The Secret of the Red Earth

Where nature whispers ancient stories in every shade of rust and fire.

We first saw La Gomera from the ferry, rising like a sleeping giant in the Atlantic, its cliffs catching the morning light. It didn’t shout for attention like other islands. It simply was—solid, mysterious, quiet.

The first thing we noticed when we arrived wasn’t the sea or the sky. It was the earth.

Red. Deep, rusty red. It clung to our shoes, stained our fingers, and stood in strong contrast to the green laurel forests above. The soil felt ancient—like it had a memory. It told us, without words, that this island has kept its secrets for a long time.

We drove through winding roads cut into steep ravines, each curve revealing another layer of the island’s character. Sometimes we stopped just to breathe. To let silence settle. To take in the red cliffs that dropped straight into the ocean, the terraces carved by hands long gone, and the silence that felt almost sacred.

Things to Do in La Gomera (if you’re not in a hurry):

1. Walk in Garajonay National Park
   The forest there feels primeval. Mist floats between moss-covered branches. The path is soft and damp. It’s not a place to rush. It invites slow steps and quiet thoughts.
2. Swim in Valle Gran Rey
   One of the more popular spots, but still peaceful. Fishermen still head out in the morning, and in the evening, the sunsets paint the cliffs gold. It’s the kind of place that reminds you to unplug.
3. Eat at a small guachinche
   Nothing fancy. Just homemade almogrote (a spicy cheese spread), bread baked that morning, and the kind of wine that doesn’t come with a label. You won’t remember the name of the place, but you’ll remember the taste.
4. Listen for the Whistles
   La Gomera is home to el silbo gomero, the whistled language. If you’re lucky—or curious—you’ll hear someone demonstrate it. It’s not just a performance; it’s a piece of history that still echoes across the valleys.
5. Drive without a map
   The roads lead somewhere. Or they don’t. That’s part of the charm. You might end up on a cliff edge overlooking Hermigua or in a tiny village with one café and no Wi-Fi. That’s when the island reveals itself.

We left La Gomera a little sunburned, a little dusty, and surprisingly rested. There’s something healing about that island. Maybe it’s the red earth, or the stories buried in it. Or maybe it’s just the way the island stays true to itself.

In a world that’s always rushing forward, La Gomera seems to stand still—and somehow, that feels like exactly what we needed.