Rock arch on the west coast near La Pared
La Pared – A Day of Wind, Waves and Willing-to-Wander Waistlines
La Pared – rugged coast, sand and sea. That’s what every travel guide says, but none of them mention that you first have to drag yourself out of bed in the morning. Properly drag yourself. Since we hadn’t done a tour in a while, the body protested with a mixture of surprise and gentle sarcasm. The excitement grew anyway – after all, we had almost prepared everything. Only the camera battery had decided not to participate. It hung limply on the charger while we drank coffee, pretending this was all part of the plan.
We arrived in La Pared to sunshine, a light breeze and heavenly silence. Only the black ravens had already noticed that we once again carried biscuits in our bags. You might be mistaken – but I’m sure they keep records. The walk began, and the first quiet little bays appeared like something out of a picture book. Beautiful, lonely, inviting… and conspicuously free of surfers. The red flags waved in the wind as if saying, “Not today, landlubbers.” We didn’t plan to swim anyway, so on we went.
Then came the part where you have to go up and down, because the barrancos clearly believe that a hike without elevation gain is no real hike. Sandra commented with a mixture of horror and dry humour:
“Is this going to be like this all day? Too narrow, too dangerous.”
And me: “Come on, let’s go.”
“Is this going to be like this all day? Too narrow, too dangerous.”
And me: “Come on, let’s go.”
The volcanic rocks and dunes were spectacular, and out of pure scientific curiosity I let myself slide down a slope. Unfortunately, only at the bottom did I remember that I had to climb back up again. A break at the top was unavoidable. I was convinced they sold oxygen more expensively up there.
And the ravens were convinced that a break must include biscuits and water. So much for peace.
And the ravens were convinced that a break must include biscuits and water. So much for peace.
On a plateau we spotted two people. She was photographing something with great dedication, while he stood there staring. I looked too – and saw nothing.
“Do you want to go?”, I asked.
“No, silly”, Sandra said.
“Do you want to go?”, I asked.
“No, silly”, Sandra said.
Five minutes later:
“I wonder what she was photographing. Maybe we should…”
“So shall we go?”
“No, still silly.”
“I wonder what she was photographing. Maybe we should…”
“So shall we go?”
“No, still silly.”
That conversation repeated on loop while we walked further and further away. Sometimes curiosity is purely theoretical.
The panoramic view was enormous. We could see from the southern west coast all the way up to Ajuy in the north. For a moment it felt as if we were breathing in the entire island. Eyes closed – emotion sensors on. A balm for the soul. And a rest for the feet.
“Wow, the spray reaches all the way up here”, I said.
Sandra: “No, look – something’s coming.”
Sandra: “No, look – something’s coming.”
Clouds rolled in, the wind grew harsher, and suddenly it was cool. In other words: 22 degrees. Fuerteventura cold – the kind that makes you briefly consider getting out your winter coat. We bravely pretended we were used to it.
Eventually we decided to shorten the tour. Not because we were tired, out of breath or a little overfed – no, ours was a strategic decision. We cut across the landscape toward the way back, accompanied by an absurdly beautiful view: Atlantic on the left, Atlantic on the right. Standing there in the middle, amazed once again: “Right, we’re on an island.” And on this day, a deserted one, because we met absolutely nobody. The others probably understood the weather forecast better than we did.
We only saw two cyclists – pushing their bikes through deep sand. Who expects seashell sand in the middle of volcanic rock? Fuerteventura has its own sense of humour.
Near the end of the path we reached the famous desert mailbox. Apparently it’s there so the postman doesn’t get lost. Or to remind you that you shouldn’t either. Below us we could already see the car. We slid down the slope and saw the same cyclists again – this time panting and gasping as they tried to pedal up the steep hill. We exchanged a knowing look and a gentle smile: hiking does have its advantages.
After this little adventure we wanted just one thing: a good place to rest. And so we ended up at the new Bar-Café Sabor, formerly Plan B. A friendly man from Hamburg – the human, not the burger – welcomed us. He has been living his dream there for two months. Cook, hotelier, artist. And you can taste it.
Food, drinks, dessert – all at a level you would expect in a big city, but at Fuerteventura prices. A place that gives strength, inspires new tours and proves that Fuerteventura is full of small wonders.
Food, drinks, dessert – all at a level you would expect in a big city, but at Fuerteventura prices. A place that gives strength, inspires new tours and proves that Fuerteventura is full of small wonders.
Tip: Bar-Café Sabor – absolutely worth a visit.
