I thought I’d done my research. I’d read some books, browsed Google Maps Street View and trawled countless websites for inspiration . But I still wasn’t prepared for how ethereally bewitching the north of Tenerife really was.
In my mind, this was an island represented by cheap booze , full English breakfasts and week-long squabbles between the Brits and Germans over who placed their towels on the sunbed first. More fool me. What I experienced on just a short trip changed my whole view of this beautiful island.
My friend and I drive our hire car from the main international airport in the island’s south and my snobby assumptions initially seem confirmed. The busy motorway snakes past resort towns populated by boxy, bland hotels. Signs advertising Siam Park, supposedly the “world’s best waterpark”, increase in number.
But continuing north, the roads quieten, the altitude increases, and the landscape becomes greener. All of a sudden we’re in what appears to be a Canarian version of Hawaii . Cloud-cloaked forests of native laurel trees, soft with dew, surround the winding road whilst the volcanic heft of Mount Teide pokes into our fields of vision.
We’re headed for Garachico, one of Tenerife ’s historic towns, which juts out to sea on a one-time lava flow. The town, like most of the island, was conquered by the Spanish in the 15th century and its architecture reflects this more colonial style. Grid-pattern streets are lined with elegant buildings, and the high .