Mission: The Beach // Side Quests: The Bay
Today I only had one focus: get to the beach and get some sand in between your toes. Anything more than that would have been a bonus to a simple win for the day.
Thankfully the mission was more or less a straight line downhill with a moment asking an Italian guy where the beach is:
“Would you like to try some fine Italian food?”
“Maybe, later. Actually, right now I’d like to get some fine El Duque sand. I see water - help me get to it please.”
He laughs - and I’m aware the way I handle conversations is probably very odd for most people but I am what I am and if anything on this intrepid adventure I’m leaning into that fully.
He gives me directions and I’m on my way noting how there’s a decided focus on walkway space…I very swiftly understand why as I’m almost run over by a mobility scooter - clearly devoid of any speed limiter.
As I’d hoped, the wind picks up the closer I get to the beach. My timing today was off and I left for the beach at around midday. Now you see why the initial mission was so easy - the option to return to base if it was too hot wouldn’t have spoiled the triumph.
Seeing the water so close was exciting as it was calming, though a small part of me was a bit put out that there wasn’t any white sand anywhere. Being a volcanic island and being in the south it was unlikely anyway.
The plaza was flooded with lobster-coloured tourists, mostly pensioner age with a flickering of families in varying stages of holiday joy and limits. Many stared at me, I stared back with a smile and a ‘Hola’ - some would say it back, others would seem startled and look away as is customary for Britons - I think.
A few African folks were selling wares and offers to braid hair, and they smiled when I saw them, a few sparked up a conversation with me and they obviously didn’t see or hear anything other than “UK/London person” even though I said I was Kenyan from the start.
The rows and rows of thatched parasols tickled my cynical funny bone as many lay in the sun roasting away or tending to their children in the light grey sand.
Eventually, I found a great off-ramp into the last of the light grey sand and less people so I could head to the lapping waves and get my feet wet.
The coarse hot sand was a delightful experience after only ever having the pebbled beaches of Brighton as my nearest experience in the UK (Yes, I went to visit my Bestie in Florida and stood in caster sugar-fine white sands with crystal blue and teal hues of water crashing into its banks - but we’re not there now, are we?)
The water was cool but not as cold as I was bracing for it to be.
So - mission accomplished.
This is where I opted just to meander - much like I’ve done with the Southbank pathway in London on the Thames. The sand turned from light grey to dark grey and quite “bitty” as you’d expect from volcanic rock pummelled into sand. Tourists were still sunbathing on the black sands as I kept on walking on the cusp of the ocean kissing the beach.
As I kept on walking the cafes and restaurants seemed to improve in presentation but menus were very hegemonically European/British, lacking any kind of Spanish pizaaz.
Then I reached a bay of stacked pebbles and had to deviate onto a mobility scooter-friendly pathway for a bit. The apartments and hotels were now a bit monstrous in their monotony but the mountains were still ever present over them.
The meandering took me up and down small alleyways, always back to the beach front but more residential spots were filling up the front and pushing me to the main coastal road - so I stopped to consult Ze Googleh to see where I was and if there was anything of interest.
There was - an off-road location with great views.
Sidequest: The Bay
Looking up, I saw a quaint little corner of coastal homes and had to take a picture before embarking on my new challenge.
Walking through built-up areas left a lot to be desired - more bland restaurants and cafes accommodating the comfort zone eating delights of BoT massive and houses stacked on top of each other, clearly more holiday homes with the shutters down.
Then I was faced with a miniature version of John Wick’s stair fight scene. Only there was no fighting, thankfully.
If I had to climb these god damn stairs and that was my lot - I’d be somewhat miffed to say the least. But we haven’t walked for a good 2 hours and accepted this side quest for nothing - Onwards Buttercup!
The wind was lapping round my head whilst I was trying to catch my breath and an information board helped me mask how much I was dying from a few passerby tourists that seemed to have popped up from nowhere as the top pathway ended in descending stairs to the left of me and a wall to the right.
That’s when I realised the mass of earth infront of me was the path…
there were many paths and people were seemingly zig-zagging across them all for various reasons.
I just wanted to get to this picture spot, take a likkle piccie and be on my way.
But of course that didn’t happen.
First, I thought the wind on the paved pathway was bad - 2 meters worth of additional steps had me eating those words in a sand sandwich. Being in shorts and a sports bra top meant free exfoliating from the rogue sands caught in the ferocious winds.
I felt like I was in that scene from Chronicles of Riddick…you know the one:
But the weather was still great and I carried on making my way in some kind of direction whilst trying not to get my ass kicked by this wind.
I made it over to the other side and saw beautiful teal waters - I was near. There was also an obvious pathway on the other side of the bay so there had to be one here…
The path noodled by flowering cacti and eventually dropped nearly vertically. I tried a few nervous steps but the wind would push me forward and I had a moment of backing out even though the bay was LITERALLY JUST THERE!
Thankfully two Spanish boys were making their way in the same direction and I asked them if this was the way down - they nodded “Si - only, ten minutes” and proceeded to barrel down like mountain goats.
Not one to be left looking foolish - I pulled up my big girl pantaloons, reminded myself I’m a goddamn G.O.A.T (and a Capricorn) and hoofed it down that hill too.
Just so you’re aware, I was wearing my pink Furoshiki shoes - zero traction, zero support, 100% all down to being a barefoot junkie as some of those rocks were looooose as fuck.
A couple were doing their hike in the opposite direction, we exchanged pleasantries and I got a few recommendations of restaurants in the next village that were less EU on tour and had more Spanish local vibes.
Whilst I intended to get to what I thought was Ensenada de Los Rusos just for a quick photo of what I thought was the bay, I made it to Playa de los Morteros.
This bay had no sand whatsoever, it was hard porous stone and rounded volcanic rocks - weathered by crashing waves at various levels of tides during the day.
Folks there were mostly half or fully naked, in the sea or sunbathing on the big rocky slabs, yet to be defeated by the ocean.
In the corner under the hill I walked down from was a space carved into the stone to what you’d essentially called a house. The entrances had a crowd perched around drinking and chilling in the shade so I didn’t quite feel up to squeezing past to explore the little cave house. It looked quaint as hell though.
Now, as I spent a moment enjoying the serene song of waves crashing - my ears perked up to the sounds of additional bass-heavy sloshing at certain times the waves receded back into the ocean.
It didn’t take long to figure out it was these big volcanic rocks being bullied back and forth by said waves. The rolling and bubbling had me somewhat giddy (if you can imagine likening a person sensitive to sound being exposed to a new experience to that of a child being exposed to a new kind of candy in a candy store) so I tried to capture the experience in sound and video.
I’ve got an idea of what to use those recordings for (they sound really good for only being captured on my phone) so if you’re subscribed to this little wittering space - you’ll get access to what that audio idea turns into.
Wandering Back Home
It’s already been a good 2 hours of meandering and I felt the need for food and a cheeky wee was imminent.
The walk back was easier, and the terrain still reminds me of something out of Chronicles of Riddick
The wind was still high, giving me more free exfoliating on the way. The volcanic mountain rage from all angles in the south keeps on tempting me with adventure…soon, maybe.
Wearing what can only be described as the worst hiking footwear known to man (but they did the job beautifully as a barefoot/minimalist shoe fan) I meandered back to the hostel via a little shopping arcade after backtracking across all the beaches I’d wandered across initially.
Letting curiosity win, I happened by a small supermarket and somehow, they had bags of radishes!
I don’t know where and why my love for them came from (Yes I do) but I feel weird if it’s been too long not having a few. So, having seen these rudebois I let out a “Fuck offffffff, as if?!?!?!” as I grabbed bags of them to store in the Hostel fridge for my regular snacking to recommence.
The hostel has been a great place to land, explore from and return to.
Each day there’s a regular cycle of people coming and going. Even in these short few days, there’s been a good 12 people who’ve come and gone and it keeps on going.
People from varying walks of life come here either to get sun and beer 24/7 for a few days then hightail it back to a sombre life in colder isles (hello Britain) or as a stop-over for greater adventures.
Writing these long-ass posts isn’t sustainable…So I’ma take a day or two off to figure out how to keep this going (if you want, let me know what you think so far and what would be good to do here - I’m winging all of this….all of it)
Until Tomorrow, Sun Pendejos <3