‘The past is never dead. It’s not even past.’ So said American novelist William Faulkner, and it’s a sentiment cyclists can understand better than most. We may ride modern carbon fibre bikes on tarmacked roads but we remain at the mercy of a landscape formed eons ago.
And with its rocky canyons, mist-draped forests and weather-carved outcrops, few places feel as primeval as Gran Canaria.
It’s something that my guide, Eva, warns me about before we begin our ride. Originally from Poland, she lived in Dublin long enough to pick up a Celtic lilt, and fell in love with Gran Canaria after stints in Mallorca.
When I mention that it’s my first time here but that I have ridden in Mallorca before, she tells me not to expect the same. They may both be Spanish islands, but they weren’t created equally. Gran Canaria, she says, was formed from violent volcanic activity, and that is reflected in the riding.
I’m told there are no easy days on the bike in this part of the world, just hard days and even harder ones. The weather is either glorious (generally in the south) or awful (typically in the centre and to the north of the island). Unless you hug the shoreline, you’re either going up or are on your way back down, Eva says.
My visions of a gentle day out on a sunny Spanish island are fading fast.
The only way is up
Our start point is the photogenic fishing village of Puerto de Mogán, located at about 8 o’clock if the island were a clock face. From there we will aim for dead centre of the dial, and the highest point of Gran Canaria, before turning southeast and heading back down towards the coast at Vecindario, at around four on the clock face.
We will then meander southwest to finish the ride at the resort of Maspalomas. It would be possible to complete the loop by continuing for another 30km to return to Puerto de Mogán, but the coast road is under repair on the day of our ride and we don’t fancy taking our chances on the busy GC-1 main road.
You might call Puerto de Mogán a chocolate-box village, but with temperatures in the 20s even in mid-winter I wouldn’t expect to return home with a still-solid selection of salted caramels. After a roll around town to admire the hanging bougainvillaea, waterways and freshly painted wooden bridges – charming enough, although it’s a stretch to describe the place as ‘the Venice of the Canaries’, as the tourist board would have it – we make for the hills.
This is going to be a ride of two halves. Apart from a few plateaux here and there, the morning will be all climbing, the afternoon the opposite. I’m already looking forward to seeing the route profile afterwards.
As we head inland and make our way steadily up the Mogán valley, the crisp coastal blue skies soon give way to a flatter grey light. Sooner than expected we find ourselves among the lower-growing laurel trees. For all the greenery shown on a satellite image, Gran Canaria is a botanical shadow of its pre-colonial self.
Until the Spanish arrived in the 15th century, two-thirds of the island’s 157,000 hectares (220,000 football pitches in real money) were under tree cover. In service to the sugar cane industry, the settlers embarked upon a relentless pillaging of the abundant natural resource until, by the mid-20th century, less than five per cent of those trees remained. Although an extensive reforestation effort has since more than tripled the tree cover, there remains a good deal to do to restore the island to something resembling its prehistoric state.
We have our own work to do this morning, although it couldn’t feel less like labour. It takes only half an hour of steady, civilised pedalling before we reach Pueblo Mogán and pass its newly restored 19th century windmill.
The rustic Molino de Viento feels a far cry from the mega on- and off-shore turbines that supply as much as 40% of Gran Canaria’s electricity on any given day. In form and function, however, they have more in common than not, evidence that the harnessing of renewable energy is (almost) as old as these hills.
Eva’s pre-ride pledge that we would barely notice the gradient for the first couple of hours of riding holds true. Even when I do become aware of the increased elevation, it comes via visual clues rather than any internal creaks or grumbles. This is less the land of lightweight climbing heroes than sprinters who can climb, supported by the fact that former British champion Ben Swift of Ineos Grenadiers holds the Strava record for our ascent.
My head unit might indicate that we are already nudging 500m above sea level, but it is only when the road, which has for some kilometres carried us on a simple straight bearing, begins to twist and turn back on itself that the elevation starts to feel real. With each switchback my gaze is drawn towards the valley floor, far further away than it has any right to be.
Winding and dining
At the halfway point of our ride is the highest point of the island, a popular panorama called Pico de las Nieves – Peak of the Snows. The name is a little anachronistic as Eva informs me that it seldom snows in Gran Canaria these days.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. An hour and a half into our ride and some 20-odd turns into our gradual ascent, I’m long since out of the big ring but still in the middle of the block as we make good progress towards lunch at Ayacata.
The Alpine-ish switchbacks have lifted us another 600 vertical metres across just shy of 10,000 horizontal ones. This is when the ravine walls draw in, the road roughens and the carefully carved hairpins give way to national park. Signs of civilisation become fewer and further between, and the gaps between politely passing vehicles increase. The scenery is cinematic and it seems appropriate that we should come across a film crew shooting… well, we’re not quite sure what, though Eva has heard a rumour that it might be Indiana Jones 5.
When we break to refuel ahead of the push for the Pico, Google tells me Harrison Ford is in fact shooting in Buckinghamshire. It could, however, be Netflix fantasy The Witcher, set in the middle ages, or Amazon Studios’ modern-day Jack Ryan spy thriller. Gran Canaria belongs to any time.
Not for the first time on a Cyclist assignment, I make entirely unsuitable lunch choices. I order Canarii speciality papas arrugadas – potatoes that are boiled in highly salted water, left to cool to form a wrinkly crust then doused in the chilli garlic sauce mojo rojo. I might as well be filling my pockets with pebbles. In for a peseta, in for a pound, I also request an extra dollop of aioli just to make the next 650m of ascent even more of an ordeal for my insides.
As we pass through a natural stone gateway there is the sense that the season has changed. Grey-green, semi-desert flora is replaced by a spectrum of autumnal hues, from shimmering gold to La Vuelta leader red. Leaves no longer remain reliably in post but carpet the roadside.
It’s here that Eva suffers a mechanical that, while not catastrophic, will confine her to the small ring for the rest of the ride. We still have some kilometres to climb, so she won’t miss the bigger gear for a while yet, but it is sure to frustrate when she wants to pick up speed on the way down. While she’s confirming that it is indeed irreparable, I slip a couple of Canary chestnuts into my jersey. Not so much for ballast as a nice natural memento.
We get going again. The route rolls but generally rises past vacant camping grounds and charcoal-black municipal barbecues. A 90° right at a junction takes us away from the north road before one last kick brings us to the highest bit of road on the island, the Pico de las Nieves.
I express wonder at quite where these dozens of tourists have come from, considering how quiet the roads have been. The penny drops when Eva points to their hiking gear. They’re certainly more suitably attired than I am. The sun has re-emerged but at this altitude and this time of year (it’s December), the air holds a chill that I know I’ll feel when it’s rushing by on the descent.
We lean over the wall beside the edge of the cliff to appreciate how far we’ve come, as well as to admire the cotton-wool cumulus clouds suspended just below us.
Maybe it’s the air, golden at almost 2,000m elevation, or something in the water – Firgas, the local bottled brand served at every meal is renowned for its mineral quality – but I’m still feeling fresh. Not that it has been an easy morning, but never let anyone tell you a ride has to batter you into submission for you to take satisfaction from it. Distance-wise we’re only halfway but it’s all downhill from here.
The big drop
Armwarmers on, we descend rapidly back the way we have just come for 10km before turning off onto the cruisier southeastern approach that will carry us to the other side of the island.
The descent is technical in places but on tarmac of the kind I can only dream of in the UK. These lower bends are never so sharp as to unsettle, nor sufficiently steep to require more than a cursory, cautionary squeeze of the brake levers. Even I can imagine I’m Tom Pidcock on a day like this.
The gradient seldom sneaks above low-to-mid single digits, while clear lines of sight allow us to take racing lines through sweeping bends. An immediate rise serves as a springboard and I bounce like Tigger towards the crest.
Over the pedals, still in top gear, I’m able to carry almost all of the speed I came in with, surging for the horizon. Joyous doesn’t come close.
We dash through a landscape of deep ravines and towering rock ridges like something from a Wild West movie. As the land gets greener lower down, we pass pens full of grazing goats. Before long we are back beneath the palms, where the same trade winds that delivered the Spanish and Africans to these shores are kind enough to collect on our backs for the final run-in to Maspalomas.
‘My office overlooks the sea,’ wrote Canarian modernist poet Domingo Rivera a century ago. Today, so does mine.
The rider’s ride
Specialized Tarmac SL7 Expert, £7,250, specialized.com
If you were searching for the absolute sweetspot of road bikes – lightweight but aero; sporty but comfy; not crazily expensive but still well-specced – this is the bike you would land on.
The Tarmac is Specialized’s all-rounder, and it manages to do everything well. It’s nippy on the climbs, reactive on the descents, holds its speed on the flats and doesn’t leave you requiring the services of a chiropractor after a long ride. And while the SL7 Expert is a few rungs down from the top-end S-Works Tarmac SL7, it costs £5,750 less and is still impressively specced with an Ultegra Di2 groupset, neatly integrated bars, stem and seatpost from Specialized, and classy Roval C38 wheels that retail at £1,250 on their own.
Some may argue that the Tarmac is too familiar or not exciting enough, but I would respond that that’s exactly what you need when you’re riding in an unfamiliar land.
Roque Nublo
Visit one of Gran Canaria’s standout landmarks
Gran Canaria’s unique geology is the result of both its relative isolation and millions of years of volcanic activity, and while this makes for a spectacular backdrop when taking in the island on two wheels, it’s also an attraction worth exploring in its own right.
The imposing Roque Nublo (left) near Tejeda stands 80m high at an altitude of 1,813m above sea level, making it the third-highest point on the island. An exposed remnant of a huge lava field that once covered the entire area, it is said to be an ancient place of worship for Gran Canaria’s aborigine natives. These days this natural crag is a protected space and a rural park, and offers sprawling views of the island’s dramatic landscape.
It’s not possible to get all the way to Roque Nublo itself by bike, but the official walking route starts from a car park on the main road that you’ll pass 37km into our route (and again at 65km coming the other way), so if your shoes are up to it, the 1.5km walk up is a worthwhile mid-ride side quest.
Alternatively, make a day of it and come here separately without the bike – this area is a hiking hotspot known for its spectacular vistas and abundant flora and fauna.
How we did it
Travel
Cyclist flew direct to Gran Canaria, which is four hours and 20 minutes from London. Gran Canaria is also reachable from airports in Manchester, Birmingham, Bournemouth, Nottingham, Bristol, Belfast, Norwich, Leeds, Cardiff, Edinburgh, Doncaster, Newcastle, Exeter, Glasgow and Aberdeen.
Accommodation
For the first part of our stay we were based at the Gloria Palace San Agustín Thalasso & Hotel (gloriapalaceth.com), just 20 minutes’ drive down the coast from the airport, on the southern part of the island. The hotel has a pool (with poolside bars), generous dining options and an on-site branch of Free Motion Bikecenter, offering rentals and a fully equipped workshop for bike servicing.
For the second part of our trip Cyclist stayed at the Resort Cordial Santa Águeda (becordial.com) on the other side of Maspalomas. Each individual holiday home offers plenty of space, with the rooftop infinity pool providing the perfect place to unwind after a long, hard day in the saddle.
Thanks
Many thanks to Ana and Carmen at Gran Canaria Tri, Bike & Run (grancanariatribikerun.com) for their immaculate organisation of our week. Thanks to Eva for her expert guiding, and for magically producing the sweetest mango I have ever tasted after our ride. Thanks also to the staff at Resort Cordial Santa Águeda for advising us on where we would be able to watch the England match.
• This article originally appeared in issue 140 of Cyclist magazine. Click here to subscribe