Our time in the Canary Islands was coming to an end, but we were looking for one last cycling adventure. On Google Maps, we could see a ridge just north east of town. It was unclear exactly how to get under or over the expressway at that end of town, but we found a route that had potential.
In the morning we packed our knapsack, prepared the bikes and headed off. As expected, we were challenged to get over the expressway, but managed thanks to a pedestrian bridge. We found the dirt tracks we had seen on Google. The hills were bikeable, but the terrain didn’t seem to have the potential for a scenic adventure. In any case, we went on taking various tracks that circled back on themselves. Progress was slow. The only thing of interest was a field of sheep grazing on almost nothing. The old fields that had been cleared, but now abandon, were pretty much void of vegetation.
We continued for an hour or so until the trail got too rough to ride, then locked the bikes and hiked it. Another 20 minutes or so brought us to the scenic ridge we’d hoped for. It overlooked a gorge several hundred feet down. The view was spectacular. It was almost the inverse of what we’d seen days before. Then we were in a ravine looking up at mountain ridges and this time we were on a ridge looking down into a gorge.
We hiked along the ridge and then made our way back to the bikes.
It was an easy ride down from the ridge and back to the expressway. On the way out, we had seen a drainage tunnel running under the expressway, so we found it again and rode through. The dried creek bed carried on in the direction of the ocean. It wasn’t going to be a conventional way through town, but we thought it might be possible. At least, there was no traffic. The trail was on-again off-again. We followed it for about 10 minutes until we came to another tunnel, but this one was dark inside. We couldn’t see any light from the other end. It appeared to curve slightly as it went. Marlene stayed behind and I ventured inside. As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I could make out the vague tunnel outline giving me direction, but not whether there was anything in my path. The ride was smooth but I rode cautiously. After a few minutes, the way ahead started to brighten. I new then we were good to go on. I made an echoing call to Marlene, but I think she had gotten tired waiting and had already started in behind me. We soon road out onto the beach. We were surprised, but no more so than the people on the beach. After orienting ourselves, it turned out we were just a couple of kms east of our apartment. We made our way up onto a walkway, then to the streets and home.
Back at the apartment, we reflected on the day’s adventure and the adventures we’d had earlier in the week. They truly had been wonderful; ones that we’d remember for a long time.
After the day’s exercise and fresh air, we slept well as we had done before, except for the clickety–clack of the young Russian women’s shoes as they headed out on the town and then again when they returned in the wee hours of the morning. One at 3 or so, and the other about 5. The routine was the same pretty much every night. But that’s another story.
Click here for that story and to saying goodbye to Gran Canaria:
http://travellingwithsteveandmarlene.blogspot.ca/2012/05/look-whos-living-next-door.html
http://travellingwithsteveandmarlene.blogspot.ca/2012/05/look-whos-living-next-door.html