Tenerife, past and present

Uncle Jack

I was very fond of my Uncle Jack, mum’s brother. I was fortunate to get to know him very well due to him coming to live with us when we had the cafe and restaurant in Grange-over-Sands. To say he lived with us doesn’t really paint the whole picture. He and his wife had separated and mum and dad offered him a refuge I suppose, and also a job working with us. We only had three bedrooms above the cafe, mum and dad in one, grandma in another, which meant Jack shared a small room with my brother Paul and me, it was cosy, but we did all have separate beds!

I never really called him Uncle Jack, just Jack, because he was like a mate to me. I admired him greatly, he was funny, very supportive of me, and like his sister, the same hard work ethic with no complaints. We worked together for two years in the cafe, as I may have said previously, six days a week in winter, seven days a week in summer and between eight and sixteen hours a day. He was a pleasure to work with and made the long hours more bearable for me. 

I know memory can play tricks on you, but I remember him being tall, and had a skin pigment which would turn him brown at the slightest sight of the sun.

You may be wondering why I’m telling you about him? 

Firstly, because memories of people are all we’re left with, and it’s a pleasure to have had people in your life who have had such a positive impact. 

Secondly, I am now in Puerto de la Cruz on the north coast of Tenerife. The last time I stayed in a hotel here I was sharing a room with Jack, by chance that room faces this hotel. I can’t remember which room we were in, but what I do remember is not recommended these days. 

I think it was probably January 1973, the annual shut down for the cafe. I would be 16 years old. Jack was a sun worshipper, none of that factor 50 malarkey, in fact no suntan cream at all. We used to sit on the balcony and sunbathe until I just couldn’t stand it any more. It was always me who threw the towel in first. As I dived for shade I would just hear Jack shouting “Come on sun, burn me”! Not the done thing these days.

My dear Uncle Jack!

At the end of last month en route to Portsmouth for the ferry, we had a huge family gathering in Sale. The great Auntie Mary was finally laid to rest at 103 years old. The fourth funeral the family has endured in 18 months, and the last of that generation. I’m no cricket aficionado but she had a great innings, now it’s our generation at the crease, we need to hit a few ‘boundaries’ and these are mine.

Back to this trip – if you’re still reading?

4,500 – 6,500 feet, reminded me of riding through The Vale of York in winter with a hangover. I didn’t have a hangover on Wednesday, but 8c and visibility of 100 metres was so similar to that awful journey I’d had.

Arriving on the ferry at Los Cristianos it immediately felt warmer than La Gomera, I was keen to get out of the town and get some air wafting through wherever it would waft, but I knew what was awaiting me. The cloud encircling El Teide like a huge thick halo was clearly visible from La Gomera, and it didn’t improve as I snaked my way up the mountain pass. My target was the cafe of La Paz at Vilaflor, sitting at about 5,000’. A few miles of wet roads and dodgy visibility wasn’t too bad, so after refreshing, I donned my wet weather gear for the remainder of the trip. As sure as eggs is eggs, and as I anticipated, I climbed back to the sun at 6,500’ and stayed in the beautiful weather until my descent on the north side of the island. At this point I couldn’t be bothered to stop and take a photograph of the bike next to the snow along the sides of the road. Just as I was losing both, hope of ever seeing the sun again and feeling in my fingers, there was the lovely blue sea and was that a hint of blue sky?

Puerto de la Cruz is as different from the resorts on the southern and western coasts as its possible to get. It’s old and green, as opposed to old and red like me, my latest change of colour being from writing this in the sun yesterday! 

I like this place, it just has a different feel about it, yes there’s still a significant nod to the tourists, but the rocky coastline, old buildings, greenery and of course the ‘snowy side’ of the mountain make it a more appealing place for me. 

Friday and the north eastern corner

Riding around the twisties of the TF12 in the mountains north of the capital Santa Cruz, I again embarked on that dangerous pastime of thinking. I tend to do this more than is good for me, but it seems to be becoming a ‘nagging’ habit.

I was pondering enjoyment, and without delving too deeply, I pondered why I’m riding a motorcycle and why I’m doing what I’m doing? I questioned whether this is just a ‘stop gap’ until I find what I really enjoy? Just as the grey cells were making some kind of connection, I rode around a corner and found a group of about ten bikes parked up. It was at a good viewpoint so I also pulled in just beyond them. They were all from Gran Canaria on a tour of this island, non could really speak English, but in the few minutes we were together there were group photos, which they insisted on me being in, and exchange of names and numbers. 

As I rode away I thought ‘That’s enjoyment, and that’s why I ride a motorcycle’!