Memories of summer camps as a very green “brussel sprout” resurfaced as sweet scented blooms emerged from  delicate bushes. Puerto del Erjos bus stop was just a few downward strides in my wake with Santiago del Teide, and Masca shielded by green ridges. The north west of Tenerife added parched trails and volcanic outcrops to daydreaming of my lost youth, and the heat was a much different setting from those rainy walks.

Bird song drew me to the pools in the wetland spread but on this August day they were distinctly dry. It was a start reminder of how quickly nature can change, in recent years wild fires had swept through the area but the balance had swung back and new growth sprouted at every turn. My aim this trip was to  head for the black caves on the lower trail to the coast of Los Silos. Heading across to the white church tower in the hamlet of Erjos, I ploughed down a bumpy track between a cluster of old houses. A few months before, I had taken the high road up and over Monte de Aqua above the rising tree line. This was more of a hidden pleasure as the track narrowed and sunlight speckled the ground through a curtain of leaves.

It was short of markers and outside sound was filtered to a low level, I was grateful to a narrow water pipe that stretched ahead of me with reassurance that I was making progress. It gave me time though to appreciate the delicate shades of the leaves thrusting their heads up towards the light in the few spaces that appeared. The gaps became bigger and I got clear views of the cave openings that seemed to suggest facial features.

Not mnay other walkers desturbed my reflection, although there always seems to be at least one super fit athlete running against the flow. A family group from the Czech Republic stopped for a chat at they started at the coastal end – Tenerife´s walking pedigree reaches far beyond our shores. It was difficult to guess how far back the caves went but there were plenty of them to offer valuable shelter for farmers and traders as they cut off a long round trip against the sometimes fierce waves that batter the coast.

The final stretch gave me a base upwards view of mountains that I had viewed across barrancos, either way it was an impressive sight. Los Silos loomed into view and my path converged with the concrete path that cut directly out to the bus stop up past Garachico and into Icod. My admiration of Erjos had risen another few notches, theres still plenty more variations to explore and the seasons will keep changing the outlook on what I have seen so far.