Clothes-free Travel

A Naturist’s Guide to the Canary Islands

A volcanic moonscape between Europe and Africa — sort of!

Imagine a moonscape with unlimited opportunities for naked walks along the sea, and even a naturist village perched on a volcanic cliff.

This article is in response to the Globetrotter’s Monthly Challenge where the editors encourage writers to focus on the terrain. Upon seeing the prompt, I couldn’t help but fixate on the Canary Islands, which are essentially volcanic landmasses protruding out of the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of northern Africa, while somehow, remaining in the governance jurisdiction of Spain. It is most certainly the most unique terrain I’ve ever experienced.

The Canary Islands have long held an important bookmark in the naturist’s guide to world travel. The most northerly island, Lanzarote, even has a naturist village where you can walk the streets in the altogether if you’re so inclined — though you do need to cover up to go into the shops or eating establishments.

I wrote about Charco del Palo a few months back in case you find that intriguing.

My title is something of a misnomer, as this particular story is focused on the terrain of two of the five Canary Islands. I simply can’t think of a single place we’ve visited that is more distinctive in that regard.

I doubt that I’ll get to the moon in this lifetime, but if I did, I’m pretty sure Lanzarote is what that would look and feel like. Huge expanses of volcanic rock punctuated with whitewashed fishing villages near the sea, along with a few mountain towns hidden in the deep crevices down the spine of the landmass.

If you associate island life with infinite forests of palm trees and verdant jungles, you will be vastly disappointed on Lanzarote. [My wife certainly was.] The east side of the island has very few sandy beaches, but instead, jagged lava flows that tumble into the sea.

This is where you’ll find the naturist village of Charco del Palo. There are a couple of sandy beaches on the southern tip of the island, and a stunning naturist-friendly beach called Caleta de Famara, surrounded by breathtaking cliffs, on the west side of the island. But that will require you to drive the fifteen miles or so across the island.

We had also read about a stunning naturist beach on La Graciosa, a small island reached by ferry from Orzola on the northern tip of Lanzarote. Indeed, when we arrived, we were the only ones there so we doffed our clothes and took a snooze in the morning sun.

When we woke up 30 minutes later, we were surrounded by Italians in swimsuits. Hundreds of them! They didn’t seem to mind that we were naked, but it was something like that dream you have about suddenly realizing your forgot to put clothes on before going to school in fourth grade.

I should note that we were there in the middle of August. Rumor has it that the naturism is much better in May, June, and September.

Funny that Anne Bonfert, creator of the writing prompt, mentioned that you might even want to talk about the dust in the air.

We had a lot of that!

There is a phenomenon in the Canary Islands called calima, when high winds over the Sahara Desert essentially pick up a significant portion of said desert and send it by airmail to reign down over these little islands due west of Morocco.

When we first arrived, the skies were brilliantly blue. But by the third day, we could hardly see across the street. It reminded me of the San Francisco fog when you can watch the Golden Gate Bridge disappear before your very eyes.

We were about a week on each Lanzarote and Fuerteventura, transferring by ferry from one island to the other. By the end of the second week, the skies were blue again, but it was pretty bleak for a few days there.

This apparently only happens once or twice a year, if that. Don’t know what that means for a person with respiratory problems, but it certainly made the barren landscape seem even more so.

After our stay in the little naturist village on Lanzarote, the ferry dropped us in the bustling town of Corralejo on the next island to the south, Fuerteventura. We stayed at a naturist hotel there that sat adjacent to an enormous sand dune posing as a beach.

It’s futile to mention the name of the hotel as the place was in pretty bad shape during our stay. Perhaps that’s why they closed a few weeks after our departure, allegedly as a result of a directive from the health department.

We were there for only a few nights before driving to the other end of Fuerteventuera, where where we rented an apartment in a naturist complex near the town of Morro Jable. From there, we could cross the road and have access to one of the most gorgeous beaches I’ve ever seen.

The long, sandy shelf into the sea was a welcome relief after the rocky terrain of Lanzarote, and with a bit of discretion, we could work on our all over tans while walking forever. Perhaps a couple of hours to the north and back again.

There was a bit more vegetation on Fuerteventura, with long rolling hills that stretch to the shores.

While not suitable for naturism, we also fell in love with Mirador Puerto de la Peña, a small fishing village on the west side of the island replete with cave dwellings to explore. In fact, we were so enamored with the place that we wrapped ourselves in Lycra and polyester two times to take in the natural grandeur of the place.

That’s saying quite a lot for us

We concluded our trip with two-day stopover at a naturist hotel on Gran Canaria. This is where we learned that we’re not particularly fond of Gran Canaria.

Maspalomas Beach is world famous for many reasons, including a large sector that is sanctioned especially for naturists. But unless you’re a confident, seasoned naturist, you’re likely to be a bit intimidated by all the clothed people parading up and down the beach. We much preferred the quiet walks along the shores on both Lanzarote and Fuerteventura, and the smaller villages as well.

As an aside, Tenerife is said to have some nice options for naturists, but we have yet to get there.

Still on the bucket list.

Part of the writing challenge for this story was to cite other Globetrotters who offer insights and advice regarding your chosen travel destination. Interestingly to date, only one other author has written about the Canary Islands. Stacey Cass learned to scuba dive at Playa Blanca on the tip of Lanzarote — which I might add, has a lovely naturist section as well.

Since we have first hand experience with calima, and that was brought to us from the Sahara Desert, I thought it might be worth citing Adrienne Beaumont’s story about her visit to Morocco and the Atlas Mountains, all of which border that desert.

You can have your sand back any time, Adrienne!

If you look at the map, you’ll see that the Canary Islands are essentially due south of Gibraltar, and as mentioned before, considered to be part of Spain. But you’ll also notice their proximity to the Sahara Desert, and thus, how close they are to Africa.

The only other islands in that general vicinity that might be similar are the Azores off the coast of Portugal. Kua Lina makes a compelling case for visiting these remote islands, including the fact that while similarly volcanic, they are draped in a carpet of green foliage.

Maybe those are the islands my wife had in mind!

Finally, I thought I’d throw in this piece by Jerry Dwyer where he talks about Kona, Hawaii — then and now. Two visits, 26 years apart, makes for a fascinating narrative.

As it happens, Kona is literally on the opposite side of the planet from the Canary Islands, but with a live volcano, rocky coastlines on one side, and lush jungles on the other, it’s the only place I’ve even been that’s even remotely similar to Lanzarote and Fuerteventura. And if you’re a naturist and have hung on to read this far, you might want to check out this quirky little clothing-optional resort — Hangin’ Loose. We can vouch for the friendly hosts and the joys of living in a yurt.

Naturist of not, you should put the Canary Islands on your bucket list. It’s most certainly still on mine.

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