After just two hours of hiking, I had already encountered a forest straight out of a fairy tale, complete with ancient laurels, branches dripping with lichen, and trunks covered in velvety moss. I also strolled along paths bordered by lush ferns and arrived at the slopes of black ash caused by a volcanic caldera. The immense amphitheater of El Golfo, whose ominous cliffs loomed over a fertile plain and jagged shoreline pounded by white-tipped turquoise seas, was yet another picture of breathtaking natural beauty that unfolded before me. It was among the wildest and most breathtaking locations I had ever did.
I was on El Hierro, the second-smallest and youngest of the Canary Islands, a heart-shaped rock formation off the west coast of Africa. After millennia of intense underwater volcanic eruptions, the island rose from the Atlantic Ocean approximately 1.2 million years ago, forming a craggy terrain of lush valleys that gave way to evergreen woods, towering cliffs, volcanic cones, and badlands resembling the moon.
What sets this little island apart, though, is that El Hierro has chosen to approach things very differently in a year when protests against mass tourism have raged on other islands and in other parts of Spain.
