Between Volcanoes and the Atlantic
For ten days, the road became the thread connecting two islands shaped by the same elements: wind, volcanic earth and the Atlantic Ocean.
Driving through Lanzarote and Fuerteventura often feels like moving across a landscape that has been stripped down to its essentials. There are long stretches where almost nothing interrupts the horizon. Roads cut through black lava fields and ochre hills, disappearing into the distance before reappearing somewhere between a volcano and the sea. At times, the landscape feels closer to another planet than to Europe.
Lanzarote is a land of contrasts. White houses stand alone against dark volcanic soil, palm trees appear unexpectedly in otherwise barren surroundings, and small villages seem to exist quietly between the mountains and the coast. The traces of past eruptions are everywhere, but rather than making the island feel lifeless, they give it a strange sense of permanence. The landscape is raw, but never empty.
Following the coast reveals another side of the island. Natural pools, black beaches and small coves interrupt the volcanic shoreline, while the ocean is almost constantly present — sometimes calm and turquoise, sometimes breaking violently against the cliffs.
Then comes Fuerteventura.
The landscape opens up. Mountains become softer, the colours turn warmer, and the roads seem even longer. Here, the wind feels like part of the scenery itself. It moves across empty plains, follows the coastline and carries sand over roads that seem to lead nowhere.
Travelling by car makes you notice the spaces in between destinations. A solitary house. An empty road. A beach seen from high above. A small bar near the coast. The reflection of a passenger in a car window. Moments that would be easy to overlook become part of the journey.
Perhaps that is what stayed with me most after ten days on the road. Lanzarote and Fuerteventura are not places that demand your attention. Their beauty is quieter than that. It exists in their emptiness, in their muted colours and in the constant tension between land and ocean.
You drive, stop, look around and continue.
And somewhere along the way, the silence of these islands begins to feel less like emptiness and more like freedom.
