Aah a pleasant peaceful morning in La Sabinita up above Arico – well apart from the mobile advertising boards known as rally cars zooming up the road. To be fair it was a big rally day in Tenerife and they were warming up for the big event as they tore through the main village street and it didn’t really disturb our pre walk coffee at the Casa Lala bar. Craving more walks I had met up with a group of 25 keen social walkers in Los Cristianos and our convoy had headed high up the TF 625.

There was a bracing breeze but it was balanced by warm sunshine and just a scattering of clouds. Parking up at the start point a little north of the village we were on the brow of a hill looking down to the wind turbines in Arico, some say they are intrusive but I find them quite restful and serene. This is wine country and vineyards were plentiful but bare of their fruit in the coarse jable soil with metal pipes feeding water where the stone channels had once done the job. The first steps were downward and once protected from the breeze it got much warmer as we passed over small barrancos that parted the pine trees on their way down to the coast.

The pathway was partly concreted and pretty sturdy where it was just tightly packed soil, handy as access to several houses that were built into the side of the hill making full use of solar and wind power, impressive stuff. Then came the inevitable upward climb as the course weaved around in a wide circle, the terraced hillsides became a familiar pattern as we dipped and rose. Clouds were gathering higher up but not with enough threat to worry us, a joint complex of fincas (farms) loomed ahead and as we got nearer I was surprised to see the maintenance man from my complex painting a wall – it’s a small island.

Stopping for a rest and water we found seating on rocks overlooking the path and must have looked like an ambush waiting to happen,but we were friendly natives. The final stage brought us onto sturdy roads as the clouds linked up and a last push rewarded us with the familiar coastline as we came down onto the car park where we started. Just a bit over 2 hours, shorter than most of my walks but a good way to get my legs moving again and enough to make me determined to tread more tracks soon.

A swim and a cold shower after jumping out of bed soon seemed a world away as the latest Tenerife heatwave cooked me as I strolled down the hill to the Los Cristianos bus stops. Even five years after moving down from Puerto Santiago on the west coast I like to pay regular visits to make sure it doesn’t change too much. Titsa buses don’t always get the air conditioning right but the 477 direct bus felt super chilled as I sped up to Alcala, my first stop and home to my former Western Sun office.

Heading down to the plaza I noticed the concrete area by the bay was busy with sun worshippers and swimmers, it has been revamped since my days swimming there with several railed stairways into the water, there was also a life guard on duty on this latest visit. In the plaza I met up with Richard from the Lions Club outside Bar Plaza and a new K9 dog charity shop that was doing a brisk trade even though it was a work in progress. The previous weeks high tides had made a visit and retreated without any tell tale signs, it’s always a lovely relaxing place to visit with plenty of cheap bars.

Eager to cram plenty into my day I caught the bus on to Los Gigantes (top) and met the lovely Jo in the church plaza for a catch up. Asturias was pretty busy, relaxing looking at the rocky hillside ringing the plaza brought back old memories of fiestas and foam parties. The clear blue sky was buzzed regularly by an emergency helicopter, in such a busy walking and fishing area there is always an awareness of natures power. The next days papers seemed to suggest that the chopper may have been looking for any escapees froma narcopatera (drug boat) found deserted that morning at nearby Fonsalia.

Refreshed I attacked Cardiac Hill and made a few calls before walking along the coast road above Playa Santiago. I had been warned to look out for a new inshore lighthouse, it turned out to be a cleverly fashioned support pillar on the redeveloped rest area just below The Patio Bar – another old haunt. One of the main reasons for the trip was to check out progress on Callao Salvaje’s new beach about 30 mins back towards the south but as I had time I walked on to Playa de la Arena to get the hourly bus from there. By now it was late afternoon and below on Arena’s black sand beach the crowds were thinning out and the beach crew were packing away sun beds and clearing rubbish. I noticed one guard found a 200 pack of giggies and a stray bra, so if you see a lady with nicotine withdrawl swinging wildly, point her in the direaction of lost property.

Callao Salvaje is a strange place, a mix of large grand houses behind high walls, hotels, and new modern apartment blocks. What’s missing is a good quality beach, the old shingle one has always lacked facilities, sand, and easy access but after many false dawns work is well under way on a complete makeover. The pace of change has been slow but the signs are encouraging with landscaping and flower beds in place, huge mounds of imported sand await levelling but hopefully that can be finalised well before the end of the year.

The sun setting was my cue to complete my homeward journey with the Titsa 473 bus spot on time on the hour. Arriving back in Los Cristianos a few beers seemed in order after a hot busy day so I treated myself to a slow walk back up the hill with a few coolers on the way.

A few days of wild seas around the Tenerife coast left San Andres and Las Galletas with a big mopping up operation, even Las Tarajales (above) was lively but the show must go on and with my Bournemouth friends Neal and Karen over that meant the traditional Titsa bus trip in search of the beautiful and the bizarre. Puerto de la Cruz was the start point so we caught the 9 am number 343 express from Las Americas bus station and our speedy driver had us nudging Puerto in just under 90 minutes.

Normally it’s a few degrees cooler up north but the sun was stoking up at 30 degrees as we jumped off at La Paz. The mirador deserved a visit to scan the sea below, it was surprisingly calm and there was little sign of any damage. Zig zagging down the walkway it seemed fairly quiet, a strange living statue hadn’t quite worked his angle out and seemed a cross between a tramp and one of Robin Hoods merry men, but the scrawny parrots being held out for photos seemed far from merry. At the bottom of the hill Playa de Martianez had a good scattering of swimmers and sun worshippers, a totem of gurning masks looked like the Armada Sur after a CD Tenerife defeat, their creator and seller was having a crafty kip on the beach.

I like to give my friends a guided march on these visits and we did Puerto proud scurrying through the back streets venturing out to Playa Jardin past the El Penon football ground and the public swimming pool where a big gala was taking place. All that splashing made us even thirstier so we adjourned for a cold drink in the church plaza. With plenty of time on our hands we flashed the bono bus tickets and made the 10 minute journey up to La Orotava, normally it feels a bit chilly there but if anything it was hotter than Puerto especially with another route march around the back streets. Even without the annual flower carpets display La Orotava is extremely pretty, the Jardin Botanico provided a shady respite, I hadn’t been in there before and although only small it was a place of concentrated beauty.

After feasting our eyes in the mighty Iglesia de la Concepcion it was time to feast our stomachs and the bar restaurant La Duquesa came up trumps with a filling mix of albondigas (meatballs) and Canarian potatoes with plenty of bread and mojo sauces. The next stretch was downhill to the Iglesia Santa Catalina and along through a newer area of thoughtfully developed housing that didn’t look out of place in this historic town. Of course after all that walking down comes the inevitable uphill turn, well a bit more sweat wouldn’t hurt us and more by luck than good geography we came out not far from the bus station.

Back in Puerto de la Cruz we sat outside a bar with cold drinks lamenting the lack of curious people to entertain us, we usually attract them like a magnet. As if reading our minds a young man lurched into view, gave a parked car a free hose down and then tried to enter the bar at the same time as trying to sell the owner a lighter, needless to say he wasn’t on the guest list and moved on only to fall between two more parked cars before scrambling up and stumbling on. It was at this point gazing at the clear blue sky that i noticed an Indian chief staring down at us from the top corner balcony of a housing block. I think he used to be on a lower floor but then he became Hiawatha. Just time to drain our glasses before boarding the Titsa back to the south, we parted company there for a quick wash and change only to emerge later for some food at Malabar in San Telmo and a few late night Doradas – lovely.

Who needs a reason to go off wandering in Tenerife, sometimes it’s just nice to re-visit some favourite places, there’s always something new to see, and sometimes it’s good to look closer at places I may have taken for granted. With this in mind I arrived in La Laguna, stepping off the tram at La Trinidad a cool breeze blew down the road and the temperature flashed up as 24 degrees, quite a drop from the sizzling south.

Wandering through the main pedestrianised streets the number of tourists exploring was well up on normal, I found myself heading for the Torre de la Concepcion, a familiar landmark at the top end of town. It seemed years since I last scaled the tower that dates back to 1697 but noticing the clock about to register 1pm I held back to let the bells ring out, my ears could manage without a close up accoustic blast. It’s a bargain one euro to climb the five flights of tight twisting stairs to the bell gallery, there is another level higher but its sealed off, the masonry looks a bit crumbly these days. The breeze was even fresher in the tower as it blew in between the old stone balconies but the views were rewarding, out to the mountains inland, across to the north airport without its cloak of low cloud for once, and out into town over the bustling streets and changing skyline of the Bishops Palace pushing on with its restoration since the big fire. Back down at the entrance lobby a large sign advised “No Ringing Bells Or Throwing Rubbish from The Tower” you would think people didn’t need telling! The tower is open daily, except Mondays, from 9am to 5pm.

Back in town I stopped for a coffee and a drink and watched the world scurry by, La Laguna centre is a lovely historic collection of buildings showing off the best in canarian architecture. Even the Tourist Information Centre is inside the Casa de Los Capitanes Generales with its ornate fountain and plaza overlooked by old timber balconies. as I headed back to Santa Cruz on the tram (just 1.05 euros) I passed the modern campus of the University, developed with sensitivity and style to fit in with its older surroundings.

Plaza Weyler was my chosen destination coming into Santa Cruz, I still can’t work out where the lady sits on the tram strumming a chord on her harp as she announces each stop. Wow the heat hit me like a wave, 33 degrees in the capital but the plants and flowers in the plaza looked wonderfullywatered and well tended as always. My green fingers were twitiching and my feet led me off the short distance to Parque Garcia Sanabria the secret garden of Santa Cruz. The park gets regular criticism in the media for neglect, true the fountains were off and some parts look a bit worn but a works department van was parked in the main artery and a couple of men were trimming the grass. Not a massive area the park is packed with surprises, leafy walkways lead to strange sculptures, small plazas with historical murals on sturdy benches, and wonderous plants and flowers.

At the front entrance the flower clock is a real beauty and the kiddies train a little gem that sadly I’m too big for. The cafe and its large terrace is a perfect place to take a rest and it was here I discovered a poster and listings for free family film shows on week nights at 9.30 pm through the summer to 2 September. I hope it gets the support it deserves, what a wonderful way for a family to round off a summers day, they even have a burger and drink for 3 euros offer. Heading down into the centre of Santa Cruz I passed the large metallic sculpture in Plaza Patriotismo and for the first time realised the metal shapes were fish, that made me smile, another find and further proof that even familiar Tenerife places are worth a closer scrutiny.

A quick glance at the port and the ongoing work on Via Litoral before I strolled back to the bus station, lucky me the 110 Titsa express to Los Cristianos pulled in and for the second time in a day I made the trip in just under an hour and for a mere 5.10 euros on my bono ticket.

Looking down at my feet the path was dry, angular and rocky, looking up the sky was almost clear blue with a baking sun, but looking around Camino de La Hoya was green and fertile with clear signs of an agricultural past. Quite a contrast but as the walk went on it was clear that water was never far away from me and had been a key ingredient in attracting early settlers to this route that links the municipalities of Arona and San Miguel. Having not tackled the Path Of The Hollow, to give it a loose transaltion, for years my memory was a little patchy as I caught the 416 Granadilla Titsa bus from Los Cristianos. Just 30 minutes later and one euro lighter on my bono ticket I had passed through Cabo Blanco and Valle San Lorenzo on the way up to La Centinela restuarant and mirador. This stylish modern eaterie is the meat, fish and chicken in the sandwich between Arona and San Miguel and also the doorway to the twisting descending path. Despite the heat of the morning I had a coffee in La Centinela so I could admire the panoramic view that would greet diners later in the day.

Taking the first few steps downward below the restaurant bay windows I wondered how many walkers had amused their well watered watchers with stumbles and slides, the initial steep incline had little grip and I was glad to hit the firmer path. Of course I took my time to get going as the views were crying out to be photographed, in the distance Montaña Roja jutted out into the sea at El Medano and a quick swivel of the neck revealed Los Cristianos and Las Americas through a parting of the mountains. Spreading out like a patchwork the terraced slopes confirmed the ingenuity of early settlers. The pathway showed signs of horseback visitors, I did my best to avoid taking evidence of their passing with me.

Looking down on this landscape is Roque de Jama a protected national monument and a stunning example of past volcanic action. Its flaked and splintered cone is a beacon for miles around and another inspiration to the walkers below. The floor of the valley is a rich source of pummice but it was also an area of trade and commerce as people met at the various springs to top up on water. Near the end of the walk natural troughs and channels are carved into the red imperneable rock collecting the rain and moisture that runs down through the fractured rock above. The spring was barely a trickle on my visit and the water looked stagnant but I could hear the dripping further up, enough to know that a short shower would soon refresh this as it has done for thousands of years.

Heading up and off the track I was back on a main road linking to San Miguel, a restored rural house, Vera de La Hoya and an old tile kiln were part of the Caserio de La Hoya, one of the earliest settlements. Pipes along the road side gurgled with cold fresh water as I sweated like Lee Evans in a sauna, time to make a choice, retrace my steps or head on to San Miguel along the Sendero de Tamaide. This narrower and less clear walk skirted a barranco but there was the option of descending down to another natural spring so I made like a goat and took the steep uneven track downward.

After scrambling over some boulders I was staring up a large rockface with streams of water running down like a baby version of Barranco del Invierno in Adeje. A rickety wooden bridge seperated me from my path upwards and a thin wild cat sprinted up the rocky steps ahead teasing me with the promise of an easy climb, what a furry fibber.Rising up from the cooler leafy basement I could make out the main road ahead and another steep walk, this time on concrete, into San Miguel. Looking back I could just see La Centinela beyond Roque de Jama and onward the spire of the San Miguel church pulled me towards the cold beer that awaited. In total the walks took nearly two and a half hours but it whizzed by as my Titsa bus, one an hour at weekends, took the high road before heading down into Los Cristianos.

It was like being slapped in the face with a wet fish, in the nicest possible way, jumping off the Titsa bus on the Garachico coast road a cool salty breeze laced with foam from the crashing waves was just the cooling greeting I was seeking. The south of Tenerife was in the grip of a calima with humidity pumping the temperatures into the mid thirties so an escape to the north seemed a great idea.

An early start saw me in Icod de los Vinos for 11 am after a 90 minute ride on the 460 Titsa bus for just 3.65 euros on my Bono ticket. The route always pleases my senses, up through the lovely villages of Santiago del Teide and around the tight roads that cling to the mountains with a sheer drop below. I have owed Garachico a proper visit for years, brief stops on the way through just left me hungry for the full feast, since my last pass through a year ago little seemed to have changed with the new marina but a leaflet picked up later assured me it would be open for January 2012. the 33 million euro project started in 2008 and should give a big boost to local fishermen and the sporty boating brigade.

The rock is the big star of Garachico, a volcanic deposit spat into the sea when a huge eruption of lava engulfed much of the town in 1706, it had played peek a boo with me as my bus travelled along the high road into Icod but close up it was a powerful reminder of a turbulent past and a defiant marker for the future. Climbing the stone steps up to the Ex Convento de Santa Domingo de Guzman I found a shady green plaza in front of the old building. Built in 1601 it’s now a geriatric hospital, exhibition hall, and auditorium as well as a neat spot to survey the sea. A small fountain trickled sedately and lizards scuttled across from plant to plant, one patient at the hospital snoozed in the shade, I was tempted to join him but pushed onwards back down on the Paseo Maritima.

The waves were lively but not threatening but there were plenty of signs of their full power, an old water mill Los Molinos is preserved for visitors, the last remaining one after others were pummelled by the sea, even the football ground had large breaker like protection just a roads crossing from the sea. Nature does balance things up, the El Caleton rock pools are a wonderful collection of channels and fissures in the rocks, free for sun seeking bathers to enjoy. Health and safety in the UK would have them sealed off but in Garachico there are not even any life guards, just a colour coded safety flag plus stone steps and metal stairs into the churning water and then it’s down to your own common sense. There is also a more formal man made pool but the natural way looked much more fun.

Turning away from the sea and up a side street I was rewarded with the Plaza de la Libertad and what a rich treasure that turned out to be. The Iglesia De Nuestra Senora De Los Angeles and the Ayuntamiento building were impressive but shelling out a paltry euro I entered the Ex Convento De San Francisco which dates back to 1524 (that’s nearly half past three). The concentric cobbled corridors were lined with cabinets full of rare shells and fossils, exhibition halls led off displaying various art works, and the courtyards just brimmed with beauty. Up on the first floor the exhibition Canarias – Volcanes En El Oceano was continuing its educational tour and although closed for the afternoon the library offered another service to well served locals.

Heading back out to the sea front I ventured another euro to make the short walk onto the tower roof of the Castillo San Miguel. This had survived fire and lava since its birth in 1575 and the rusty canon and anchors just below stood testament to its valiant efforts to repel pirates. Nature had of course proved to be a more formidable opponent and even now the slopes of the cliffs show the path of two of the main lava flows, there were seven seperate prongs of the volcanic activity. Grabbing a cold drink left my in perfect time to catch the 363 hourly bus back to Icod, just one euro and ten minutes and I was back in a rather deserted home of the drago tree. Retracing my bus trip back south I broke the journey in Tejina for a few cool drinks with friends before pitching up in Los Cristianos for a few late Doradas at a party packed Merry Monk, well it was still very humid in the south.

Grain by grain, petal by petal, families came together to piece together this years stunning collection of street carpets in the heart of La Orotava. Not even an unusually cloudy and moist day could dampen the enthusiasm of the annual devotion to the Corpus Christi celebrations. The huge central tapestry in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento had already been completed over 55 days with coloured sand and now the streets were being transformed into a blaze of colour like a living jigsaw.

Leaving the scorching south of Los Cristianos early I headed to Puerto de la Cruz on the 343 Titsa bus, I thought it would be packed with other carpet baggers but it was only half full. Reading the paper I saw that flights had been diveted the previous day from Los Rodeos airport in the north of Tenerife and as is so often the case the cloud got lower and thicker as the bus reached it, worse than I have seen for a long time. It was better into Puerto but swapping onto a La Orotava link of 10 minutes it got thicker again and was almost chilly when I got out. There was a good stream of people heading for the heart of the town but I thought there was more tatt and stalls on sale than at my last carpet trip 2 years ago.

Soon I was stood behind two short nuns shuffling up the stairs of the Ayuntamiento (council)Â building to get a view from the balconies of the main display in the plaza below. Some one trod on my sore toe during the jockeying for a good position, I uttered one rude word in English, thankfully the nuns were oblivious, I didn’t want to start a religious outrage so early in the day. The tapestries were as awesome as ever and at first glance you would think they were painted rather than made with millions of grains of coloured sand placed over a template. The streams of visitors below looked endless and the sky still looked grey but I could see some people up the tower of the church and made a mental note to try to scale that vantage point myself. Everyone was so enchanted with the plaza carpets they paid little attention to the splendour of the council chambers, glittering chandeliers, expensive looking paintings and religious sculptures all jostled for my interest but they were not the stars today.

Back out on the street I joined the slow march upward along one pavement as other passed back on the other side, all admiring the developing masterpieces on the road between. The main plaza is always completed in advance and the surrounding streets on the big day, many families have been involved for several generations and it was good to see young children learning the craft at their parents sides. Wooden frames are used for guidance but the measuring out and sprinkling of dried petals and sand is a skillful process that is carried out with precision. I tried to be tactful as I took photos and avoided making too many large bottoms semi famous. The streets wound round and down again towards the Church of the Concepcion so I went inside to marvel at the structure and decoration of the church that was built in 1788.

Just like 2 years ago some young boys were left to guard the locked door up to the tower and were only letting family through, looked like they had a huge family, I offered to marry their sister but they didn’t go for that and I never got my birds eye view. Back outside their was definately fine drizzle in the air but it didn’t make much difference to the celebrations as people began to dance to guitars and drums. The day would stretch on for a lot longer until the evening procession marched all over the hard work and destroyed the carpets, no one minds their achievements have already been recognised. Another tradition is being passed on in safe hands.

To a thirsty football fan the white domes of the Oasis restaurant mean a welcome beer stop half way up the TF1 motorway to Santa Cruz. During the season I stop there every 2 weeks in the company of the Armada Sur as we go to worship CD Tenerife but I have never gone down below the Oasis to check out Los Roques a small historic village that is hoping for a revivial in fortunes.

The recent elections have brought a new mayor for Fasnia the region where Los Roques is situated, and Damien Perez has vowed to restore this area to its sparkling rugged best. I headed down the winding road to the coast below and found a choice awaited me, to the north Playa del Abrigo and to the south Playa de Los Roques. Taking the Playa del Abrigo path I soon got the full benefit of the large dark sand and shingle bay, on a scorching day with lively waves there were just two people bathing on the beach. Walking to the far end I looked across the beach to the two rocks that give the area its name, the largest is attached to the mainland and the second is a small volcanic spit a few yards away.

Tucked in behind the main rock are the Bahia Apartments, an early attempt to atrract tourism, built in 1964 they look run down now but it looks like there are still people living there. Moving closer I could see a neglected swimming pool near the beach and a blocked pathway where the sea laps close at high tide. There used to be a passage way through here linking the two beaches and the new mayor intends to restore this and improve the main beach. On this side of Los Roques there are some modern new apartmenrts and houses, the regeneration of Los Roques seems to have been a very sporadic affair. Looking up I could see the empty local opposite the Oasis, it has been a work in progress for around four years and is partly fitted out as another restaurant and bar, the views from the terrace would give an uninterrupted vista of the beachand the roaring sea.

Back tracking up the hill and taking the other path to Playa de Los Roques I found a much more traditional fishing village that had clearly seen better times. On this other side the old village is pressed against the base of the rock and includes a small church. In it’s day this was a busy area, a large cave of salt deposits Cuevea de La Sal was used to preserve and prepare potatoes for a sea crossing to Gran Canaria. A closer view of the smaller rock revealed that it was teaming with bird life, this is such a vibrant stretch of the coast. A large levelled area makes a handy natural car park, maybe at weekends people flock down to swim at the main beach but somehow I feel it is still a hidden gem.

The Oasis above is just a baby, born in 1998, but is a well visited stop off point. It’s strange to think that most people popping in to quench their thirst are unaware of the splendour of the landscape that unfolds just below. Hopefully the mayor will fulfill his promises and restore some pride to Los Roques.

All dressed up an nowhere to walk, well not strictly true; I rarely dress up but had made some dainty cheese rolls and loaded up with water ready for a Saturday morning walk. Sadly only 2 people showed at the usual Apolo centre start point and they took the hint to do something else but with my toes twitching I headed down to Playa de Callao at the market end of Los Cristianos to renew acquaintance with Montaña Guaza.

Probably the toughest part of this walk is the steep tight twisting path that looks a lot easier from down below. Once I got on the staircase I was reminded of how hard and angular the surface is and how some of the looser stones tend to shift below the feet. A few water swigs later I had reached the top and was up onto the plateau with the flat dry grassy fields stretching out ahead of me. The sun was playing hide and seek behind grey clouds but Los Cristianos was waking up nicely down at sea level and a slight breeze was very welcome.

I walked out to the plateau edge just above the stairs and noticed a small wooden cross and a photo of an old couple tucked into a pile of large rocks. Maybe they were keen walkers or the family just wanted them to have a peaceful resting place with a clear view of their favourite places panning out in the distance. There are tyre tracks on the paths, a reminder that the transmitter masts at the peak receive regular visits from maintenance crew. Years ago there were tobacco and tomato plantations up on the level floor stretching from the cliff tops, old stone walls remain but the only crops are short red tabaiba plants making a colourful carpet.

There are several route options, usually I head up to the aerials and the peak but this time decided to head outwards to the cliffs to find the path that skirts along the edge. As I neared the cliff the silence was broken by the screech of seagulls and the lovely view was spoilt by the sight of a cluster of fish cages, what a curse they are around our shores. Taking the undulating path it dipped inland and down into the remains of a stone quarry, lots of quarrying went on at Montaña Guaza and some of the stone hewn out here was used to build the Rasca lighthouse that is visible from Los Cristianos.

When I’m out enjoying a testing walk I have to watch out for the smug zone, that point where I think I’m doing well taming nature and pushing back the frontiers. Thankfully this is usually countered by the appearance of an oncoming jogger or cyclist, this time it was a young lady walking her dog with a cool relaxed air about her as she exchanged pleasantries with the blond ball of sweat panting along the path – another bubble burst.

Up a steep quarry side and I was at a great vantage point looking down on Palm Mar, I stopped and scoffed my warm curly rolls here very aware of the hungry seagulls wheeling in overhead. There is a route down into Palm Mar but I headed back inland looking for the path home, the masts in the distance reminded me of the route up to the peak but the cliff top walk had distracted me enough for one day. The paths weren’t so clear now but I headed towards some old stone cottages knowing that would lead me back on track, and it did the trick.

Taking a well worn driving track alongside the old plantations I soon found myself back at the stairway down and began a cautious descent. Going down could be even more tricky that the up walk but soon the familiar coast drew level with me and I was back on firm ground with another 3 hours plus of exercise done, time for a cold drink.

What a nice morning greeting In Vilaflor, the statue of Hermano Pedro gazing across the quiet entry junction and a cockerel crowing his little voice box out in the distance. Driving up from Los Cristianos the temperature had dropped about 6 degrees and the air was cool, perfect for walking. It’s about time I got my lazy bones moving and sampled the walking trails again so I had met up with one of the regular Saturday morning groups armed with a back pack of smelly sarnies, bottled water, and my camera.

There were 8 and a half of us (including Ellie the dog) and we learnt a lesson from a previous trip out this way, this time parking low down where the TF-21 heads into Vilaflor and then walking uphill to the start point just above the village. That meant although we started with a tough uphill hike it wouldn’t be waiting to punish us later on.

The tajinaste plants were firing up nicely, the red colouring seeping up the tall stalks ready to devour the green tips resisting the advance of summer. All was very quiet and calm despite being a popular tourism area and just a few young voices rose from the football ground as we headed past and onto the opening of the trail. Moving up along the uneven path the pine trees soon rolled out below but the view was slightly obscured by the low cloud. On the plus side the air was cool and fresh, very welcome given the steepness of the rise. It didn’t take us long to stray from the path over a small assault course of rocks but the sight of the old iron water pipe up above drew us back to the main route.

Taking the tight meandering path we soon found ourselves at a large clearing near a rocky ledge peering down into a valley of pine trees. The wisps of cloud hanging in the air softened the impact of the drop but I still kept a safe distance from the edge. From there it was a downward trend at first on small furrows that later turned into clearly marked and maintained walkways, all of them through okra red dusty soil. The paths dropped steeply in places and tight corners really tested the grip of our footwear but we avoided any falling over.

Natures amazing rock sculptures and twisted fire tinged trees were a constant distraction, in places new channels had been carved by the heavy rains of a few weeks ago but the landscape seemed to just shrug off the worst weather as and when it intruded. We stopped at a large reservoir to have snacks and draw breath before another upward turn, there were a few choices of direction ahead but after a bit of back tracking we found the route we wanted that brought us up to a small cottage. The Finca Tabaluga has solar panels and a water butt to make it almost totally self sufficient, last trip I met the German owner but this time it was locked up, an idyllic setting but very remote.

The final stretch seemed easier, probably because we knew the end was in sight, a last big uphill hike and we were back out on the main road close to our start point. The cloud hadn’t burnt off and the air was still cool with the odd fleck of moisture, in all it had taken 4 hours that had sped by. Vilaflor always has plenty to offer, there are several other walks and variations close to hand but even under a cloudy veil this had been quite spectacular and rewarding.