GR131 Canary Islands, Day 6: Sunday, Jan 18, 2026
After we pitched the tent last night, the wind fortunately died down. However, it picked up again during the night and became incredibly powerful. The wind direction had shifted slightly, and I was glad the stakes had a solid grip in the ground. This is actually the strongest wind I’ve ever experienced with this tent. Rain showers came and went throughout the night.
Taking down a tent in wind like this is a real ordeal, though obviously easier than setting it up. You still have to be extremely careful so that no light items get swept away by the gusts.
It was dry while we struck camp, but the next shower hit just as we were struggling to get the wet, somewhat dirty tent back into its stuff sack. Then, we were off.
It rained for the first km (0.6 miles), followed by barely a km of dry weather before the next shower arrived. It continued like that. The heavy wind hit us diagonally from the front, making it truly miserable. This isn’t exactly what you have in mind when you think of the Canary Islands.
After 5–6 km (3.1–3.7 miles), the route turned slightly south, giving us a diagonal tailwind, which was an immediate improvement. The forecast called for near-gale force winds of 12 m/s (approx. 27 mph), and the gusts were naturally even stronger.
We passed through the small village of Tindaya and were surprised by yet another shower just as we were leaving. We turned back to find cover, and as luck would have it, we came across a mini-market that was actually open on a Sunday morning. The baked goods were tempting. We ate some there and packed the cornbread into our bags for later.
After 16 km (10 miles), we reached another small village, Tefia. According to Google, there was supposed to be a small restaurant open there. We found it, but it was disappointingly basic and small. The disappointment grew when the owner told us the power was out. Inger didn’t get the coffee she’d been looking forward to, but to our delight, he was able to serve hamburgers. We sat outside under a roof, as it was too dark inside.
Suddenly, the power came back on; we moved indoors, and the food arrived shortly after. Inger finally got her coffee, and I finished off with a large slice of cheesecake before we pressed on.
After 20 km (12.4 miles), we reached a wind shelter I had scouted as a potential place to stay the night. It was blowing too hard for that to be possible. In fact, we hadn’t seen a single spot where it was feasible to pitch the tent, considering both the topography and the wind. Things weren’t looking promising.
I pulled out my phone to check for any accommodations nearby. I didn’t have much hope, as I knew options were very limited in this area. To my surprise, there was one—and only one—available in Betancuria. The trail actually passes right through this village. It was still a 13 km (8 mile) hike to get there, but Inger wanted a solid roof over her head and was determined to keep going. I calculated that we would arrive just after sunset if we were lucky.
It’s incredible what motivation does for the body. We hiked on with Betancuria in our sights. Even the steep 300-meter (984-foot) climb up to the pass at FV-30 felt like a breeze. It’s all a mental game.
It was still just as windy, but the rain showers became less frequent, and we actually caught a few glimpses of sun.
We arrived at the apartment we booked in Betancuria 25 minutes before sunset. Our bodies were pretty exhausted. We ate some bread, had hot drinks, showered, and went straight to bed.
Today’s totals: 33 km (20.5 miles) and 870 meters (2,854 feet) of elevation gain.
