Tenerife has several gorges that are a tourist attraction. Barranco del Masca is one of the top ones. It lies in the “butt” of the duck, which the island map strongly resembles, for strict geographers in the northwest of the island.
Barranco del Masca
Descending this canyon is like a journey to the Mesozoic Mountains, and every time a bird screeches, you will wonder if it was a prehistoric lizard. Getting to the village of Masca, 650 metres above sea level, is an experience. For those behind the wheel and those who are “only” being driven. Luckily we had “burp” bags in the car, as I’ve known these people I’m hanging out with for quite some time.
Logistically, we took one car ride to the village, and one car stayed in Los Gigantes. We wanted to avoid going down the gorge and then up and enjoy it. Plus, we had a 2000-meter descent from Teide in our legs, and our knees needed special care.
Masca
The history of the village goes back several centuries. Before the arrival of the Spaniards, only the Guanches, the original inhabitants of the Canary Islands, lived here. After colonisation, the Spaniards started sugar cane and banana plantations. However, the region was often the target of pirate attacks, forcing the inhabitants to retreat to the nearby hills and mountains. This is actually how Masca came into being.
In the 20th century, the village of Masca was wholly isolated from the rest of the island, connected to civilisation only by poor-quality dirt trails. It wasn’t until 1991 that a winding serpentine road was built, and the village suddenly became iconic. But parking space is scarce here. Masca has become unique because of this road, its history, the Los Gigantes cliffs and the gorge, which is probably the most beautiful in Tenerife. A mountainous landscape with traditional stone houses and excellent hiking trails.
Downhill trail Masca
The descent into the gorge starts 400 vertical metres down. The gorge gradually narrows, and a nice path alternates with rock scrambles. The poles we appreciated at the beginning are now hanging on our backpacks. They are tiresome on the climbs.
We go slowly, not because we can’t manage, but because the surroundings don’t want to let us go. A rock and plant theatre is going on around us. Weathered lava rocks, many bird nests in holes, plant endemics everywhere you look. Rock cliffs reach heights of 200 metres.
You can’t peek up and also underfoot, so we were enjoying the slow progress. Such an echo as in some places I have not heard anywhere else.
To the beach
After three hours, the trail levels out, and we don’t drop much more. The gorge widens again until it ends on the beach, which is impossible to escape except by boat. We had our boat departure to Los Gigantes booked for four o’clock.
Still, by three o’clock, the boat called us to hurry up because a storm was coming, and if it hit, they would leave us behind. We moved, but we still got into the boat, jumping like fish in knee-deep water. The boat was shaking; it couldn’t land. We all got a beer each from the boatmen as a reward for the fantastic jumps.
The storm didn’t come in the end, but speaking of weather, don’t venture into Masca after or during the big day. The trip could turn into an adrenaline rush canyoning. And that could be pretty fun without gear.
