Lanzarote: Hell on Earth
If I died and found myself in that unfortunate fiery place on the other side, I should imagine I would open my eyes to discover a hostile landscape, not entirely unlike the volcanic island of Lanzarote. Granted, the entire duration of my stay in this, the most Easterly of all the Canary Islands, was less than 24 hours, but it was enough to batter my senses with an overwhelming feeling of desolation, hostility and isolation. Would I go back? No. Would I recommend Lanzarote to other tourists? Quite possibly.
Some friends of mine from way back had spent many of their annual holidays in Lanzarote, and although they had never talked much about their trips, apart from days spent on the beach and evenings at the local bars, I had collected an internal picture of a beautiful, dramatic landscape, pretty and sunny; slightly barren, but welcoming nonetheless. With these pictures firmly rooted in my mind on holiday in the nearby island of Fuerteventura this Summer, I decided to take a trip to the neighboring island of Lanzarote, just 10 miles away by ferry.
Expecting to find something similar to the desert-like landscape of Fuerteventura, with its pretty sand dunes and shiny blue waters, all set against a backdrop of dusty mountains and green palm trees, I was immediately struck by the darkness of the place. I always knew that Lanzarote's beaches were largely made up of black sand, but did not realize that this would be the all-encompassing colour of the entire island, from the mountains to the beaches to the fields.
In every direction my eyes were met with this eerie barren blackness which was only highlighted more starkly by the strong bright sunshine reflecting off every dark surface. Bright sunlight can be very unforgiving, as anyone who has ever noticed the lines under their eyes in their rear view mirror of a car on a bright sunny day will tell you. The parched fields and towering mounds of Earth's darkest materials emanated hostility. I had visions of the bus breaking down and lone tourists struggling to find an oasis in the stifling heat of the black desert.
A little overly-dramatic? Perhaps, but very in keeping with the tone of the landscape, which was in itself one of the most dramatic I have seen.
I am sure that this bleak sinister landscape with its formidable mountains and eerie lava fields is quite a pull for some people. In fact, if the statistics are anything to go by, Lanzarote could be described as a highly desirable place in which to spend your vacation, attracting somewhere in the region of 1,800,000 visitors each year according to the Lanzarote Internal Office of Tourism. With its year round summer climate and extremely low average rainfall it is not difficult to see why it is described as the "perfect year-round destination".
But aside from the obvious draw of the sunbather's dream- come- true- climate, this island has actually been described as attractive; beautiful even. My tour guide Bill certainly seemed to think so. As I gazed out of the tour bus, an overwhelming feeling of hostility riding up in my throat with every bend in the road, Bill breathed his appreciation down the microphone at us: how beautiful is that sweep of fields... simply breath-taking.
I tried very hard to see things through his eyes, but all I could decipher was another empty field covered in black ash. Bill really knew his stuff, and as I listened to him I began to develop a kind of awe-inspired respect for the island and the people who lived there. The black ash covering the fields was an ingenious way of making things grow, in what would otherwise be a completely useless piece of land.
The ash, taken from the side of the mountains and spread on the fields, even private gardens, is good for crops, because it allows the limited rainfall to seep through to the soil more slowly and therefore feed the plants for longer, and it also protects the roots of the plants from the constant wind that blows across The Canary Islands. I was impressed by the resourcefulness of the people, but a little depressed by the fact that their efforts seemed to be in vain; apart from a few spindly vines, there still seemed to be nothing growing anywhere.
This, according to Bill, is hardly surprising due to a particularly dry Summer, with agriculture suffering from a measly 2 inches of rain so far this year, in total.
The Timanfaya National Park, consisting of more than 100 volcanoes was both the highlight of the trip, and confirmation that Lanzarote is Earth's direct link with the after life . On the way to the park, you cannot help but notice pictures of the devil dotted around. What a welcome. It is understandable that when these volcanoes, known as the Fire Mountains, erupted - the last eruption being in 1824 - the people thought that the devastation was the work of the devil, and these horny images have now come to represent the park. It is also not difficult to see why this area is one of Spain's most treasured national parks.
Due to the lack of rain and therefore absence of erosion or growth, the area is virtually the same as when the volcanoes erupted, and experiencing the park is like being in the middle of very real and current volcanic activity. Fascinating and yet terrifying. Here the heat of the sun above smashes into the heat from the Earth below, and there is an incredible sense of formidable energy.
As the guides demonstrate the radiating temperatures to come up from the ground in this area, the overriding feeling is once again one of hostility. Gravel from the ground, too hot to hold, is placed in your hands, with the promise that if you can hold onto it for 10 seconds you can take it away (removing anything from this protected area is, of course, forbidden). You need hands of steel to manage even two seconds.
An entire bucket of water is then poured down a hole in the ground. Nothing happens for an instant, and then the earth, vomits it back up in a powerful, hissing gush of hot steam; a severe warning to anyone who thinks about messing with nature. The drive around the lava fields is the most haunting part of the park, however. Here, as you admire whole fields of the black, boulder-like craters of solidified lava, it is not hard to imagine yourself lost on some other planet in some other universe, devoid of all human contact for eternity. I was mesmerized, and at the same time, very much looking forward to my escape.
As I boarded the ferry to return to Fuerteventura, I could not help but liken my experience in Lanzarote to that little girl who used to crouch at the back of the sofa catching a terrified glimpse of a forbidden horror film from behind half closed eyes. I wouldn't have missed the experience for the world, but I'm going to have to try to lead a more wholesome life from now on... just in case.
