La Gomera is one of those hidden gems that walkers, bird watchers and botanists adore while the gritty black sand beaches and vertiginous mountains put off pretty much everyone else.
Having never been to the Canaries I had no idea what to expect. To be honest I thought it was going to be coast to coast beer sodden Brits but my father in law was so determined we would love it he offered to take us out there earlier this year. This was February and after the dark misery of shivery mornings and saucepan lid skies it was hard to believe that only a short plane flight could bring us to sun that not just warmed your back but actually turned shoulders pink.
The island is shaped like a lumpy round potato. It’s not big at 369 square kilometres but because it is so mountainous it does take a while driving from one town to another as you are forever hair pin bending. Thanks to its volcanic origins there are some pretty dramatic ranges and crags, the most famous of which Roque de Aqando you can see here. This is actually the remains of a volcanic plug.
The ranges radiate like horny fingers down from the 1450m high centre of the island to the coast creating plunging gorges – barrancos.