6 Te Travel Guide Art of the land


Lanzarote’s volcanoes have inspired locals to make everything from art to wine. Words: Ben Lerwill. Photographs: Anna Huix


Promotional Content • Saturday 12th July 2025


The wine region of La Geria A


t El Diablo Restaurant in Timanfaya National Park, volcanoes take centre stage. Not only through


wraparound windows — where ranks of scorched peaks rampage towards the coast, their iron-red sides streaked yellow with sulphur — but in the kitchen, which barbecues chicken using geothermal heat and serves volcano-shaped chocolate desserts sprinkled with candy. Te park itself is home to the


biggest cluster of volcanoes on the island and the scenery’s widescreen, Martian sense of drama has undeniable appeal. However, as Timanfaya is inundated with visitors and can only be explored aboard a tour bus, I find myself craving the freer rhythms of the rest of the island, the quieter corners that Lanzarote offers in abundance. A half-hour drive north past


undulating volcanic ridgelines is the hamlet of Teseguite: home to the workshop of ceramicist Eguzkine Zerain. Her pieces are as raw and individual as the landscape: all uneven edges and organic shapes. When she invites us in, sunlight pours through the door onto shelves of hand-formed plates and bowls, each one intentionally imperfect. She tells me why she moved here from the Basque region 26 years ago. “Te stones, the rocks, the wind, the space,” she explains, in soft tones. Te front of her green T-shirt is streaked with clay. “Living here, I can’t control the impulse to create.” Not far away, in the similarly serene


village of San Bartolomé, Rufina Santana makes paintings on a grand scale. Her works are vast and colour- splashed, her spirit erupting from the


canvas. “I am like a volcano!” she tells me, a grin playing on her lips. “Te power you find inside the mountain — that’s my character. I feel the island. I feel its generosity. I feel the weather. When I paint, it all just comes out.” Her creative process is aided


by spending an hour swimming in the ocean every morning. Tis seemingly works wonders, given that her paintings now decorate high-end hotels and galleries around Lanzarote. “César Manrique came here once and bought one of my paintings,” she recalls happily, as her Jack Russell, Milo, scampers around the studio. “He was an old man then, but he loved art.” Others make their living from the


land via more practical means. On the east coast, a grid of salt flats laid out in 1895 still produces huge piles of salt, evaporated from a natural seawater lagoon that was formed by a lava eruption. In the north, Europe’s largest organic aloe vera plantation sits among thorny argan trees. And in the La Geria region, in the island’s heart, it’s all about the wine. Nothing quite prepares you for


the sight of a Lanzarote winery. Each vine sits in a separate, funnel-shaped hollow, dug into the dark volcanic ash and ringed on one side by a small stone barrier, to protect the plant from the northerly trade wind. Te sight of hundreds of rocky hollows studding the same hillside, some more than 10ft deep, gives the feel of a ruined Stone Age village. But there’s more to the ash than meets the eye. “It draws moisture from the air


and traps it,” says Ana de León, who runs the Bodega Los Bermejos, one of more than 20 wineries on the island.


Out among the vines, Ana picks up a handful of picón — the gritty volcanic ash that sits above the soil — and lets it fall through her fingers. “Tis is what helps the wine.” Te dominant grape is the white


Malvasía Volcánica, with some vines on Lanzarote dating back more than 200 years. Canarian wine was a favourite back in the Elizabethan era — it’s mentioned in three Shakespeare plays — and still wins devotees. “Only 10% of the island’s wine gets exported these days,” explains Ana. “After all, we have a lot of thirsty locals and visitors.” She pours me a glass of the


bodega’s white, which frosts the glass instantly. Te land that grows Lanzarote’s grapes looks hard and unforgiving, yet the wine itself gives off an almost floral scent. Te taste is vibrant, aromatic and fresh, but there’s something flinty and mineral about it, too. After our pre-emptive sundowner,


Rocío drives us to beautiful Famara Beach in the island’s northwest to watch the sunset. Some of the best-looking beaches in Lanzarote are lined with hotels and shops, but here there’s just a row of campervans, some low dunes and a group of surfers in the ocean swell. Waves crash in from the Atlantic, unhindered, and above a row of dark pyroclastic peaks, the western sky is aflame with a lava-like palette of red and orange. Forged by the heat of the underworld, this island still knows how to put on a show.


First published in the May 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK). Read the feature in full at nationalgeographic.com/travel


Visitors in the cafe at Mirador del Rio


A local in Timanfaya National Park


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