For two hours I followed the winding mountain roads, so typical of the Canary Islands, until I eventually reached a narrow path heading into the undergrowth and down to the bed of a ravine—at last some decent hiking. I was happily whistling along the way when suddenly I found the path thick with thorns and branches. It was the most frustrating experience—I could see where the path continued 5m on and knew that I hadn’t wandered off course, but simply couldn’t continue without risking losing my footing and breaking a limb.

My mobile phone battery was dead and not a soul knew where I was. I let out a frustrated scream and decided that the only option was to head back to Barlovento and wait for the next bus. Almost three hours later I arrived, only to find that the timetable I’d got from the tourist information office had been correct and I still had a two-hour wait to escape one of the island’s most unremarkable pueblos.

“Instead of reading a book and choosing places worth visiting, I’d just have to go everywhere and then decide what was worth writing about.”

Normally a day like this would be considered an absolute disaster and a total waste of time, but for me it was infinitely useful. You see, I was traveling around the Canary Islands researching a guide book and I’d just learnt a few valuable lessons to convey to my readers—ask locally about bus times, check that walking routes are well-maintained and hiking alone is always stupid.

more >>

<< home

<< discuss article >>