Four Go Adventuring to La Graciosa, October 2017 || Journeying

During our first visit to Ile La Graciosa – the 'graceful isle' – three and a half years ago, we fell in love with the place.  This lesser known Canary Island, stole a place in our hearts and we knew that one day we would return.  Wide open, largely uninhabited spaces  Clear turquoise fish-filled seas.  Nothing but warmth from the locals and the weather.  During the October school half-term holiday we made our way back there and I captured our journey back there.

Journeying

The alarm sounds at 1.30 am, three hours after it was set and approximately two hours and thirty minutes from when my body gave in to sleep. The lost half an hour between falling gratefully into bed and actually drifting into unconciousness was given over to nervous anticipation about the adventure ahead – not least, the knowing we would need to wake up one kid and one teen at 2am.

As the tune chiming from my phone increases in intensity I swipe blindly at the screen and search through the darkness for my specs.  Simultaneously groggy and alert, I sit upright to relinquish the fear of drifting back into sleep.  I dress in the clothes I left hanging on the door of the wardrobe a few hours earlier.  

The Husband also drags himself from sleep and we tentatively knock on the door of the Teen’s bedroom and softly speak in the ear of The Six Year Old to rouse each of them from their cosy slumber.  The very idea of needing to do this at such an unfavourable hour had seemed like an act of stupidity in the planning but thankfully, the reality is so much easier than the over-thought fears.  The excitement of starting our adventure is enough to encourage both boys to join us in loading up the car – ensuring that cushions and blankets are aplenty in the back seat.  Our small carry-on cases are laid out in the boot having been measured and weighed and repacked several times to minimise the fear of needing to rearrange their carefully selected contents in front of a crowd of holiday makers at the airport later!

Before we know it we are driving away from the house in the dead of night with the feeling of doing a bunk from reality, along with the inevitable nagging doubt of having forgotton something – I have checked that we have all tickets and four passports at least forty three times in the past 12 hours so at the very least I ought to feel confident that we have those.  A straightforward three hour journey to Stansted passes quickly, with the Teen sleeping for most of the way and a half hour power nap for The Six Year Old.  Me and The Husband pass the time chatting and luxuriously exchanging stories that under everyday living conditions we rarely have the time or inclination to share. Holiday mode is already alive and well as evidenced in our current levels of generosity and gentleness with one another despite our combined lack of sleep.

We arrive to the pre-booked car park and board the mini-bus provided to transport us the remaining 10 minutes of our journey to the airport.  It is still dark.  The child free middle aged couple who we share this part of our journey with are taken aback to discover we have journeyed through the night with two kids.  We are a little envious of the lie-in they enjoyed until 4am.  Nontheless, we are fuelled by their admiration for our early hours exploits, bolstered and proud of our adventuring spirit.

Having checked-in online, our movement through the airport is swift.  The Six Year old is delighted to drag along one of our suitcases and is apparently less concerned than I by his lack of coordination rounding corners and avoiding the ankles of other travellers.  We negotiate security relatively unscathed, surfing the wave of surprise in the face of the officer who views the large clear bag of toiletries, nestled within one of our cases, with suspicion, before eventually declaring this to be acceptable for a family of four – little does he know that this is a mere portion of our total allowance. Who are we to argue? After all, we have invested time and money decanting our preferred products of choice into the overpriced plastic bottles purchased online at a premium price for next day delivery. It matters not to us that we know we can buy alternative products when we arrive at our destination, no, we are insistent that we need miniscule amounts of our favourite items…”just in case”.  As is usually the way, out of the four of us, I am the one to be taken aside for digital scanning which I secretly quite enjoy the drama of and if nothing else, gives me a minute to myself.

Our gate is yet to be called and so we settle in the Departure Lounge in the eatery of a celebrity TV chef who offers something to suit our differing pallets – extortionately priced posh bacon butties and maple syrup drenched waffles.  As we wash down our early morning breakfast with very welcome coffee, The Husband languishes in the knowledge that we have completed our journey and now have spare time to idle away over a leisurely breakfast, he declares it to be 6am we relax and take our mildly anxious eyes off the departure board.

Imagine our surprise when only minutes later, a glance at said departure board reveals it is in fact 6.40am and not only has our gate been revealed but the plane is currently being boarded.  Apparently The Husband had previously been estimating the time.  Hmmm.  I sense that holiday-mode has stepped up a gear. A quick dash to the gate, and then we’re on the plane and motoring along the runway before we are up, up, and away!  We all love flying and because we haven’t been on a plane for a little over three years, excitement levels are high!  No-one sleeps but the following four hours move swiftly on by. 

The preamble to our plane landing on Lanzorote is a beautiful thing.  Our plane approaches the Island from the North, and we are able to see the close proximity of La Graciosa, our eventual destination, lying just off the northern most tip.  Seeing the islands from above, nestled so closely together but anchored in their separateness, is awe inspiring.  As we approach the airport to the south of the larger Island, we circle over the sea, the Teen glances over to me with eyebrows raised as we descend and the wheels touch down on the runway that runs parallel to the deep turquoise ocean. The Six Year Old is giggling with delight.  The Husband reaches across the areoplane isle for my hand and we share a smile.

We gather our baggage and find our way to the airport exit where we meet the taxi driver who will transport up to the Northern Port of Orzola where we shall board the ferry. Four other passengers are to share the mini bus taxi and we are all amused when the driver pops up in the lift and disappears. We make the assumption that we are to move to the lower floor of the airport and are relived to discover the drivers smiling face as the lift doors open.  Once in the mini-bus, we are eager to see where the first drop off point is going to be. I am secretly delighted when the four fellow passengers disembark at a small hotel not far from the airport.  I am happy that we will not be accompanied to La Graciosa, selfishly wanting to keep that experience just for us.  We pass through white washed low-key resorts and towns, the volcanic landscape becoming increasingly baron as we leave the more tourist heavy south. 

The ferry is waiting when we arrive at the Port.  Our purchase of tickets from the nearby kiosk goes smoothly – mainly due to the cashiers excellent English language skills rather than our poor command of Spanish, although I am grateful that The Husband does make a considerable effort which reflects well on us all.  With our bags below deck we board the open air upper deck to take in the sea breeze and the beautiful views. I am a little apprehensive as I recall on our previous holiday here in March 2014 the waters during our crossing of this stretch of water – the strait of El Rio - were very choppy and it was quite the unnerving ride!

Having left England in the middle of a chilly October night we are debrobing as much as is possible whilst remaining publically decent, in a bid to acclimatise to the warm Cannarian air.  With barely a cloud in the sky we have been transported back to what feels like summer which is a little surreal and utterly joyful.  With a much calmer 20 minute water this time around than on our previous visit, we are silenced as we round the tall dramatic cliffs of the looming Famara Massive and La Graciosa comes into view. 

We peer into the distance, resting our gaze upon the low level white washed buildings that make up the one inhabited town on the Island, Caleta de Sebo, housing a population of less than 700, the only other settlement on the Island being the small summer residence Casas de Pedro Barba. As we approach the harbour, we can almost reach out and touch the simplicity of the adventure ahead…all there for the taking....waiting to be savoured and enjoyed.  We have arrived.