12th to 18th March
Wednesday 12th March
Just over four hours after leaving a chilly and windswept East Midlands Airport our Thompsonfly Boeing 737 tips a wing to reveal the distinctive snow-capped cone of Mount Teide, Spainís highest peak at 3718m and a sight that is to dominate our outlook for much of the next seven days. Our descent over the southern coastal strip of the island reveals how mass tourism developments have scarred large swathes of the seafront, whilst cultivation has clearly swallowed up much of the remaining lowlands.
The time is a little past 16.00 as Victoria and I make a smooth and efficient journey through the modern Reina Sofia Airport and collect our pre-booked AutoReisen Seat Ibiza from a comparably well-organised car rental office (AutoReisen are high recommended for well-priced car hire in the archipelago: www.autoreisen.es); then itís away from civilisation and into the hills!
Leaving the hideous, unplanned, conglomeration of coastal hotels and apartments we rapidly gain altitude as we pass through the foothill villages of Grandilla da Abona and Vilafor. Here the outlook is much more appealing, with patches of native vegetation dominated by strange-looking succulents and bright yellow flowering shrubs; interestingly half of the Canary Islandsí flora is endemic. Meticulously-laid retaining walls of pale lava rock support terraced fields which step up the hillsides, some holding vegetable crops and others grape vines.
Accolade of first new bird of the trip goes to Plain Swift, as a group of a hundred of these subtly distinctive Apus swifts feed low in a sheltered valley. Scattered patches of introduced eucalypts give way to native Canaryian Pines above Vilafor, and soon we are snaking a route upwards through the beautiful pine forests which cloak the steep hillsides with an occasional viewpoint revealing spectacular glimpses of the blue Atlantic Ocean, now way below us.
Finally, one of the never-ending series of hairpin bends is rounded to reveal a roadside sign welcoming us the Las Lajas Campsite. Though a campsite in name, nestling in a fantastic pinewood setting, Las Lajas is deserted and all facilities locked. The lack of showers is, however, made up for by the total lack of any other campers; we have the whole site to ourselves.
The adjoining picnic area is actually one of the best know birding spots in the whole of the Canary Islands, with a reputation as the number-one locality for seeing the endemic Blue Chaffinch. Throughout a large area of woodland, picnic tables and barbeques have been erected, along with a clean water supply whose taps allegedly attract the birds. There is no need to turn on a tap, however, as several beautiful male Blue Chaffinches are instantly encountered, feeding on the ground between the picnic benches. These large finches are washed in gorgeously subtle indigo-blue, set off by vivid white undertail and split eye-ring. They have also evolved a distinctive large and elongated bill, which tapers to a fine point; subsequent observations reveal that this is an adaptation to feed on the seeds of the fallen Canary Pine cones which litter the area.
A number of Island Canaries accompany the Blue Chaffinches, with males displaying bright sulphur-yellow bellies. Great Spotted Woodpeckers of the canariensis race, with distinctive dark brown underparts, are common here, as is African Blue Tit C. t. teneriffae which has a blackish cap, dark blue upperparts and lacks a pale wingbar (or if you follow del Hoyo et.al., Canary Blue Tit).
As the glowing orange ball of the Sun sinks through the pines we hastily erect the tent on a conveniently level area of coarse sandy soil, as unseen Canary Island Goldcrests call from the cover of dense tufts of green needles. We are now at around 2000m and we note that the temperature is starting to dip rather rapidly.
Around 8km of winding roads take us back down to Vilafor, the closest habitation to Las Lajas, and in the village we quickly find a cosy little bar in the form of the Cafeteria Pizzeria Teide. As the name of the establishment suggests, a pizza is the order of the day, washed down by our first few bottles of the rather pleasant local Dorada beer.
Back up at the campsite the air is now decidedly nippy and we dive immediately into sleeping bags. As the night progresses, however, we discover to our discomfort that something a little more robust than our lightweight ëtropicalí gear would have been appropriate, as slowly more and more layers of clothing have to be reapplied to fend off the cold. The whole performance results in something of a sleepless first night, which is regularly punctuated by the heavy thud of a large cone falling from the surrounding Canary Pines.
Thursday 13th March
Our natural alarm call comes in the form of a particularly active population of Great Spotted Woodpeckers, whose vigorous drumming echoes through the sparse trees all around the tent. The deserted forest, with its wonderful pine-scented air, is a wonderful place to begin the day. The first two hours of light are utilised to their full, as all of the siteís available endemics are photographed in the vicinity of the picnic area. Blue Chaffinches and canariensis Great Spotted Woodpeckers are relatively ëtameí, while Island Canary and teneriffe African Blue Tit eventually descend to within photographic range.
New for the morning are Canary Island Chiffchaff, with distinctive wavering song, and Canary Island Goldcrest, with a diagnostic black forehead joining eyestripes together above the bill. Berthelotís Pipits are also particularly obliging here, and actually prove to be neat little tail-pumping chaps and much more charismatic than expected.
By 09.30 the tent has been dropped and we are heading further uphill, along with a steady stream of early tourist coaches! Soon we break through the tree line and into a magnificent and starkly dramatic landscape of dark lava flows, sparse dry vegetation and high jagged peaks. The pyramidal cone of Mount Teide dominates the scene, though it is interesting to note that the sunny southern aspect of the mountain has much less a covering of snow that the northern side seen from the air on the previous day.
After various photo-stops, brunch is consumed on the veranda of the Parador Nacional, with Mount Teide as a backdrop under a cloudless deep-blue sky, and Berthelotís Pipits collecting titbits from around our feet. By the time we depart, the car park is clogged with coaches and hire cars, depositing an army of sun-worshippers to the Islandsí principal natural tourist attraction.
From the lunar-landscape at the summit of the Island we make a descent in a northwesterly direction, with vast lava flows dropping into the pine zone and then scenic foothills, above the coastal plane, which are strewn with low shrubs and attractive wildflowers. Just north of the village of Santiago del Teide we stop off at Erjos Ponds, though it is clear that the fires of 2007 have decimated much of the surrounding vegetation and greatly reduced the ornithological interest of the area.
Island Canary and Canary Island Chiffchaff are common, but other than these the endemic insularum race of Common Buzzard and a group of Plain Swifts are the only birds to make the notebook. As water is so scarce on the islands any wetland area is a magnet for dragonflies and the area is alive with their glinting wings. The endemic Island Darter is numerous around the pools, with Emperor Dragonfly and Broad Scarlet also present in force.
Next on the itinerary is due to be the famous Laurel Forests of Monte del Agua. When we locate the turning to the forest track at Erjos, however, we are confronted by an array of ëmen at work signsí and a group of construction workers taking their siesta in a mess cabin. Ignoring their advice (in our defence given in Spanish!) we continue down the track until an excavator blocks our way and so throws all hope of endemic pigeons at this site into disarray.
A barrage of expletives and a 25-point-turn on the very narrow track sees us heading northeast along the coast road with ëPlan Bí afoot, keen to take advantage of the perfect pigeon-watching weather. Having grabbed a picnic lunch en route we stop at the La Grimona Mirador, located immediately west of the El Terro road tunnel on the TF-5 coast road.
Although the views down to the coastline below are spectacular, the experience is somewhat akin to picnicking on the hard shoulder of the M1 Motorway, with cars and coaches speeding past. A further plus point is the fact that this is a superb site for Laurel Pigeon, however, and up to four birds perform over the next half hour, with excellent perched views being obtained between bites of cheese sandwiches and apologies to Victoria for the choice of picnic site!
With the first endemic pigeon safely in the bag we make rapid progress along the duel-carriageway section of the TF-5 as far as San Cristobel de la Laguna, when we exit the fast road the head up into the forested hills of the Anaga Peninsular. The road winds up through scenery as impressive as anywhere on the Island, to finally deliver us at the Pico del Ingles Mirador. From here the views over the Laurel Forests, terraced hillsides to the north and coastline to the south are magnificent, whilst the quality of the scenery is matched by the birding. In just over half-an-hour we see four Bolleís and three Laurel Pigeons, plus our only racially endemic granti Eurasian Sparrowhawk of the trip and an obliging Indian Red Admiral butterfly.
Having located all of Tenerifeís available endemic species before the end of the first full day we decide to call it quits and set off to seek out accommodation with a couple of hours of daylight still remaining. Desperate to avoid tourist-packed coastal resorts, we have singled out La Orotava in the Lonely Planet as a potential cultural sanctuary. Described in our guidebook as ëthe prettiest town on Tenerifeí and ëone of the most truly Canarian places in all the Canary Islandsí it certainly has the highest credentials!
Although we rapidly reach La Orotavaís outskirts, negotiating the tricky one-way system and finding a parking place in the narrow lava-cobbled streets takes some doing. The effort is imminently worthwhile, however, and we are instantly captivated by this beautiful little colonial town. The wonderfully preserved colonial mansions and old stone churches are a million miles from the concrete and neon coastal strip and we know we have found the perfect setting for our stay on Tenerife.
When the first hotel we try to locate has closed down we panic a little, but this actually proves a Godsend as our search leads us on to the Hotel Rural Orotava. This establishment truly is Heaven! The 16th Century manor house, set around an open central courtyard, has been tastefully converted into a series of rooms that retain all of the establishmentís original detail and character. Very reasonably priced, and run by the friendliest of staff, we cannot recommend this hotel highly enough (www.hotelruralorotava.com).
The adjoining Restaurante Sabor Canario, actually part of the Hotel, serves cuisine in keeping with the superb standards of the establishment. The hugely likeable proprietor, Angel, directs us towards the roasted goatís cheese with coriander, followed by the cordillo (lamb), which proves to be the finest meal of our trip. You must stay at the Hotel Rural Orotava and eat at the Sabor Canario!
Friday 14th March
With an early afternoon flight booked to Fuerteventura, the morning is given to soaking up the historic splendour of La Orotava town. Leaving the hotel early to make the most of the cool air and subdued light, Victoria rapidly filling sketchbook pages and I the cameraís memory card. Steep lava-cobbled streets, overhanging balconies, terracotta-tiled roofs and grotesque gargoyles are all captured, whilst a diversion from the architecture comes in the form of a fantastically obliging Monarch butterfly yet to have warmed enough for flight.
The views down to the turquoise Atlantic and up to a snow-capped Mount Teide are magnificent, shared with a constant accompaniment of singing Island Canaries and hawking Plain Swifts. A very lengthy and extremely tasty breakfast is enjoyed back at the Hotel Rural Orotava, where we reserve rooms for our return to the Island before departure to Tenerife Norte Airport.
The airport is a convenient twenty minutes away, where hire car is parked up and we are effortlessly checked onto our Binter Canarias flight to Fuerteventura (Binter proved to be superbly efficient throughout: www.bintercanarias.com/). Our 14.20 flight is just forty minutes in duration, first over the blue Atlantic and then the dry, desolate and seemingly inhospitable landscape of Fuerteventura. Against the pale, barren expanses of the interior, the coastal holiday resorts stand out as little islands of environmental disaster. Starkly contrasting green, heavily irrigated golf courses are surrounded by sprawling concrete apartment developments, each block with a corresponding green irrigated garden and blue rectangle of a swimming pool; clearly ësustainabilityí wasnít in the vocabulary of the Islandsí developers.
Autoreisen again come up with the good and soon we are heading south in a very new Citroen C3, following the main coast road past the horrendous concrete resorts seen from the air just minutes before. After stocking up on supplies in a street resembling Skegness seafront, and noting the first of hundreds of Spanish Sparrows beside the shops, we head for Casas de la Salinas and the well-known Barranco de Torre just beyond.
With Victoria installed beside the Atlantic breakers, I canít resist setting off in the overpowering mid-afternoon heat to check out the residents of the Barranco de Torre. The area where the Barranco meets the sea has attracted a rather strange agglomeration of itinerants, and an assortment of aged camper vans and tents are spread through the palms. I skirt various vicious-looking guard dogs to reach the tamarisks and low, dry scrub at the mouth of the valley.
A barranco is simply a dry valley, which in this desert environment generally contains rather more vegetation than the surrounding plains and hillside; if you were in Israel you would be walking up a wadi. Considering the intense heat, the area is teeming with birdlife. Spannish Sparrows are breeding by the dozen. The first koenigi Southern Grey Shrikes are noted, later proving to be quite common on the Island, with this endemic race showing a pale greyish breast with contrasting white throat. Spectacled Warblers are very numerous with an odd Sardinian thrown in and an occasional attractive Trumpeter Finch.
Migrants are also encountered in force, with a Red-rumped Swallow being an early highlight. There has clearly been something of a fall of Willow Warblers, while a single Subalpine Warbler and Woodchat Shrike are also notable. A couple of insularum Common Buzzards soar over the barranco, no doubt with the sizable population of introduced Barbary Ground Squirrels in their sights.
I have actually walked two or three kilometres up the barranco before the afternoonís prize finally gives himself up. A fine male Canary Island Stonechat, found nowhere else on the Planet other than Fuereventura, appears from nowhere atop some dry plant stems. Something of a cross between a Siberian Stonechat and a Whinchat, he is essentially white below, with a peachy-orange blob at the top-centre of his chest. Blackish cheeks are bounded by a broad white half-collar below and a narrow white supercillium above, while the crown is slightly more brown-toned.
With a good couple of hours of daylight remaining there is still ample time to pull in some birding at La Oliva, our next destination well to the north, so we retrace our steps past the airport and itís associated tourist trappings. Just beyond the sprawling coastal conurbation of Puerto del Rosario we cut inland and are pleasantly surprised to find ourselves amongst rolling hills and increasing, albeit still sparse, amounts of greenery. In the low evening light the scenery has an unexpectedly spectacular air and we soak in the details on the excellent roads which lead us to La Oliva.
Following to the letter the instructions given in Tony Clarkeís site guide, we skirt the village and find the El Cotillo track which is described as passing through habitat containing some of the highest concentrations of Houbara Bustard on the Island (and therefore in the World). A vast, bare rocky plane stretches away to the west, while a few kilometres along the track is an area of cultivation to the east. Some of the bunded fields contain young crops, and allegedly these attract feeding Bustards from the surrounding planes. Although several Barbary Partridges are present, the prospect of seeing Bustards in the area, which appears to house a rapidly expanding human population, seems fairly remote and we only give the spot a brief try.
Beyond the cultivation the track turns to the west and tops a ridge, giving good views across the vast plains which appear to be perfect habitat for desert species; signs denote that we are now in a Bustard protection zone. We have only driven a few hundred metres past the cultivated area when Vic announces ìdo they look like little ostriches?î, just as I drop the bins on the same Houbara Bustard trotting along just 50m from the car!
Having seen what is now McQueenís Bustard in Israel way back in 1989, and even then a good way off in a telescope, this really is something special, and most certainly the bird-of-the-trip for me. A superbly charismatic species, the ëlittle ostrichí shows a distinct white crown, to a head supported by a long pale-grey neck. An obvious black streak vertically slices the neck, while white underparts contrast with a richly vermiculated back. Seeing such a magnificent bird in all itís glory makes the fact that wealthy Arab falconers have all but driven the species to extinction throughout the rest of itís range all the more abhorrent.
As our Bustard causally trots off, we continue along the track in search of a suitable ëcampsiteí. Lesser Short-toed Larks of polatzeki race sing from low rocks and Berthelotís Pipits scurry over the sand. A single Cream-coloured Courser rapidly runs off over a brow, though a Eurasian Thick-knee is much more obliging and poses photogenically for some time.
After several kilometres we discover a side track which leads to a secluded valley with a flat stone-free area ideal for camping. The tent is hoisted, then weighted down with some heavy rocks to ensure that it is still where we left it upon our return. Making our way back to La Oliva village we soon track down a cracking little pizza restaurant in the form of Cleva Mas, opposite the local football ground where a noisy floodlit game is in progress. Here we while away several hours with superb freshly-made vegetable pizzas and bottles of Dorada, before retiring to our high-class accommodation for something of a windswept night.
Saturday 15th March
Rising with the sun, it soon becomes apparent what a visually and ecologically stunning area this really is. We have camped in a cultivated valley bottom, but all around gently undulating rocky plains stretch off into the distance. Some areas are vegetated with sparse low bushes, while others appear devoid of all greenery, being dominated by pale-yellow rocks or coarse, gritty sand.
Barbary Partridges are calling all around and a pair of koenigi Southern Grey Shrikes hunts just behind the tent. After driving several hundred metres along one of the surrounding rough tracks the first magnificent Houbara Bustard is seen. He allows relatively close approach and has clearly just completed a bout of display, as white crest and breast plumes are still partially unfurled.
Leaving him to continue his quest for a partner I continue along a rather vague track which follows a ridge-top, through splendid desert scenery of deeply sliced wadis, eroded hillsides and occasional isolated dune systems. Over the next two hours three more Houbaras are located, each one close to the track, along with a group of five exquisite little Cream-coloured Coursers which are equally obliging. Fifteen Black-bellied Sandgrouse fly past in three separate groups, with Lesser Short-toed Lark and Trumpeter Finch proving to be relatively numerous; a flock of thirty Greater Short-toed Larks comes as something of a surprise, however.
As we pack away the tent a herd of several hundred goats appear over the brow of the hill. This is rather disconcerting in what is allegedly a nature reserve and, indeed, the attendant shepherd looks very uneasy when he spots our presence. Making a note to pass on the details to the relevant conservation authorities we set off to the south.
Ridges of high hills run parallel with the western coast of Fuerteventura, making for a winding but extremely scenic drive. The characteristic stone-build, back-sailed windmills close to Tefia are worthy of a photo-stop, though a minor detour to the Morro de Veloso del Convento viewpoint is less stimulating. The latter consists of a large modern building topping the 675m peak which is essentially empty, save an out-of-place bar in the corner; all very odd!
The next official destination is the delightful little hamlet of Betancuria, nestling in the folds of brown basalt hills. Dating back to 1405, and for many years the islandís capital, the chapel and surrounding historic buildings are well worth a visit. While Victoria reaches for her sketchbook I grab the camera, as a recently fledged family of degener African Blue Tits are seen immediately upon our arrival. Clearly different from the teneriffae race seen two days previously, these birds lack a white wingbar and are therefore more akin to their North African cousins.
Rejecting the up-market eateries around the main square, we find a little restaurant on a side street which rustles up a great omelette to see us through the afternoon. Next stop is Vega do Rio Palmas, and the reservoir at Las Penitas. Victoria sensibly chooses to take a siesta in a shady spot close to village while I follow the well-vegetated barranco down to the reservoir. Turtle Doves are one of the commonest birds here, while Atlantic Lizards Gallotia atlantica abound. The stretches of the barranco containing running water attract large numbers of dragonflies in the form of Broad Scarlet, Epaulet Skimmer and my only record of Sahara Bluetail damselfly.
In the afternoon heat birds are generally very scarce, however, with degener African Blue Tit, koenigi Southern Grey Shrike, Sardinian Warbler and Barbary Partridge being amongst the few highlights. In spite of much searching the Canary Island Stonechat, which is reputedly easy to see at this site, remain elusive.
The drive south to Pajara, through high hills and deep valleys, is particularly spectacular, before the land falls away into the plains to the east. Soon we hit the Atlantic Coast at Tarajalejo, and with it the associated sprawl of tourist developments. The Lonely Planet has pointed us to a campsite here, but we soon realise that it has disappeared since publication and so continues west along the coast road.
In the absence of an official campsite the beach seems the obvious alternative and the sprinkling of other tents and camper vans indicates that such practices are not frowned upon by the authorities. The relatively sheltered and entirely tent-free Playa Matas Blancas is chosen as an ideal location, being just east of Costa Calma with itís shops and restaurants and also just a stoneís throw from the La Pared Plains, part of the Parque Natural de Jandia.
The tent is erected in the last light of the day and we brave the German holiday masses at Costa Calma. There is a convenient supermarket at Plaza de Hapag Lloyd where we stock up on essentials, but the adjoining pizza restaurant is easily the worst eating establishment of the trip. It takes the best part of an hour for a very mediocre pizza to arrive, during which time we passively smoke several dozen German cigarettes.
Fortunately we have procured a good bottle of Tempranillo and rapidly beat a retreat to the sanctuary of Playa Matas Blancas, where we sip our purchase from plastic cups as the Atlantic breakers crash in by the moonlight; the perfect antidote to the German package-holiday experience.
Sunday 16th March
The strong wind which has blown up and rocked our tent during the night has miraculously subsided by dawn, when the tent flaps are opened to reveal the Sun breaking the horizon in the direction of an unseen Morocco. We head directly for La Pared before the Sun raises the temperature to unbearable levels, cutting west onto one of the many tracks which bisect the vast desert plain.
Breakfast is consumed in a ridge-top with fantast views down the Jandia Peninsular, with the Canada del Rio Windfarm dominating the horizon. Fifteen Black-bellied Sandgrouse and seen in small flocks, with the bubbling calls of this species almost constantly audible. An immature Barbary Falcon chasing and then dispatching a Rock Dove would have been the morningís highlight, but is relegated to second spot by a Houbara Bustard encounter of quite incredible proportions.
We are actually returning to the main road when a male Houbara is spotted close to the track. Managing to position ourselves just 30m from the bird, with the light directly behind us, we ready for a photographic feast. Rather than sloping off over the ridge our bird proceeds to slowly raise crown and breast plumes before bursting into full display, which involves running rapidly back-and-forth in a wild ëheadlessí posture as the neck is fully retracted into an explosion of frilled white plumes. In what is undoubtedly the ornithological highlight of the trip, our Bustard proceeds to repeat the display another three times over the next ten minutes, all within 30 or 40 metres of the car; incredible!
It is only just after 09.00 but the temperature is already beginning to climb dramatically. After packing the tent away for what is thankfully the final time, and taking a brief paddle in the cold Atlantic, we head west towards the end of the peninsular. Beyond the terrifyingly commercialised holiday resort of Morro Jable the tarmac gives way to a well-graded dirt track. The plan had been to follow the track to the end of the peninsular, but it soon becomes apparent that every tourist capable of hiring a jeep or car has had the same idea and instead we park up at the base of the Barranco de Gran Valle. After a short siesta, a bite of brunch and a pair of extremely obliging koenigi Southern Grey Shrikes, we head back to Morro Jable Port. Here an ice cream compliments the photogenic sailing boats and atlantis Yellow-legged Gulls, before we set off back towards the airport in the heat of the day.
The F2 follows a rather uninteresting route after it leaves the Jandia Peninsular coastline and is only enlivened by an Egyptian Vulture which glides low over the road. By around 15.00 we are back at the Barranco de Torres, where a welcome sea breeze cools the scorching heat of the unrelenting Sun. Victoria again takes the sensible option of a shaded sea view and a novel, as I sweat my way back along the Barranco determined to improve on the last visitís photographs.
Willow and Spectacled Warblers, Southern Grey Shrikes, Hoopoes and Spanish Sparrows are again much in evidence. A pair of Egyptian Vultures is new to the notebook at the site and the desired Canary Island Stonechat is very welcome, at precisely the same spot as on the last visit, with a pair feeding around the barranco scrub this time. With more time on my hands some much better images are secured, thought it is worth noting that in spite a walking a couple of extra kilometres along the barranco no more Stonechats are observed; a large quarry now abuts the eastern cliffs of the gorge and it is possible that this activity may be discouraging the presence of more birds?
After whisking Vic up the barranco to see the numerous obliging Barbary Ground Squirrels, we make the short hop up to Caleta de Fustes. This decidedly unappealing English resort town reveals a saving grace in the excellent ëMexico Cornerí restaurant, where the enchiladas are so good that even the distant chants of English football songs do not spoil our enjoyment!
Then itís back to the airport for our 20.20 return flight to Tenerife Norte. Our trusty Seat Ibiza is waiting for us and we dash down the TF 5 to the civilised sanctuary of our new home-from-home, La Orotava. Angel is awaiting our arrival at the glorious Hotel Rural Orotava, where a sit-down toilet, hot shower and crisp white sheets have never been so welcome!
Monday 17th March
Keen to savour the complete Canary Island experience to the full during our short stay, today is scheduled for a daytrip to the island of La Gomera. The only problem is that the ferry sails from Los Christianos on the south west coast, a two-hour drive from La Orotava. Staying close to Los Chrstianos would clearly have been more sensible, but the almost total absence of good rural accommodation on the island, combined with our love of La Orotava, means that an early start and a long drive is in order.
At 06.00 we realise that our 05.30 alarm has been sounding for half an hour without penetrating our state of post-camping exhaustion! We run round the hotel, grabbing a quick bite of breakfast and filling pockets with tasty morsels to consume later, then head south on the TF 5 as fast as conditions will allow.
Progress is painfully slow after we head inland, winding round tortuously bendy roads in the early morning rush-hour traffic. With an eye constantly on the watch it seems certain that we will miss the 08.45 Naviera Armas ferry, but miraculously we skirt a relatively congestion-free Los Christianos with minutes still to spare. The car is dumped at the port parking area and we dash to the crowed ticket office together with a motley assortment of tourist day-trippers. We have cut it so fine that the foot-passenger boarding ramp has already been disconnected, as we arrive at the ferry with tickets-in-hand, and are directed to the open bow doors where we board along with late coming cars and lorries.
The Naviera Armas boat is very modern and extremely clean, with a fine top-deck sea-watching position at the bows. From this vantage point the first of around 30 Coryís Shearwaters are seen within minutes of vacating the port. We are only about ten minutes out of Los Christianos when a pod of three Short-finned Pilot Whales swim close past the ferry, showing distinctive swept-back black dorsal fins to good effect.
The sea-watching vigil is maintained for the next hour but other than a single unidentified dolphin, a huge spaceship-like Fred Olsen high-speed ferry, and some great views of Mount Teide penetrating a thin veil of mist, nothing else of note is recorded. San Sebastian de la Gomera proves to be a relatively unspoilt little port town, whose multi-coloured buildings are flanked by a spectacular backdrop of steeply-rising lush green peaks. After we figure out the Amigos Autos actually operate from the Hertz office we collect very posh Seat Altea, and head straight for the hills.
A winding ascent takes us first through a zone of grassy slopes interspersed with various succulents and then via long road tunnels, abruptly into great tracts of superb low, dense Laurel Forest. Close to El Cedro we find a secluded track that leads through a damp valley to beautiful terraced fields and traditional colonial cottages. Goats suckle their kids, Tenerife Lizards scurry through the leaf letter and the air is full of bird song. European Robins of the endemic superbus race feed on the track and our first stunning tintillon race Chaffinches are seen around the goat pens. Males of the latter display highly distinctive uniform dark blue upperparts and contrasting salmon breasts, which together with distinctive vocalisations make them a very good bet as an imminent split to full species level. Canarian Speckled Wood butterflies abound and a Cleopatra adds a splash of colour.
After returning to the car we ascend steeply, rounding wild hairpin bends as we traverse precipitous hillsides to the viewpoints high above the dark green laurel-forested slopes. Several Laurel Pigeons are calling close by and white tail-tipped birds regularly hurtle above the treetops below our vantage point. Plain Swifts are prevalent here, with tintillon Chaffinch, superbus Robins, Canary Island Goldcrest, Canary Island Chiffchaff and North African Blue Tit all abundant, though mainly on the strength of calls. The views are superb, with bands of mist constantly moving in and out of the more distant tree-filled valleys. Sheer rock escarpments regularly break the tree cover, and the vertical basalt faces are dotted with large yellow-flowering succulents.
Our circular route of the Parque Nacional de Garajonay takes us through kilometre-after-kilometre of Laurel Forest, with occasional breaks in the canopy giving spectacular views across mist-filled valleys to the distant cone of Mount Teide, and also proving a single fly-past Bolleís Pigeon. At short walk to Clarkeís Chorros de Epina site reveals a group of noisy picnickers at the springs and hence no drinking birds are to be seen. The adjacent bar makes up for the disappointment, however, where the locally made biscuits which resemble Farleyís Rusks are as tasty as we have ever had!
Leaving the laurel forests we drop into a misty land of the most beautiful terraced cultivations. Dark brown lava-built retaining walls split the small fields, tall elegant palms dot the valley bottoms and groups of multi-coloured terracotta-tiled houses cling to the steep hillsides. We cannot help but stop for more photographs around every bend in what must arguably be the most photogenic corner of the whole Canary Islands.
With time rapidly slipping towards the return ferry departure, we skirt the northern coastline with scarcely a stop, though heavy banks of mist often make admiring the scenery an impossibility regardless. Miraculously we break into bright sunlight again as we clear the road tunnels high above San Sebastian de la Gomera, which clearly illustrates the climatic dividing line with splits the islandís flora and fauna.
Sea-watching on the return ferry crossing is much more productive, though rather than producing any big surprises it is more a matter of ëmore of the sameí; in excess of 200 Coryís Shearwaters pass the boat, many very close, and another two Short-finned Pilot Whales are noted. In spite of constantly scanning the Atlantic waves for the full hour, however, no tasty seabirds materialise.
Back on dry land the 1 æ hour drive back to La Orotava is a much more relaxed affair than the morningís frantic dash. The pink sunset-tinged cone of Mount Teide calls for a photo-stop, and back at La Orotava another superb meal at Sabor Canario rounds off a very memorable day.
Tuesday 18th March
After enjoying superb weather during our time on the Islands, it is something of a shock to wake up and find that low cloud and a light drizzle has engulfed La Orotava. Vic is forced to delay her sketching plans for a time, but I head uphill by car in the hope of clearing the clouds. Winding my way above the town, I find Aguamansa to be just above the low cloud base. Or at least it is for ten minutes before being engulfed in dense mist. Driving upwards again I break into sunlight, pines and Blue Chaffinches, but that is not the goal for the morning and I head back down slope.
Fortunately the mist gives way as I reach an area of orchards and overgrown hillside gardens in the vicinity of El Bebedeto, allowing some exploration in more clement weather. Canary Island Chiffchaffs are common, with superbus European Robins and teneriffae African Blue Tits also present. It takes some time to secure success, however, in the form of some decent images of a fine male tintillon Chaffinch.
Back at La Orotava the sun is now shining and Victoria has filled a few more pages of her sketchbook. We dine on a huge, scrumptious breakfast and bid fond farewells to Angel, the proud proprietor of the finest hotel on the Canary Islands (www.hotelruralorotava.com).
Having already seen most of Tenerife, the obvious route back to Reina Sofia Airport is the high, scenic drive, via Las Canadas del Teide. When we reach the pine zone we are high above the cloud tops, leaving an amazing sea of white mist lapping against the green slopes below us, while above us the snowy north slopes of Mount Teide dominate. Needless to say, photo-stops are frequent, and give our closest views yet of Plain Swifts, as they skim the miradors.
The final leg of our journey takes us through the eastern section of the Parque Nacional del Teide, through a stunningly desolate landscape of dark volcanic rock and sparse vegetation; large sections are still seemingly devoid of all life and have a distinctly lunar appeal. Passing the Parador Nacional, which is now inundated by tourist buses, we find ourselves back on familiar ground. The winding forest road takes us past Las Lajas Campsite, which is also unexpectedly alive with picnickers and campers, making us realise how fortunate we were to have the site to ourselves a week earlier.
All that remains is to descend to Reina Sofia Airport, via the route taken on our first evening. The last week has provided a very enjoyable insight into one of the Western Palearcticís most unique birding destinations. In spite of the archipelagoís reputation as a characterless sun-and-sand holiday destination we have found some wonderfully unspoilt corners, with La Orotava and La Gomera being particularly memorable. The birds have performed superbly and it is hard to imagine how one could fail to find all of the regionís endemic species and races in even the shortest of visits; the memories of the most incredible views of magnificent Houbara Bustards and exquisite Blue Chaffinches will certainly linger in the memory and make a visit the Canary Islands essential at some point in anyoneís world birding itinerary.
Ian Merrill March 2008 i.merrill@btopenworld.com http://uk.geocities.com/i.merrill@btopenworld.com/default.htm