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Before this trip, my knowledge of Lanzarote was very naive. It wasn’t until researching European cycling destinations that I understood the island to be entirely different from my preconceptions of hotel complexes and British holidaymakers. With dramatic volcanic landscapes, unique biodiversity and a rich history of art and architecture, it took me by complete surprise. It isn’t just home to scenic cycling routes, but Atlantic surf swells that have donned it the nickname ‘Europe’s Hawaii’, diverse ecosystems and a deep history of symbiosis with the land. I felt silly; Lanzarote was hidden in plain sight, and the more I explored, the more I found.

The formation of the Canary Islands is a geological history of millions of years, emerging from the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Over time, repeated volcanic eruptions and subsequent cooling solidified the islands into the forms we know today. As the most easterly, Lanzarote sits just eighty miles from neighbouring Morocco whilst it is six hundred miles from mainland Spain. Before the century-long conquest and colonisation of the Canary Islands in the 15th century, Lanzarote was home to the indigenous Majos people, a community with many similarities to the Berber people of North Africa, where they are thought to have migrated from. Each of the Canaries was home to distinct yet interconnected indigenous communities eventually known collectively as the Guanche people, each with different laws and customs. Many of these customs still hold influence today in a blend of Spanish, African and indigenous cuisine, architecture, culture, and agricultural practices.


One of the first things that strike you as you move away from the well-trodden coastal spots and concrete are circular depressions in the terrain surrounded by short man-made stone walls strewn across the land. From a distance the patterns create an almost alien pattern. The circles form part of the island's unique agricultural practice of cultivating fruits, nuts and vegetables such as grapes for wine, almonds and figs in a black, volcanic land which to many would seem impossible to farm.

Lanzarote is around eighty miles from the Sahara, the world's largest hot desert, and gets just six to eight inches of rainfall in a good year and up until the 19th Century volcanic eruptions and lava flow regularly destroyed land and crops. It was the learnings from these hardships which paved the way for ingenuity, resulting in an entirely unique way of farming through a mix of Spanish, African and indigenous knowledge combined with the resources available.

Across the island porous volcanic rocks are placed around circular dips in the ground, drawing in moisture from the air, which in turn is distributed into the soil.  The walls provide much-needed shade and wind protection for the crops. Picón, a black mineral ash formed through volcanic activity, serves as a rich mulch spread across the crops, harnessing its moisture-absorbing capabilities to redistribute water to the plants. The dark colouring of the rocks and ash play a crucial role too, attracting and storing extra heat for the plants during the night once the sun has set.


Amidst the farms and barren lava fields, Lanzarote's architecture and art similarly reflect a harmonious blend of tradition, functionality, and a connection to the island's unique ecosystems. This is emblematic of the flat, low-rise, whitewashed buildings which exist here, inspired both Canarian tradition and their surrounding volcanic landscape. Often made from Volcanic stone, durable and insulating, they provide protection from both the heat and cold, with flat or slightly slanted roofs to dry crops and collect any rainwater. The contrasting and memorable thick white walls successfully head off the relentless sun and protect from volcanic ash.

There is an interdependence and respect between nature and contemporary life that seems to be ingrained; something reflected in the work of influential local artist and architect César Manrique, whose motto ‘Art Into Nature, Nature Into Art’ became a principle that guided both his own work and the development of Lanzarote.

After living and working as an artist in New York, Manrique returned to Lanzarote in 1966, telling friends of his desire to reconnect with the island's bare landscapes and distance himself from the city's artificiality. His vision aimed to conserve and celebrate the distinctive volcanic terrain and natural elements of Lanzarote, a dedication seen in architectural landmarks such as Jameos del Agua, an underground arts centre nestled within a lava-carved tunnel dating back thousands of years. In the Taro de Tahiche, his former residence, you see this ambition through seamlessly blending cavernous lava caves with volcanic formations and modern design aesthetics. According to the tale, he erected this home on a desolate lava field, carefully integrating a singular fig tree standing proudly in the middle of the structure.

Alongside his own works, Manrique also advocated for preserving the island's beauty amidst the tourism and concrete boom, working with the governors to bring in legislation around allowing only low-rise buildings, banning advertisements and restricting tourism to three areas. Whilst many of his ideas became fleeting policies the idea of preserving nature and working with the landscape lived on in other ways.

For me, a B&B in the centre of the island was the perfect encapsulation of the symbiosis between architecture, nature and the culture of the island. A small collection of buildings have been elegantly restored by owners Mayca and Gonzalo in collaboration with the architect Néstor Pérez Batista to create the Buenavista Suites. Nestled between volcanic mountains and farmland, with giant windows that engulf you into the landscape and ceramics by local artist Eguzkine Zerain adorning each room, you see tradition and modern minimalism intertwine. It felt all-encompassing - of past and present -   and as a celebration of the artistic and ecological partnership of the island.



Situated along the island's southwestern coast near the village of Yaiza, a vast area of rectangular shapes creates a patchwork of colours between mountain and ocean. These are the salt flats, or the Salinas de Janubio. Utilising Lanzarotes’s unique geography and natural elements, seawater travels through interconnected shallow ponds where the water evaporates under the intense Lanzarote sun, gradually concentrating and leaving behind a crystallised layer of sea salt, which is then packaged and sold. The colours of the patches, which make the flats so visually striking, result from microorganisms and algae thriving in the varying saline conditions, which are tended to by the local salt workers, or ‘salineros’.  

This partnership of tradition, utility, nature and aesthetics intertwine across the island in a way that seems innate to the lanzaroteño/a people; away from the busy tourist areas, at least. It feels like an act of preservation of the past and a demonstration of how humans should and could continue to live harmoniously with nature as a holistic ecosystem.

Further Reading -
Cesar Manrique (The Guardian)
Lanzarote: Agriculture as Art (pacifichorticulture.org)
The genomic history of the indigenous people of the Canary Islands (nature.com)