The northern side of Tenerife in the Canary Islands is a harsh and rugged coastline. Rocky hillsides meet the sea taking the full brunt of deep Atlantic lows that spin off and send massive ground swells directly onto the north facing reefs. Far from the insipid beaches of the south where charter flights touch down and track-suited tourists from the European mainland come to indulge in destroying their livers and burning their skin; Las Americas being a contrived city which has risen from the volcanic dust to create the illusion of some neon paradise. By contrast, the North is the authentico Spanish hillside farming and fishing country. This is the part of the island that hasn’t been polluted by tourism. There’s a couple of hotels here and there, but it’s on an acceptable scale leaving the locals to go about doing what they do, which is to fish, farm, make cheese and for some, to surf.
It’s an almost mystical drive (Mists of Avalon-esque) as you come from up the South and then drive over the misty, cloud covered ridge and descend on to the North. The misty cloudy part of the island is where planners put an ‘X’ on the map to mark exactly where they wouldn’t put an airport, but the developers thought the ‘X’ mean that’s where the airport should be. Oops. (Fog played a part in the deadliest aviation disaster in history when two planes collided here.)
