It was such a good night’s sleep and I woke feeling immensely grateful for the shelter. It’s a nice way to start the day, a vibrational ‘thank you’ coursing through your body, cells humming with life, chest warm, open and at ease.

I unzipped the tent to greet the valley. The sun wasn’t up yet but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

Once I was packed up and ready to ride out of there I couldn’t resist unrolling the yoga mat for a short practice in this beautiful setting.

I rode into town then decided to go for a walk, locking up the bike and heading into the hills, loving the freedom not to plan, just letting the day unfold. By the time I arrived back in town the roadside café was open and I got my coffee/electricity/wifi fix plus another Majerero Spanish lesson.

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I woke early, getting packed up and picking up some rubbish from the surrounding land. It was a small gesture of thanks and I hoped the farmer would continue his amicable attitude towards strangers pitching tents on his land.

I was just about to leave when the sun rose above the volcanoes and the first light hit the mountain, painting a warm orange streak across its face. I felt grateful to be there to experience it, seeing it under starlight and at first light – a lot more magical than a gutted mountain.

I rode away on the dirt track, picking my way through the bigger stones, eventually rejoining the tarmac road and beginning the long descent to Tefia.

I didn’t cycle for five minutes or so. I just flew downhill, mind temporarily silent as it enjoyed the freefall. I had barely even experienced cycling before this trip. Of course I had been on a bike many times, but I can remember very few occasions of flying down a big downhill. This first one was a mind-stopper as my heart soared. [continue reading…]

I had an interlude for a couple of days. I had to return to Corralejo because my gears weren’t working properly and this was the closest bike shop. Even though Corralejo was three days of experience away for me, it was in reality just up the road.

I was momentarily disappointed to be back at the beginning but actually it was a good opportunity to get rid of some things that I didn’t need and take some that I did.

I set off again on a different route this time, through the volcanoes from Corralejo to Lajares.

It took me a while to find the route out of Corralejo. After a few false starts I found a track and a guy working on the road beside it. I double checked that it was the route to Lajares.

“Si pero sube” (yes but it goes up)

“No pasa nada, no tengo prisa” (no worries, I’m not in a rush)

“Asi es, pasito” (that’s the way, little steps)
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I woke in an excellent mood, mainly because the tent was completely dry so I didn’t wake with wet plastic stuck to my head. If only I was this easily pleased in everyday life.

I leapt over the dune and ran down to the shore for an early-morning swim. It was bloody cold so it was a quick swim and I was very awake afterwards.

With no tent to dry I got going early and rode to the habour to do some clothes washing. I hung my stuff on the bike to dry and headed off like a mobile laundry, setting sail down the west coast.

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I kept waking in the night, feeling like I’d had a massive sleep and it surely must be morning. My eagerness to have survived the night was no doubt playing its part in warping time and making two hours feel like eight.

In the pre-dawn I woke to a damp tent. Fat beads of condensation were threatening to create a rain shower if I accidentally touched the sides. I was cold in my flimsy sleeping bag. [continue reading…]

To pedal out of town with your home on wheels is a particularly pleasurable blend of freedom, adventure and rebellion.

It didn’t matter that I was setting forth on a small bike trip around the touristy island of Fuerteventura. For me, I was heading into the unknown.

I was equipped with basic cooking supplies, a modest tent and a semi-permanent grin.

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