Lanzarote

Position: 28°55’01.3″N 13°42’09.3″W

Alice Kramden‘s perennially abusive husband Ralph used to threaten to send her to the moon. At the end of his fist. If she wanted to go to the moon, Alice could have divorced Ralph and bought a ticket to Lanzarote instead.

Like the rest of the Canary Islands, Lanzarote is a volcano. It is a group of four calderas and a bunch of fissure vents and cones all thrown together into an area the size of Austin, Texas. The last major eruption was back in 1824, and raw black pumice still covers large swathes of the island. It is as rocky and stony a place as exists on Earth while somehow retaining an air of touristy luxury and exclusivity.

600 Miles

Trade winds and currents draw sailors south along the coast of North Africa. Straight towards the Canary Islands. Smart sailors keep as far offshore as time and weather allows. One hundred nautical miles is a good distance. That way they avoid the orcas and the heinous fishing nets that blanket the capes along Morocco’s coastline.

With a double reef in the main to prevent it blanketing the jib, Aleta made steady progress downwind. After five days and almost 600 miles at sea, a few twinkling lights off Lanzarote’s north coast appeared in the wee hours and came as a welcome sight. The main marina in Arrecife was full of would-be trans-Atlantic sailors. That meant carrying on around to the south side of the island, to the resort marina of Puerto del Carmen, another 30 miles, or six hours away. Nevertheless, we had Aleta tied up before much stronger winds blew in behind us that afternoon.

Bad Gas

Staying at a resort gave us easy access to rental cars and British cafés. Grabbing our hiking poles early the following morning, we snarfed a full English breakfast and hit the road. Our first stop? A perfunctory stamp in our passports at the immigration office in Arricife.

My attempt at getting our propane tank refilled at the next stop resulted in my getting laughed out of the building. It is probably time for a propane makeover on Aleta. Most of southern Europe and Morocco have shifted to a gas bottle exchange system. That makes it nigh on impossible to fill your rando LPG (liquid propane gas) tank. Which is too bad. Back in the day our two tanks would boil water every day for a full six months if we were living on board. Perhaps things will be easier in the Western Hemisphere.

Divots

Chores out of the way, it was time to explore the island. Starting with lunch at La Casa de La Playa. Our whole, locally caught fish (probably Sargo or Merluza) was delicious and perfectly prepared.

Lanzarote’s northwestern corner is a high cliff that drops almost straight into the ocean. Looking down over the narrow channel separating La Graciosa from Lanzarote can be a little dizzying. Look southwest along the coast and what you see is a series of bare, mostly unadulterated volcanic cones, rugged sea lashed cliffs and scree-fields covered in holey pumice. Drive a few kilometres off the coast road and the mysteries of local agriculture start clearing up.

Centuries-old terracing staggers up the side of some of the mountains. Although, since this was December, we couldn’t tell if anything productive was growing. Further south, the fields of lava started resembling the surface of a gigantic golf ball. Divots dotted the landscape for hundreds of metres on all sides. The divots with a low rock wall serve as wind breaks; each one nestling and protecting just a few grape vines. Unsurprisingly, the cool climate and rocky terrain make wonderfully light, citrusy, mineraly white wines. But humans don’t live on wine alone and I suspect almost everything edible besides fish gets shipped in.

Mi Casa es Su Casa

Omar Sharif owned a house on Lanzarote. For about a day. In 1972 he arrived to star in a remake of Jules Verne’s Mysterious Island. A British property developer named Sam Benady had crafted a spectacular show home to draw prospective buyers to his enclave, the Oasis de Nazaret. The design was the brainchild of a local artist and architect César Manrique and realised by the Venezuelan op artist Jesús Soto. Their concept was to integrate the building with its surroundings: a natural quarry. Utilizing rough, exposed stone walls and stark, white-washed concrete, their goal was to evoke the atmosphere of One Thousand & One Arabian Nights. Sharif saw the place and instantly fell in love with it.

A day (possibly two) later, Benady challenged Sharif to a high stakes bridge tournament. Sharif has admitted to gambling away a fortune on bridge. In his defence, he was one of the best bridge players in the world in his day. Unbeknownst to him, however, Benady was the European bridge champion^[1]. The cards were dealt, the bets were placed, and in less than 48 hours Sharif’s dream home was back in Benady’s hands. It was the last time Sharif visited Lanzarote.

The house feels like the result of a wrestling match between Salvador Dali and Antoni Gaudi. At once playful and childlike and yet wonderfully at peace with its surroundings. And it feels like a house fit for a international movie star. Fun fact, the movie’s Spanish director, Juan Antonio Bardem Muñoz, was actor Javier Bardem’s uncle.

Walks and Wines

Like most places in Spain, hiking trails are clearly marked and easily followed. We found a good long hike around a small cinder cone a couple of miles down a dirt track. Pre-Christmas tourists were thick on the ground, but as soon as the tarmac ran out, we had the place to ourselves.

Busloads of cruise ship day-trippers thronged the wineries. Somehow, we timed our visit to Bodegas Rubicón perfectly. The moment we waved a credit card at the reader in exchange for a couple of bottles of reserve Malvasía, the crowds shuffled in and overwhelmed the barman.

With Katie and Aron due to join us in Tenerife in about 10 days’ time, we had to keep moving. Our next stop was Fuerteventura, the island due south of Lanzarote.