A diamond-shaped jewel floating out in the Atlantic, far from the African coast, this volcanic wedge of rock has been plundered for its treasure many times through the ages. Of course, now its coves and black sand beaches are more contested by territorial German tourists and their towels than the ruthless pirates and smugglers of yesteryear. Still, La Palma is a place that immediately captures the imagination. Since two-wheeled explorers discovered the Canary Island’s great potential, the hills (read calderas) have been alive with the sound of freewheels.
Numerous guiding companies will gladly haul you up the full 2400 height metres to a trail-head above the clouds (be warned of drastic and ever-changing conditions) to begin some of the most epic descents of your MTB career. From a baron Mars-scape of red rock, wind down onto black lava-fields, enter mist-shrouded forests that spit loam and pine-needles, jump stone walls between prickly pear thickets and banana plantations before cork-screwing steeply down to the gently lapping waves of the sea in time for a calamari dinner.
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