The west. The wild west. Having lived in the west of Ireland for a many years, we are accustomed to the harsher face of an Atlantic island, facing boldly into the maelstrom of oceanic power that does a touch more than merely tickle its resolve against an onslaught of elements.
Further south in our current winter home of Gran Canaria, although slightly warmer, this same force is to be reckoned with, and as in Ireland, it sculpts not only the landscapes, but also the populations. In both cases, the west is far more sparsely populated than the relatively sheltered eastern seaboards.
Remote as the west of Gran Canaria is, take a turn off the tarmac and join us for another feature of Gran Canaria gravel to perhaps the remotest place on the island.
There are many features that may constitute a version of the best gravel road one can possibly imagine, and I hope in these words and pictures we can convey some of why we think this 17km stretch of crunchy rocks in Gran Canaria is about as good as it gets..!
The pre-amble is already a good example: the location is not easy to get to, particularly for the typical sun-seeking south-dwelling tourist. Taking a start point of Maspalomas, it’s around 80km & 2300hm of riding just to get to the outset, already taking in plenty of beauty spots on the way- Soria, Tauropass and Los Azulejos. If it’s an option, starting from Agaete gets you a lot closer, and even then you have to (or rather get to..!) ride the stunning GC200 coast road, all the way up to the road closure at the Anden Verde viewpoint.
So, long and short: there’s only gorgeous ways to get there! The Anden Verde viewpoint right at the start of the gravel section is already a highlight in itself, so take a minute before embarking on the initial meanders of gravel.
It’s a 17km route, generally trending uphill, but broken up into a short climb to start, a sort of bowl to roll through, and then a 10km 6% average grade main climb.
As you start to leave the tarmac in the distance, passing the initial trio of gravel hairpins, you continue on a route that winds through a beautiful smooth climb with white painted rocks marking the edge of the path, beyond which feeble barrier is nothing more than a tumble hundreds of metres down craggy slopes.
A blessed Mary statuette in a shrine has the honour of constant guardianship over one corner, the view she enjoys enough to make anyone feel a touch closer to something mightier than themselves.
In this initial climb, the stage is royally occupied by the mighty drops straight down to sea level, the dramatism of the clash between violently-forged land and crashing ocean, all with the highest point of Spanish territories- our neighbour mount Teide- presiding over proceedings in the distance from its throne atop the largest Canary island.
Cresting the first summit, we pass through a complete change of scenery, entering a world undiscovered by the vast majority of travelers to this island. The ocean disappears around the bend, and we glance inland- having to hop a barrier before continuing deeper into the allure of the unknown.
Well, jaw drops are one thing, but finding your mandible fixed in permanent intractable gape is another, and such was my experience the first time I feasted my eyes on this tremendous landscape.
Any melancholy at waving the big blue ocean goodbye immediately forgotten, the green hillsides now take their turn on stage with confidence and aplomb. Huge towering mountains reaching for the skies in all directions, pine forests and tranquility decorating the reaches from Roque Faneque and Tamadaba inland, swathes of colour with ochres and sands and yellow flowers and red shrubs.. A panorama vibrant and shaped by the seasons, each visit a new experience. The feeling of having such a gargantuan oasis of bliss, a huge hollow carved from the rocky hillsides, to yourself, civilization seeming impossibly distant on an island that is but a pebble to the mighty ocean from which it juts, and perhaps having left the touristy bustle just that very morning, its surreal, its ecstatic flowing absorption into the wilds of barely touched nature.
Progress here feels always at a snail’s pace- any faster would come off as rude ignorance of the massive and tremendous scene that surrounds you, an unnecessary upheaval against nature’s inherent languid course here.
A bridge partially collapsed here in late 2022, so for the moment vehicular access is restricted, but a bike rider is hardly enough weight to cause concern over the crumbling stony passage. Reaching the turn off to the finca with its abandoned Land Rover decaying and its horses neighing, signposts the start of the 10km climb out of this utopian place, with perhaps the best of it all yet to come.. !
As the road starts to rise and head deeper inland, remark on the ‘rabbits skull’, a gigantic petrified likeness to a bunny’s head casting glances over all those who pass. Thereafter, the thrashing course of the hairpins begins; just a few to start, before reaching a section that towers layer after layer of switchback upon switchback, through the woods and with ever more majestic views between the pine trunks, the sea now again filling the backdrop away into infinity. Freeeeeeea-king awesome is the only way to describe this route- bliss on a bike !!! The gradient does bite a little more here, but you will be having way too amazing a time to notice much. Of note, our good friend CJ made it up here on road gearing 36-28 and with a 20 year old 31mm wide tyre with a tube in it, dodging pine cones and loose rock like they were nothing.. !
All good things do come to an end, and although counting these hairpins may seem a sisyphean endeavour, eventually the last hairpin of this section is rounded, and new delights await.
As if the painted scene thus far was not perfect enough: sloping hillsides seized by greens clutching any available purchase on the abrupt plunges to sea level, a weaving path through an oasis of bliss, the rich blue sea and the silhouette of Tenerife in the distance.. now the artist places another drop of accentuation onto the canvas, the presa de el Vaquero. A basin of fresh water set in the dry land, a stunning pearl in a landscape that didn’t dare ask for any more jewelry.
Not much remains in the meander up to the plateau of the Tamadaba massif; that sacred mountain of the west, and then, finally, there it is: the finca de Tirma- an inconspicuous red edifice, inscribed with it’s name and signaling the end of a journey through paradise, just one more barrier crossing to mark the passage from an apparent dream world back to the familiarity of solid under-tyre asphalt.
Here is the strava segment. Rest assured that these 17km off the beaten path are enough reason alone to bring a gravel bike to this island, and see here for an example of how to squeeze a little more gravel into your round trip adventure to this magical place.
We rode it on 35mm tyres with tubes at 50ish psi (3.5 bar), wider would of course be plusher but that was enough 😊
Go visit, just take your time.. ❤
More Gran Canaria Gravel adventures: Chira (the easiest of the whole island), the ‘GraVotT‘ (a steeper way through the Valley of the Tears.. !) Locura (the tale of a looong day out exploring)
VeloVegano 