A pattern in our activities seemed to be emerging. On one day, we’d lounge about by the pool, reading, swimming and dozing until lunchtime, before heading down to the beach, where we’d read, swim and doze until sunset. On the next we’d lounge about by the pool, reading, swimming and dozing until an hour before lunchtime, before heading off in the car to examine the fare on offer at some local hostelry and then spending the rest of the daylight hours exploring the volcanoes, or one of Cesar Manrique’s island masterpieces, or driving around in a desultory manner until we found ourselves somewhere interesting. It was the sort of pattern we like – not too challenging as we made the most of that long break under warm blue skies while at home our loved ones shuddered and shivered as the long dry spell gave way to days of deluge and plunging temperatures. Lanzarote was treating us well and we were content to soak it all up without over exerting ourselves.
A week into our low octane adventures and by Saturday afternoon we hadn’t even managed to drag our lazy carcasses as far as the local beach. If we were following the pattern then we ought to have been somewhere other than the poolside by 4pm, but then again perhaps we hadn’t realised there was a pattern yet. Still, there was one local spot I’d wanted to investigate that was just a little too far away to walk to, and now seemed as good a time as any to go and gaze across the handful of miles that separated us from the neighbouring island of Fuerteventura, whose bulk sat appealingly on the horizon whenever we glimpsed the sea here at Playa Blanca. Throughout each day, competing ferry services chased back and forth across the divide, transporting passengers to Playa Blanca’s sister resort at Corralejo, whose lights would glow across the dark water each evening. Another mini world, so close at hand; another untamed landscape waiting to be explored. Each time we left our resort in the car and drove past that patch of undeveloped ground towards the roundabout that leads away from the town, the uplifting view of Fuerteventura, with the small island of Lobos to one side filled the windscreen and drove the imagination. I’ve seen worse views across patches of wasteland you know. And if we could see it so well from here, how would it look if we plonked ourselves down at the most south westerly viewpoint available to us down by the lighthouse of Punta Pechiguera? It was only ten minutes away in the car and on an afternoon where sloth had threatened to steal the day entirely, today seemed like a good time to make that short pilgrimage.
Disappointingly, I’d already realised that the sun itself was setting well away from the jumble of dark slopes and features in the hinterland behind that distant shoreline. What I didn’t really have much idea about was whether we were going somewhere to sit and enjoy watching the sun go down, or if I’d find some photography to entertain myself with. While I hoped for the latter, I wasn’t certain that the silhouette of another land mass ten kilometres across the breach would in itself be enough. But what I found brought promise, initially in the form of rocks and pools where bringing the tripod low would reduce the featureless middle ground in my compositions. While some of the better results included that setting sun, what I really wanted was the Fuerteventura story, the one that spoke of the bond between these two stunning islands in the latitude where it’s always summertime. And a little while later I found a foreground that worked and at the same time removed the empty space between the subject and the unconditionally beautiful background. Well, a series of moving temporary foregrounds in fact. It would just be a matter of timing.
I’m not sure whether it’s a coincidence, but this, my third post from the November trip to Lanzarote is also the third that was taken with the long lens. In fact, looking back to that holiday, the 100-400 seemed so enjoy at least as much time in use as the “go to” 24-70 lens. I’m starting to wonder how on earth I ever managed without it, and both here and in Iceland a couple of months earlier the investment repaid me with results even better than I’d dared to hope for. Easy to think of these lenses as being designed exclusively for wildlife and sport you know. It even does a good job as a macro lens although that’s not a discipline I very often apply myself to. But as a landscape tool, the possibilities are ones I was still discovering here, as lazy rolling waves idled across the scene in front of me on a petrol blue sea and the colours intensified in their descent into darkness. And just to finish things off, a brilliant white yacht added a splash of brightness against the dark surrounding tones. Half a second was just enough to catch the motion of each wave without turning the yacht into too much of a blur, and behind them the mountains of Fuerteventura sat contentedly beneath a soft peachy glow, reminding me that it had been almost twelve years since I’d last roamed across them. Our sort of place Fuerteventura. If Lanzarote is laid back, then Fuerteventura is almost comatose. The perfect hideaway for lounging about by pools, reading, swimming and dozing in equally generous measures. For a couple of weeks now I’ve been hovering over the button on the app supplied by my friendly travel agent, and the prospect of another Fuerteventura story is pulling hard at the emotional chains in the darkest damp depths of early January. I’m sure Ali wouldn’t mind going – she regards our Cornish winters with the same level of enthusiasm she used to reserve for that first day of a new academic year in front of a room full of recalcitrant testosterone fuelled sixteen year-olds during her teaching days. She still has sleepless nights. There, I think I’ve convinced myself. Didn’t take long, did it? Push the button time I think!
