Travel Writer

Croatia Road Trip Part 2: The Istria Peninsula – Plitvička Jezera, Pula, and Rovinj or Waterfalls, Roman Ruins & a Saint

| 2suitcasesfor2years

We experienced an infinite palette of blues spread across the sea, sky and waterfalls of Croatia, as if they were an artist’s inspiration, but in fact were mother earth’s creation. The emerald green, turquoise and azure arteries of the rivers were particularly enthralling; they shimmered with the changing light, almost glowing, as they coursed through their surrounding landscapes. The intense colors are the result of limestone and other mineral deposits that line the waterways, and the angle of sunlight on the water. This majestic display of nature’s wonder is on display at Plitvička Jezera National Park, just two hours from Zadar. 

Created in 1949, Plitvička Jezera was Croatia’s first national park and protects a massive 296.85 km2 (114.61 sq mi) area, situated on a plateau in the mountainous Dinaric Alps of central Croatia, that separate the inland region of the country from the Adriatic coast.

The park has 16 terraced lakes with numerous waterfalls of various heights which folks can view via a series of meandering boardwalks built across the shallow pools below each cascade. The park service has organized these walkways into eight different touring routes/programs.

We visited the park on the Wednesday before Easter, a school vacation week, and the park was busy, but not overwhelmed with visitors. Those in the know arrived early, as convenient parking vanished quickly, and it was a very long walk to the ticket booth.

We chose route E, a three hour, 5100m (3mi) circular walk through the Upper Lakes section past Veliki prštavac, and Mali Prštavac falls to Lake Prošćansko, that included a short boat ride across Kozjak Lake at the beginning and end of the trek.

The falls were enthralling, flowing like delicate veils across the rock face of the hills. The boardwalks above the crystal-clear pools were narrow, and for the most part without railings except for sections of stairs that ascended a hillside. But the walk was very easy, and we encountered folks of all different ages, and parents carrying young children.

In mid-April the foliage on the trees in the park was just beginning to leaf out, making it the perfect season to view the falls without them being hidden by trees. Trying to take photographs of the falls, midday, without people in them was nearly impossible, and you need to be at the park before most folks arrive to accomplish that.

Our destination for the end of the day was the Hotel Katarina in Selce, a modest-sized resort village, on the Adriatic. The two-hour drive first took us through mountains covered in pine forests along Rt D52, past small villages where all the homes still had cords of wood for their fireplaces and wood stoves stacked high. Descending the mountains, the landscape slowly greened and transitioned to a rolling pastureland dotted with cows and sheep. Freshly turned gardens along the way were already planted with spring onions. Some of the small farms had roadside stands offering honey and homemade cheese for sale. It was a very pretty drive, but the roads were narrow and did not have any shoulder area to pullover to safely take photographs. Intersecting D23, we continued our descent to the coast through thinning forests then Garrigue, an evergreen shrubland well suited for the region’s hot dry summers.

We reached the coast at Senj, the oldest town on the North Adriatic coast, with a history that goes back 3,000 years. The town is located on a crescent shaped bay under the watchful eye of the Nehaj Fortress, a 16th-century bastion that helped to keep the Croatian town independent during the centuries of Ottoman and Venetian aggression in the Adriatic Region. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to visit the castle, which also hosts an annual three day Renaissance festival called the Days of Uskoks every July. But we did enjoy a short walk along its waterfront before continuing on.

Large modern hotels like the Hotel Katarina, which cater to tour groups, are not our first choice when we travel, but unfortunately during the shoulder seasons along the Adriatic coast many of the hotels that would normally be open during the summer are closed, and options are limited. But the hotel’s location for a one-night stay, in the town of Selce, worked well with our driving plans, as we headed to historic town of Pula, on the Istrian Peninsula.

The hotel was directly across from a promenade, alive with a chorus of wonderful song birds, which we followed the next morning.  At the town’s port the walkway widened into a small plaza planted with tulips and centered with a large Easter Egg, called a pisanice.  

These fiberglass eggs are painted by local artists with themes that reflect the Croatian Christian traditions, and celebrations of Spring. There were numerous restaurants along the quay, but only a few of the smaller cafés were open this time of year. Even though the morning was overcast, the town’s small harbor was a colorful scene of boats and waterfront buildings.

Our drive north from Selce mostly hugged the coast and was reminiscent of Italy’s Cilento Coast along the Mediterranean in the Campagna region. We found the towns and glimpses of the sea along the Croatian coast fascinating and started to think about future return trips to the area. 

We would enjoy time  to explore in depth not just the small coastal villages like Bakar, where just beyond the village some of the bus stops along the road are covered with murals that reflected the areas maritime heritage, and Mošćenička Draga, beautifully set on a small cove, but also some of the less mentioned larger coastal cities like Jadrolinija and Opatija, which were fashionable Habsburg-era resorts in the 19th century and still retain their fine architecture. We regretted that we only had time to drive through these areas.

The Istrian Peninsula is known for the high quality of its olive oils, wine and regional cuisine which spans from light seafood entrees to hearty meat dishes and stews, the first of which we tried at Tri Murve in Plomin. I wish we could say that this was a well-researched choice, but it was a spontaneous stop, to satisfy a mutinous co-pilot, but we were pleasantly rewarded with a very wonderful lunch. On this chilly day, the temptation to linger here was overwhelming.

The top of Pula’s ancient Roman colosseum surged above the trees as we drove into the center of the port city. Rome’s presence in the city dates back over 2,000 years, but legend believes the city’s founding was a thousand years earlier and linked to the mythological Greek hero Jason and the Argonauts who sailed into the northern Adriatic Sea to escape the pursuit of the Colchians. The Colchians, exhausted after years of pursuing the Argonauts, feared returning home without the Golden Fleece, and founded Polai, the City of Refuge.

In the mid-1500s when Pula was part of the Venetian Empire plans were proposed to dismantle the arena and rebuild it in Venice. But they were rejected after the passionate arguments of Venetian senator Gabriele Emo, who is remembered with a plaque in the stadium. Though his efforts did not stop the removal of stones to build other structures in Pula which continued well into the 18th century. The arena, a masterpiece of Roman engineering, was originally built to seat 23,000 spectators, and is used to host a variety of events that range from film festivals to concerts and soccer matches, though its seating capacity has been reduced to a safe 7,000.

We thought we were in luck when we found a spot in an untended parking lot atop the hill near the Citadel of Pula, and the Monastery of St. Francis, only two blocks from our lodging at Luxury Flats. However, as we were lifting our luggage from the trunk a parking attendant appeared and informed us the lot was reserved for local residents with permits and we would be ticketed, but he was very gracious and gave us 15 minutes to get our bags to the apartment before we needed to move the car to a municipal paid parking lot across from the Roman colosseum, that he suggested. Finding parking for a rental car is always a task in small European cities. This one was reasonably priced, charging hourly during the day, but free after 18:00 until 8:00 the next morning. 

The small studio apartment we rented was modern and had a shared balcony which overlooked an orchard with a garden area that was once tended to by the nuns of the Monastery of St. Francis, next door. The monastery was built by the Franciscan Order in the 1300s and served the religious needs of the community until the country’s communist era. When the complex was then used as a military barracks, then kindergarten, before being returned to the Franciscans in 1992.

While our flat was adequate for our 3-night stay, we wouldn’t describe it as luxurious, but its location on a steep lane in the center of the historic district was excellent, being only a short walk away from everything in Pula. Wanting to take advantage of the sunny afternoon that appeared as we entered the city, we were soon out and about, walking past colorful homes and flowering wisteria along the road to the Citadel of Pula or Kaštel, as it is locally known.

The star shaped bastion was built by the Venetian Empire in the 1500s over the ruins of an earlier Roman fortress and partially used some of the stones from the old colosseum in its construction. It has a commanding view of the harbor and the town surrounding it, and was actively used as military installation by the Austrians during WWI, who built an extensive network of tunnels under the castle known as the Zerostrasse. The tunnels were later expanded upon by the Italians during WWII, and later still, by Yugoslavia’s communist regime, to shelter 50,000 people. Unfortunately, the tunnels were closed when we visited Pula. Near the Zerostrasse’s entrance, at the bottom of the hill behind the Kaštel, there are also the ruins of a small Roman era amphitheater and museum with historical artifacts from the period. The Gate of Hercules and remnants of Pula’s ancient defensive wall are nearby.

Earlier at the Kaštel, we had noticed large idle shipping cranes in the harbor, remnants of Pula’s once important shipping industry. Now from a window in our apartment, as the night sky darkened, we could see the “Lighting Giants” as they are called, lit with colorful lights.

The next morning, in search of breakfast, we headed to Gradska tržnica, Pula’s traditional daily market where the seafood and meat vendors are indoors and the produce and flower sellers are setup outdoors in a shaded park. All the produce in the market looked extraordinary, and we were tempted to purchase some foodstuffs to cook later, but our apartment only had a coffee maker. Excellent pastries and coffee were found at Mlinar, an Adriatic region bakery chain, which we ended up visiting frequently during our road trip through the Balkans.

Our route took us through the Arch of the Sergii (29 BC), a Roman triumphal arch, and main gate through Pula’s defensive wall, which once stood around the city.  The ramparts were dismantled in the early 19th century, when Pula was an important naval base for the Austrian Empire, and the prosperous city needed room for expansion.    

Back-tracking through the arch we walked along the pedestrian only Sergijevaca Street, Pula’s main shopping lane, to the old Roman Forum.  After 2000 plus years, the plaza is still surrounded with ancient buildings that include the 2BC Temple of Augustus, and a 13th century Communal Palace, now used as Pula’s City Hall, and remains the center of activity in this historic town. Cafés with outdoor tables lined the perimeter of the square, though the popularity of each seemed to change during the day as people sought tables in the sun to help relieve the chill of an April day. Across from a busker, folks queued up to lend an artistic hand to the painting of two large fiberglass pisanice, Easter Eggs, as part of a fund-raising event.

Farther along the lane, which is now called Kandlerova, curved with the base of the hill below the Kaštel, and opened into a smaller plaza in front of the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Pula’s main church. It was constructed in the 4th century over the foundation of an earlier Roman temple dedicated to the mythological god Jupiter. In the early 1700s, masons reused stones taken from the colosseum to construct the free-standing belltower in front of the church.

Next to the church was Park Jurja Dobrile, a quaint patch of greenery across from the promenade that stretches along the harbor.

It was very easy to enjoy Pula’s sites in a day and a half, so the next morning we set out for a day trip to Rovinj, less than an hour away. Olive groves and farmland graced our route through the verdant Istrian countryside.

In the fields just beyond Vodnjan we noticed small round stone structures with conical roofs called Kažun. They were very similar to the Trulli we saw several years ago in the Puglia region of southern Italy. Though they share the dry-stone construction technique used to build the Trulli, the Kažun in the Istrian region are much smaller, and were mainly used to store crops, keep animals, and provide temporary shelter for farmers.

Like Pula, parking in Rovinj was limited and the large municipal lot, on the quay nearest to the old town, filled up quickly, even during the shoulder season. Fortunately, we found a parking lot on Vijenac braće Lorenzetto, a little farther away.  From there it was a steep uphill walk until we reached Crkva sv. Franje, the Church of St. Francis, and its Franciscan Monastery which date from the early 1700s.

The rattling of suitcases pulled across ancient cobblestones by vacationers heading to their hotels accompanied us downhill. Surely an annoying sound, and we wondered if it was any better or worse than the hoofs of donkeys or horses, and wagon wheels clattering across the stones centuries ago.

This lane from the church passed several restaurants, but the wonderful aroma originating from Fish House Rovinj encouraged us to stop for lunch. It’s a tiny no frills seafood bar with limited seating on bar stools inside and along the wall outside. All the fish is locally sourced and purchased fresh every morning at the docks. We tried fried calamari, grilled shrimps and fish tacos. Every dish was delicious. Their staff were very nice, and the menu was extremely budget friendly considering Rovinj is a top tourist destination. The place should definitely be considered a destination spot when visiting Rovinj.

The attraction of Rovinj is its beautiful location on a small headland, that juts out into the northern Adriatic Sea, every square foot of which is covered with picturesque buildings which cascade down to the water’s very edge. The iconic picture of this 16th century merchant and fishing town is taken from the sea and captures the town, centered with the belltower of St. Euphemia’s Church at its apex, as if it was an island floating effortlessly on a horizon that seamlessly merges the sea and sky. The town was in fact an island until it the channel separating it from the mainland was filled in 1763, when the town was part of the Austrian Empire.

We had hoped to take our own pictures of the town from the sea, but the weather we felt was too cloudy to justify the expense of the boat trip. We contented ourselves instead with wandering along the harbor front before entering the old town through Balbi’s Arch, an old  Venetian gate, to the once walled citadel, before following the twisting stone lanes up to St. Euphemia’s Church.

The old town was charming, and while many of the alleys have been gentrified with upscale shops and lodging above them, several retain a rawness, similar to the historic quarter in Naples, Italy.

The lanes to the top of the hill twisted and rose before ending at a large plaza in front of the church. This church was constructed in the mid-1700s, to accommodate the growing city, over the foundation of a small church dedicated to St. George which was built in the mid-300s when the region adopted Christianity.

But part of the reason for the new church was to honor the miracle of St. Euphemia, a 4th century martyr, executed by the Eastern Roman Empire in Constantinople, before the empire adopted Christianity. The legend of St. Euphemia’s sarcophagus arrival to Rovinji  begins during the 700s Iconoclast heresy, when Emperor Constantine V, ordered her relics thrown into the sea. One hundred years later “fishers early one morning discovered a marble sarcophagus which had floated ashore like a stone ship. The townsfolk enlisted their strongest men, horses and oxen attempted  to pull the tomb off the beach, but to no avail.  

Miraculously, the saint presented herself to the crowd and singled out a small boy and said, “I am Euphemia of Chalcedon and I have engaged Jesus by blood. You will pull the stone ark with your body to the church at the top of the hill.” Awed, the crowd parted and watched the child pull the amazing weight of the tomb uphill. There priests slid off the tomb’s top and revealed the motionless body of a beautiful 14 year old girl. Next to her was a scroll of parchment paper with these words written on it: Hoc est corpus Euphemiae Sancte. “This is the body of Saint Euphemia.” Saint Euphemia is now the patron saint of Rovinj and her feast day is celebrated every September 16th, the day her sarcophagus floated ashore.

We had great experiences in Pula and Rovinj, and enjoyed learning about their fascinating history and legends.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

The North Coast 500, kind of – Part 2: Glencoe to the Isle of Skye or Castles, Lochs and Legends

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Rain pounding on the skylight woke us and revealed a grey day with not an inkling of sun in the sky. A real “drookit” of a day our innkeeper called it at breakfast. The tumultuous weather in the highlands is always a topic of conversation. “When the sun shines it’s glorious. For the other 364 days of the year we Scots amuse ourselves with over 100 Gaelic words to describe the variety of rain, and 421 words to describe the intricacies of snow.” It was a form of entertainment for our ancestors as they sat around the fire at night, in their ancient turf and creel houses, he related with a smile. With the way the weather blows in off the Atlantic Ocean, it’s possible to experience the four seasons in one day in the highlands. It’s a “dreich” day this morning – gloomy, damp, and grey – but the sun will most certainly shine later between sporadic showers. “It’s God’s way of cleaning the coos.”

True to his prediction the sun broke through clouds that were being torn apart by the wind as we stopped along Loch Lochy to photograph the multi-hued pinks, whites and magentas of the wild bush vetch growing along the side of the road. On the loch a sailboat was running downwind at a good clip with only its mainsail set. Our plan for the day was to head north from Glencoe along the A82 before following the A87 west through the highlands and across Loch Alsh to the Isle of Skye and end the day in Portree.

As the road turned west, we turned to the right and followed signs to Invergarry and Glengarry Castles down a narrow lane through an old growth forest. The ruins of Invergarry Castle eventually revealed itself from behind a curtain of woods. Sunlight cascaded through ruins. Only a few walls of Invergarry Castle remain, but in its glory it was a five story L-shaped structure with a six story tower, and seat of the Chiefs of the Clan MacDonell of Glengarry, a powerful branch of the Clan Donald. Clan legend believes that in the early 1600’s the stones for the castle’s construction were passed hand to hand by a chain of clansmen from the mountain Ben Tee, five miles away. The castle had a short and turbulent history. Oliver Cromwell’s troops attacked the MacDonnells for supporting King Charles I and burned the castle in 1654 during the Engilsh Civil War. Rebuilt, the MacDonnell’s castle was used by the Jacobites in the 1715 and 1745 rebellions. Bonnie Prince Charlie visited the castle after raising the Scottish flag on the shore of Loch Shiel at Glenfinnan when he returned from France, and again, to rest, after his devastating defeat at the Battle of Culloden in 1746. As part of a systematic suppression of the Highlands the castle was destroyed again, but two walls refused to fall, as if symbolizing the Scots’ refusal to yield the British crown.

The castle was abandoned, and by 1760 the chief of the Clan MacDonell was in the new Invergarry House, just a short distance away from the ruins of the castle. In 1960s Invergarry House was reborn as the Glengarry Castle Hotel.

“Drive a little then café,” is our motto on road trips to break up our drives and Glengarry Castle was the perfect stop for our mid-morning caffeine compulsion. To describe Glengarry as a castle might be stretching it a little. It’s beautiful building, more accurately described as an estate home or chateau. It’s now a lovely hotel that harkened back to the reserved elegance of an earlier era. From its comfortable sitting room we enjoyed our coffees, and watched several boats motoring along Loch Oich. We lingered. From north to south the lochs Ness, Oich, Lochy, and Linnhe connect to one another via a series of locks along the Caledonian Canal which traverses the highlands to form a sixty-mile long intercoastal waterway that starts in Inverness and ends at Fort William, connecting the North Sea to the Atlantic Ocean. Conceived to give employment to highlanders displaced during the clearances, the canal was constructed in the early 1800’s and was designed to accommodate large merchant sailing ships. The canal reaches its highest point, 106 feet above sea level, at Laggan, between Loch Oich and Loch Lochy. One of the canal’s significant engineering feats is Neptune’s Staircase, a series of eight step locks near Fort William.

We rejoined the A82 for a few minutes before turning onto the A87 and followed it west along a route that paralleled the River Garry, before rising higher into the mountains and reaching the river’s source, Loch Garry. The views of Loch Garry under clearing storm clouds were spectacular, and we stopped several times, but the most rewarding photograph was taken from a farmer’s gate that led to an open field, high above the loch.

From the rocky beach at Loch Cluanie it was apparent that our luck with the weather was changing, and that “tha stoirm mhor ann,” was brewing with darkening clouds.

It was a real pish-oot by the time we sought sustenance at The Pitstop at Kintall, across the road from Loch Duich.  It’s one of the few eateries along the A87, and the folks that run it are good-humored angels. Their wings were especially visible the day we stopped. The small restaurant was full of people seeking shelter from the storm. Just inside the door, a large queue of dripping wet folks huddled, and created a loch size puddle as they waited for tables. On a nicer day the restaurant’s picnic tables outside would have easily accommodated everyone. Fortunately, the kitchen was quick, and folks didn’t linger. Their coffee was good, and the food was delicious.

The rain was lessening when we spotted the St Dubhthac’s Church on a small hill above Loch Duich and did a quick U-turn to investigate its ruins. It’s a pretty setting atop the hill with views of the loch and mountains covered in the purple heather blooms of summer. The exact date the church was built is unknown, but it’s believed to have been constructed in the 11th century shortly after Dubhthac a popular priest, and great missionary walker venerated for his evangelistic efforts, visited the area. An ancient cemetery, the Clachan Duich Burial Ground (“clachan” meaning stone or church in Gaelic) surrounds the ruins, and was the traditional burial place for many Clan Macrae chiefs over the centuries.

After the Battle of Glenshiel in 1719, the church was used to treat wounded Jacobite soldiers. Consequently, British troops later torched the church in retaliation. The church was eventually rebuilt and used into the 1850’s, but was left to neglect after the “clearances” reduced the area’s population. Today modern pilgrims can follow the St Dubhthac Way through Glen Affric via Chisholm’s Pass, along what is believed to be the evangelist’s original path through the highlands.

Fickle weather continued to plague our day, but we weren’t deterred from enjoying the moody weather when we visited Eilean Donan Castle, one of the Scottish Highland’s most iconic sites. Having invested in some good quality Gore-Tex rain gear that actually kept us dry made all the difference. And what better way to experience the harsh conditions of life in medieval Scotland than on a cold stormy afternoon in the highlands. Seems many other tourists felt the same way, and the parking lot for the castle was nearly full. https://www.eileandonancastle.com/?s=tickets

Eilean Donan means “Island of Donan” and refers to St Donan, an Irish missionary, who lived on the small island for a short time while he traveled through the western highlands and isles introducing Christianity to the Picts in the beginning of the 7th century. Later the island held an early Pict fort.

In the12th century a larger castle was built on the strategically located tidal island, situated at the confluence of three sea lochs: Loch Duich, Loch Alsh, and Loch Long, to defend the area from the frequent Viking raids that were happening at the time.

By the 14th century the castle was the western stronghold of the Clan MacKenzie and their allies Clan MacRae. Siding with Robert the Bruce, the MacKenzies granted him refuge at the castle after his defeat at the Battle of Methven in the early 1300’s, before he became the King of Scotland.

These were brutal and lawless times in the highlands and vividly illustrated in a gruesome event in 1331 when fifty “mysdoaris” (mis-doers) were gathered and executed, their heads then put on pikes along the castle’s walls to deter others from wrongdoing and assure the Warden of Scotland, who’s visit prompted this massacre, that there was law and order in the region.

During the unsuccessful Jacobite Uprising of 1719, Spanish troops allied with Bonnie Prince Charlie and exiled King James II were garrisoned in the castle. That May three Royal Navy frigates sailed into the lochs and bombarded the castle. After the Spanish forces surrendered, the British sailors used 343 barrels of gunpowder that the foreign troops left behind to blow the castle to smithereens. Some believe the ghost of a fallen Spanish soldier still haunts the isle.

The castle was left in ruins for nearly 200 years before Lt Colonel John Macrae-Gilstrap bought the island in 1911, and with the help of Farquhar MacRae set about rebuilding it over the next twenty years. Not knowing what the original castle actually looked, it’s believed Farquhar envisioned it in a dream. Surprisingly, years later when old plans of Eilean Donan were discovered in the ancient archives of Edinburgh Castle, his vision was confirmed as true to the original design. The only addition was the multi-arched stone footbridge we were about to cross above seaweed covered boulders exposed with the low tide. Wonderfully evocative on a moody rainy day, the views of the castle surrounded by water and mountains on a sunny day must be spectacular. No wonder it’s one of Scotland’s most photographed treasures.

It continued to be a dreich afternoon as we followed the A87 over the Kyle of Lochalsh, the narrow strait that separates the Isle of Skye from the Scottish mainland. The Sligachan Old Bridge was our last stop of the day before reaching Portree. It was designed by the famous Scottish architect Thomas Telford, better known for Dean Bridge in Edinburgh and the locks of Neptune’s Staircase on the Caledonian Canal, and it was built in 1810 with rocks collected from the river over which it spans. There is a mystical quality to the often mist-covered landscapes on the Isle of Skye. Fabulous tales of faeries and myths of ancient warriors inhabiting the land have been passed along by oral tradition throughout the Highlands and the Hebrides Islands since primitive folks first settled the region around 7000BC.

Two legends are associated with the River Sligachan. The first is the ferocious battle between Scáthach, the chief of a tribe of skilled female warriors, who had a fearsome reputation and was said to be stronger than any man, and Cú Chulainn, an Irish hero and demi-god who sailed to Skye to prove his strength against her. The battle raged for weeks. The earth shook as their weapons struck the ground, creating rivers and mountains across Skye as they wrestled in combat.

The second legend is the tale of the magical powers of the River Sligachan, when Scáthach’s daughter, Uathach, was granted eternal beauty and wisdom by following the guidance of faeries to dip her head into the icy water of the River Sligachan, for a very specific seven seconds and then let the water on her face air dry. It’s not as easy as it sounds considering the temperature of the water and that you have to get on your hands and knees to accomplish it. But she succeeded and was given a vision that the aroma of a wonderfully cooked meal would entice Scáthach and Cú Chulainn to stop battling. It worked and the combatants, realizing they were starving, called a truce.

Afterward Scáthach agreed to train the Irishman in her ways of warfare at her “Fortress of Shadows” on a remote windswept headland on Skye’s Sleat Peninsula. But the tale doesn’t end and continues to become a juicy Iron Age soap opera with Cú Chulainn seducing Uathach and killing her husband, then having a child with Scáthach’s sister and rival Aífe. Of course there are many versions of this ancient folk tale. The ruins of Dunscaith Castle, the 14th century stronghold of the Clan MacDonald, are believed to be the setting for this epic story.

The river valley and mountains west of the old bridge are called the Cuillin, an expansive area of pristine beauty with over 20 Munros, mountains over 3,000 feet high. South of the bridge the Collie and MacKenzie Statue, marks a trailhead into the wilderness, and commemorates the mountaineer and guide who mapped hiking routes across the Cuillin range and climbed many of Skye’s rugged mountains in the late 1890’s and early 1900’s.

Winds change the weather quickly on the Isle of Skye and by the time we reached Portree and checked into the Rosedale Hotel, located along the harbor’s waterfront, the sky was clearing. It was the height of the summer season and unfortunately, we couldn’t reserve a room with a harbor view, but we were quite happy with our accommodations otherwise.

Each morning at breakfast, the sweet waitresses gave us the table with the best view of the harbor, as if in recompense for our view-less room. Free parking along the quay is possible, but it’s almost impossible to find a space. The hotel did provide directions to the free municipal lot across from Phil the Barber and the Portree Community Centre on Park Road, a short distance away, that worked out quite well.

Later, we shared a seafood platter at Sea Breezes, a small restaurant in one of the colorful 19th century buildings along the harbor front, where it’s recommended to be among the first in line when it opens at 5 PM. Our meal was delicious and featured locally sourced sea trout, mussels, and scallops harvested from the waters around Skye that morning.

https://www.rosedalehotelskye.co.uk/              https://sea-breezes-skye.co.uk/

It was long wet afternoon after we lost the morning sunshine, and we hoped for better weather in the days ahead. But as our hotelier reminded us “today’s rain is tomorrow’s whisky.”

Till next time, Craig & Donna

The North Coast 500, kind of – Part 1: Edinburgh to Glencoe
A Road Trip in Scotland:  Monks, Potters, Flowers, and Kelpies or A Day in the Highlands

An Albanian Road Trip: Lin, Lake Ohrid & the Monastery of Saint Naum

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Our planned route for a 3-week trip around Albania looked like a large numeral 6. After starting in Tirana, we’d head south to Berat, and Sarande, before cutting across the southeastern part of the country to Gjirokaster, Leskovik, Korçë, and Lin, on Lake Ohrid. Of course, there were numerous other stops and detours along the way, which we wrote about in our earlier blogs. But the road from Korce to Lin passed through the small city of Pogradec on the southern shore of Lake Ohrid, only 9 miles from the border with North Macedonia. From there the 10th century Monastery of Saint Naum was only minutes away. “It’s so close, and we have the car. It’s an opportunity we’ll regret not taking.”  Let’s go, we both agreed. Many day trips to the monastery originate in Tirana, but if you have a rental car, it’s less expensive than taking an organized tour. Albania and North Macedonia are not part of the European Union Schengen program, which permits unrestricted passage through member nations’ borders without stopping at a border checkpoint for a passport stamp. Traveling between Albanian and North Macedonia is done the old fashion way. Not all car rental companies in Albania allow their cars to be driven into North Macedonia. Notify the car rental company when making the reservation that you want to drive to into North Macedonia, as there are some documents needed from the car rental company: a Green Card, which is proof of international car insurance; permission from the car rental country that they are allowing the car to be driven in North Macedonia; and an International Driver’s License in Latin characters in case it is requested. At the border be prepared to show all travelers’ passports and pay a Border Crossing Fee.

Grey skies hung low over Pogradec as we headed east along SH64. Occasionally we passed abandoned Cold War era concrete bunkers along the lakefront. These were remnants of Albania’s communist dictator Enver Hoxha’s paranoia, which convinced him that Albania was surrounded by enemies, and that Pogradec would be prepared to resist an amphibious attack.

The border crossing at Tushemisht – St. Naum went very quickly, with only a few questions about our intended destinations and length of stay in North Macedonia. Minutes later we entered the manicured grounds of Saint Naum’s Monastery. Our first impressions were that we had arrived at a resort or theme park the way the souvenir shops and restaurants lined the midway as we headed to the ancient monastery.

It was built by Saint Naum, in 905, during the later part of his life, after he had spent decades spreading Orthodox Christianity and literacy throughout the Balkans as a follower of Saints Cyril and Methodius. Past the souvenir shops, boat rentals were available for rowing on the amazingly clear waters of the Black Drin spring. Its waters emerge through an underground stream from Lake Prespa, located higher in the mountains, before they flow into Lake Ohrid.

Getting closer, we crossed a footbridge and encountered our first of several splendid peacocks, roaming freely about the complex. Then there were only directional signs pointing the way around the multistory, three-star Hotel Saint Naum, which encircles the monastery on three sides, and obscured any distant view of the monastery, which commands a small knoll on the lake edge. Saint Naum is recognized as a miracle worker and healer who cured the sick as soon as they looked him in the eye. This belief in his ability to heal has inspired Christian and Bektashis Muslim pilgrims to visit the site since his death in 910. The veneration of the saint’s relics is believed to help those suffering from psychological and fertility issues.

Eventually, we found a very ancient door into the courtyard where the monastery stands overlooking Lake Ohrid. Little remains left of the original monastery. After five centuries, the current church was built atop the old monastery’s original foundation.

The interior of that 16th century church survives, but the exterior design and brickwork has been renovated numerous times over the years, and hardly shows its age. Unlike the ancient churches nearby in Voskopojë, Albania, which still carry every wound inflicted upon them over the centuries.

Inside the chapel is quite small, but richly decorated with warmly polished, intricately carved woodwork, and a gilded iconostasis created by local Macedonian craftsmen in the early 18th century. The religious frescoes that adorn the walls of the chapel were painted in 1806 by Trpo Zograf of Korçë. Many of the lower parts of the murals have been worn away by the touches of the faithful seeking blessings.

Leaving the site, we descended the knoll in a different direction and happened upon the Church of Saint Petka at the base of the hill. It’s a charming petite chapel that serves as the monastery’s baptistry. Brilliantly colored Orthodox iconography covers every inch of the walls from floor to ceiling in a celebration of faith. A comparison between the two churches was inevitable, and led us to reflect upon what the interior of the older church might have looked like ages ago.

The restaurants at the monastery complex were too overpriced for what they served, so we headed back to Pogradec for lunch. During the high season, mostly Albanian vacationers are drawn to the city’s long sandy beach along Lake Ohrid, the largest on the lake, and support a thriving hotel, and restaurant scene.

But in late April many were still closed, and some of the ones which were open didn’t have any customers. So, we opted for lunch at Pizza Restorant Artist, on Rruga Reshit Çollaku, across from the waterfront. The place was fairly busy, and to our great joy they offered an amazing variety of Italian dishes and pizza. It was some of the best Italian food we’ve had outside of Italy, and very budget friendly. Parking on the street was a little unusual as there was an authorized parking attendant that watched several blocks and ran up to us to secure payment when we pulled into a space. He gave us in return a receipt for display on the dashboard. After lunch a window display in a shop next to the restaurant caught our attention. It was the workshop of Pirro Icka, a fourth-generation woodcarver, according to the plaque in the window. Unfortunately, the shop was closed, but the window display featured some wonderfully intricate carved pieces, which would have been the perfect Albanian souvenir.

Late in the afternoon we arrived at Lin. It’s a small, isolated village on a headland that protrudes into Lake Ohrid, like a thumb up on a closed fist. We took a few minutes to scout along the narrow lane that runs the length of the village and passes a mosque and church, before it dead ends between homes near the tip of the headland. We had passed the arrow pointing to House 1960, our lodging for the night, but did not know where to park. The village seemed empty, and we had not encountered any other cars along the lane. So, I waited while Donna followed a walkway between homes and returned a few minutes later with one of our hosts, Emory. His wife, Merita, was waiting for us when we arrived at their home, an older village house, that the couple had renovated with help of their adult sons. The inn was very nice and our room stunning with a high cathedral ceiling.  Accented with gorgeous blond wood trim, it was bright and airy. In late April all the small restaurants were still closed, but Merita offered to cook meat or lake fish, caught that morning, for our dinner. The Lake Ohrid brown trout accompanied with homemade pickled vegetables was delicous.

Fishermen from Lin and other villages in Albania and North Macedonia, which surround the lake, set out early every morning in small boats to catch trout, which has been considered a delicacy, and a staple in the local communities since ancient times. Recently discovered submerged archeological evidence of a community that lived in stilt houses above the lake dates to 6500 BC, and confirms Lin as one of the oldest communities in Europe. The weather still hadn’t cleared as we went to bed, but we kept our fingers crossed for better conditions in the morning.

A brilliant blue sky greeted us and prompted a quick decision to trek to the far side of the headland before breakfast. The trail started where the lane dead ended and wove between several homes before we were out of the village. Walking along the lakeshore, the blues of the lake blended seamlessly into the sky. On the landward side the headland towered over us as we rounded the shoreline. The path was only as wide as our feet and somewhat treacherous at certain points, when a section required a rock scramble across it. The shoreline between the lake and the headland eventually widened to reveal farm plots, separated by rows of rough stone walls. Our host had mentioned the evening before that the folks of Lin pride themselves on being nearly self-sufficient. That it was an ethic and skill passed down over the generations, because of the village’s remote location. It’s a beautiful but not a particularly easy trek to the farm plots on the lakeshore, and yet we saw several older villagers carrying their tools on their daily trek to their garden plots.

Continuing back to the village we worked our way to the apex of the headland, where the ruins of a 6th century Byzantine church are cordoned off to protect a very large and well preserved intricate floor mosaic from an earlier Roman temple. Signage on the fence details the site and mentioned that the mosaics, which are unprotected from the elements, are currently covered with sand to protect them from further deterioration. The information plaque also mentioned that the mosaics are uncovered twice a year for public viewing and included the phone number of the local caretaker.

The panoramic views out over the lake from the top of the peninsula were amazing. The lake’s clear water sparkled, and dozens of small fishing boats rocked gently on small waves that rolled across its surface. No wonder Lin and its surroundings are part of the Natural and Cultural Heritage of the Ohrid Region, an UNESCO site, which recognizes the importance of the unique aquatic ecosystems surrounding the clearest and deepest lake, reaching depths of 945 ft, in the Balkans. Lake Ohrid is thought to be one of the oldest bodies of fresh water in the world, and supports a diverse variety of 1200 different plant and animal species, 200 of which are endemic to the lake.

Walking downhill back through the village we stopped to photograph a scene. It was only when we started walking again that I caught some motion in my peripheral vision and saw the freshly slaughtered cow hanging from a sturdy tripod stand, with three villagers attending to it, in front of a store that had a coffee shop sign above its door. They waved. A little farther down the lane, we passed an older woman walking up the hill carry small buckets of milk.  She must have been 15 years older than us, but she was a hearty soul and ended up lapping us three times.  When we returned to the inn Merita had some freshly baked bread and muffins waiting for us, along with a fig jam, made with the fruit from the tree in the front yard, feta cheese, butter, yogurt, and eggs sourced from various neighbors. We enjoyed our short time in Lin and wished that we had made plans to stay longer.

Back on the highway, the road rose into the mountains and we pulled over for one last look. In the fields outside the village a row of Hoxha’s bunkers sporadically emerged from the soil like mushroom caps, near where the marine archeologists discovered the submerged village on pilings.  Perhaps Hoxha’s paranoia was justified, but he was several millennia late.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

Road Tripping Through Brittany: Saint Malo, Dinard & Dinan or For the Love of Oysters

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Tractors pulling wagons laden with huitres just harvested from the oyster beds of Cancale Bay now replaced the apple carts we passed two days ago in the Calvados region. Leaving Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy, we had entered Brittany in mid-October at the height of oyster season, which is traditionally considered the months that contain “r” in them, September – April. Our destination was Dinard, after stopping for lunch in Cancale, ground zero for huitres aquaculture in France. We had detoured from our route into Cherrueix to see the wide beach there that is popular for land-sailing, where specially designed three wheeled carts, outfitted with a sail, glide along the flat sand and attain high speed due to the strong winds that blow in off the ocean, filling their sails. But a windless day dampened that activity. The weather was pretty miserable that morning with intermittent squalls at times, limiting our explorations and photography. Our course diversion wasn’t a total loss as we found that the small village had several historic windmills and thatched roofed homes, which lent the town an unexpected Dutch and English feel.

Oyster connoisseurs enjoy Brittany oysters for their unique merroir. Just as wines derive a distinguishable terroir from the soil their grape vines grow in, oysters get their signature flavor from the saltiness and temperature of the seawater they are harvested from. The extreme, fast moving  tides, which Victor Hugo once described as “moving as swiftly as a galloping horse,” and cold water of Mont Saint-Michel Bay, which encompasses the ocean from Saint Malo, Brittany to the Cotentin Peninsula of Normandy, impart the oysters grown here with a sweet delicate flavor, which have won them fans the world over. Really, they are the best we’ve ever tasted, and we would order them whenever we saw them offered during our trip. They were also very affordable, which was a delight. Low tide along the coast revealed the extensive network of oyster farm pilings that support the growth of over 5,000 tons of succulent huitres a year.

Oysters have been gathered along the coast of Brittany since this region of France was part of the Roman Empire 2000 years ago. As with all ancient agrarian traditions, women have played a vital role harvesting oysters and Cancale’s town plaza hosts a bronze statue commemorating them. The day we visited, and it took us a while to figure out why, the female figures of the memorial were adorned in pink aprons. Turns out this was in recognition of France’s Breast Cancer Awareness Day, which happens every October. At lunch in a small establishment on the square, of course we slurped a dozen oysters, with just a touch of shallot mignonette sauce. They were divine. On Cancale’s waterfront there is also a daily Marche aux Huitres, surprisingly this oyster market which is open year-round. That old tradition of eating oysters only during the ‘r’ months dates back to King Louis XV in the 1700’s when refrigeration wasn’t possible, and it was unsafe to consume them during the warmer months. It’s also a matter of preference as the texture of the oyster becomes creamier during the warmer months, but today in France they are consumed year-round.

The late afternoon sun was shining brilliantly by the time we arrived in Dinard, found a free parking space on the street, and checked into the Hôtel du Parc Dinard, our home for four nights. The popular vacation spot is practically a ghost town in the fall, with most of its elegant Victorian-era homes battened down tight awaiting winter storms. The quietness was perfect for us, and the town would be our base for visiting Saint-Malo, a short distance away across the Rance Estuary, and farther inland the ancient riverport town of Dinan.

A former fishing village, Dinard was transformed into a vacation hotspot, when the French gentry, wealthy Americans, and British aristocrats discovered its picturesque beaches, and cliffside walks in the late-nineteenth century. A pleasant mild climate, influenced by the nearby warm waters of the Atlantic gulf stream helped set its reputation as “the Pearl of the Emerald Coast.” A who’s who list of celebrities – Picasso, Gary Grant, Joan Collins, Winston Churchill, and Oscar Wilde – frequented the seaside resort. The British film director Alfred Hitchcock visited often enough that the town erected a statue in his honor. Film legend believes he based the house in the film “Psycho,” on one of the town’s elegant mansions and the movie “Birds,” partly on experiences with raucous seagulls along the cliffs here. His relationship with the town led to the establishment of the Dinard Festival of British & Irish Film. Now in its 35th year, it’s held early in October. Prize winners receive a golden Hitchcock statuette.

One of France’s most “British resorts,” the town’s luster faded in the 1960’s when the “jet set” discovered the Mediterranean beaches of southern France. Fortunately, the town has been rediscovered as a holiday destination and today attracts folks looking for vacation rentals in the now sub-divided mansions, who appreciate its quite ambiance and location along the Cote d’Emeraude of Brittany.

One of the best ways to enjoy the town, in any season, is to follow the Coastal Path of Dinard, a 5-mile-long improved trail that hugs the rocky coastline, passes sandy coves and fascinating old architecture. From our hotel we broke our walk into two manageable segments and included a stop at the weekly market one day to purchase supplies for a picnic lunch for later in the day. One afternoon we drove west along the backroads to Saint-Briac-sur-Mer. Here we could see the extreme tides of the Brittany coast, which left boats at their moorings high and dry at low tide.

Just across the water from Dinard the old fortress city of Saint-Malo still guards the natural harbor created by the La Rance estuary as it enters the Gulf of Saint-Malo and the English Channel.  Its ramparts have remained mostly unscathed since their first construction in the 12th century, in order to deter feared Viking attacks. Centuries later the Corsairs of Saint-Malo, French privateers serving the King of France, would pillage foreign ships sailing the English Channel, or extort a transit tax from them, then flee the scene of the crime and seek refuge from the pursuing English Navy under the cannons along Saint-Malo’s ramparts. This tactic was so annoying to the British that they launched an amphibious naval assault against the Saint-Malo corsairs in 1758, but determined the city’s ramparts were impenetrable and instead attacked the nearby town of Saint-Servan and destroyed 30 of the pirate’s ships there.

Outlaws to the English and Dutch, the corsairs of Saint-Malo had more nuanced careers and were well respected as explorers and merchants in France, enriching the town and serving the interests of several French kings over the centuries. Departing from Saint-Malo, Jacques Cartier sailed down the St. Lawerence River and claimed the discovery of Canada for France in the 16th century and sacked a few vessels along the way. Jacques Gouin de Beauchêne would lead the first French expedition into the South Atlantic, raid Rio de Janeiro, find the Falkland Islands, sail through the Strait of Magellan, visit the Galapagos Islands and return to the Atlantic Ocean by sailing west to east across the treacherous waters of Cape Horn. Other corsairs helped establish trade with ports along the west coast of Africa, Southeast Asia and the Pacific, which would evolve into French colonies. Corsair Duguay-Trouin led a Moka expedition to Yemen in the early 1700s, returned with the legendary coffee beans, and French society was changed forever: the café tradition had begun. Saint-Malo prospered.

Walking atop the ramparts that encircle the ancient citadel, it’s difficult to imagine that this beautiful city lay in ruins in September 1944. The D-Day invasion of Normandy had happened three months earlier, but well dug-in German forces, led by a commander who swore to defend the Third Reich to the last man, refused to surrender their reinforced positions in Saint-Malo. It took a relentless, months long campaign of allied aerial and artillery bombardment for the Germans to concede defeat.  The ramparts still stood, but 683 of the town’s 865 historic buildings were leveled, its 6,000 inhabitants homeless. The mayor at the time, Guy Lachambre, petitioned vigorously for the reconstruction council and its architects Marc Brillaud de Laujardière and Louis Arretche not to modernize the war-torn town, but to respect the ancient medieval character of the city and retain its maze of alleys, granite facades and steep slate roofs. It took two years to painstakingly remove the rubble, before rebuilding could start. Workers cataloged the ruins like an archaeological excavation, numbering each brick and stone, so that town’s original building materials could be reused, when possible, to authentically resurrect it from its ashes. Major reconstruction lasted until 1960; however, the Cathédrale de Saint-Malo, the final resting place for the famous Corsairs Jacques Cartier and René Duguay-Trouin, didn’t acquire its new steeple until 1971. The church’s spire, rightfully returned to its place of honor on the citadel’s skyline, was once again a welcome landmark for sailors returning from the sea. Renewed prosperity returned to Saint-Malo in the mid-1960s when folks rediscovered the seaside town as a great place to rent a vacation flat in apartments now vacated by families that moved away during the reconstruction years.

The views from atop the ramparts of the sea and the citadel were great. It’s an easy 1.4 mile loop around the ramparts, with many gateways that descend back into to the walled city or out onto the surrounding beach. At low tide it’s possible to walk across a sandy peninsula to the nearby 17th century Fort Natioinal, or to the small island Grand Bé, where the French writer François-René de Chateaubriand is buried, but be careful not to get stuck out there during an incoming high tide. Afterwards, back in town we found a rustic bar with a fire going in its stove and warmed ourselves with snifters of Calvados and café.

During the high season, parking in Saint-Malo can be problematic. However, if you are staying in Dinard it’s possible to take the small ferry across to the “The Corsair City.” If you are looking for a good read, the book All the Light We Cannot See, written by Anthony Doerr, evocatively tells an intriguing and mysterious story of life during WWII in Saint-Malo.

Traveling 30 minutes south from Dinard, we seemed to have arrived in the 14th century. We were greeted by an equestrian statue of the famous French general Bertrand du Guesclin, which towered above us in the car park. He was known for his many victories over the English during the Hundred Years War. He was so well regarded that upon his death, in 1380, he was given a royal funeral, his body quartered for burial, a practiced usually reserved for France’s kings. “His heart was buried in Dinan in his native Brittany, his entrails were buried in Puy, his flesh at Montferrand, and his skeleton in the tomb of St. Denis outside Paris.” We were off to an interesting start.

Somehow having escaped the destruction that befell Saint-Malo, Dinan’s historic center is filled with charming leaning, half-timbered medieval buildings dating from the 13th to 16th centuries, and shares an ambiance that felt more akin to Rouen than its neighbors Saint-Malo and Dinard.  This morning the narrow-cobbled alleys were busy with activity, modern shops behind the ancient facades, replacing the craftsmen and guild merchants of this market town and riverport who traded with Spain, England, Holland, and the new world colonies.

Our “walk a little, then café,” led us to Marcel, on Rue de la Cordonnerie, a delightful patisserie, where between cheerfully serving customers, the staff was photographing their artistic, mouthwatering temptations to post to the store’s Instagram page. Outside it could have been 1305 or 1673; only folks’ clothing had changed.

Farther along, stores had their merchandise displayed along the sidewalks under the porches of the buildings. This style resulted from the tax code at the time when merchants’ stores were taxed based on their ground floor square footage, but were allowed to expand outward on the higher floors.

Polished from a millennium of footfalls, the cobbled lanes in Dinan glowed with different tones and hues, especially apparent on the damp overcast day we followed the long Rue du Jerzual downhill to the Port de Dinan. It’s an amazing street lined with a vast array of interesting buildings and a tower gate, which was once part of the ramparts which encircled upper Dinan.

The waters of the La Rance river were calm and reflected the boats docked along the waterfront and the emerging autumn colors on the hillside above the river. Here the tributary narrows, no longer navigable for larger ships, a single arch stone bridge allowing only small recreational boats to proceed upstream to the pretty village of Léhon. A bike and footpath also follow the contour of the river to the village, only a 30 minute walk away.

We lunched outside along the quay trying some garlicky escargot and enjoyed the now-sunny afternoon. We were dreading the long uphill walk back and had asked at the restaurant to arrange for a cab, but they cheerfully informed us there was no need as a local small bus stopped just over the bridge and would take us back to the historic center.

The driver stopped at the Basilique Saint-Sauveur for us. Built in the early 1100s, it retained its Roman style façade during a 15th century expansion. But we only had a few moments for outside shots before a late afternoon thunderstorm chased us inside.

The inside has an impressive altar and artworks, while the interior architecture reflects a church renovated over several centuries. One side features Romanesque arches, though the other side displays a Gothic influence.

Rain kept us from walking through the Jardin Anglais, an English-style garden behind the town’s ramparts, with views across the La Rance river valley. We wrapped up a wonderful day in Dinan at the Château de Dinan, once a palace and fortress for the Dukes of Brittany in the 14th and 15th centuries. We seemed to have just scratched the surface of this intriguing town. And looking back it would have been a more interesting locale for a four-night stay.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Tenerife; Miradors, Miradors, & More Miradors

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You’ve landed, rented a car, checked into your hotel. Then what? Where to? It seems the more we’ve traveled and the older we’ve become, the less we plan. Throw a dart at the map? Often, how blue the sky is is the determining factor. That can be tricky in Tenerife where the weather changes quickly multiple times a day. But when in doubt, choose a mirador, any mirador. We figured enroute to them we’d pass other wonderful discoveries that would spur us to detour and investigate, rounding out what we saw of the island. Let your adventure around Tenerife begin. Here’s twelve of the miradors and viewpoints we enjoyed.

Mirador Punta del Fraile

Located on the outskirts of Buenavista del Norte, a manned roadblock across the pavement required us to park. It was about a thirty minute, moderately strenuous uphill walk, and the views along the way were awesome. It was well worth our effort. Reaching the mirador, gale force winds whipped through a cut in the rock which the road followed down to the lighthouse at Punta de Teno, three miles away. Behind us a large cliff face blocked most of the view of the Teno headland.

Nearby Buenavista del Norte is delightful old village with a historic church and memorial to a locust plague in 1659.

Playa del Roque de las Bodegas & Mirador de Playa Benijo

Any resemblance to a straight road disappeared as we turned onto TF-12 to work our way across the island to Playa del Roque de las Bodegas and the Mirador de Playa Benijo. The distances between sites on Tenerife are relatively short as the crow flies, but the roads are narrow and serpentine, so the driving is slow, even though not many cars are on the roads. Rising into the mountains, the terrain changed from arid brown to verdant green. The views along the way of isolated villages hugging the steep slopes were tremendous and there are multiple places you’ll want to stop for photos.

Our intent was to drive all the way to the El Draguillo Mirador, as our GPS map led us to believe it was feasible, but the road ended at a very small gate in a muddy car park with a sign that said only residents of the village were allowed to drive past this point. Evidently this is the starting point for El Draguillo trail, a 6-hour hike.

The parking lot was jammed full, and it took a serious multipoint K turn to get us out. We recovered nicely though by having a great lunch nearby at La Venta de Marrero, a cliffside restaurant with a fabulous view of Playa de Benijo, below.

Mirador Playa de las Teresitas

Only twenty minutes from Santa Cruz de Tenerife, the island’s largest city and capital, the Mirador Playa de las Teresitas seems a world away with tremendous views south of the coast.

Turn around and walk a few yards back along the road for a spectacular view of the black sand beaches Playa de Las Gaviotas and Playa Cueva del Agua.

La Barada

Set on a steep hill, the restaurant La Barada, just a short distance off TF-5, is technically not a mirador, but it is a very popular place due to its glass pier that is cantilevered dramatically out over the countryside from the restaurant. It offers an amazing bird’s eye view of the coast with Pico del Teide in the distance. The food was also very good and the terrace was alive with boisterous activity the afternoon we stopped. 

Mirador de Cherfe

Sitting atop a mountain pass, this mirador has expansive views of the sea. It was also one of the busiest miradors, with vendors selling lava trinkets, and many tourists stopping on the way to or from Masca, like us.

Oh, the thrills of driving in the mountains of Tenerife were just beginning!

Pico del Teide: Mirador de los Poleos, Mirador de Samara & Mirador de La Ruleta

Venturing into the foothills, our drive continued along TF-38 and traversed ever-changing, diverse bio-systems as we left the arid shrub-covered lowlands behind and climbed into hillsides covered with pine forests. It was a well paved but narrow serpentine road, without any shoulder, that required constant vigilance. The mouths of ancient lava tunnels were visible from the road, but there was no room to pull over and stop for photos until we reached the Mirador de los Poleos.

Beautiful, inhospitable, Death Valley-esque, lunar or Martian, however you choose to describe the varied topography that surrounds Pico del Teide, it’s enthralling and fascinating. So much so that filmmakers have used the location for scenes in several block buster films: One Million Years B.C. – 1966, Planet of the Apes – 1968, Clash of the Titans – 2010 and its 2012 sequel Wrath of the Titans and in 2023 the Last Triala, a Star Wars fan film. 

TV episodes of Doctor Who, The Dark Along the Ways and season 2 of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power have incorporated Tiede’s environs into their productions.

Jardines del Marquesado de la Quinta Roja

Any visits to La Orotava should start at the Jardines del Marquesado de la Quinta Roja. Constructed in 1883, it’s a beautiful French-style, terraced, formal garden with a view over the town and the distant sea. A smaller but older (1788) sister park next to it, the Hijuela del Botánico, features a towering dragon tree and other plantings of specimen trees collected from Spain’s former colonies. After coffee at the garden’s café, it’s an easy walk downhill in La Orotava’s historic center.

Mirador La Garañona

Is set dramatically atop a 1000ft sheer cliff, in El Sauzal, with a tremendous view of the coast below. The park’s shaded paths lead to a delightful small café perched at the cliff edge. We lingered and soaked in the view.

The Iglesia de Santa Catalina is nearby. It’s a classic, white-washed church from the early 1500s and picture perfect with its magnificent dragon tree in front. Nearby the Restaurante el Calvario is a great place to stop for a delightful meal.

Mirador Roque Grande

The waterfront in Puerto de la Cruz is beautiful and there are numerous miradors, beaches and tidal pools along the coast where you can swim. We strolled along the promenade above the black sand beaches at Playa Maria Jiménez, and Playa Chica to El Castillo San Felipe, a small block fortress built in the 1600s to prevent pirates or the British from landing on the beach there.

We lunched at a restaurant on the boardwalk under umbrellas just yards from the surf. Stopping at the Mirador Roger Piedra Gorda and Mirador Roque Grande rounded out the afternoon. Though parking was a challenge at both spots, we think the effort was worth it for the dramatic seascapes we viewed.

Mirador del Emigrante

The views driving into Garachico are impressive, and we stopped several times before entering the old town. As prosperous as the Canary Islands are today, we were reminded by the statue at the Mirador del Emigrante that life here was not always easy.

This poetic description by Fernando García Ramos, the sculptor, explains for the viewer the meaning behind his statue of a walking man – with a hole in his chest, as if in his heart – holding a suitcase. “The figure is scanning the horizon, in a daring position, as if pretending to jump over the sea, with a suitcase in hand, and many more suitcases in a series as a chain behind him; these suitcases behind him surely mean the memories, the sadnesses, the nostalgia, the girlfriend, the mother, the sisters, the families that are left behind by an emigrant who takes a new life, who jumps over the infinite sea, in search of a new life in strange and distant lands.”

Mirador Caribe at the Palmetum

Reaching the Mirador Caribe at the Palmetum, we were rewarded with an expansive view of the city and Auditorio de Tenerife.  A botanical garden, the Palmetum was started in 1995 atop 30 acres of reclaimed land that was once a landfill. Now it’s filled with nearly a thousand palm trees gathered from around the world. It’s a spectacular place.

Playa del Médano

For our last full day on Tenerife we headed to El Médano to be nearer the airport for our flight the following morning. Arriving late in the afternoon to Playa del Medano, we entertained ourselves watching wind and kite surfers speed across the whitecaps. The more experienced kiters crested the waves and performed aerobatics before splashing back into the sea. Closer to town, families favored the gentler waves, wider beach, and a view of Montaña Roja volcano on the horizon. Tables at eateries along the boardwalk were quickly filling as the golden hour approached. A crescent beach, gentle waves, good wine and delicious seafood – is there a better way to end the day? We’ll miss Tenerife.

We hope you found the photos inspirational for planning a trip to Tenerife.

Till next time, Craig & Donna