A walk by the sea

After our breakthrough yesterday, getting out of the house reasonably early, we fell back into slovenly habits today, lazing around until early afternoon, when we finally got moving and went for a walk along the coast. In fairness, it rained in the morning, or what Lanzaroteans consider rain – it amounted to about three spits.

Setting out

By the time we set out, there was a mix of sun and cloud. It was mild – maybe 66F – but breezy. We headed through the village and out the other side, north along the path we had spotted on Sunday. It runs beside the sea and appears to be part of the “national” trail that circles the island. There are small white concrete posts all along the route – as there are along the path in front of our villa. This segment of the path north of the village, however, is not very well groomed. Some of it is sand, some black gravel, some rocks, sometimes jagged and treacherous.

The rock, when you examine it up close, looks exactly as you expect volcanic rock to look – charcoal grey, pitted like the surface of a pancake, from when the bubbling lava cooled, presumably. In some cases, you can see the pattern of the flow in the rock, with ripples spreading out where the lava approached the water and began to cool and solidify. Definitely lunar.

Karen speculates that it looks as it does, and not like the smooth shiny lava rock we’ve seen at a couple of other sites, because the eruptions here were so recent and so severe. The bizarre landscape of Lanzarote is mainly the result of eruptions from a couple of volcanoes – principally one near Timanfaya, south of us – between September 1730 and December 1731. But there have been others since, most recently in 1824.

There is an appendix in my paperback edition of Lanzarote (a rather lame novella by the avante garde French author Michel Houellebecq about a lost weekend on the island) with an excerpt of an eye-witness account of the disaster, written by a priest. It begins:

“On the first day of September 1730, between nine and ten o’clock at night, the earth suddenly opened near Timanfaya, two miles from Yaiza. An enormous mountain emerged from the ground with flames coming from its summit. It continued burning for nineteen days. Some days later, a new abyss developed and an avalanche of lava rushed down over Timanfaya, Rodeo and part of Mancha Blanca. The lava extended over the northern areas to begin with, running as fast as water, though it soon slowed down and ran like honey.”

Despite the bleakness of the resulting rock, the flora that has grown up in the earth below and around it is surprisingly varied. It’s mostly succulents of different kinds, spindly thorn bushes and little rock-clinging flowering plants. Is this the flora that was already native to the island, or varieties that have thrived since because of the changes in terrain and soil?

Fairly early in our walk, we came upon a rusted oil drum standing by the side of the path, apparently still sealed, with a faded Shell label affixed to the top – 15W 40, originating in Morocco. I’m guessing it rolled ashore with the tide after falling from some tanker or cargo ship, then somebody lifted it upright for a lark. When I rocked it, it felt as if there was liquid inside, but that may have just been water trapped in it.

We saw a few other walkers, dour middle-aged and elderly Brits and Germans. When we were coming back, we saw two who had passed us going the other way. They were in their bathing suits now, sheltering in one of the little rock alcoves sun bathers have built to protect themselves from the wind. We had seen them from a distance trying the water, but they didn't lasted long. ‘Too cold?’ I asked as we drew level with them. ‘No, too rough,’ the one said. ‘It almost took me out,’ the other added.

We also spotted one fisherman, with two long poles. He looked to be northern European, in his 60s. He was standing at the end of a 30-foot-long spit, surrounded by water. We watched him, and I took pictures, from the spot where we had stopped to sit down before heading back. Karen and I got up after only a few minutes because the tide was evidently coming in and we were threatened with splashing. I wondered if this guy was paying attention to the tide. Not that he couldn’t have scrambled back pretty quickly if he started to get wet.

The walk back was quicker, and sunnier, with the wind now at our backs. We located a convenience-grocery store, still closed for siesta, and took note of its location, just down the street from us. We were home by not much after 4, so it was probably not even a three-hour walk. A long Skype with Caitlin followed. She was reporting on the family party for Bob’s 40th birthday. At about 7, I went out again and bought some necessaries at the little shop we’d found, and was surprised how cool it had gotten.

And that was the end of outings and excitement for the day.