that we were on the right path had been brought to our attention.
Having hiked all the way back down the forest trail and taken the allegedly ‘correct’ path to the left, the trail had petered out and Jack had gone on ahead to see if it re-emerged further on.

Yet another wrong trail in the Anaga MountainsThe ‘stairs’ turned out to be two boulders stepped into the gorse covered slope followed by a series of laddered indents in the sheer rock face of whatever else it was, was not a path.
Ha! A regular staircase!” said Sue, the sarcasm barely masking her fading confidence in her hiking guides.
It’s okay, it gets better up here” says Jack “trust me, it’s the right path.”

I wonder how many times in the history of the universe those words “trust me” have come back to haunt whoever uttered them.

We climb the non-existent path for 15 or so sweaty, scratchy minutes, the views opening up around us to reveal a plunging barranco to our right and Tenerife’s equivalent of the north face of the Eiger to our left.
I really don’t think this is a path” says Sue, the red wheals beginning to raise around her ankles and calves. “Andy, do you think this is a path?” she asks, not unreasonably.
Well no, I don’t” I have to confess. “On the other hand, in my experience, Jack always gets us back to the path eventually, even though it can be by unorthodox routes.”

Er, this isn’t right.” Jack eventually concedes that, without the aid of crampons, ropes and harnesses, there’s no way through.

However difficult the uphill trek was, going back down was worse. Sue and I inch our way over the dry dust and loose stones, grabbing handfuls of sharp gorse to steady us as we puff and grunt our way back down the ancient slope.

Okay, then it has to be this way” Jack’s boots raise a small cloud of dust as he heads off again in the direction of the barranco. Sue and I follow. Ten minutes later, we’re re-tracing our steps again, back up the slope towards what is now becoming a familiar crossroads of goat trails.

A further attempt to reach the far side of the barranco is aborted before finally beginning a desultory return to where the so-called ‘stairs’ had first taken us in what was now indisputably known as the wrong direction and agreement was generally reached that we should have stayed on the original path up through the forest.
Two hours had passed during which we were all pretty much exhausted and we hadn’t moved more than 500 metres away from our starting point of Chamorga.

It now being 1.30 pm and far too late to begin the hike again, we head back to the little church plaza in Chamorga and eat our packed lunch in quiet contemplation; Sue admires the beautiful yellow butterfly that’s flitting through the bamboo…or is it sugar cane? Jack mutters to himself over the map and the words ‘typical’ and ‘mas o menos’ are heard repeatedly; I slip the compass out of the rucksack and into the pocket of my shorts; it seems to me that sometimes a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

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El Medano; where the breeze is constant and the views hold some surprisesYesterday I was in the kite-boarders’ and wind-surfers’ paradise resort of El Médano and I’ve never seen so many naked men in one place.

That’s not to say they were wandering around the streets, nor even stretched out on the town’s main beach. No. I had to walk quite some distance to find them.

‘Walking’ and ‘hiking’ would probably not be at the top of most people’s list if you were to ask them what Tenerife means to them. But the island is in fact a kaleidoscopic matrix of trails that take you from tropical coastline, through arid badlands and heavenly scented pinewoods, to a 17 kilometre wide volcanic crater and climbing the World’s third largest volcano – Mount Teide.
There’s enough variety of terrain and spectacular scenery to keep even the most hardened of hikers whistling “Happy Feet”.

I’m currently making a concerted effort to hike as many of Tenerife’s trails as I can, and yesterday I opted for the bohemian, laid back resort of El Médano for a spot of coastal walking.
Leaving the town and heading out towards the red mountain which landmarks El Médano and is imaginatively named “La Montaña Roja”, it wasn’t long before my first naked buttocks came into view, beside the lagoon at the end of the dunes.

Continuing along the beach and following the path up Bocinegro, I diverted onto a lesser trodden path that took me to some amazing wind-sculptured sand and salt rock formations amongst which, I slowly became aware of a large number and variety of more flesh toned scenery. Naked men were wandering along the white pumice giant’s causeway; sunbathing and swimming in the small coves below the rocks, and generally standing around with their hands on their hips and their willies looking out to sea.

I’d clearly breached a favoured naturist, and presumably gay, location. Either that or it was the local ‘tackle-out fiesta’ and I hadn’t spotted it on the calendar.

Feeling oddly out of place and keeping my eyes more or less straight ahead, I continued on my way, skirting the base of Montaña Roja and then scaling its 173 metres just for a change of scenery.

It’s amazing how much variety you can see in one short hike on Tenerife!

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