Well another Saturday afternoon and there I was bobbing up and down on the deck of a Colombian training ship in Santa Cruz. That wasn’t part of the original plan but what’s the odd diversion or two when your having fun. I was up in Santa Cruz to cover the Sal2 promotional day for Tenerife Magazine, loads of shops throwing open their doors with special offers, live music, and lots of food offers.

I was sat in Plaza Candelaria listening to a few bands warming up and noticed in the paper that the Colombian triple mast training ship Gloria was in port, so I had to have some of that. Looking out from the top of the Fred Olsen ferry terminal I could see the masts over by the quayside where the cruise liners tie up, and not knowing whether I could get up close I tried my luck and headed for the port gate, normally manned by a jobsworth security guard. Getting nearer it became clear that people were streaming back with posters and other goodies tucked under their arms – goodie it was open house.

Let’s get technical, Gloria was built in Bilbao, Spain in 1968 and the crew of 160 included 77 cadettes literally learning the ropes.Striding up the gang plank I was welcomed aboard by the white uniformed crew and made very welcome, the decks were split level and loaded up with brasses, tightly coiled circles of rope, and lots of freshly scrubbed floor boards. The tallest mast is 40 metres and even without the sails rigged they looked damm impressive and a little scarey to me. The information room below deck had loads of hand outs and a detailed glossy colour booklet with all the facts about the proud ship. The current voyage was of over 5 months, 10 countries and 14 ports including Waterford in Ireland, and Greenock and Lerwick in Scotland. next stop was Martinique, I was tempted to stow  away but remembered how queasy the boating lake in Oxford uded to make my feel.

Leaving the ship I decided to walk away from the flow and Santa Cruz centre to see what the grey battle ship was just around the corner. It was quite a surprise to see the name Black Rover written on the stern end and London underneath. Moving round to the gang plank I shouted up and a British crew member answered and came down to chat. Turns out the Black  Rover A 273 is part of the British Royal Fleet Auxiliary and spends its missions servicing and supplying naval ships often in very rough conditions. In Santa Cruz for a week, the Swan Hunter built in Wallsend, Newcastle 40 years ago had come in from the Falklands and was heading back to home base in Portland, Dorset.

I didn’t go aboard but was invited back to get permission from the duty officer, sadly I will be away during their stay in Tenerife. Most of the 70 crew were off on shore leave but I extended an invitation to join the Armada Sur pre game the next day, apparently most of the crew are football mad scousers. With duty calling me back to Sal2 i headed back into the city but hope to nose around a few more ships whenever they pass this way.

Why am I so dippy and confused, is it because I is blonde, or because my brain lives in a wibbly wobbly world of its own? Maybe both of those apply but Tenerife must take a share of the blame for confusing and teasing my little pea brain. For example it’s Saturday morning, I’m waiting for around 100 hairy bikers to descend on Los Cristianos and looking forward to a beach front rock concert later on with local Canarian bands playing grunge and heavy metal. How do I pass the time? with a quick snack at Via Vai my daily Canarian haunt at the old beach, and do my ears deceive me, their stereo is belting out Visage followed by Toyah. This onslaught of New Romantic nostalgia is just another reason why I’m a gibbering idiot.

Oh dear does that sound like I’m complaining, I hope not because I love the unexpected and conflicting signals that living on this rock confronts me with every day. Having scoffed and moved on, I found the bikers had arrived in force at the area just before the tunnel linking the old beach area to Las Vistas. The usual lack of Tenerife publicity meant I had only found out about the bikers rally an hour before but the stage at Plaza del Pescadora boasted the insignia of the two biker groups organising the rally and later concert. Take a bow Lobos de Asfalto (wolves of the road) and Satanases del Sur (devils of the south) they certainly brought a good gathering to town.

Are you quaking in your slippers at the thought of big sturdy bikers at a holiday resort? well don’t, The many biker groups in Tenerife are a friendly lot dedicated to their machines and driving off into the fantastic mountain scenery and open roads. Passers by admired the gleaming chrome and metal and the range of Harleys, Hondas, and more, all lovingly cared for. The organisers had set up base at Plaza del Pescadora near the stage for later musical treats, two huge paellas and a dustbin full of ice and beer kept the crew going.

It was all very relaxed and even the statue of the fisherwoman joined in the fun acting as a makeshift hat stand for crash helmets. I could hardly tear myself away from the action but after a sea swim and the hot sultry weather I needed to pop home for food, a cold shower and to download my camera before returning for the rock concert. As Saturdays go it sure beats watching over ambitious chefs and TV football pundits on the box.

Who needs a reason to go off wandering in Tenerife, sometimes it’s just nice to re-visit some favourite places, there’s always something new to see, and sometimes it’s good to look closer at places I may have taken for granted. With this in mind I arrived in La Laguna, stepping off the tram at La Trinidad a cool breeze blew down the road and the temperature flashed up as 24 degrees, quite a drop from the sizzling south.

Wandering through the main pedestrianised streets the number of tourists exploring was well up on normal, I found myself heading for the Torre de la Concepcion, a familiar landmark at the top end of town. It seemed years since I last scaled the tower that dates back to 1697 but noticing the clock about to register 1pm I held back to let the bells ring out, my ears could manage without a close up accoustic blast. It’s a bargain one euro to climb the five flights of tight twisting stairs to the bell gallery, there is another level higher but its sealed off, the masonry looks a bit crumbly these days. The breeze was even fresher in the tower as it blew in between the old stone balconies but the views were rewarding, out to the mountains inland, across to the north airport without its cloak of low cloud for once, and out into town over the bustling streets and changing skyline of the Bishops Palace pushing on with its restoration since the big fire. Back down at the entrance lobby a large sign advised “No Ringing Bells Or Throwing Rubbish from The Tower” you would think people didn’t need telling! The tower is open daily, except Mondays, from 9am to 5pm.

Back in town I stopped for a coffee and a drink and watched the world scurry by, La Laguna centre is a lovely historic collection of buildings showing off the best in canarian architecture. Even the Tourist Information Centre is inside the Casa de Los Capitanes Generales with its ornate fountain and plaza overlooked by old timber balconies. as I headed back to Santa Cruz on the tram (just 1.05 euros) I passed the modern campus of the University, developed with sensitivity and style to fit in with its older surroundings.

Plaza Weyler was my chosen destination coming into Santa Cruz, I still can’t work out where the lady sits on the tram strumming a chord on her harp as she announces each stop. Wow the heat hit me like a wave, 33 degrees in the capital but the plants and flowers in the plaza looked wonderfullywatered and well tended as always. My green fingers were twitiching and my feet led me off the short distance to Parque Garcia Sanabria the secret garden of Santa Cruz. The park gets regular criticism in the media for neglect, true the fountains were off and some parts look a bit worn but a works department van was parked in the main artery and a couple of men were trimming the grass. Not a massive area the park is packed with surprises, leafy walkways lead to strange sculptures, small plazas with historical murals on sturdy benches, and wonderous plants and flowers.

At the front entrance the flower clock is a real beauty and the kiddies train a little gem that sadly I’m too big for. The cafe and its large terrace is a perfect place to take a rest and it was here I discovered a poster and listings for free family film shows on week nights at 9.30 pm through the summer to 2 September. I hope it gets the support it deserves, what a wonderful way for a family to round off a summers day, they even have a burger and drink for 3 euros offer. Heading down into the centre of Santa Cruz I passed the large metallic sculpture in Plaza Patriotismo and for the first time realised the metal shapes were fish, that made me smile, another find and further proof that even familiar Tenerife places are worth a closer scrutiny.

A quick glance at the port and the ongoing work on Via Litoral before I strolled back to the bus station, lucky me the 110 Titsa express to Los Cristianos pulled in and for the second time in a day I made the trip in just under an hour and for a mere 5.10 euros on my bono ticket.

Did you ever try to make a kite from brown paper and sticks or try one of those brittle Texaco Flyers that petrol stations were knocking out? Things have soared to another level now and kiteboarding is a top sport combining kites and small surf boards that allow riders to defy gravity, just add wind for action.

Sadly on Tuesday morning the start of the PKRA Masters and Spanish Championship in El Medano was delayed to mid afternoon as the wind was wheezing like a long term smoker. I pitched up and the wind perked up, a familiar tale, it was still hardly wild but I got some pics and interviews for Tenerife Magazine. The numbers were down on those originally announced, for 150 try 20 riders, but it was good fun and I managed not to get tied up in the kite strings.

Roll on to Thursday and I was back for another look, this time the wind was growling, down at the beach it was like being sand blasted by Mother Nature. Nice to see some of the female riders, Spains Cristina Resinas and Angela Peral definately added some glamour to proceedings. The Reina beer promotion girls also put the wind in my sails and with a beer stall on hand it was a great way to spend an afternoon. At one point I adjourned to the nearby cafe El Mosquito for a cold drink and repite from the wind, there were beer crates stacked in the gents, sadly empties otherwise I might have settled in for a few hours. I splashed some water on my face as it was caked in sand and dust but I didn’t check the mirror, it was only later I realised I had only made slight inroads into natures face pack and now had a bizarre streaky look.

Back on the beach the riders were packing away for the day, it finishes on Saturday, there was much tugging on strings and fighting to save the advertsing hoardings as several keen riders popped a few more tricks out on the water. I sunk into a sweet creamy pancake at La Boheme and then hung around at the main beach for the Moda Al Aire fashion show, the catwalk had been set up on the edge of the busy beach and a crowd was gathering. Bang on time at 6pm the speakers burst into life with some snappy dance tunes as three young ladies took to the stage and gyrated their bodies. They only seemed to have 3 songs that kept repeating, one seemed to be called I Like Dance but the more I listened the more it became I Like Darts maybe its a new clubbing trend. A couple of local girls were up and boogieing in front of the stage and to everyones amusement they were joined by a local drunk nutter busting some moves. The unexpected dance star used the dad at a wedding technique and only just avoided falling over the sound system lead, full marks though for artistic interpretation.

After 40 minutes of the music and dance the 20 young local models were still waiting in the wings and I had to scoot to get the 483 quick Titsa back to Los Cristianos. The fashion shows are on for 3 evenings and should help to boost trade at the shops supplying the clothes. From the dancing and music that I witnessed I can definately say it’s much better than Punch and Judy.

It was like being slapped in the face with a wet fish, in the nicest possible way,  jumping off the Titsa bus on the Garachico coast road a cool salty breeze laced with foam from the crashing waves was just the cooling greeting I was seeking. The south of Tenerife was in the grip of a calima with humidity pumping the temperatures into the mid thirties so an escape to the north seemed a great idea.

An early start saw me in Icod de los Vinos for 11 am after a 90 minute ride on the 460 Titsa bus for just 3.65 euros on my Bono ticket. The route always pleases my senses, up through the lovely villages of Santiago del Teide and around the tight roads that cling to the mountains with a sheer drop below. I have owed Garachico a proper visit for years, brief stops on the way through just left me hungry for the full feast, since my last pass through a year ago little seemed to have changed with the new marina but a leaflet picked up later assured me it would be open for January 2012. the 33 million euro project started in 2008 and should give a big boost to local fishermen and the sporty boating brigade.

The rock is the big star of Garachico, a volcanic deposit spat into the sea when a huge eruption of lava engulfed much of the town in 1706, it had played peek a boo with me as my bus travelled along the high road into Icod but close up it was a powerful reminder of a turbulent past and a defiant marker for the future. Climbing the stone steps up to the Ex Convento de Santa Domingo de Guzman I found a shady green plaza in front of the old building. Built in 1601 it’s now a geriatric hospital, exhibition hall, and auditorium as well as a neat spot to survey the sea. A small fountain trickled sedately and lizards scuttled across from plant to plant, one patient at the hospital snoozed in the shade, I was tempted to join him but pushed onwards back down on the Paseo Maritima.

The waves were lively but not threatening but there were plenty of signs of their full power, an old water mill Los Molinos is preserved for visitors, the last remaining one after others were pummelled by the sea, even the football ground had large breaker like protection just a roads crossing from the sea. Nature does balance things up, the El Caleton rock pools are a wonderful collection of channels and fissures in the rocks, free for sun seeking bathers to enjoy. Health and safety in the UK would have them sealed off but in Garachico there are not even any life guards, just a colour coded safety flag plus stone steps and metal stairs into the churning water and then it’s down to your own common sense. There is also a more formal man made pool but the natural way looked much more fun.

Turning away from the sea and up a side street I was rewarded with the Plaza de la Libertad and what a rich treasure that turned out to be. The Iglesia De Nuestra Senora De Los Angeles and the Ayuntamiento building were impressive but shelling out a paltry euro I entered the Ex Convento De San Francisco which dates back to 1524 (that’s nearly half past three). The concentric cobbled corridors were lined with cabinets full of rare shells and fossils, exhibition halls led off displaying various art works, and the courtyards just brimmed with beauty. Up on the first floor the exhibition Canarias – Volcanes En El Oceano was continuing its educational tour and although closed for the afternoon the library offered another service to well served locals.

Heading back out to the sea front I ventured another euro to make the short walk onto the tower roof of the Castillo San Miguel. This had survived fire and lava since its birth in 1575 and the rusty canon and anchors just below stood testament to its valiant efforts to repel pirates. Nature had of course proved to be a more formidable opponent and even now the slopes of the cliffs show the path of two of the main lava flows, there were seven seperate prongs of the volcanic activity. Grabbing a cold drink left my in perfect time to catch the 363 hourly bus back to Icod, just one euro and ten minutes and I was back in a rather deserted home of the drago tree. Retracing my bus trip back south I broke the journey in Tejina for a few cool drinks with friends before pitching up in Los Cristianos for a few late Doradas at a party packed Merry Monk, well it was still very humid in the south.

What a good way to start the weekend, hanging around the docks with sailors and hairy bikers, ooh do you know I think that could be taken the wrong way by some mucky minds. This was all in the line of work, leaping out of bed early I caught the Titsa bus to Santa Cruz and was sat outside a cafe with a coffee and a salami and cheese bocadillo by 9 am. Tenerife’s capital city slowly kicks into action on a Saturday morning, most shops hadn’t opened yet and it was quiet as I walked through to the ferry port. The ongoing work to the Via Litoral meant a slight detour and has also seen the monument to Nelson taken into storage for a while, but more of the Admiral later.

Following a lone Vespa round to the Armas ferry quayside I found a swarm of them all gearing up for their Vespasion tour of north Tenerife and awaiting more scooters from Gran Canaria.  I’d had a small preview when Vespas helped set the tone for the Peroni calendar shoot a week ago and had followed up the local enthusiasts on their website. But what was this, a large group of bikers was set up a few yards away and more Harleys, Hondas and Suzukis were sweeping into the parking area. Thankfully I wasn’t in the middle of a turf war, just great minds thinking alike, the biker fans were also having a north Tenerife rally and two day tour. I’ve never had a moped, scooter or chopper, speedway was the closest I came to engine envy, but caught in this Quadrophenia meets Born To Be Wild scenario I was very impressed with these classic motors. The ferry arrived late and more merry motorcyclists poured down the gangplank boosting the gathering to around 200 with a 50 50 split of scooters and bikers. There’s a full report and photos galore at www.tenerifemagazine.com.

I felt a stirring and a call to arms, this was no ordinary weekend but the anniversary of Nelsons thwarted invasion of Tenerife in 1797 and a small scale march was set for the city centre soon after noon so I had to head inland. The actual anniversary day is 25 July and the local historical group for La Gesta had planned events for Saturday to Monday but budgets and cultural funding have been slashed so it all came down to a few good men, a replica canon and some dry ships biscuits.

Taking a drink and a catch up of the local papers in Plaza del Candelaria there was a small demo being made against cruelty to animals with some owners accompanied by their dogs on leads. An advance trooper from the Nelson march was handing out leaflets and fending off sniffing pooches, the protesters were in no hurry to move on, could have made an interesting mix as a naughty dog widdled on the gunpowder and changed the course of history. Refreshed I cut through to Plaza del Principe where the small group of soldiers were posing with rifles and the 2006 built replica canon on wheels. I recognised some of the players from previous years. Nelson wasn’t there himself, he was an early injury having his arm shattered after just stepping foot on Tenerife soil. Shoppers and strollers tagged along as the group marched down towards Plaza de España, there seemed to be quite a bit of artisitic licence at play with the main characters, one figure looked more like Mussolini.

A steady drum beat and a police escort later the soldiers were stood to attention at the edge of the Plaza de España lake with the canon facing out to sea – were they going to shell Las Palmas? There was an agonizing wait when it seemed that the canon might not fire but fair play when it blew it had quite a punch and scattered pigeons to the four winds. That was about it for the re-enactment, no sea invasion with musket fire and full battle like last year and no marking the main points of the story arouns the city. I couldn’t help thinking that although it’s great to see history preserved, maybe it might be better to make this a sporadic affair, maybe every two years to justify a decent budget.

The memory of the battle will never be forgotten, the Tiger canon is on display down below Plaza de España among the remains of the city wall. If you want a very modern tribute to this part of history check out a new locally developed computer video game that features a young Canarian boy and his dog Tigre slipping back in time to take part in the battle.

Vespa scooters lined the entrance to La Noria but unsurprisingly on a hot Tenerife night there was not a parka coat in sight, just stylish male and slinky female models. The La Noria district of Santa Cruz is a magnet for the well dressed, trendy, and sophisticated but they forgot to put the fashion police on standby and I sneaked in. It was time for the Peroni beer calendar shoot, I had only just calmed down from last years and this year there were plenty of bottles of the Italian beverage floating around to further encourage me.

Why would they dress Santa Cruz up as Italy? Well that connection comes through Dorada and their parent company Compania Cervecera Canarias who distribute Peroni in the Canary Islands. The end of La Noria just below the main road bridge has eight very popular restaurants with large seating areas outside, through the middle of these the walkway had been covered with a red carpet that acted as a sort of catwalk for the diners to salivate over after they had finished their food. This year the female models were joined by a few males to play out some romantic scenes, an extra bonus was a bevy of Peroni promotion girls in figure hugging black dresses.

The first shoot took place out of most guests sight, down a small alley, I managed to elbow my way among the photographers watching the official snapper Alfonso Bravo direct his couple into the perfect smoochey late night stroll home. Last year it was all shush as the official photos were taken but this time a small band strummed away on a nearby stage and the sound of happy chatter hung in the air. I shoe horned my way in among the media pack at the alley entrance and enjoyed the show, another couple cuddling in the shadows just behind the main stars added another layer of late night passion.

Taking to the red carpet the whole group headed to the far end of La Noria and enjoyed a few cold bottles while posing for some relaxed shots. There was nearly a PR incident as a van of promotional girls for a forthcoming southern music festival tried to crash the gig, after a short stand off they went on their way, I’m not sure if horses heads and beds were mentioned. That left the way clear for a large group shot of the models emerging from under the archway as a relaxed jolly gang out on the town laughing and swigging a few Peroni’s. There is a narrow cobbled street through La Noria and every now and then a stray cyclist would disturb the shooting by threading their way past the models but they took it all in their stride.

Luckily for me the models didn’t open most of the bottles preferring to use them for props in the shots and then leaving them on steps and shelfs, being public spirited I couldn’t just let them litter the place up so I drained them purely in the interests of quality control. Most of the diners had finished eating by now, as the night wears on La Noria becomes more of an up market late drinking venue, I have had a few good late ones there waiting for the sporadic nocturnal Titsa bus es to the south. It will be interesting to see how the calendars look when they emerge later in the year, not that they will be on sale, the 500 copies are for corporate contacts. The public shoot experiment had worked well and the models were very obliging in spreading themselves over the scooters and cars, I headed back down south with a big grin on my face. For more pics and a full report see Tenerife Magazine.

I don’t like straight lines, they bore me, I need extremes, the downs make the ups even higher, supporting CD Tenerife certainly fits in with that outlook. Work is very like that too, sometimes it goes quiet and the stories are thin on the ground but then along comes a busy spell, last week was a little belter. The PWA World Cup of windsurfing had been penciled in my diary for a while and I planned to pop down to El Medano on Tuesday to catch the pre tournament build up, then the day before the PKRA – Professional Kite Riders Association dropped me an invite for a Tuesday morning press conference at Hotel Las Arenas, also in El Medano. The Master Cup, due from 8 to 14 August, had just leapfroged my plans.

The Titsa bus was pushing it for the 11 am gathering but after speed walking along the sea front to the 4 star hotel I arrived hot and sweaty to find they were nowhere near ready. Waiting nearly an hour for the Granadilla mayor to show up I had time to admire the Reina promotion girls and their large bowls ….of bottled beer packed in ice. The meeting was on the sun terrace where sun loungers were rapidly filling up as the sun swung out of the shadows to start grilling them, a small side opening led down onto the Playa de Los Balos where a few were taking an early dip as the JCB’s flattened and expanded the beach. After nearly an hour the mayor sneaked in, took his seat at the top table and with the three other officials rattled through the basics, at least the beer finally got popped open. Before I left I had a sneaky look around the hotel, very nice despite its car park like outer appearance, the large shells set off the smart but empty lobby and the restaurant looked nice as I pressed my nose against the glass.

Heading back to the centre of town I stopped at Playa El Cabezo, home for the windsurfing, the council were still paving the area in front of the mobile bar and up behind large vans were emptying out stacks of windsurf boards in protective covers that looked like body bags. Some surf dudes were relaxing and several more were out on the sea getting some early practice in, the keen locals were out in force in the strong wind and further to the west kiteboarders were strutting their stuff, the overlap was a wild exhilerating sporting venn diagram. A few more photos and a face full of pancake at La Boheme and I was heading back to Los Cristianos, sadly at home a schoolboy error saw me wipe my photos as I went to download them. The surf shots could be replaced and bettered but oh no those nicely posed pics of the Reina girls were also lost.

Back on Thursday for the start of the PWA World Cup and the wind had got even stronger, perfect for the surfers, the paving was finished, the railed off part of the beach was packed with boards and riders in a pits style and in small groups they dragged their boards into the sea and did 12 minutes of gravity defying action each. one of the most impressive aspects was the chilled atmosphere, no security pushing people around and families and even their dogs took vantage points up on a sandy ridge that was doused with a cooling spray evey few waves. I wandered through the pit area to the control hut to scribble down some details and several riders obligingly posed for photos, no one seemed worried that I was picking my way between boards worth around 1,500 euros each.

The action was amazing, fast, daring and acrobatic, flipping those boards and sails to hang upside down in the air for a few seconds must take great stamina. Even as riders defied the laws of gravity there were still local surfers whizzing around, well you can’t seal off part of the Atlantic. I came away with increased admiration for these talented sportsmen and women, not just for their skills but also their modest, friendly and approachable manner. For more photos and in depth report go to www.tenerifemagazine.com In mid afternoon I got an invite  from the media agency handling the Peroni calendar shoot in Santa Cruz the next day – an offer I couldn’t refuse.

Grain by grain, petal by petal, families came together to piece together this years stunning collection of street carpets in the heart of La Orotava. Not even an unusually cloudy and moist day could dampen the enthusiasm of the annual devotion to the Corpus Christi celebrations. The huge central tapestry in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento had already been completed over 55 days with coloured sand and now the streets were being transformed into a blaze of colour like a living jigsaw.

Leaving the scorching south of Los Cristianos early I headed to Puerto de la Cruz on the 343 Titsa bus, I thought it would be packed with other carpet baggers but it was only half full. Reading the paper I saw that flights had been diveted the previous day from Los Rodeos airport in the north of Tenerife and as is so often the case the cloud got lower and thicker as the bus reached it, worse than I have seen for a long time. It was better into Puerto but swapping onto a La Orotava link of 10 minutes it got thicker again and was almost chilly when I got out. There was a good stream of people heading for the heart of the town but I thought there was more tatt and stalls on sale than at my last carpet trip 2 years ago.

Soon I was stood behind two short nuns shuffling up the stairs of the Ayuntamiento (council)  building to get a view from the balconies of the main display in the plaza below. Some one trod on my sore toe during the jockeying for a good position, I uttered one rude word in English, thankfully the nuns were oblivious, I didn’t want to start a religious outrage so early in the day. The tapestries were as awesome as ever and at first glance you would think they were painted rather than made with millions of grains of coloured sand placed over a template. The streams of visitors below looked endless and the sky still looked grey but I could see some people up the tower of the church and made a mental note to try to scale that vantage point myself. Everyone was so enchanted with the plaza carpets they paid little attention to the splendour of the council chambers, glittering chandeliers, expensive looking paintings and religious sculptures all jostled for my interest but they were not the stars today.

Back out on the street I joined the slow march upward along one pavement as other passed back on the other side, all admiring the developing masterpieces on the road between. The main plaza is always completed in advance and the surrounding streets on the big day, many families have been involved for several generations and it was good to see young children learning the craft at their parents sides. Wooden frames are used for guidance but the measuring out and sprinkling of dried petals and sand is a skillful process that is carried out with precision. I tried to be tactful as I took photos and avoided making too many large bottoms semi famous. The streets wound round and down again towards the Church of the Concepcion  so I went inside to marvel at the structure and decoration of the church that was built in 1788.

Just like 2 years ago some young boys were left to guard the locked door up to the tower and were only letting family through, looked like they had a huge family, I offered to marry their sister but they didn’t go for that and I never got my birds eye view. Back outside their was definately fine drizzle in the air but it didn’t make much difference to the celebrations as people began to dance to guitars and drums. The day would stretch on for a lot longer until the evening procession marched all over the hard work and destroyed the carpets, no one minds their achievements have already been recognised. Another tradition is being passed on in safe hands.

On the day Tenerife bursts into flames on the beaches around the coast, the government issued a ban on fires and BBQ’s in the hills due to the heatwave that is roasting the island. Well it has been hot, very hot, at the beach in the afternoon it had slipped to a chilly 31 degrees but even as I headed down to Los Cristianos beaches again at 10.30 pm it was still reading 24 degrees.

Noche de San Juan is our own little bit of mid summer madness and with the weather so hot there was a bumper beach bonanza this year. I met some Armada Sur friends Dave and Annie near the old beach and the promenade was packed with the dedicated and the curious. The statue of San Juan, or Saint John to his close friends, had been carried down a little earlier and was holding court at the Plaza del Pescadora in front of tables serving tapas and a large music system pumping out variations on Canarian dance tunes. Some people carried flowers ready to cast on the sea, just one way to symbolize cleansing the bad and wishing for better in the year ahead.

As we walked through the tunnel to Las Vistas beach we left behind one large bonfire burning brightly on the old beach, already several splinter fires were being set up in the sand as focal points for families and their nocturnal picnics. On the bigger beach the flames of several large fires were licking at the night sky as young revellers streamed down the steps from San Telmo armed with bundles of card for fuel, and of course the inevitable clinking carrier bags of cheap beer and spirits. Not wanting to be left out we stopped at Goodfellas bar, nicely positioned at the centre of the promenade with good views of the teaming mass of half dressed bodies dancing on the beach.

Taking a few cool Doradas we were joined by another Armada Sur couple Ian and Janette and chatted as we watched the sights go by, many were hopping over the wall onto the sand where some were making close runs through the very edges of the flames. On the beach some larger parties had set up stashes of booze and were clearly in for the duration, others were dancing to radios or scoffing. With midnight approaching I made my excuses and hit the sand wending my way through the gathered groups to the shore to see people running into the waves, some fully clothed. Normally people make small fires from a few sticks and jump them while making a wish but the cooling sea was the main attraction this year. I was wearing my CD Tenerife shirt and had a few drinks forced down my gullet, honest I didn’t want them.

As I moved along Las Vistas to head to the old beach some massive lean to wood stacks were promising fires of epic proportions later. As I emerged near the Plaza del Pescadora many plump elder ladies were grooving like grannies at a wedding to spiced up Canarian music, i lingerd a while but drew the line when the DJ went all 80′s mainstream and bunged on Jive Bunny – not very traditional. Not wishing to roast my chestnuts on an open fire and rather thirsty from the smoke I headed home via The Merry Monk for a few late, or should that be early nightcaps. After a few quieter years it was good to see the beaches heaving for one of the highlights of the fiesta year