Flight with the drone along the coast from Tarajalejo to La Lajita
Tarajalejo – La Lajita: Gripped by the Wind and Chased
Some hikes start innocently enough, almost idyllic. You breathe in the fresh air, admire the seagulls, and look forward to the day. And then there are hikes that make you question how you could have been so naïve to pack a backpack full of empanadas. The hike from Tarajalejo to La Lajita was one of those.
"Look, stand-up paddlers!" Sandra said, pointing to the brave souls balancing on the water like wobbly matchsticks. "I hope none of them fall in," I murmured, as I launched my drone, as if it too wanted to enjoy the view. The wind was a gentle breeze, perfect for the first photo. Then, just as I was about to capture the perfect moment, a "Brrrmmm!" from the distance: A jet ski sped toward us. The rider had a clear "Look what I can do!" expression, which almost took down my drone.
Along the coast, it was quiet—almost too quiet. The Atlantic sparkled peacefully, the wind just strong enough to whip our hair dramatically. It felt so still, you might think no one else had the same great taste as us in being here. It was like we were the last people on Earth—without the usual hesitation that comes with it.
Finally, La Lajita came into view. A break was deserved. We had been looking forward to the picnic all day—and just then, the seagulls arrived, as if they had just stepped out of a Hitchcock film. They dove at Sandra’s empanadas as though they'd never seen anything better. "Back, back!" Sandra called, trying to shoo the birds with her best yoga poses. But the seagulls showed no mercy. Together, we managed to save our lunch. We had never eaten so fast. My stomach responded with a deep grumble.
After the "challenge" of saving our meal, we took a closer look at La Lajita. The local festival was still closed, which didn't stop us from appreciating the "charm" of the area. The wind picked up, making us rethink staying too long with the locals. Instead of the sweet smell of cotton candy, we were greeted with the more... earthy scent of the sewage plant. Sometimes you have to wonder if life guides you to these moments to remind you that we live in a world of contrasts.
The pièce de résistance of the hike came next. The wind turned into a storm, and suddenly, we were standing on the cliffs as if the wind had personally come to say, "No further." Sandra fought valiantly against the gusts, but her floppy hat, determined to live its own life, was whisked away into the sky. But Sandra, quick as the wind itself, sprinted after it and caught it just in time, proudly waving it like a trophy. Clothes dirty, skin scratched, hair now styled into a permanent prickly hedgehog shape. But she stood proud, showing the hat who was boss. For the rest of the hike, she held it in an iron grip.
Despite the stiff breeze, I couldn't resist inspecting the lonely house on the cliff, which had withstood the elements for decades. What’s a small fence to someone with curiosity? As I attempted to cross, the weather decided to remind me that it's not polite to trespass on someone’s property. I got stuck. The weather was right. My short tore. A moment of intimacy, made public. Sandra couldn’t help but laugh loudly. "Where should I buy you new pants?" she asked. "No need," I replied, "I’ve always wanted to try the breezy summer look."
In the end, it wasn’t the spectacular adventure, nor the breathtaking views, that made the day special. It was the little, quirky moments. It was the wind that sent us from one moment to the next, the seagulls teaching us the art of war, and the floppy hat that drove us all mad. A small hike we won’t soon forget.
