The Canary Islands

by Florence Du Cane

Visitors to Icod are all taken to see their famous dragon tree, Dracæna Draco, of which the inhabitants are justly proud, as it is now the largest and oldest in the island since the destruction of its rival in Villa Orotava. We were assured its age was over 3000 years, an assertion I was not prepared to dispute, and hardly even ventured to look incredulous, and so cast a slur on their almost sacred El drago. There is no doubt the growth of these trees is almost incredibly slow; they increase in height in the same way as a palm, putting out new leaves in the heart of the tufted crowns and dropping an equal number of old ones, which process leaves a curiously scarred marking on the bark. No one seems to know how often a tuft flowers, but certainly only once in many years, and it is only after flowering that the stem forks, so in specimens which are centuries old the head of the tree becomes a mass of short branches with tufted heads, which in their turn become divided, and so it goes on until one begins to wonder whether there is not some truth in the immense age attributed to them. The curious aerial roots which descend from the branches gradually creep down, and it is the layers upon layers of these that strengthen the original stem sufficiently to enable it to bear the immense weight of its tufted crown, as decay seems always to set in in the heart of the stem, and by the time the trees attain to a venerable age they are invariably hollow. An old document describing the tree says “it has no heart within. The wood is very spongy and light, so that it serves for the covering of hives or making shields. The gum which this tree exudes is called dragon’s blood, and that which the tree sweats out without cutting is the best, and is called ‘blood by the drop.’ It is very good for medicine, for sealing letters, and for making the teeth red.”

Icod is a good centre for expeditions, and those who are brave enough to face the dirt and discomfort of a Spanish fonda can pass a week or so very pleasantly. It is a matter of great regret that better accommodation is not available in many of the smaller towns, and I own that personally I could never bring myself to face the native inn. No scenery is worth the discomfort of dirty beds, impossible food and the noise of the patio of a fonda, where as often as not, goats, chickens, pigeons and a braying donkey all add to the concert of the harsh loud voices of the women servants.

Now that motor-cars are available in Orotava it renders matters much easier for making expeditions in the day. Formerly, the greater part of the day was occupied by the drive to and from Icod, but if an early start is made, on arrival at Icod there is still a long day before one, and it is possible to make a visit to the old Guanche burial caves or to continue the road to Garachico. This now unimportant little village was once the chief port of the island, and the number of old churches and convents still remaining speak for themselves of the former importance of the place. In the days when Icod de los Vinos, as its name implies, was celebrated for its vines, the wine which was made there was shipped from the port of Garachico. The old sugar factory which still stands was once the property of an English firm, but the various booms in the wine, cochineal and sugar trade, are things of the past, and Orotava is now the centre of the banana boom.

Possibly the pleasantest expeditions from Icod are those which lead through the pine forest past the Ermita Sta. Barbara. Good walkers will find magnificent walks along fairly level paths once they have accomplished the first climb of about 3000 ft., and can make their way along to the Corona and down the steep zig-zag path below Icod el Alto, or there is a lower track which makes a good mule ride back to Orotava.

VII

TENERIFFE (continued)

Many visitors to Teneriffe find their way across the mountains from Orotava to Guimar in the course of the winter or spring, which is the best time for the expedition. Though the actual time required for the journey from point to point may be only about seven hours, according to the condition of the road, it is best to make an early start and to have the whole day before one, so as to have plenty of time to rest on the way and enjoy all there is to be seen.

Once the last steep streets of the Villa Orotava are left behind the country at once changes its aspect. The banana fields, which have become somewhat monotonous after a long stay in their midst, have vanished, the air is cooler, and in the early morning the ground is saturated with dew. In spring the young corn makes the country intensely green, and the pear and other fruit blossoms lighten up the landscape, while in the hedge-rows are clumps of the little red Fuchsia coccinea, and great bushes of the common yellow broom. Here and there the two Canary St. John’s worts, Hypericum canariensis and H. floribundum, are covered with berries, their flowers having fallen some months before. Ferns and sweet violets grow on the damp and shady banks, and occasionally fine bushes of Cytisus prolifer were to be seen smothered with their soft, silky-looking white flowers. Gradually the region of the chestnut woods is reached, but these having only dropped their leaves after the spell of cold weather early in January, are still leafless, and it is sad to see how terribly the trees are mutilated by the peasants. Though not allowed to fell whole trees, the law does not appear to protect their branches, and often nothing but the stump and a few straggling boughs remain, the rest having been hacked off for firewood. Small bushes of the white-flowered Erica arborea soon appear, and the showy rose-coloured flowers of Cistus vaginatus were new to me.

At a height of about 3800 feet the level of the strong stream called Agua Mansa is reached, and though it is not actually on the road to Guimar many travellers make a short détour to visit the source of the stream and the beautifully wooded valley. The absence of woods in the lower country no doubt makes the vegetation on the steep slopes of the little gorge doubly appreciated. Many narrow paths lead through the laurel and heath, and on the shady side of the valley the extreme moisture of the air has clothed the stems of the trees with grey hoary lichens. The luxury of the sound of a running stream is rare in Teneriffe and one is tempted to linger and enjoy the scene under a giant chestnut tree, which has shaded many a picnic party from the Puerto.

By retracing one’s steps for a short distance the track is regained; Pedro Gil looms far ahead and the long steep ascent begins, up the narrow mule path among thickets of the tree heaths. Here these heaths are merely shrubby, not the splendid specimens which may be seen near Agua Garcia, where they are protected from the charcoal-burners, but the wide stretches covered with white flowers are very lovely appearing through the mist, which even on the finest day is apt to sweep across occasionally. The vegetation on these Cumbres is much the same as that which is passed through on the way to the Cañadas, and in spring the Adenocarpus viscosus or anagyrus, its tiny yellow flowers growing among the small leaves which crowd the branches, is about the last sign of plant life. Above this region are merely occasional patches of moss which live on the moisture of the mist which more often than not enwraps these heights. In clear weather, the long and rather tedious scramble of the last part of the road is soon forgotten in the delight at the magnificent view at the end. The top of the pass, 6800 ft., is like the back-bone of the island, and on the one side the whole valley of Orotava lies stretched below, with the Peak standing grand and majestic on the left, and on the other side lie the slopes down to the pine woods above Arafo. It is hard to agree with a writer who describes the scene as one of “immense desolation and ugliness, the silence broken only by the croaking voice of a crow passing overhead.” It is just this silence and stillness which appeals to so many in mountain regions; there is something intensely restful yet awe-inspiring in the complete peace which reigns in high altitudes in fair weather.