In my second year living on La Gomera, I’ve had to get creative when it comes to escaping monotony and claustrophobia. As beautiful as it all is, I’ve explored just about every accessible inch of the valley I live in, and any boat or plane off the island costs me roughly 80 euros. There is a bus system that runs between several larger towns, but planning excursions around the sparse schedule is difficult, and if you accidentally miss your bus home as it goes whizzing by, you end up a lot like Spongebob in that episode where he can’t escape from the valley where people speak in fart noises. Plus, bus rides on La Gomera are NOT for the faint of stomach. I’ve noticed there’s a stretch about two-thirds of the ride to the airport where the most vulnerable passengers give up the ghost, and the bus driver calmly stops in the middle of the road and opens the door to make way. In short, not the most pleasant experience.
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| Beautiful? Yes. Nausea-inducing? Also yes. |
Instead of stressing myself out with buses, boats, or planes, this year I’ve opted to rent a car a few times to get out and explore the island on my own time for a couple of days. Unlike last year, it’s convenient because a rental agency in my town finally procured an automatic car. It happens to be a two-person Smart Car, but it works for me! Although I’m driving it around the same 14-mile diameter chunk of basalt, every valley is incredibly different thanks to varying microclimates. In general, the southern half of La Gomera is very arid and usually sunny and warm, while the northern half is moist, green, cooler, and cloudier. In the middle of the island lies the laurisilva, as well as several towering volcanic plugs. Even just a half-day trip to the next valley over completely refreshes me and makes me feel as though I’ve been somewhere entirely new.
A few weeks ago, I decided I’d like to strike out in search of some blooming almond trees. It caught me by surprise, as my previous experience in Ohio and Maine hadn’t exactly taught me to expect flowers in February. But sure enough, just 20 minutes up the mountain, I passed my first tree.
It seemed the almonds preferred the more arid half of the island, so I stuck to the south and aimed for La Dama, a town I had never been to before. I’d seen it a hundred times from below while passing by in boats, but never in person. It sits just one cliff over from my town, but takes about an hour to reach on the zig zag roads. This was a particularly good time for me to go, as Oscar was in Tenerife for the day and wasn’t there to tell me that there is literally nothing in La Dama and no reason to go. Sure, he was probably right, but I wanted to see for myself.
Before beginning the descent to La Dama, I stopped in Chipude, which is the largest town in the center of the island. To give you an idea of just how bustling it is, when I parked the car and turned off the engine for a moment, the utter silence made my ears ring. I took a couple of almond blossom photos, bought some chocolate, and headed down to my unknown.
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| A peek at Valle Gran Rey from an overlook in Chipude |
It took me a good 20 minutes to reach the beginning of town, which was strikingly industrial for such an isolated location. I passed what looked like a defunct factory, some heavy machinery, and then several miles of enclosed banana plantations. It was such an odd feeling to drive between the translucent walls, sheltering the largest industry I’d seen on this tiny island.
I was feeling a little strange about my choice of destination until the banana walls stopped and I came into the residential part of town. It felt much more familiar, albeit a bit post-apocalyptic with no people in the streets. At the bottom of town on the edge of the cliff, I came to a beautiful church plaza overlooking the sea.
I parked my little car and sat for a long time in the silvery calima-tinted light, listening to a mirlo (blackbird) sing in the tree behind me. I felt such peace in that moment, and such a sense of belonging even though I was alone in a town I’d never been to. I thought a lot about the saying here that if La Gomera wants you, it will do what it takes to keep you. There are so many stories of people showing up and being totally unable to find long-term lodging, or encountering some other obstacle in their attempt to settle. Everything for me has been the total opposite. Just two months into my stay, I was blessed with an angel who has made everything so easy for me. I never felt out of place or unwelcome. If anything, I’m wondering how the hell I’ll ever tear myself away.
As the sun set, I got back in the car to head home, still in my reverie. I’d seen just one moving car in the hour and a half since I’d left Chipude, so I could stop at my leisure to take photos of the skyscape, landscape, and almond trees.
Each photo I took was more beautiful than the last, especially as I got closer to the cliffside leading up to La Fortaleza, La Gomera’s famous plateau.
Rounding a bend, I saw an almond tree nestled against the rock face that I’d meant to take a photo of on the way down. It was right next to a grassy pull-off, which made things easy. Instead of slamming on the brakes to pull in, I slowed down and started to back in. In front of me was level grass and behind me was level grass, but suddenly, my back wheel dropped off quite a bit more than I’d been expecting it to. I shifted into drive and tried to pull back out and correct, but my back tires just spun and I felt the car tilt to an angle I was NOT comfortable with. I put it into park and got out to have a look. Sure enough, I had somehow completely missed the fact that there was a ~7-foot deep culvert dug in between the two flat grassy sections, and my back tire was just a couple of inches away from dropping in completely and leaving my little (rental!) Smart Car nose up in a gulley. Panic set in pretty quickly from there, as I was scared to even touch the car for fear I’d push it in. But before I could even come up with a plan, I saw headlights coming towards me. Considering I hadn’t seen another driver in roughly an hour, I felt pretty lucky. I sheepishly flagged down the driver in his big, green all-terrain car. He slowed to a stop and gave me a look I’m quite familiar with: local sizing up stranger in need. I’ve received the look many times and have also given it back home in middle-of-nowhere Ohio. The crease between his brow smoothed a bit when I started speaking in Spanish, and he gave a low whistle when I pointed to the precarious position of my back tire. But he pulled over, got out, and started thinking. He was a large, bearded man who would make a convincing Gomeran Santa Claus, with several buttons of his shirt undone at the top and bottom. He stood behind the little car and pushed as I pressed the gas, to absolutely no avail. Several times. Oh NO. My wave of panic crested again as he started punch numbers on his flip phone to find someone to come tow the car. As he put the phone to his ear, another car rounded the bend, and he flagged that driver down. They clearly knew each other, judging by the way they started barking back and forth in the pure Canarian pueblo Spanish that still lies just outside my comprehension. New Guy took a look, kicked a big rock out from under the problem wheel, and positioned himself on the side of the car while Gomeran Santa took the back again. Three, two, one… And I was out!! I threw the car into park, pulled the E-brake for good measure, and jumped out to give them both a huge hug. They laughed and gave me a good dad-like warning to be CAREFUL, and sent me on my way. I drove off into the twilight, shaking my head at the whole encounter and how much I love this island. And how much the island seems to love me.
The rest of my weekend with the car was rather uneventful in comparison, and just involved more beautiful scenery and a lot of me enjoying my own company. After a brief attempt to describe it, I realized that the main soundtrack—my inner monologue—is really not that interesting nor coherent, so instead I’ll leave you with some photos. My darling friend Katie from Galicia emboldened me by telling me she loves the photos on my blog (which are taken on an iPhone but are VERY carefully curated!!!), so I’ll let them speak for themselves.
As the day came to a close, that Gomeran angel I was talking about (one of many, now that I think about it) finally got off work and joined me for the sunset at my favorite overlook. It was the kind of sunset that brought all my gratitude together and wrapped it up in a beautiful package. Lucky me.
PS: Gomeran Angel número uno, if you ever step up your English reading comprehension and start reading my blog, sorry I didn't tell you about the car mishap! My pride got in the way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
