IN THE SHADO W OF GIANTS
No one knows exactly how or when the Canary Islands were first settled, but the indigenous Guanches people existed on them, 60 miles off the southern coast of Morocco, for centuries before the Spanish conquest in the 1400s. The volcanic isles of Tenerife, Fuerteventura, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, La Palma, La Gomera, El Hierro, Alegranza, Isla de Lobos, Montaña Clara and others balance seemingly opposite traits, with some areas overgrown and tropical while others resemble barren deserts. Some assert that this paradoxical land was the inspiration for the Greek poet Homer’s Elysium, where the righteous went to enjoy eternity.
In terms of surf, the Canaries were pioneered by vacationing Englishmen in the late 1960s. The first Canarian locals picked up whatever equipment the travelers left behind, exploring spots like Las Américas on Tenerife and some of the friendlier, sandier waves on other islands. By the late ’70s a small but dedicated culture had emerged, with local surfers discovering countless perfect barrels grinding over ruthless volcanic rock. For much of the ’80s, these treacherous breaks were ridden primarily by an unhinged group of bodyboarders, while hard-charging surfers also explored the big-wave setups off Lanzarote, North Tenerife and beyond.
Over the last few decades, the Canaries have earned a reputation for some of the most aggressive localism on the planet, with pecking orders allegedly as fierce as Pipeline’s and some surfers even heaving sticks and stones from the cliffs on vacationers eager to surf the “Hawaii of the Atlantic.”
If the tales of localism aren’t enough to dissuade traveling surfers, the fickle nature of the waves is sure to seal the deal. Swell and wind forecasts for the islands change wildly from day to day, hour to hour, making even the nimblest strike mission a risky proposition.
In spite of these factors, or perhaps because of them, I decided to investigate these
