Gran Canaria Cloud Clearing Memory

 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Gran Canaria at sunset

This hike wasn’t a jaunt, or a stroll or an amble. It was more like a trudge. Silly us, thinking that a thirty mile hike across an ancient volcano was going to be a nice mosey, a pleasant journey across Gran Canaria over three days. We should have known that we were hiking a traditional pilgrimage and pilgrims never had it easy. 

It was early November, but in the Canary Islands, off the coast of Africa, it is almost always summer. I found a mini pilgrimage across the largest of the Canary Islands, from the north side of the island to the south. It was a miniature version of the famous Camino De Santiago in mainland Spain, between the two churches of St James. It was also supposed to be a gorgeous hike. But as we trudged up the mountain, all we could see was pea soup mist. When we left the spectacular sea port of Agaete that morning on the bus, the Atlantic Ocean shone like a gemstone and the white washed stucco glittered in the humid autumn air. But just as we got off the bus at the starting point of the hike, the clouds smothered everything. 

So up we went, through small farm fields, terraces and forests. Huge vista moments were sheets of gray. We came upon a village with a huge lookout area, but all we could see was mist. It wasn’t raining, but we were soaked, since we were trudging through a cloud. Higher and higher we climbed. The mountain was relentless. Even with our ultra light backpacks, we slogged under the weight of our camping gear and food. Hours went by; the afternoon whittled away without any sign of the sun. The map showed that we were nearing a large shoulder of the mountain and our first planned campsite. The wind picked up and the fog started swirling. 

Then, like a curtain across the sky, a patch of blue appeared then vanished. A distant ridge emerged from the haze. I felt a surge of energy and doubled the pace. We scrambled up another hundred feet and the fog seemed to thin, becoming sheets of intangible mist that we could walk between. And then, as if stepping out of a cave, we broke through into sunlight. 

I was almost frantic with delight. The sun was falling fast towards the horizon, casting horizontal beams through the dawdling mist tendrils. Around us, a magical island suddenly reappeared. Serrated ridges and forests glittered in the sunlight. Below us, large swathes of the island were still shrouded, but others, such as the port of Agaete were shining like stars surrounded by a silky ocean. We ran to the edge of the ridge and climbed up on a couple large boulders as more fog lifted, revealing a view to the end of the world. Teide, the third largest volcano on Earth, poked out of its own cloud a hundred miles to the west on the island of Tenerife. Layer upon layer of island and fog and ocean filled every direction. It was majestic. 

Molly and I both pulled out our cameras and took turns posing for pictures. To this day, these photos are still some of my favorite pictures ever. I was rejuvenated but the sun was sinking fast. We speed walked the final mile to a deserted campground and pitched our tent just as the last vestiges of light vanished. The trudge was over. We were back to strolling...

This is the shortest blog post I have ever written because it is pretty basic. There was this amazing time when the clouds cleared and the gorgeous Earth laid out resplendent before us. Kind of like hot water, the clearing of clouds creates something special in the human psyche. I enjoy that feeling very much.