There are days when I need a little unnecessary effort. A masochistic voice in me makes my body suffer from pain. Sore muscles can be so nice. Monday is our departure day, so I'm planning a hiking day in Anaga National Park for Sunday. It's supposed to be Sunday, because the buses go there only at 05:30 on weekdays in the morning, and I don't want to torture myself so much after all. The timetable says that the departure at “Sabados” is at 07:30. After all, sleep two hours longer. I should have tried a couple of hours of Spanish for a long time. Friday evening, before going to bed, Jörg and I look again at the timetable to plan a tour on Saturday. Other bus lines also have “Domingos” as days in the timetable. Crap! Sabados are Saturdays. I have to start the hike tomorrow, because this bus doesn't run on Sundays.
My alarm clock rings at 06:00. I pack a bottle of water and a few other things in my backpack and make my way to the Intercambiador, the central bus station.
Unfortunately bread is out. I can buy something on the way. Think! At that time the city was pitch black. No people on the street and no shops open. In the bus station there is nothing for breakfast other than coffee. Then I buy something in Chamorga, the final stop. Many hikes start from there, so hungry hikers can certainly eat there too.
I am the only passenger on the bus. According to the timetable, the journey takes approximately one hour. I find € 1.25 for a fair fare. The bus winds through the narrow streets into the mountains. The rising sun turns the low-hanging clouds pink. Spanish fiesta music can be heard on the radio and the driver is slowly torturing the bus with manual switching up the mountains. After about 2 hours I will be dropped off in Chamorga.
The place is very clear. After 10 minutes I saw everything. Also the building, which was probably a bar or a snack bar at some point. Nobody far and wide. So I have no choice but to start on an empty stomach and without food. A 10-kilometer hiking trail towards the coast promises a supermarket in the next town, according to the information board. Fine.
Fog hangs in the mountains. The forests in Anaga are a kind of rainforest. It is also the wettest region on the island. The trails are wet and slippery.
Legends about witches who mischief in the forests and caves of the mountains are told. I can imagine that very well. The landscape looks magical and magical.
I take my time and enjoy the fresh air. I can't move quickly on the slippery surface anyway. The climb to La Cumbrilla is steep and my stomach soon reports. The tuna steak from the previous evening gives me strength and the nearby supermarket motivates me. After about an hour I see a few small stone houses. I'm looking forward to a baguette and delicious Serrano ham.
A black cat greets me on the way to the village. Is that the cat of one of the witches? Delicious kitchen smell comes from one of the houses and a woman sings at work. This is torture! And I'm slowly really believing that witches are doing their mischief here. You have hexed the supermarket. The next bus will take about 6 hours. I have to move on quickly, otherwise I end up in a saucepan myself.
It continues steeply. There are cacti on the side of the path that bear ripe prickly pears. If this hike becomes a struggle for survival, I could eat it so as not to starve. I actually prefer things like tequila.
The path is getting steeper and stony and is hardly recognizable. After a few slips I climb on all fours. Am I still on the right track? I haven't seen a mark in a while. It seems to me Spanish and I turn around. After about 20 minutes I find the last mark. I actually should have turned. The thing was also difficult to see. Were sure to be the witches to lure me into the trap. At least the way will be a little easier again. Steps dug in clay make climbing easier. My mood improves and hunger is forgotten for now.
Once at the summit, the path crosses a road. I could also sit on the side of the road and hitchhike back. The people on the islands are usually very nice and the chances of someone stopping are great. The little masochistic voice, however, answers again and forces me to continue running. The path becomes smaller again and leads me through a valley into the next enchanted forest. I miss the way markings at a fork. Left or right? Not correct! Back. I've got lost again. And I don't even have bread to mark the way. Or ham, or ... muzzle your stomach!
Fortunately, the right junction was not that far away this time. The white and yellow marking shows me the way.
It keeps going up and the vegetation becomes barren. Trees become small bushes, palm trees become cacti. I reach the highest point of the tour and I am rewarded with a breathtaking view of the coast. It was worth it.
I see Igueste down in the valley. I have to go there. There the bus runs every two hours and there are always restaurants on the coast. The goal is in sight. Passing a few goats, I climb over the mountain and start to descend.
I did it. I escaped the witch forest. There is no fog here and no dark paths. Almost only cacti are growing on this side of the mountains. Each of my steps is accompanied by a rustle in the undergrowth. Thousands of little lizards whiz around and hide from my big feet.
At some point I reach a street again. It is only a few hundred meters to the town. My steps speed up. I can smell it. Something to eat. Again I am greeted by cats. But this time it's white cats. Sissi was a black cat and actually black cats always bring us luck. Different laws apply in a bewitched forest. In any case, I find a tapas bar just behind the cats and stuff my chest full.
It took me about 5 hours to cover the 10 kilometers. With this cut, I think I have the best chances should I apply to DHL.