The Interloper on the Ridge - a photo on Flickriver

            “Of course he’s a man!  A woman wouldn’t be that stupid.”

Ali had a point.  Only one of my fellow male members of the species would be crusading down the steep slope at breakneck pace like an Olympic downhill skier.  Whether he was following a path was difficult to tell from our viewpoint on the opposite side of the crater.  It was only as he silhouetted the skyline that my brain woke up and urged me, “that’s a photo opportunity.  Stop gawping like a goldfish on sleeping pills and get your camera out!”  Fortunately the telephoto lens was already mounted on the camera.  There was time to rattle off half a dozen hastily composed action shots before he moved across the frame and was lost among the rocks.

Quite why we were up here was another question that needs answering.  From up on the ridge, we could see the little rented Fiat Panda we’d abandoned at the side of the road, right next to the sea before making the relatively short but relentlessly uphill hike to the top of Montana Roja.  And in all of the thousand feet of uphill, only one level stretch along the collar of perhaps fifty yards had offered a brief respite.  As climbs go, we’ve done much larger ones, but it was windy and the going was tough.  And me being me, the camera pack was on my shoulders, containing all three lenses and the travel tripod.  But uphill slogs always have an end, usually after a false summit or two, and after nearly three quarters of an hour of sweaty endeavour, we sat triumphantly at the edge of the horseshoe shaped crater, gazing down at the world.  Our hire car was a microscopic white dot, a mile or more away from us down the steep slope and across the lava field.  

To the north lay the huge white sea of sand dunes, leading all the way to Corralejo, the island of Lobos and the many peaks of Lanzarote in the hinterland.  To the east lay the sea, with the distant Moroccan coastline somewhere out of sight.  In the west we could see the village of Lajares, where we passed through each day, often stopping for lunch, or to pick up shopping on the way back from the beach.  And beyond the opposite side of the crater to the south lay a backdrop of conical volcanic forms, rising from the landscape and telling the story of how the land here was forged from the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.  It had been worth the effort, and we hunkered down in the shelter of the rocks, away from the persistent wind, basking in warm afternoon sunshine.  Neither of us had been expecting to have the place to ourselves.  But nobody else was around at all - even the path we’d laboured up to arrive here was completely devoid of humanity.  Just us and the cry of a buzzard somewhere nearby.  And a couple of feral goats that scarpered as soon as they saw me wielding the camera in their direction.  Wish they’d stayed put for a few seconds longer.

Until he appeared.  Our mysterious lone interloper across the divide, making his way towards the beacon that marked the true summit of the mountain.  In days gone by I’d have insisted on trekking and clambering the extra half mile each way around the rim of the crater to reach it for myself, but today I was happy to sit here and just take it all in.  It seemed an awful lot of effort just to gain another few feet of altitude.  And if I had done, I’d never have got the shot of our hero careering down the side of the crater, kamikaze style, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’d be relying on my sketchy command of the local dialect on the phone to the emergency services if he took a tumble.  At least the Spanish word for Helicopter isn’t a huge linguistic leap from our own language.  “Montana Roja!  El lado al sur!  Helicoptero por favor!  Rapido!”  That might have delivered the emergency services to the right place.  Either that or I might have inadvertently invited them to an all you can eat goats’ cheese buffet in Puerto del Rosario at 7:30 sharp.

But happily, he made it down.  At least we think he did.  We didn’t watch his every step, but we did see him approaching the bottom before finally we lost track of him.  At least we were no longer responsible for him and could return to doing nothing of consequence as we goggled over the landscape and plotted a rather less adventurous course back to the car.

Taken in: Spain / Canary Islands / Oliva, La / Parque Holandes (show map)

Taken on: February 26, 2024

Tags:

Fuerteventura

montana

Montana Roja

Canary

Canary Islands

canarias

Island

islas canarias

islas

Mountain

mountains

Spain

Espana

España

orange

landscape

landscape photography

telephoto

Canon 100-400 Mk2

person

hiker

walker

Canon

volcano

volcan

volcanic « less

Sets appears in: • Fuerteventura 2024

Groups appears in: • Amateurs • Amateur Landscape more » • Landscapes of the World • Photography Week • MOUNTAIN VISTA • Amateur Photographer Magazine « less

Camera: Canon EOS 5D Mark IV, f/11.0, 1/1250 sec, 220mm, ISO 500 (more info) (hide info)

Camera:	Canon EOS 5D Mark IV
Lens:	EF100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS II USM
Aperture:	f/11.0
Exposure Time:	0.001 sec (1/1250)
Focal Length:	220mm
ISO:	500
Exposure Bias:	-4/3 EV
Flash:	Off, Did not fire
Exposure Program:	Aperture-priority AE
Exposure Mode:	Auto
Metering Mode:	Multi-segment
White Balance:	Auto
Color Space:	Uncalibrated
Software:	Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic 13.2 (Windows)
Show full info

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