Magic and Memories of Columbus on Gomera

For centuries, the Canary Islands have been shrouded in legend and magic. More than anything, that was what drew me last May to these Spanish islands 80 miles off the western coast of Africa, an area once thought to be at the end of the Earth.

For the Greek historian Herodotus, they were the Gardens of Hesperides--where Atlas held the world on his shoulders and the sleepless dragon Ladon guarded the golden apples of the Greek gods. They were also believed to be the Elysian Fields of Homer’s Iliad, where Greek heroes were taken after dying in battle.

It seems only fitting, then, that from one of the Canary Islands, Gomera, another adventurer--Christopher Columbus--would set sail on a voyage of discovery. On Sept. 6, 1492, after stopping for his final provisions before leaving the Old World, Columbus cast off from Gomera’s largest town, the port of San Sebastian de la Gomera, and set sail for the great unknown. His next landfall would occur just five weeks later, on Oct. 12, when he set foot in the New World.

Gomera is a circular rock of volcanic origin, 20 miles in diameter, that thrusts straight out of the ocean to a height of 4,875 feet. Because its shoreline consists mostly of sheer cliffs hundreds of feet high, it has few beaches or harbors. The jagged, mountainous landscape has made it the only populated island in the Canaries archipelago without an airport, keeping tourist development down and thus preserving many of the Gomeran traditions.

The closest neighbor island, Tenerife, provides the only access ferry to Gomera from Puerto de los Cristianos--about 40 minutes away. Tenerife, which is more of a commercial and tourist center, has two airports into which U.S. travelers can fly direct, with stopovers in Madrid. Most visitors headed to Gomera fly into the newer southern airport, Reina Sofia.

I took an evening ferry and arrived in San Sebastian de la Gomera to begin my weeklong visit. Overnighting at a small hotel near the port, recommended by my cabdriver, I awoke to morning light that was reminiscent of a J.M.W. Turner painting. San Sebastian resembled a white scoop coming out of the mountains into the sea. Waves gently broke on the black volcanic-sand beach. Looking back across the water, I could see El Teide,Tenerife’s most famous--and still active--volcano, surrounded in mist. With an elevation of 12,000 feet, it is Spain’s highest peak. Gomerans like to boast that though Tenerife has El Teide, Gomera enjoys the view.

While I enjoyed a morning cup of coffee at a cafe in the harbor, the waiters told me some Gomeran folklore. They spoke of the famed silbo Gomero (Gomeran whistle language), which is still in use today. They explained that silbo is a kind of whistling language originally developed by the native inhabitants of the Canary Islands--the Guanches--for communication from mountaintop to mountaintop, across the islands’ extremely steep and rugged terrain.

Believed to have been six feet tall, fair-haired and blue-eyed, the Guanches mummified their dead by embalming them in a manner similar to the Egyptians and pre-Columbian Peruvians. Time never seemed to march on for the Guanches. During the European Renaissance, they continued to live as in the Neolithic period.

The waiters also made mention of magic, witches and the “evil eye.” Most amusing, though, were the stories surrounding Columbus’ stops on Gomera.

I visited a house next to the main plaza in San Sebastian that is part of the Columbus lore. Inside, an old woman, for a few pesetas, led me to a patio, pointed to a well in the center and said in Spanish, “It is from here that Columbus took the water he used to christen the New World.” When I asked if I could drink from the same well as Columbus, she said it was not possible; the well had gone sour.

The talkative old woman began to tell stories of Columbus’ romantic affairs with Beatriz de Bobadilla. Beatriz was the widow of the infamous Hernan Peraza, the first count of Gomera, who had been killed by his subjects. Gomerans believe that Columbus would have gotten to America sooner had it not been for his amorous affair with Beatriz, which was said to be at least partly responsible for his desire to linger a while longer in San Sebastian.

Later that afternoon, I rented a car to explore the island’s interior. Beginning the ascent through the sinuous, hair-raising roads, I found that every turn brought a new, breathtaking view. Deep gorges and steep valleys, terraced for cultivation, were reminiscent of the Andes. The arid, subtropical southern landscape of cactus and palms abruptly gave way to pine forests. In the higher altitudes, clouds would frequently engulf the road, obscuring the landscape.

My arrival in Chipude, the highest village in the interior, about 12 miles from San Sebastian, was dramatic. The quick-moving clouds would periodically disperse at ground level, revealing the fort-shaped mountain, La Fortaleza, and some of Chipude’s white buildings. As I stopped beside the road to take photographs of the landmark mountain, the sky began to darken.

The wind picked up. Suddenly, it grew very cold. The late-afternoon sky became awash with color. Red, gray and purple clouds clashed as if in battle. It became painful to stand in a howling wind of such ferocity. Perched on the edge of a precipice, you could feel the fury of nature. The light began to fail. It would have been dangerous to attempt driving on these serpentine roads in the gathering darkness, so I packed my equipment in the car and headed into Chipude in search of a pensione among the whitewashed buildings lining the village streets.

I stopped at the first sign I saw, Bar Sonia, a six-room pensione with clean, Spartan accommodations and terrific views of La Fortaleza for about $10 a night. While having dinner in the pensione bar, I inquired about the silbo Gomero and whether the language could still be heard.

“Hombre, of course we still use it,” said a tall, slender Gomeran with a two-day growth of beard. “It was originally used to call and direct the goats. It is much easier than going up and down the steep gorges all the time. Now we also use it to call our children and friends.”

Because each letter in the alphabet has its own distinct whistle sound, the silbo has been able to adapt over the years to contemporary language. In fact, for some Gomerans, it remains more convenient to communicate by whistle than by telephone.

The tall man’s drinking companion, sporting a black, small-brimmed hat reminiscent of the Blues Brothers and seemingly favored by most Canarian men, encouraged his friend to demonstrate the whistle. The tall one made his way to the door and placed a pair of bent fingers against his cheek and let out a high-pitched shriek of a whistle.

“Again,” said his companion.

In a few minutes, an elderly man, also wearing the ubiquitous black hat, walked in and asked, in response to the whistle: “Are you buying? Because if you are, I would like white wine.”

“I am not, but the stranger is,” the tall man said jokingly, nodding in my direction.

Early the next day, at the suggestion of the bar owner, Elias Garcia, I went to visit a curandera --a Hispanic healer who uses magic and folk medicine to cure various ailments. I was curious to discover more about the intriguing Gomeran traditions.

I found her sitting in the bright sunlight on the porch of her house, which was covered with flowers and sits at the foot of La Fortaleza. An occasional cloud would drift below us, its shadow lazily dancing across the waves, more than 3,000 feet down.

“The moon is the cause of it all,” said the curandera , referring to her particular specialty, skin ailments. “To find the problem, I look for three little ‘eyes’ on a person’s back that look like the stains of the sun’s rays on the sea.”

The woman looked about 80 years old and spoke in a poetic, almost chanting manner common among older Gomerans. “I cure with God,” she said. “I examine the problem, and then suggest something in the way of herb ointment. Afterward, I pray to my saints.”

When I asked her about witches, she became defensive. “Priests have asked me about my devotion to God, but I am a religious woman,” she said, motioning me inside her house.

An entire array of saint statuettes was arranged in some sort of hierarchy. A few sat on the floor in front of an easy chair; others were perched on the arms. The main figure sat on the seat cushion, with a few additional saints placed to the side as assistants. The curandera plunged into an elaborate explanation of each figure. A good time to leave.

I decided to drive about 10 miles up the road from Chipude to Garajonay Park, one of Gomera’s wonders. I was enticed by Gomerans’ tales of an ancient witches’ Sabbath in Laguna Grande, inside the park forest. Primeval not only in appearance but in age, the forest is a relic of the Tertiary Period, more than 2 1/2 million years ago. Sitting at the highest point in Gomera’s center, the park is filled with thick vegetation of laurisiva and ferns.

I saw a phantasmal mist float around the trees. The twisted trunks rustled, creaked and moaned as if suffering from a long-endured agony. Were these the voices of lost souls or the victims of witches? Maybe they were the echoes of ghosts from the legendary Elysian fields. . . .

On another afternoon, I drove from San Sebastian to the other side of the island, to the town of Valle del Gran Rey to enjoy the beach and the seafood. San Sebastian has two beautiful beaches. On the southern shore, Playa de Santiago is a favorite, as is the fine-sand beach Playa del Ingles in the Valle del Gran Rey.

Along the way to Valle del Gran Rey, after negotiating a series of harrowing hairpin curves, I stopped outside the village of Arure to catch my breath. Fighting vertigo, I peered over the edge of the precipice. The view was majestic.

Hundreds of feet below, the road unwound like a narrow ribbon into a town of small white structures surrounded by terraced palm and banana groves. Looking at the residents, so minute from my high vantage point, made me feel as if I was flying. With the late-afternoon light barreling into the valley, it was easy to understand how Valle del Gran Rey (Valley of the Great King) got its name.

In Valle del Gran Rey, I enjoyed a lunch of fried fish and local wine in one of the many rustic outdoor restaurants lining the shore. On the black volcanic sand of the popular tourist beach Playa del Ingles, half-naked Scandinavians were carefully cooking themselves in the hot afternoon sun. As a backdrop, gaily colored fishing vessels swayed in a bay formed by sheer cliffs rising out of the water. From Valle del Gran Rey, visitors can also travel by sea to gaze at Los Organos, a massive high cliff formation resembling a gigantic pipe organ.

When I returned to Chipude that night, the conversation in the Bar Sonia took an interesting turn. Angela, the owner’s wife, said that their 4-year-old child, who was amusing herself by bouncing around on the restaurant bar, had been ill for some time and doctors had failed to cure her of the affliction. Believing that her daughter had the dreaded “evil eye,” Angela took her to a santiguadora , or faith healer.

According to Angela, the evil eye can be caused by a look of envy from someone with the fuerza de ojo --force of the eye. One of the classic symptoms is excessive yawning. Victims are usually children or adults of friendly disposition, even farm animals. Angela said that those who are aware of their fuerza de ojo and use it intentionally are considered witches.

On Gomera, belief in the evil eye is common. Local santiguadoras are still consulted to cure other ailments such as headaches, indigestion, colds, even bites from rabid dogs.

The following morning, I visited Vivita Artega Mendoza, the local santiguadora . She needed little encouragement to demonstrate her mystical methods.

“The evil eye enters me,” the santiguadora said. “I drink a glass of water, pass it and then it leaves me. When I cry and gasp, I know I have been successful.”

Nearly five centuries after Columbus departed to discover new worlds, belief in magic and superstition remain rooted in the Gomeran culture. Some claim that with the arrival of electrical power lines, the witches have lost their power. Nevertheless, in Chipude, the santiguadora’s 20-year-old son, Ramon, is carrying on the tradition.

On my last day, standing on a beach in San Sebastian de Gomera, I thought about my week of exploration of this magical island. I found myself gazing into the sun setting in the western horizon, which for Christopher Columbus held risk and a brave new world.

GUIDEBOOK

Gomera, Canary Islands

Getting there: Iberia flies nonstop from Los Angeles to Madrid three times a week. Through March 31, outside of the Christmas holiday period, the airline is offering a special advance-purchase, round-trip fare of $599. American, United and TWA offer the same deal with stops. Call Iberia at (800) 772-4642. Iberia and Aviaco airlines have daily connections between Madrid and Tenerife, about a 2 1/2-hour flight. If you fly to Madrid on Iberia, a special fare of $80 round trip will allow you to connect on to Tenerife. A Visit Spain Airpass, $299, will take travelers by air anywhere in Spain for 60 days, including the Canary Islands.

It’s a five-minute taxi ride from the Tenerife airport to Puerto de los Cristianos. From there, the ferry departs two to three times daily for an inexpensive 45-minute ride to San Sebastian de la Gomera. For departure times from Tenerife, call 011-34-22-28-78-50.

Where to stay: Hotel Parador Conde de la Gomera is on a hilltop with a spectacular view of the sea and the town of San Sebastian de la Gomera. Rooms cost between $70 and $115. Call in advance for reservations: 011-34-22-87-11-00. Hotel Tecina has rooms for $80 per night. More moderately priced, but also nice, is Hostal Residencia Garajonay. Rooms cost between $22 and $45. Local phone: 87-05-50.

Where to eat: In San Sebastian de la Gomera, restaurant Casa del Mar is known for its fresh fish, while Aramaguez II serves international cuisine. Casa Luiis, Bar Maria and Coromota all specialize in home-cooked local menus. Outside of San Sebastian, there are several good restaurants: Casa Conchita in the small town of Arure, Charco del Conde in Valle del Gran Rey, and the seaside restaurant Casa Ramon on Playa Santiago beach. Dining is generally inexpensive, with dinners as low as $10 per person, ranging up to $50, which will enable you to eat like a king.

For more information: Contact the National Tourist Office of Spain, 8383 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 938, Beverly Hills 90211, (213) 658-7188.