Corralejo Dunes
Two thousand six hundred hectares of white sand, born of crushed shells and not of the desert, which the wind reshapes every day all the way down to the turquoise sea.
28°24′N · 14°00′W
Golden sand and wild freedom.
Fuerteventura is the oldest of the Canary Islands, the first to rise from the ocean more than twenty million years ago, and wind and time have worn it smooth into ochre plains and softly rounded hills. It is the island of beaches, more than a hundred and fifty of them, from the white dunes of Corralejo to the twelve deserted kilometres of Cofete, with a sea whose blue changes from one bay to the next.
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Two thousand six hundred hectares of white sand, born of crushed shells and not of the desert, which the wind reshapes every day all the way down to the turquoise sea.
An uninhabited islet named after the monk seals that once lived there: the turquoise pools of El Puertito among the black lava and, in the distance, the Martiño lighthouse.
Twelve kilometres of wild beach beneath the Jandía mountains, and an isolated villa steeped in legend.
When the tide goes out, the sea shapes a sheet of clear, very shallow water, creating a new and spectacular choreography of sand every day.
Kilometres of pale sand and a calm sea in the far south, where an old fishing village guards its lighthouse.
Caves open to the sea in the oldest rocks of the Canary Islands, where marine fossils surface alongside the old lime kilns.
An elegant building with a wooden portico, conceived by Manrique at six hundred and seventy metres above sea level, overlooking the ochre desert and the rolling hills of Fuerteventura.
A fishing village on the north-west coast, famous for its white-sand lagoons sheltered by black reefs and for its fiery sunsets.
A volcanic cone that can be climbed, revealing a deep reddish crater, where paths of black sand and lava rock are home to nimble squirrels.
A fortress of red and white stone perched on a two-hundred-metre cliff, at the point of the Canary Islands closest to the African coast.
A rock arch carved by water above a barranco of palm trees, a few steps from the small ermita of the Virgen de la Peña.
A stone astronomical balcony with information panels and telescope stands, ideal for admiring the island’s protected starry skies.
Outline © OpenStreetMap
Choose a month on the timeline.
February, March
Puerto del Rosario and Corralejo fill with masks, costumed troupes and music in the streets.
July
Betancuria, the first capital, honours its patron saint with a procession among the white houses of the valley.
Summer
Every summer the turquoise waters become the world stage of the wind, where the elite of windsurfing, kitesurfing and wingfoiling battle it out with acrobatics and speed.
September
The whole island sets out for Vega de Río Palmas, where the patron saint waits in her church, among the palms of the valley.
October
Tuineje re-enacts the battle of 1740, when the farmers drove back the English corsairs, using their camels as shields.
November
In autumn the sky above the Corralejo dunes lights up with giant kites and floating figures, carried by the strong air currents over the protected sandy coastline.
What fascinates me about Fuerteventura is its wild side, the one no one has ever managed to tame. The endless stretches of white sand that slip into a sea of a thousand shades of turquoise, and a landscape where the wind always has something to say, and where we can lose ourselves among the beaches, with the trade winds as our only witnesses.
Fuerteventura, with me
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