From hiking through misty laurel forests to watching the sun set over a volcanic crater, the Spanish island of Tenerife offers far more than the lively resorts it’s known for. Come along on a hike in the laurel forest of Anaga, a UNESCO biosphere reserve.
Anaga Rural Park
ANAGA RURAL PARK
“I’ve been obsessed with dinosaurs since I was a child,” I tell my guide, Cao Sánchez, as I lace up my hiking boots and apply liberal amounts of sunscreen to my face. We’re venturing into the Anaga Rural Park in Tenerife, the largest of the Canary Islands located off the northwest coast of Africa. I’m well aware that I’m unlikely to see a tyrannosaurus rex or the remains of one — as this island sprang up from the ocean floor in a great volcanic eruption a mere three million years ago (some 63 million years too late) — and yet, there’s something prehistoric in my midst.
“Anaga is home to the laurisilva,” Cao tells me. “Laurel forests here are a leftover from when all of Europe and even the Sahara was lush jungle.” These forests disappeared from the rest of Europe about 20,000 years ago, and Tenerife is one of the last few places on Earth where you can see them. As the largest in the archipelago, the island has several microclimates. The south tends to be arid and hot, the center cool and fresh, and the northeasterly part, where I am, is much more humid. As we walk, I begin to see why the vegetation here is so verdant. There’s a warmth that must allow these lush forests to thrive on the jagged peaks and ravines of the volcanic landscape.
Benijo Beach
DRAMATIC VIEWS
We’re heading for Roque Bermejo, a tiny hamlet and rocky outcrop on the most northeastern point of the island. Our starting point, the equally tiny hamlet of Chamorga, disappears behind us as we head up onto the craggy ridges that will eventually lead us toward the coast. Brush, broom, aloe, cacti, ferns and more proliferate along the relatively easy route. “We’ll end up at the beach where you can swim if you like,” Cao tells me. As we reach a summit and plateau, I see the sea and lighthouse of Anaga. The views are dramatic, with rugged, flora-filled rocks falling into the relentless pummel of the bracing Atlantic Ocean. We start to descend, and I’m surprised to see signs of life. We happen upon a tiny chapel and some whitewashed houses. In a tiny hole-in-the- wall bar, we stop for a refreshing glass of Dorada, a lager brewed here in Tenerife.
The bar is little more than some blue wooden shelves stocked with cans, a fridge and a serving counter but it’s a welcome sight for this thirsty hiker. Cao has made arrangements for us to be collected by boat — it’s the only other way out unless we go back the way we came. “We’ve got 20 minutes or so,” he says. Just enough time for a cooling dip in the sea, I think.
Canarian pine trees
STELLAR SKIES
There are several protected parks on the island and my next journey, the following day, is to Spain’s most visited: Teide National Park. Even though I’ve been here at least a hundred times before, there’s something about the sight of Mount Teide — Spain’s highest mountain at 12,198 feet above sea level — that always fills me with awe and wonder. I’m heading towards the summit, which, on a clear day, you can just about see from the coast. As I drive up the winding roads in the balmy early evening air, I watch as the swaying palms of the coast slowly turn to towering pine trees. Tenerife, as with its neighboring islands, has suffered forest fires in the past few years. And now, the charred remains of tree stumps dot the mountain landscape like dominoes. These are European pines, I’ve been told previously by a local guide. Canarian pines have become naturally resistant to fire and while their barky outer parts will burn, their core remains living, allowing it to regrow like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
My aim today is to get above 6,562 feet in altitude, above cloud level to the giant crater landscape of Las Cañadas del Teide. And it seems I’ve made it just in time for the show to begin. I park and watch as the setting sun illuminates the harsh volcanic mountain view, bathing it in a spectrum of oranges, russets and purples — mellowing this jagged wilderness that’s been forged by fire over millennia.
Milky Way over Arrecife de Las Sirenas
INCREDIBLE STARGAZING
I drink in the atmosphere and feel part of something bigger. I can see why these mountains were revered by the Guanches, the island’s original inhabitants before the Spanish conquistadors arrived. They believed in Achamán, the supreme creator of all things, and Guayota, a devil-like creature who they thought got trapped inside the Teide volcano. The Guanches also lived by the moon, sun and stars, and it’s this last one that I’m keen to learn more about. Luckily, the Canary Islands archipelago is one of the best places on earth to stargaze. The European Solar Telescope and the Gran Telescopio Canarias, two of the largest telescopes in the world, are based in neighboring island La Palma, as the skies there are protected. Thanks to Tenerife’s lofty altitude above the clouds, the skies here are clear almost every night.
Later on, I meet some guides from Teide by Night, a local company certified by the Starlight Foundation. They’ve already set their telescopes up when I arrive. I join a group being instructed — thanks to a handy laser pointer — of what we are witnessing above our heads, from constellations to stars. The sky suddenly seems so bright, and I wonder if I’ve always been around too much light pollution to notice. As I peer through the lens of the telescope, my body tingles at the extraordinary detail.
Short-finned pilot whale
SAILING EXCURSION
The next day, it’s time to head back to sea level and experience the other side of nature on the island — or should that be around the island? The waters around Tenerife are no stranger to boats and ships, as the Canarian archipelago has been a fueling port for centuries for vessels making their way between Europe, Africa and the Americas. The islands of Gran Canaria and La Gomera were Columbus’s last stop before sailing across the Atlantic and were for a long time considered to be the edge of the world by Europeans. This is still a busy shipping route — but cruise ships are a more common sight. The south and east coasts of the island were once nothing more than small fishing villages, but have since developed into major holiday resorts for those in search of Tenerife’s temperate climate, safe shores, beautiful beaches and fabulous cuisine. While you might still spot a fishing boat or two, these days most of the ports are for pleasure craft. I’ve been told by several locals that one of the best ways to see the island in all its glory is to take to the water, which is why I’ve come to the marina at Puerto Colón on the Costa Adeje. I’m hopping aboard a handsome sailing boat with local company Blue Jack Sail.
We gingerly edge out of the marina before the skipper lets the sails fly and powers through the inky ocean. We’re heading along the coast in the strait between Tenerife and neighboring island La Gomera. This stretch of water was declared a Whale Heritage Site in 2021 by the World Cetacean Alliance due to the quantity of whales, as well as dolphins and turtles. The wooden slats of the bow are warm as I lay back staring at the rainbow of rock colors that peppers the coast between resorts. My gaze is broken by the breach of a pilot whale to my right-hand side, not more than 20 feet away. It turns out to be a pod of four whales gracefully surfacing and diving, almost as if they’re chaperoning our boat. They’re likely the resident pilot whales that live in this part of the ocean, and they disappear as quickly as they appeared. My heart is still racing as we head into a secluded cove to anchor and enjoy a dip in the salty sea.
The captain tells me that Blue Jack Sail is one of a handful of companies with the Barco Azul stamp that assures sustainability for whale-watching and the protection of marine biodiversity. Just as the sun starts setting, it’s time for us to head back to the port. Slowly, as the final peachy glow is cast, the drumbeat of the waves against the hull and the spritz of the water falling back to the sea from the rocks fades into the life and sounds of the marina. As I wobble along the portside, my sea legs start getting used to terra firma again. And that’s when I think: Tenerife is much more than just somewhere you visit on vacation — it’s a force of nature.
Writer: Ross Clarke
