Imagine a dramatic ridge of volcanoes rising precipitously from the Atlantic ocean on an island still in the first flush of its fecund youth, going through periodic growth spurts as frequent eruptions continue to shape its coastline from a perfect sphere at its birth two million years ago, to a still elongating teardrop. A miniature continent biosphere containing layered bands of ecosystems from coastal subtropical vegetation to high altitude laurasilva and pine forests.
La Palma is known as ‘La isla bonita’ (the beautiful island), but this moniker while entirely accurate fails to capture her elemental, quixotic nature which more than anything else protects her from the battle to balance tourism and tradition which some of her Canary Island neighbours are fighting, as pallid Northern European tourists in ever increasing numbers beat a path to the archipelago’s guaranteed year round warmth.
We have been here for five days now but feel like we have barely unwrapped her gifts, in part because our hotel, La Hacienda De Abajo has exerted such a seductive pull on our hearts, that is after we finally found her hidden in a vast banana plantation in the fertile Aridane Valley, below the town of Tazacorte. A challenge which was made doubly difficult by the vast new lava field just south of here which plays complete havoc with GPS navigation.
Reassured by José the hotel’s charming afternoon concierge that our mysterious navigation problems were an everyday reality of life on this part of the island we were calmed down with flutes of Cava before settling in. “Ah, room 19, that’s wonderful” he purred as we made our way through the sub tropical gardens adding, “we have over 1500 species of plants. Don’t ask me to name them!”.
Tazacorte and the hacienda’s histories date back to the late 15th century as the area with its natural harbour, remarkably fertile soil and abundant water was the first to be settled by the island’s Castilian conquerors. Its early history as a vast sugarcane plantation inevitably has its dark side and to its credit the hotel does not airbrush these origins, proudly showcasing what in effect was once a large opulent compound of interconnected structures which were the former quarters of its original owners- the Monteverde’s and other noble members of their extended family by marriage and which today are the hotel’s guest rooms and public spaces, including a spectacular first floor dining room.
If all this sounds like it might be a tad starchy or stuffy, the joy of staying in this place is that it’s just the opposite, as it accomplishes that rarest of feats by combining a thoroughly relaxed and warm welcome from uniformly charming staff, with immaculate food and service. Every day as we explore its delightful nooks and crannies reveals new, pleasurable details- garden lanterns made of old birdcages, a startlingly modern mural on the 17th century chapel, daybeds hidden in secret corners and an ornate marriage chest containing board games for that inevitable downpour (this is no desert island, after all).
Hard to leave the hacienda may be, but we are not poolside loungers by inclination and however inviting a languorous read under its colourful parasols might be, nature on this island has spectacular shows to share which have to be seen to be believed.
Strolling up the hill into town on our first evening with the sun still up (darkness not falling until 7:30pm this far south is a delicious daylight extension at this time of year), we were immediately struck by how crowded the bars were all along the dress circle sunset view promenade. So we were already anticipating something special, but as we claimed the very last table at the lovely new restaurant ‘Las Lavadores’ and began our meal the entire panorama of plantation, ocean and sky turned from gold, to vermilion to dark purple. Wondering aloud at the magnificence of it all we asked the young waitress “Is it like this every evening?” “No. It’s always spectacular but always different.”
How right she was.
So “dinner and a show” has taken on a new meaning here and while it’s been tough for the food and drink to compete, the island’s abundance from its subtropical climate, volcanic soil and sustainable fishing practices guarantees perfect produce. From that very first dinner at Las Lavadores, where the solar symphony was accompanied by astonishingly fresh grilled chipirones and gambas al ajillo, to the sweetest fruits and freshly squeezed juices at the hacienda’s excellent breakfasts, each and every meal has been a triumph of the Spanish art of sourcing stellar ingredients and letting them sing with the minimum of fuss.
Fittingly though, it was at the island’s most important fishing port, Puerto de Tazacorte, just a few minutes away that a dish gave the sunset in the second picture a run for its money- a gloriously rich whole lobster, prawns, mussels and squid, swimming in fragrant rice.
Arroz caldoso con Bogavante: Serves two
The literal translation of this dish is lobster with ‘brothy’ rice, and its unctuous soupy texture reminds me a little bit of the congee I loved as a child growing up in Hong Kong and Sydney.
1 Lobster preferably raw, cut in half and cleaned
1 whole squid, cleaned and cut into rings
12 mussels, cleaned
6-8 peeled prawns
1 onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 red pepper, finely diced
1/2 green pepper, finely diced
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp sweet paprika
2 tbsp tomato paste
Pinch saffron strands in 1/4 cup of hot water
1 shot glass of brandy
2 tomatoes, grated without the skins
Salt and pepper to taste
3 cups fish stock
3/4 cup of short grain rice ( Spanish bomba)
To make the broth
Heat the oil in a Dutch oven, add the onion, garlic and peppers, cook until softened. Add the tomato paste, paprika, brandy and the saffron water, stir then add grated tomatoes and fish stock. Bring to the boil, add the lobster halves and claws, cook until done 6-8 minutes, remove and set aside. There should be 3 cups of stock, if not add some water. Add the rice and bring to the boil, reduce to a simmer, cook until the rice is soft. Add the mussels, prawns and squid, cook until done ( do not over cook or the squid will be rubbery). If the dish looks dry add some water, return the lobster to warm through.
This dish should be quite soupy.
Garnish with parsley leaves and serve.
Life under the volcanoes is clearly quite lovely for the less than 100,000 Palmeros that call the island home, but in September 2021 on the southern outskirts of Tazacorte, Cumbre Vieja, the youngest and most active of its volcanoes erupted for a period of three months wiping out a huge two mile swathe of the road network and destroying nearly 3000 structures (fortunately with no casualties). Two years on, part of the road network has been restored, but no signs have been installed as yet and a coastal resort town and village close to its path are both still closed, due to dangerously high levels of carbon monoxide. Even after multiple attempts, we have yet to master navigating our way through this black obstacle course, but in the process of getting lost for the umpteenth time discovered the tiny fishing village of El Remo, built on the lava fields of a previous eruption and literally ‘the end of the road’ going south on the coast, where the striking, ultra modern restaurant and bar ‘Kiosco Siete’ was full of locals at 4pm on a Monday afternoon enjoying beers and snacks.
It seemed churlish not to join them.
I would love to have hiked the full length of La Palma’s volcanic spine (an excuse for a return visit to our beloved hacienda, as if one was needed), but Sabrina was not to be persuaded, so we combined some wine tasting with a visit to the town of Fuencaliente and its twin volcanoes of San Antonio and Teneguià in the far south. Viticulture is island wide but only here do wineries grow the ancient Malvasia grape variety.
We had time for one last hair-raising natural wonder today on what ironically is the ‘Dia de los Muertos’ holiday, as hearts in mouths we descended a narrow strip of concrete (a ‘road’ so precipitously steep that we could not see it over the bonnet) down to the (also near vertical hike) to Poris de Candelaria, a still inhabited cave settlement which I can only compare to the cliffside villages of the Anasazi in Colorado’s Mesa Verde and Arizona’s Cañon de Chelly. Long before the Castilian conquest of 1493 this was an ancient refuge for the region’s ‘Guanches’ and its natural spring, cool shelter from the heat, abundant marine life and safe natural harbour made it an ideal pirate lair for centuries afterwards.
Today, the tiny cinderblock houses and small boats which shelter under the two hundred metre high cave roof were deserted and we were entirely alone apart from two other hikers. Our ascent from this cool haven in full 30 degree sun is best glossed over, and Sabrina and I have never been more pleased to regain the comfort and delights of the hacienda.
We even sat in the shade by the pool.
The colours in your photos are simply ravishing. Just stunning!
Gorgeous!