The road weaved up the long, narrow spine of the island from Esperanza, climbing towards its inevitable goal “up top”. The summit had been clouded over on our first visit up here years ago, but the weather had been holding out so far this trip. Would I see Teide up close this time?

Tenerife & Teide   Tenerife, the largest of the Canaries, is 130% the size of Gran Canaria, or about a third larger. The other way around, Gran Canaria is 77% the size of Tenerife, about ¾ as large. Since my arrival in Faial at the beginning, without having planned it that way, I’ve visited six islands in size order (other than that Madeira was about the same as the one before it, São Miguel). Tenerife is then the largest, and is almost twelve times the size of tiny Faial.

You cannot talk about Tenerife without talking about Teide, since the huge mountain fills one whole end of the island and makes its presence known throughout the entire island. It must be a similar situation with Pico in the Azores, which also seems to envelop its island. Just as Pico is the highest mountain in Portugal, at 2351 m (7713 ft), the highest mountain in Spain is also on an Atlantic island, Teide on Tenerife, at 3718 m (12,195 ft). As high as Pico is, it’s only 63% the height of Teide, and Teide is 158% the height of Pico.

Usually those two mountains are discussed in relation to mainland Portugal and Spain, but we’re discussing Atlantic islands, so I wanted to make an island comparison. Teide still wins. The highest mountain in Iceland is Hvannadalshnjúkur at 2110 m (6923 ft). Even Pico is higher than that. The highest mountain in Greenland is Gunnbjørn Fjeld, in the center of Greenland’s east coast, at 3694 m (12,119 ft). Teide is still higher than that, although the heights are very close. But in Teide’s favor as well is its excellent visibility from all sides.

We’ve thus far talking about height above sea level, but with mid-ocean volcanic mountains, more than that has to be taken into consideration. Around the Canaries, the average depth of the water is 3,000 m (9843 ft). When that’s added to Teide’s height, the total is 6718 m (22,038 ft), and it turns out that only 55% of Teide shows.

We can also do a comparison with the Pacific, with the big island of Hawaii, where Mauna Loa is 4169 m (13,678 ft) and Mauna Kea is 4205 m (13,796 ft), just 36 m (118 ft) higher. But when measured from their oceanic base, they are each about 10,000 m (33,000 ft) high, making them well higher than Teide, but also meaning that only about 42% of each of those two shows. But of course, the Pacific is deeper to start with.

I’ll show maps of Tenerife shortly, but we really have to understand first why Teide overwhelms the whole island and why the island has its unusual triangular shape. Look at this in these pictures of the formation of Teide and Tenerife. There had been three volcanic islands near each other. An early volcano, Las Cañadas (ka.NYA.das, or, if you insist, kan.YA.das), erupted to fill in the space between them joining the three into proto-Tenerife. As high as Teide is, the Las Cañadas volcano was even more massive and higher. The first three pictures really show the formation of Tenerife, but the last two explain what “up top” looks like today. When the peak of Las Cañadas collapsed, much of the top of the mountain slid into the ocean and caused a massive tsunami. Compare the small Las Cañadas crater before the collapse (picture 3), with the huge perimeter of the crater that was left after the collapse 170,000 years ago (picture 4). What you are looking at is the mountainous wall of the caldera. But the volcanic forces were not finished at this point, and what we today know as Teide appeared, not in the center, but on the northern half of the Las Cañadas crater, effectively removing a large section of the north wall. From a distance, it all may look like one formation, but in actuality, the top of Teide fills the northern half of the old crater, and the southern half of the old crater, shaped like an orange section, and with only three sides of its original external wall still intact, is what is referred to today simply as “Las Cañadas”. That word means “The Ravines”, but is essentially meaningless, since it’s really a very rugged high-altitude plain within a semi-crater. Once I understood this, I understood the name of the Parador de las Cañadas, located on the lower western side of Las Cañadas, close to the southern wall. The main entrance to the National Park with the visitor center, is at the eastern end.

Please do make sure you understand this lay of the land, and everything else will then fall easily into place. This satellite view of Tenerife should now make a lot more sense. Note the green north, with banana plantations, and the arid south, where the beach resorts are.

To me, the island looks like a flying bird. The head is off to the northeast. It was not an area I visited. In the neck area is a lowland, which allows easy access between north and south, since everywhere else is mountainous. From the neck to the crater/caldera is a long, narrow ridge of mountains, which is the most rewarding access to “up top”. Note how Teide overwhelms this end of the island. You can see, even from outer space, the three-sided wall around the orange-section shape of Las Cañadas, as well as the upper part of Teide proper filling in the rest of that crater. One last thing: look to the northeast of the crater and see if you can see a huge indentation that looks lighter-colored. A prehistoric landslide caused a large portion of land to slide northward into the sea here, forming the scenic Orotava Valley.

In my opinion, there are two major places of interest in Gran Canaria, the area up top and La Vegueta down below. On Tenerife, up top wins out hands down. I did go down below to La Laguna, and enjoyed it, but not every visitor might.

If the reader has been following along so far, this final map of Tenerife should be perfectly clear. Disregard the head area. In the neck, note the Tenerife North airport, where I landed. It used to be the only airport, but recently, Tenerife South was built near the resort area, and takes care of international flights, leaving Tenerife North for domestic flights, both interisland and to mainland Spain. Note that the airport is right in La Laguna (officially San Cristóbal de la Laguna), the original capital. Upstart Santa Cruz was its port, which eventually outgrew the main city, and became the capital instead. They function as twin cities. Note the yellow autovía connecting the north coast and running all the way down the south coast.

But now we get to the meat of it all. You have to picture a lollipop, a long stick with the round “good part” at the end. Note that well-placed road running from the airport/La Laguna area to “up top’. You couldn’t want a better way to be introduced to Teide. It takes about an hour from the airport up this road along the mountain spine and to cross Las Cañadas to the Parador. Note that where this road enters the park at El Portillo, another road comes steeply up the Orotava Valley. I tried it, but it’s not as much fun. When you go, drive up the spine.

Note the extent of the National Park up top, and also that there are two other roads that ascend up the back. I took a look at the upper ends of both, and they have good ocean views, but I had no good reason to descend either. They are so located that you can’t see Teide, so why bother? Just check again how nice the “spine” road brings you up, and you can imagine just what you see on arrival, providing you have good weather.

Arrival   The flight from Gran Canaria was under 30 minutes. I got my car and once again, plunged into the chaos of the world of the autovía “down below”. But this time it was easier, since I needed to go only two very short exits for the road I wanted, which was the main road coming out of La Laguna, crossing the autovía in a redonda, and then continuing up the ridge, or “spine”, of the island. In no time at all I was in Esperanza, and upon leaving it, I entered another world entirely, an “enchanted” pine forest. While on Gran Canaria, the ascending was done through villages, here, you ascended through nature.

The National Park is only “up top”, so it must have been some other forest-preservation entity that maintained this area. The road wound a bit, but was excellent, and had lookouts and explanatory signs. There were periodic references to a Corona Forestal. Finally, a roadside sign explained the term, that the pines grow only starting at a certain altitude, but they stop growing at the tree line, which leaves an oval band of forest around the middle of both Teide and the ridge leading up to it. This wide band of forest is the Corona Forestal, or Forest Crown. It also showed how it had been decimated by lumbering, but is now being restored.

From lookouts along the ascending ridge road there were the views one was there for, views back to Santa Cruz towards the east, and even of Gran Canaria, but also a view of the island of La Palma to the west. I was impatient to finally see Teide from this ascending route, and at one lookout the view finally came. It was perfectly aligned to see Teide up ahead, still in the far distance, yet dominating its end of the island, and with the remainder of the winding ridge leading up to it. In front lay the cutout of the Orotava Valley, and the pine scent filled the air. When I saw it, the upper part of Teide took on pink overtones, and, contrary to this picture, this being June, there was no snow on Teide. (Most of the online pictures I found show snow. That’s not the image I’ll be remembering, since the top of Teide was majestically bare at this time of the year.)

The ridge ended at the wall of Las Cañadas. At that point, the other road up from the Orotava Valley joined the ridge road at the National Park entrance called El Portillo, and I entered Las Cañadas. It’s a plain with a rough, hilly surface, and an area of substantial size, and took 15-20 minutes to cross, over to the Parador. However, the entire ride from the airport to the Parador had taken about an hour, so this largest of the islands on this half of the trip is still not all that large.

Parador   The full name is Parador de las Cañadas del Teide, and if the reader has been following, the name should now make full sense. All of Las Cañadas might strike one at first as a brown, rocky, barren area, but one has to realize that this is high-mountain country with a high-mountain landscape, and beauty is where you find it--and find it you do. The building is contemporary, and rather nondescript. The facility is not too large, but that is understandable, given the remote location. After a small lobby, there are a couple of living rooms giving a feeling of a mountain lodge, but in June, the fireplace wasn’t lit. Beyond is the bar and restaurant, upstairs the rooms, and that’s it.

I’d allowed more time here than elsewhere, five nights, since it was the end of the first half of the trip. (That the Parador’s off-season rates, here and in Gran Canaria, are so good didn’t hurt, either.) In addition to the arrival day, a second day to look around up top, one day down below, and two days to rest, relax, and write. Therefore, I was shocked when they told me at the front desk that there was no internet service for guests. When he realized my shock, he offered to let me use the office computer evenings after the staff left. And so I did, but I couldn’t use my laptop, so any research I did I had to make notes of, not copy-and-paste into my notes; any picture I found I couldn’t copy-and-paste its code into my notes, but had to make a note where I found it for later retrieval. It was awkward using a Spanish keyboard; unlike some others (French) the alphabet is the same, but there are extra keys on the sides, so hitting the Shift or Enter key never worked the first time--I’d always get some odd symbols instead. Mais l’on se débrouille. / But one manages.

I mentioned the office staff going home. Remember, it can be under an hour to “down below”, so it wasn’t difficult for the area to transform itself at night. During the day, the road was busy with cars, everybody stopping at viewing areas, reading the signs, but in the late afternoon, all that drops off markedly. Even the Teleférico stops running at 16:15 (4:15 PM). At night, there’s no artificial illumination on Las Cañadas away from the Parador, so the remaining staff and the few guests are one’s world. (At most, I saw 3-4 couples in the dining room at any one time, so the Parador wasn’t busy.)

I had thought this would have been a wonderful opportunity to see the stars--there’s even an observatory just before El Portillo--but there was always enough moonlight that I didn’t see many more stars than usual, even stepping away from the Parador. But one thing will stay with me. My room faced the outer crater wall, and one night I saw a moonrise over that wall that I’ll remember for a long time. I immediately thought of photographer Ansel Adams’ famous picture of a moonrise.

This is a short (1:44) YouTube video of the Parador de las Cañadas del Teide. The fireplace is only for the winter, not when I was there. They show the fanciest rooms, the ones with a view of Teide. Mine was MUCH less fancy, but pleasant.

It wasn’t until I was there that I realized how high, and remote, this Parador was, and I ended up being glad that I’d allowed extra time there. This Parador was at 2152 m (7060 ft), a substantial height recorded on an official sign at the entrance, but average for las Cañadas. Now consider that height, and then consider that the view from the Parador up to Teide is another 1566 m (5,138 ft)! That gives you an idea of the relationship between Las Cañadas and Teide--you’re high on a mountain (plateau) and you’re still looking up to a high mountain. (Again, I saw no snow on Teide.)

When I realized I was spending time in a hotel at this height, I began to wonder about other heights of mountain hotels I’ve stayed in. The Parador at Tejeda was surrounded by pine trees and therefore down below the tree line, but it was still at a substantial height--1560 m (5118 ft). Tejeda was only 72% as high as Cañadas, less than 3/4; Cañadas was at 138% the height of Tejeda, over a third as high again.

So was Cañadas the highest hotel I’ve slept in?. I thought it over for a while, and no, it wasn’t. It was the second highest, because I remember years ago, Beverly and I went to Germany’s highest mountain, the Zugspitze at 2962 m (9718 ft), rode the Zugspitzbahn to the upper station (not at the peak), and spent a night in the Schneefernerhaus, something we’d wanted to do for a long time. The hotel’s height was 2656 m (8714 ft), so that’s our personal record. But when I just looked up these numbers, I found that the Schneefernerhaus closed in 1992 and became a science facility! Sic transit gloria mundi. But the numbers work out this way: Parador Cañadas is 81% as high as the Schneefernerhaus was, and the Schneefernerhaus was 123% of the Parador’s height, almost a quarter higher.

While it wasn’t my intention to calculate personal records of hotel heights, I find I end up with this sequence: 1) Schneefernerhaus, 2) Parador de las Cañadas del Teide, 3) Parador de la Cruz de Tejeda.

Las Cañadas   After my first arrival day, I took the second day to tour Las Cañadas. I started at the western end beyond the Parador, which I hadn’t seen yet. I took a look down the two roads that descend from there. Their routes were steep enough that you didn’t see much, except that in the distance from one you could see the neighboring island of La Gomera.

This western end of Las Cañadas has large, very rugged and barren fields of lava, due to a 1798 eruption from a vent on the south side of Teide. Both explanatory panels nearby and the volcano model in the Visitors’ Center explained the workings of a volcano. There’s a magma chamber below, which flows up to the surface via a vent, which is a tube. There is only a relatively “tiny” crater at the top during eruption (compare Las Cañadas in the above map early on and later). The sides of the volcano are formed by successive layers of lava building up over time. However, as a garden hose might spring a leak in its side, magma might find a weak spot, and instead of rising vertically, might form a diagonal side vent, and spew from the side of the main volcano. This is what happened in 1798, which is why relatively new lava appears only on this side of Teide. This picture shows the black lava in some fog, and behind it on the left, the hump or the secondary vent coming out of Teide.

All lava is a stream of molten rock. Its manner of flow, and appearance, vary according to the composition of the magma and the temperature it was during the eruption. It can be spiky, or flat and smooth, looking like ripples in a (black) pond. I was surprised to find out that lava lightens in color over millennia due to oxidation, of all things. Light brown lava can be 2000 years old, darker brown 1000 years, black lava is relatively recent, including this area from 1798, referred to locally as lavas negras / black lava.

One roadside stopoff was in an area where some vents emitted steam, which reacts with the lava to give it a blue-green color. This area is called “Los Azulejos”, somewhat fancifully, since the lava isn’t THAT blue. If you remember about azulejos from 2012/7, you’ll know why they call it that.

One pullover, rather near the Parador, actually, is an area of spikes sticking up out of the ground like columns. One rather large one, several stories tall, is called La Catedral. The most interesting thing about these is how they were formed. They’d been minor lava vents, and when the flow stopped, the lava in the vent solidified, somewhat like glue in the nozzle of a squeeze bottle that hasn’t been used in a while. Much later, erosion washed away the vent, but the center was harder rock and stayed, leaving these spikes. It reminds me of that garden hose again. If water in the hose freezes and you cut away the hose, you have an ice sculpture. Actually, this is the way metal castings are made.

This picture shows one of these formations in Las Cañadas, the Roque Cinchado / Cinched (Bound-up) Rock, which is symbolic for Tenerife. Furthermore, look at Teide (no snow when I was there!) and you might be able to see the upper station of the gondola lift, plus the upper two of the lift’s four towers. The upper station is located on sort of a flat shoulder, with just that little tip above the shoulder being Teide’s actual present-day crater. (More below.)

Finally, this is a panorama of the cirque of Las Cañadas del Teide. You can tell here that Las Cañadas is a natural amphitheater surrounded by its crater walls, with Teide rising off to the side.

Flora   The natural life of the National Park is incredible, with many species being endemic to (existing only in) Las Cañadas, or, in some cases, to the whole island of Tenerife. 400 species of insects are endemic, and are of considerable scientific value. The Park has 220 species of plants, 16 of which are endemic. These plants have evolved several strategies for survival in a hostile environment. Many have small leaves, or a hairy leaf covering, to conserve heat. Many use increased seed production to ensure that the species continues. One plant that I didn’t see, because it hides, is la Violeta del Teide. (I did see pictures in the Visitors’ Center, and it looks like a regular violet.) This violet survives extreme conditions by living underground in the winter and emerging only for a few weeks in the spring to reproduce. But there are two spectacular plants that I saw plenty of.

As I drove around, I admired the large “pincushions” strewn about the landscape and lending color to it. They turned out to be hierba pajonera (hierba=grass; pronounce it YER.ba pa.kho.NE.ra). This is a closeup and this is a detail of this plant, which is endemic to Las Cañadas exclusively.

Even more spectacular was the tajinaste rojo (ta.khi.NA.ste RO.kho). This colorful next picture has so much going for it that you should look at it for a while before reading further.

In the background is an excellent view of Teide. Then, on the right, even more of the gondola lift going almost to its summit is visible. Moving forward we find a collection of yellow hierba pajonera, and in the foreground we have our first view of coral-red tajinaste rojo (rojo=red).

This plant is endemic to the entire island of Tenerife, but found mostly in las Cañadas. Since it’s also used as a cultivated garden plant, I suspect that it was brought down below, and happily, survived at the lower altitude, but that’s only a suspicion. I don’t like the English name I found for this plant, red bugloss. Why, if the plant exists only on a Spanish island, should there be a separate English name? I’m sticking to the original name, but I must say, I do appreciate one English alternative name: tower of jewels. Now THAT’s a name!

There were tajinastes all over Las Cañadas, including next to the road. Small ones were one meter/yard tall, but most were impressive plants 2-3 meters/yards tall. There were a couple planted next to the Parador, and both towered above me. It was when I looked at these that I first noticed something that surprised me. Look again at the picture. What colors do you see?

It’s red, with a little green of the stem showing through, right? Look again, more closely. When I stood close, I finally saw all the blue flowers behind the red ones, and am glad I found this picture to prove my point. Could the blue flowers start out that way as secondary blossoms? Could red blossoms turn blue as they retreat inward as new red ones appear on the surface? I don’t know, but it’s amazing how you don’t see the blue ones from a distance, but I’m sure they must blend into the illusion of one color.

One roadside sign explained that these plants had been common, then became rare 30 years ago, because livestock were allowed to graze in the area and ate the plants. But the livestock were banned, and the plants rebounded, and are common again. The plant blossoms at the end of spring and in the early summer, which means I apparently timed it just right. But once the plants and their seeds mature, the plants die. But they don’t disappear. The dead plant leaves a brown esqueleta / skeleton, that can last for years. Many were to be seen among the live plants. This picture shows several things. There are trees here, so it must be below the tree line outside Las Cañadas. Note all the tajinastes up the hillside in back. Then note that these must be mature plants, since they’re dying from the bottom up, and leaving the characteristic green-gray esqueleta / skeleton behind. Eventually, the whole plant will look like this, and last that way for some time. That’s the way of Las Cañadas.

Gondola Lift   I’ve made reference to the gondola lift on Teide, and I decided to complete this second day on Las Cañadas by taking it, the second gondola lift of this trip after the one on Madeira from Funchal up to Monte. However, while that one rose only gradually, covering a substantial horizontal distance with many towers, the Teleférico del Teide rose percipitously, needing only four support towers, from Las Cañadas up to the “shoulder” of Teide’s caldera shown in an earlier picture. Compare these figures below, in altitude sequence, between the lower and upper stations of the lift. Also note how much of Teide is still above the upper station:

Since this lift climbs 1119 m (3932 ft) in 8 minutes, people with heart problems and pregnant women are warned against using it.

As you rise, it’s like a curtain going up, but in reverse. What happens is that the crater wall seems to “drop” as you rise above it, extending the view beyond Las Cañadas and showing the view back to Gran Canaria that I’d been admiring from that other side. The upper station has terraces left and right of the station, from which you see “the world”. From left to right you see the Orotava Valley, then way over to the “neck” of the island, and its “spine” (ridge). You have a perfect view of all of Las Cañadas, as though it were a map below you. You see tiny cars on the road, the Parador, the rock formations, the lava. It was 6° C (43° F), at the upper station, but sunny and comfortable. The air was thin, and sitting down periodically on the benches provided was wise.

You are so entranced with the distance view that it’s a shock when you turn around and the top of Teide is behind you--right “in your face”. The upper cone looks a bit pyramid-like from close up. Leading from the upper station are a number of paths in all directions--you can even walk down to the valley floor (or UP!). But it’s made perfectly clear both down below and up here that one path is off limits unless you first obtain a special certificate allowing you to do so; this is the path that goes up the last 163 m (532 ft) to the crater at the top. Although I obviously didn’t see it, I understand the crater at the top is 50 m (164 ft) in diameter and 25 m (82 ft) deep. Given all the other huge dimensions, I’d imagine this petite crater must be “cute” (???). I also understand that steam rises from vents within it. You can understand why all of Teide is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

There are a lot of mountains higher than Teide. We’ve recently discussed:

The cog railway up Pikes Peak goes to the very top, so that that upper station is higher than the upper station of the Teleférico del Teide. Also, Pikes Peak is highly visible across the plains, as is the view from it, just like Teide on the Atlantic. But at the Jungfrau, the end station of the Jungfraubahn at the Jungfraujoch is at 3471 m (11,388 ft) and at the Matterhorn, the end station of the Gornergratbahn is at 3089 m (10,135 ft), so at the upper station of the Teleférico del Teide, the visitor has reached a point higher than either. Furthermore, the view up to the Jungfrau is partially blocked, and the Matterhorn cannot easily be seen at all from a distance from down below.

This is a video of the Teleférico del Teide and the views seen from it. Note the following:

La Laguna & Santa Cruz   My third day was my “down below” day, so I again took the attractive hour’s drive down the “spine”, past Esperanza and the rotunda at the autovía, and entered the main street of La Laguna. Being concerned about traffic and parking, I was glad it was a Sunday. The day worked out very well.

La Laguna, once the capital, was founded in 1496 on the edge of a now-disappeared lagoon. The online map of La Laguna I’d copied wasn’t very good, but coming in from the south, it plus my sense of direction guided me, looking for parking, counterclockwise around the center of the historic area to a nice spot to the west. The spot (no charge for parking) was only two blocks from a major church and square, leading into a main, pedestrianized street, Calle Obispo Rey Redondo, all of which, on a Sunday, were full of people. There were many on bikes preparing for a race of some sort, lending a festive air.

The main street was lined with charming buildings from the 16C to the 18C. On this street, I stopped at the Hotel Aguere, which was a location I’d considered staying in. On the building was a historic marker saying it dated from 1736, when it was the Casa de los Marqueses de Torrehermosa / House of the Marquis (pl) of Torrehermosa. But even if I hadn’t wanted to stay up top at the Parador, it would have been impossible. No parking!, unless they had some deal with a nearby garage, which wasn’t mentioned in their website. In addition, Google Maps had directed me to its front door--which I now saw was a pedestrianized street! Beware of GPS directions. In any case, I stepped inside, where there was a wonderful shaded courtyard with people taking morning coffee. It would have been nice.

I continued to a main square, Plaza del Adelantado, with a convent, palace, city hall, and jacaranda trees. Michelin gives La Laguna and Santa Cruz each one star. I agree. Both are pleasant, but not worth going a long distance out of your way for.

As mentioned, Santa Cruz was a small port serving La Laguna, which eventually took La Laguna over in importance to become the capital of Tenerife. Like Las Palmas, it’s a nice Spanish city, like many others. But I did have a personal reason to connect La Laguna and Santa Cruz, the recently built (2007) Tenerife Tram.

It presently connects the two cities. There was discussion to bring it all the way to the south of the island, as well as to the west. Then they discussed a high-speed rail line to the south. There has been similar discussion in Gran Canaria to build a light-rail line from Las Palmas down to Maspalomas in the south. All expansion plans have met with resistance, primarily because of expense, and have been put on hold, perhaps permanently. Sadly, in the early 20C there were streetcar lines already making many of these connections, but were abandoned mid-century.

At any rate, we do have this present connection, and I was determined to try it. It would also let me see a bit of Santa Cruz, plus one particular building at the last stop of the tram. I figured out how to buy a round-trip ticket out of the machine, checked the automatic count-down clock telling when trains were due, and was ready to go.

It runs on a dedicated route, and has the right-of-way at road crossings. Stations are either a central platform or two side platforms, with a recorded announcement not only mentioning the next stop, but what the platform configuration is. The trains of the Tranvía de Tenerife each have five, rather short, multicolored articulated sections that bend around curves.

Shortly after leaving La Laguna, which is up in the hills somewhat compared to Santa Cruz, there is a striking view of the sea and over the roofs and harbor of Santa Cruz, a view that I’ve never had from a streetcar before. Another unusual twist is that much of the route not in downtown areas has carefully-mown grass between the tracks, affording an attractive park-like look. There are 21 stops on Line 1 end-to-end, and also a rudimentary Line 2 intersecting. A short bit of the route was in a tunnel. Arriving in Santa Cruz down a major boulevard, each pair of tracks straddles a broad park in between.

At the last stop on Line 1, beside the sea, was a building I wanted to see before returning to La Laguna. It’s the 2003 Auditorio de Tenerife by famed Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava, who’s building the new transportation center at New York’s World Trade Center site and who built structures I’ve mentioned in Lisbon and Bilbao. The majestic and very distinctive profile of the auditorium has become a symbol of Santa Cruz in a similar way that the Sydney Opera House, which to my mind it distantly resembles, has for Sydney, although the symbolism in Sydney is on a much grander scale. I walked over to it from the last tram stop and find that what looks like a smooth surface is actually a huge number of irregularly shaped, glossy white tiles. This is a view of this unique building from another angle.

I then took the tram back to La Laguna. This is a very short video of the tram ride. It being an urban stretch, there is no grass between the tracks.

From La Laguna I took the autovía past the airport onto the north shore, which wasn’t worth the trouble, and which anyway was under that same thick overcast that we’ve seen. However, I did take the opportunity to go back up top via that road up the Orotova Valley. It went through a lot of towns and was very winding, but as I suspected, after a while I broke through the clouds and into bright sunlight once I’d climbed high enough. It was this valley and its view of Teide that Alexander von Humboldt admired so much when he came here to climb Teide in 1799.

I used my final two days to rest and write at the Posada, including using the office computer to, clumsily, do research after office hours. Staying five days at the Posada added to the experience of living “away from the world and on top of it”, especially during the quiet nights. My last morning I drove down again along the ridge via Esperanza to the airport, where I flew back to Las Palmas to await my Air Berlin flight to Hamburg to start the second half of the Atlantic Isles trip, moving from Columbus and Mediterranean culture crossing the Atlantic to the Vikings and Nordic culture doing the same, much earlier.