Jan. 25, 2003.

Watching the merging of the churning twin wakes of the 'Benchijigua Express' hydrofoil viewed from the stern deck as we swiftly make the passage from Tenerife to La Gomera at a speed of 35 knots. A very pleasing way of travelling after the more mundane train, plane and bus of yesterday's move from Carmarthen to Los Cristianos, Tenerife. The sun shines on us as we are lightly sprayed from the effect of our wake -- a pleasant drizzle. The 12000ft snow-streaked pyramidal peak of Tenerife's El Teide dominates the view behind us.

So we are taken to San Sebastian, La Gomera. As we step off the boat we are confronted by a lady with a little notice saying "Seaton Phillips". What a nice welcome. And she did not even know what time we would be arriving. She is standing beside an immaculate white Citroen 'Saxo' car, which is now ours for the next five days. And we had expected to have to make a long trek to find the car hire centre in some vaguely specified downtown location.

So now La Gomera is open to our views.

We find a market place for our bread and fruit and meat for lunch, and set off into the mountains. Not much choice really; the whole island is mountains. Up 2000ft through numerous tunnels, with a stop for lunch amongst the volcanic stoniness overlooking a steep scrubby valley. Gomera has the distinction of being the only Canary Isle that has had no volcanic activity for millions of years -- the others have been active within only tens of thousands of years. Hence Gomera has had more time to be eroded and shaped by the unremitting weather, resulting in deeper, steeper-sided valleys and more exposure of rock formations. Warm and sunny here, despite a cold wind on the road above us which seemed to be funnelled through the next tunnel ahead.

Then through this last tunnel to the northern more cloudy side of the mountains. Marion was attracted by a short-cut footpath descending to rejoin the winding road far below. So I abandoned her to try this and we remet successfully 30 minutes later. Then just a short way down to Hermigua. Only 15 miles from San Sebastian, but our speed had only occasionally reached 40mph on the ever twisting roads, despite perfect surfaces (but edged with open ditches). An enormous amount of EEC money has gone into improving the island's main roads. Here we found the house of Blaise and Laurence, where we called to arrange a meeting for later this evening. (More about them later.)

On to the Ibo Alfaro hotel, described as a 'rural haven', high on the hillside above the village, where we were welcomed by Ina Stromberg, the German owner. It proved to be a pleasantly comfortable place, with a room with balcony and almost private terraced flower garden to sit in. And a view over the Hermigua valley, typical Gomeran terraces of vines and banana plantations -- the delicious small sweet Canarian bananas (platanes).

Then for a trip down to the beach. A hugely uninspiring sight. A black gravelly 'promenade' road backed by a few dilapidated and ugly buildings including a swimming pool; great Atlantic waves rolling on to the black stone beach. Following the rough road we found ourselves turning inland beside a small stream, and over three fords until a steep hill half washed away by winter rains deterred us. Definitely no longer a car road. Reverse over the last ford, then retrace our route. So six fords, including one in reverse, made an interesting variation on an afternoon run down to the sea.

6pm appointment with Blaise and Laurence. A French couple from Brittany. 'Servas' hosts, the only ones on the island. He, Blaise, a guide for walking tours organised by a French agency; she, Laurence, currently happily occupied with their first new six week old baby, Mael (a Breton name). We had a tea party, with English tea ! in the courtyard of their house, and found out much information about the island, places to walk and to visit, and views on living on the island as 'foreigners'. We had already realised that Gomera is not Tenerife; few mass tourist resorts, and more indigenous villages and farming life.. But still few jobs, except with tourist connections; and a declining population. The loud croaking of frogs was filling the evening air by the time we left at dusk.

They recommended a restaurant nearby for supper where we sampled local fish dishes, cherne and tuna, served with Canarian potatoes (small new potatoes in skins, sprinkled or rolled rather over-enthusiastically in salt).

Not cold today, but big grey waves are rolling in from the grey sea under a grey sky and breaking on the black rocks at our feet as we have our lunch at La Caleta. We arrived at this beach of black sand, black stones and black pointy cliffs, and the peak of Tenerife looming on the misty horizon 15 miles away, after a walk of about an hour 600ft down a gravel track. We had left the car on the cliff top before the road deteriorated. This is a curious place; the last half mile of the rough road has a beautiful tarmac surface, except for a huge hole where a bridge has been partially washed away and now no car can pass. The final approach to the beach is down a footpath of modern stone steps complete with municipal lighting, leading to what might be called a tourist development of gardens, restaurant and beach viewing area. A rather ill-conceived attempt to attract visitors to a place that might have been all the more attractive for being left to its more natural self. After walking back up again I realised that this is probably the longest walk I have taken for many months. Perhaps my knee injection really has made some improvement.

Back at the hotel we found tea being made (an English group had just arrived !). This made a restful interlude. We then investigated another approach to the sea. Through the narrow lanes of Agulo, the next village along the coast, and steeply down an unsignposted rough track. Once again, this became beautifully tarmaced for the last quarter mile, finishing at the top of another new neat stone footpath with street lights, twisting down to a beach. Another curiosity. EU money, perhaps, for beach development, but not for approach roads.

A different restaurant for tonight, with rabbit stew for me and a garlic prawn dish for Marion, in a sort of conservatory with a variety of greenery hanging from the ceiling.

Another brilliant breakfast at the hotel in company with German and English voices. A real German 'fruhstuck' spread of unlimited supplies of cereals, ham, eggs, cheeses, fruit, jams, bread, rolls and coffee. (It is not a cheap hotel but unusual to find one 'con desayuno'). German voices are more common than English on La Gomera; Tenerife is almost an English colony.

Then away from this friendly place back over the mountains to sample the sunny south side of the island. A short diversion on the way to view Los Roques, a fantastic array of volcanic lava chimneys rising above deep valleys, before visiting the highest point of the island at 1487 metres (4900ft). Easily accessible by a half hour walk from the main road. This is the Garajonay summit, the centre of a National Park which embraces the laurisilva forest (a sort of laurel tree), a now unique forest, once covering much of Europe before the last ice age. But near the top we saw mostly tree heath, pines and scrub. We were lucky with a warm sunny day. Cloud covers the area for much of the time, a damp fog keeping it all moist and providing the source of the island's water. Extensive views to other islands -- La Palma and Hierro appearing to be in the sky, rising from a surprisingly high horizon; and the peak of Tenerife again distantly in the northeast.

We finally hit the south coast, after a descent through more tunnels, at Valle Gran Rey, a hot tourist resort. Spurning sea front hotels, we found a self-catering room, complete with our own gas ring and balcony in a hillside house well above the beaches. No English spoken. This was 'La Casa de Bellos Cabellos' at La Calera ('the house of beautiful hair ' -- why ?). We drove along the rough seaside road to find the remotest beach which turned out to be nudist dominated. I had a swim off the black sand in strong (warm enough) waves.

An evening meal at the other end of town near the old port, watching the sunset sky while enjoying our peto fish and two pork chops, accompanied by the usual salsas (much milder and more palatable than last year's experiences in Mexico).

Home cooked breakfast today. Egg cups provided !

Tackled the Barranco de Arure, a rocky gorge leading to a waterfall (an unusual feature of any Canary). I did not get halfway, but left Marion to go on much faster on the narrow terrace paths. She completed the task in an hour or so, but was unimpressed by the 50ft waterfall.

Next 2500ft up in the car to the village of Arure. Picnic lunch here on the edge of an almost vertical drop overlooking the small village of Taguluche far below, and the west coast sea beyond. This is the start of two enticing walking routes. Marion decided to do the two hour ridge walk (La Merica ridge) back to La Calera. I explored the start of another ridge walk the other way. Then I retreated down to the sea again for another swim, this time on the nearest sheltered calm bay, easier for swimming. So a day of satisfying walking exercise for Marion, but leaving me regretting not being able to do enough myself.

You wouldn't believe it possible. I drove for about seven miles with an empty seat beside me thinking that Marion was there as usual. We had stopped at one of the many 'miradores' to admire cliffs and rocks and valleys and things. When ready to drive off, Marion had, I thought, opened her door and got in. But no; she had crossed the road to inspect a monument that I had not noticed (to a forest fire in 1988). As I proceeded alone I did make one or two remarks that received no answer; I thought perhaps she had dozed off. Of course I was ardently concentrating on the road, as usual ! She had been waiting at least half an hour by the time I had turned and retraced the innumerable bends and the climb of hundreds of feet.

So we did reach San Sebastian again.

But it had been another interesting day well before all this.

From Valle Gran Rey we had driven back over the hills and down to Vallehermoso. On the way we stopped for Marion to post three postcards. She found a greeen box on the side of a house. But post boxes are yellow. This one was a private house box. We hope the owners will be kind enough some time to take them to a yellow box for us. Perhaps Marion thought she was in Ireland. Vallehermoso is a town similar to Hermigua, straggling through a north facing valley in more cultivated country than the arid south coast. With some difficulty we found the Botanic Garden; a strange place, unfinished, with no work in progress and not a gardener or any official in sight. Plenty of plants but no labels in the many carefully placed label holders. So we wandered alone along the well constructed pathways among the great variety of exotic plant life. Watercress beds were one unexpected feature. Cotton trees with flower and burst cottonseed pods, orange, lemon, papaya trees. Cacti and succulents. Honeysuckle. Black water pipes lying around waiting for future connection. A garden of the future, we thought, reminiscent of the Welsh dome complex near Carmarthen, with its neat new stone pathways and walls.

Back up the mountain again, with lunch taken sitting on a minute ledge on a pinnacle with magnificent vertical view back down the valley. Satisfactorily completed without dropping even a crumb of bread or a human body over the edge.

On up through the laurisilva forest again, impressed by two stretches of straight road,each about 400 yards long; we still had not exceeded 40mph anywhere on the island.

To Chipude for an attack on La Fortaleza (The Fortress), a large circular volcanic plug, flat topped with vertical rock walls. A short steep path led to the base of the rocks which provided a convenient crevice for climbing to the top. 'This hair-raising stretch' (according to our book) was entirely suitable for me, as plenty of handholds meant that I no longer had to rely on my stick. So it was nice to reach the top together and wander about on the summit (a quarter mile diameter circle) covered with stunted bushes. Cloud came over as we left, and the climb had been pleasantly cool.

Finally, the return to San Sebastian with the unfortunate aforementioned loss of each other's company on the way.

A nondescript town centre hotel here, but an interesting restaurant with large palm trees growing up through the roof. A three course meal for me, with fish soup, steak with mushroom and a glass of wine; watercress soup and chicken with garlic for Marion.

Abandoned our faithful car on the quayside (as instructed), and caught the midday ferry back to Los Cristianos, Tenerife. Goodbye to our small Canary. Hasta la vista.

Cristianos has sandy-coloured sand on its harbour beach. Large quantities of sand were imported from the Sahara. What an effort. Are they so ashamed of their natural black sand ?

We booked at the same hotel as last week, after confirming the existence of a suitable bus for next morning. I had anther swim and Marion wandered. An evening meal on a sunset restaurant terrace. Last Canarian fish -- sardines and hake.

Friday, Jan. 31.

4.45am bus to the airport turned up on time to start us on our way homewards.

Finally, from a flying window seat, a view of Britain in the sunshine :

South Devon coast, Plymouth, Dartmoor, Exmoor, Minehead, descending over Weston with a sprinkling of snow on the Mendips, and a clear distant view across the Channel, over Steep Holm and Flat Holm to the Welsh coast and the brightly whitely snow covered Brecon Beacons 50 miles away. What a pity we could not divert to Cardiff so close just across the water. We could have avoided some of the late trains we were soon to encounter. But we found that we had been lucky to miss the 'chaos' of three inches of snow in Eastern England with some airports closed, and were happy not to have known about all this before landing on time at a sunny snow-free Bristol.

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