Collecting Moments

Day 1. Orzola - Ermita de las Nieves Distance 18 km, Elevation gain 900 m, Elevation loss 300 m, Camping spot 29°06′23.59″N, 13°31′41.26″W The morning weather forecast warned us of a fierce wind that would soon sweep the island. Gusts up to 70 km/hr. We didn't hesitate. We packed our bags and set off from Orzola around 8:30. The weather was still ideal for hiking, with a cool haze that softened the sun. We walked along the road, marveled by the contrast between the dormant volcanoes and the restless ocean. We soon left the asphalt behind and entered the trails that wound between the elegant wineries and the modest orchards in the black soil. We felt the presence of the mighty Corona volcano and her smaller kin, our silent guardians. The air was arid like in the desert but tinged with salt. We reached Haria and took a short break. We refilled our bottles with tap water in the Centro Cultural and chilled under the shade of the towering trees in the boulevard. (Side note: we brou

We began our Lanzarote adventure in Orzola, a charming village on the island’s northernmost point. When we arrived, its whitewashed houses, kissed by the ocean’s salty spray, sparkled in the fading light. Orzola was once a humble fishing village, but now it attracts visitors who come to board a ferry to the nearby island of Graciosa. Also, the GR131 hiking trail starts here, which was the reason why we decided to stay in Orzola. Despite the windy and gray weather the next day, we woke up early and headed out to chase the sunrise from the eastern shore. We were rewarded with a spectacular sight. The sun emerged from behind the clouds, smiling at us with a warm glow. We saw it as a sign of the successful journey we would embark on in a couple of days. Before we set off on our hike, however, we had to meet our legendary nomad friend Simon and his faithful dog Paddy. Simon had been a globetrotter for most of his life. In the seventies, he hopped on a hippy bus from London to India - and

Our winter adventure started with a night at the Las Palmas de Gran Canaria airport, where we planned to stay after arriving late. We had slept there once before, in March 2019, when we snuggled on the cozy benches of a friendly cafe. This time, however, we faced a different challenge: the airport was supposed to close from midnight to 4 AM, and everyone had to vacate the premises. The information clerk hinted that the security guards might turn a blind eye and let us stay, but we couldn’t be sure. We spotted some homeless people who looked like they had made the airport their nightly shelter. They were not bothered by the closing hours, and seemed to enjoy the meager comfort of the place. We realized luck was on our side, when we heard that a flight to Fuerteventura was canceled due to strong winds. The airport staff was busy dealing with the frustrated passengers, and we were left to find our own spot. Unfortunately, the only seats available were the hard chairs of a closed bistro.

Last night, we had a wonderful microadventure on the beach, just a 25 minute walk away from our home. We pitched our tent on the soft sand, listening to the soothing sound of the waves. We felt like we were traveling, even though we were close to our familiar surroundings. The only downside was a group of noisy drunk youngsters who interrupted our peaceful sleep for a while. But a serene sunset and a radiant sunrise over the ocean compensated for that nuisance. The colors of the sky and the water were breathtaking.

In the quiet hours before dawn, I find solace by the ocean, a refuge from the relentless tide of news. A gentle fog rolls in from the depths, draping the world in a milky shroud. As I step into this ethereal mist, it wraps around me, lending an air of enigma to the waking town. Moments flicker by — ephemeral and fleeting, leaving behind no echo of their passing. Fishing boats glide through the gossamer haze, only to be swallowed by the infinite embrace of the ocean. A solitary figure on a bicycle materializes along the shore, then fades into the misty void. There are no bitter feelings, no lingering memories — only the pure essence of the present, a singular moment in time.

Distance 14 km (gpx) , Elevation gain 340 m, Elevation loss 400 m As dawn broke over Setúbal, a thick fog enveloped the hills of Palmela, hinting at the enchantment that lay ahead. One of us was filled with wonder, imagining the magic that awaited, while the other braced for a day shrouded in moisture. Both expectations were met with equal measure. Upon alighting in Quinta do Anjo, we were greeted by the village’s cobbled streets, covered in a delicate dance of heavy droplets suspended in the air. The path took us to ancient prehistoric graves standing solemnly amidst the mist, exuding an enigmatic aura. These caves, carved around 3500 BC, served as final resting places for over a thousand years, bridging the Stone and Metal ages. They once held precious items — weapons, jewelry, pottery, and idols — offering a glimpse into the lives and beliefs of those who were buried here. Unfortunately, in the 19th century some of the stones were extracted for construction leaving a scar on th

For quite some time, I had lost the spark of adventure and the thirst for exploration. I had grown hesitant and indecisive, even in simple things like venturing out into nature and following hidden paths. But yesterday, something stirred in me. I felt a sudden urge to face the unknown and savor freedom again. It was a short walk in the nearby forest, our first mushroom hunt of the season. We had two young energetic couchsurfers staying with us. When I told them we were going to look for wild mushroom spots, their eyes sparkled. “Finally, we’ll learn how to forage for our food when we camp!” — they exclaimed. There were a few hardly visible trails in the woods that I had noticed before but never got around to tracing them. We waded through thick undergrowth and thorny vines, until we reached a clearing where oily brown caps glistened under the pine needles and grass. Gradually making our way across the dense greenery, we filled the bags with Slippery Jack fungi, a delicious treat.