An island born of fire

Lanzarote’s vast, shadowy lava fields gave birth to the legend of Pedro Perico—an aboriginal shepherd who fought an enormous, raging goat thought to be possessed by the devil himself. After terrorizing locals and their livestock, the beast was returned to the underworld by Pedro, but not before being dragged into its depths himself. Visitors can imagine the climactic battle taking place while hiking along trails through Timanfaya National Park, where the most powerful volcanic magma surges are now frozen into the “Mountains of Fire.”

The volcanic cauldron that formed the island eons ago still churns beneath its surface. At Timanfaya’s Islote de Hilario, temperatures can reach around 280°F (140°C) less than four inches from the surface, illustrated through a series of geothermal “experiments” performed daily by the National Park’s attendants. Clumps of straw are thrown into pits, where the extreme heat bursts them into flames, elsewhere cold water is poured down tubes dug into the ground, only to be shot back out again in a steamy geyser.

Visitors to the park are welcome to stop off at El Diablo, a striking restaurant designed by late local artist and architect César Manrique. Here, dishes of chicken, pork, and thick beef steaks are tantalizingly seared over subterranean heat, placed and turned across the black maw of a natural oven that reaches temperatures of almost 600°F (300°C).

While the dryness of the landscape is generally unfavorable to agriculture, the same volcanic eruptions that formed this part of the island infused its soil with nutrient-rich ashes. Grapes grow very well here as a result—sheltered from the wind in low-wall-lined craters—meaning travelers can savor wines that carry Lanzarote’s crisp, volcanic minerality, produced by around 20 vineyards.

Grapes are picked from the black ash by local winemakers Maria Morales and Juan Parrilla, whose love for one another is as powerful as the landscape’s seismic past. “The earth was overtaken by fire and the volcano erupting,” says Parrilla. Nibbling a grape from her partner’s fingers, Morales agrees. “That is why it bears such good and beautiful fruit.”

A walk through the town of Teguise is a hark back to colonial times, as one of the first settlements established on the Canary Islands. Its quaint streets are home to buildings of historical and artistic significance, including castles, ancient churches and convents—even a museum, Casa-Museo del Timple, which celebrates the timple, a curious stringed instrument of the Canaries.

Each February or March in Teguise, the diabletes arrive with the clang of handbells, clad in painted colors and devilishly crafted goat masks, sending children shrieking with delight as they chase the youngsters through the streets. The carnival has been held here for several hundred years: An aboriginal demon dance, possibly imported from North Africa, later blended by conquering Spaniards with the Christian notion of horned evil.

Craftsman Carmelo Miguel Cejas Delgado belongs to a group of mask-makers who outfit the diabletes with their frightening visage. Painstakingly formed from papier-mâché and adorned in vivid colors, Delgado takes great pride in the terrified delight his creations provoke. “When the volcano burst, the devil came out of Timanfaya,” he muses on his diabolical contributions. “But we have brought him to the carnival.”

After following the formative lava flows over land, it’s possible to continue the journey down into the bowels of the Earth itself. A “lava tube” cave formed after magma from the erupting Corona Volcano oozed out into the sea, the Cueva de Los Verdes was supposedly used by locals to hide from marauding pirates, and is named after a family of goat herders. Perhaps aptly so, for here one could figuratively take a similar plunge into the abyss, as shepherd Pedro Perico once did, pursuing illusory paths created by water pools into the depths of the underworld.

Every journey has its end, every island its edge. And so Lanzarote drops away to reveal hidden coves, black and white sands, and sheltered beaches. Here, wind and waves draw surfers to ride the break, along with other watersport aficionados, who can then head wearily to a local restaurant, sating their hunger with seafood caught daily by small fishing fleets.

Discover more of Spain's myths and legends here.