Map of the island:
Route to the blog:
About the island
Fuerteventura is the second-largest of the Canary Islands and has a population of around 120,000. Geologically, Fuerteventura is one of the oldest islands in the archipelago, a fact clearly evident in its heavily eroded mountains. Unlike its younger neighbors, there are hardly any active volcanic features here; instead, there is an abundance of open landscape and a sense of vastness. Especially in the island’s interior, you often feel as though you’re traveling somewhere between Africa and the Atlantic.
Luckily, you can reach Fuerteventura by ferry directly from Gran Canaria without having to transfer in Tenerife first. For a moment, we wonder if we made the right decision to head to the town of Morro Jable in the southeast of Fuerteventura, since most people travel the route in the opposite direction due to the prevailing northeast trade winds. But the storm system Therese seems to be on our side, and we should have strong tailwinds from the southwest for at least four days. Let’s see how long this anticipation lasts 😅.
So, after about two hours, we chug into the harbor at Morro Jable. Even from a distance, it’s clear that this island is finally a bit flatter. We love the mountains, no question—but a day of biking without 1,000 meters of elevation gain sounds pretty good, too.
We drive along beautiful white-sand beaches, which stand in stark contrast to the often black beaches of the other Canary Islands. The reason for this lies in their formation: While many islands, such as Tenerife or La Palma, are volcanically younger and have dark lava sand, the sand on Fuerteventura consists largely of ground-up shells and coral. Some of it is even carried over by the wind from the nearby Sahara. This creates these light-colored, almost Caribbean-like beaches.
We stop for a swim at Playa de Jandía and then continue mostly along the coast. Captivated by a stunning sand dune at Playa del Salmo, we pull over to admire the vibrant colors 😍. Just behind it lies the tranquil lagoon of Playa de la Barca in Sotavento, which fills with water at high tide, creating a surface as smooth as glass. Here, miles of shimmering sandy beaches stretch out—a true paradise for kitesurfers.
Since the wind is still blowing relentlessly, we set off with sand-filled shoes in search of a campsite sheltered from the wind. We find what we’re looking for right in the next ravine.
As we push our fully loaded bikes up the gorge the next day, we realize just how well we were sheltered from Storm Therese. The wind is literally pushing us along, mostly from behind, which is a blessing. Since we’re riding through nearly deserted streets and sleepy villages, we can often even enjoy it—and we’re making good progress.
We always say, “Better no wind than a headwind,” because strong winds—no matter which direction they come from—are simply exhausting and wear you out quickly. You just never really get a break. Since the forecast for the next few days calls for gusts of up to 100 km/h, we’re starting to wonder whether it makes sense to go cycling in these conditions.
Anyway, for now we’re going to take a coffee break in a spot sheltered from the wind—or so we think—and set off in search of it. A short time later, in the little village of La Lajita, we find a children’s playground with several wind-sheltered benches in the shade. Since the playground is quite large and there isn’t a single child playing, we settle in on a bench and have a light snack first.
Shortly afterward, a little boy comes onto the playground and starts running around. His father sits down on a bench about ten meters away from us and stares disinterestedly at his smartphone. The boy seems bored, and since his father doesn’t seem to care, he starts insulting us (in German). At first, we ignore him. But when he starts throwing acorn-like stones at us, we tell him more than once that you shouldn’t do that and that he should go back to his parents.
Shortly after, his mother comes running over and tries to tell him the same thing—but now the boy is throwing things at his mother too 🙈. At least he’s not throwing them at us anymore, so we take out our stove and start making coffee. Just as Beni is about to pour the water into the pan, the mother rushes frantically toward us and yells at us: “You can’t be serious—you want to start a fire here on the playground? I’m calling the police, you’re out of your minds!” (That’s just a shortened version of her verbal outburst.)
Beni responds calmly: “You can talk to us normally. We’re not starting a fire; we’re just making coffee with a harmless little stove—it only has a tiny flame.” But she’s already lost her temper. Before we can even say that we’d be happy to go somewhere else, she keeps yelling and grabs our stove as if she wants to throw it away.
Beni grabs her hand to stop her from doing that. She snatches the stove with her other hand, flings it high into the air, and starts screaming hysterically, as if I’d hit her 🫣😳! Her husband looks up from his smartphone for the first time in over half an hour and grabs Beni by the throat.
I’ve never in my entire life been this close to punching someone in the face—but it all happens so fast that I don’t even really grasp what’s actually going on here 😂. In the end, we manage to calm the situation down without any physical violence, and her husband walks away, sits back down on the bench, and keeps looking at his phone as if nothing had happened 😳. She, on the other hand, keeps screaming that she’s going to call the police because I hit her and we were trying to start a fire on the playground 😂.
This is all getting too much for us. We pack up our things (luckily, the stove is only slightly bent—you can’t just get a replacement for one of those in the Canary Islands) and make a quick getaway. A few streets down, we sit down with shaky hands and our hearts racing, and we have to take a deep breath first.
All of this happened in a matter of seconds, and we don’t even know exactly why. We couldn’t really talk to her. We just feel so sorry for the child—no wonder she insulted us and threw “stones” at us. She’s probably growing up in a violent home environment.
We sit there speechless, finally making our coffee on our “dangerous campfire stove” 😂. It’s pretty wild: You’re on a big adventure—and instead of getting mugged or kidnapped somewhere in a seedy part of town, you get attacked by German tourists at a playground 😅.
After a moment like that, you go about your day with greater awareness, because you never know when life might suddenly come to an end—sometimes all it takes is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We try to enjoy the barren landscape as much as possible, despite the annoying wind. It’s completely different from the other islands, which makes it feel exciting.
Along with the wind, we’re increasingly encountering bouts of rain that are really testing our motivation. We’ve been searching for a while now for a campsite that’s sheltered from the wind—and, if possible, the rain. Late in the evening, we finally find an abandoned ruin that at least offers some protection from the extreme wind.
The forecast is taking a turn for the worse again over the next few days, and all the media (as you’ve probably noticed) are already reporting on various floods and storm damage. One warning follows another, and we decide to discuss the situation at a lodging. It’s too dangerous to ride on busy roads in these gusts. With our bags, we present a huge target for the wind, and unfortunately, most drivers don’t realize that it’s not easy for us to stay in our lane.
After a calm night at our lodging, we decide to leave the Canary Islands early and book the ferry from Puerto del Rosario back to the Spanish mainland, to Cádiz. We would have liked to explore Lanzarote, but the weather has thrown a wrench in our plans. The ferry trip is expected to take about 38 hours and was originally supposed to include a stopover in Lanzarote.
As we wait at the ferry terminal in the evening for the ferry to arrive, it is already two hours late. However, we learn that due to the severe weather conditions, it cannot dock at Lanzarote and is instead heading directly to Cádiz—which makes up for some of the lost time.
The ferry ride itself is actually quite pleasant. The waves are surprisingly calm as we leave the Canary Islands, and since the trip takes two nights and we’re even able to get a little sleep, the time flies by surprisingly fast. Anyone who remembers the blog post about the trip there knows that we didn’t have much luck with the kids’ play area back then 😂 – so this time we don’t even try to sleep there, but simply lay our mattresses between the seats.
On this crossing, too, we’ve had wonderful conversations with fascinating people. Some tell us half their life story and share tales of misfortune, while others are traveling with three small children and, just like us, are sleeping somewhere between the seats.
After more than 14 weeks, many adventures, and 6 breathtaking islands, it’s time for a brief recap:
- Very diverse; depending on the island, there can be up to five vegetation zones
- On most islands, you can always find sunshine somewhere—if it’s raining in the east, it’s sunny in the west
- During peak season, it’s very difficult to book accommodations on short notice, since the good, affordable apartments are already booked months in advance—luckily, we had our tent with us
- On most islands, you have to keep climbing all the way to the top to reach another valley, so the elevation gain really adds up 😅
- All those ferry rides really add up; on average, the two of us paid 100 CHF per crossing (bikes are free)
- The weather can be quite challenging if you want to explore all regions, including the mountains—temperatures range from around freezing to 30 degrees (during Calima), and your tent should be storm-proof due to the often strong winds, even at night
For even more insight into our everyday cycling life, check out our latest video: