Lanzarote in the mist: how the black volcanic island turned green
Lanzarote is an island of black lava and barren volcanic slopes. Yet when I wandered across it last winter, I found it unexpectedly green. The craters of Timanfaya National Park were shrouded in a fine mist drifting in from the ocean, while lichens clung to rough blocks of lava. A tinge of green softened the normally bone-dry lava fields, and purple wildflowers carpeted the volcanic slopes.
Kathelijne Bonne. Support GondwanaTalks with a one-off or recurring donation.
On the island where artist César Manrique left his mark, visitors expect a sun-scorched palette of black, brown and red, with an infinite blue sky above. So it was a bit of a shock when I arrived on a dreary island at the end of January 2026. I was met by greenish fields beneath gloomy, low-hanging clouds, which reminded me of England.
My spirits were on the brink of plummeting, but there was a silver lining: this unusual weather offered the chance to capture some extraordinary photographs and explore the island without the sweat, blinding sunlight or harsh shadows and extreme contrasts. Clinging to that thought, I put my foot down in my rented Cinquecento and headed inland.
Green Lanzarote as seen from Teguise
I arrived in Teguise, in the heart of Lanzarote. Once the island's capital, it is one of the oldest towns in the Canary Islands – fittingly, as Lanzarote was the first of the islands to be conquered by the Spanish. Its whitewashed houses and historic buildings blend beautifully into the landscape, reflecting the traditional architecture that César Manrique was so determined to preserve, with simple, essential forms and the use of local materials such as basalt.
On the outskirts of town, behind low stone walls, dragon trees, prickly pears and wonderfully geometric aulaga bushes – which I had also encountered on Fuerteventura – dotted the landscape. I photographed them against a misty sunset, with the volcanoes of Timanfaya National Park rising on the horizon. Teguise lies in a broad valley between Lanzarote's ancient volcanic massifs, and the surrounding countryside, usually so stark and arid, was now a patchwork of green fields.
Timanfaya volcanoes: from eruption to legend
Timanfaya National Park, in the south-west of Lanzarote, is a vast expanse of volcanic cones and craters. It owes its existence to a series of devastating eruptions that began in 1730 and transformed the island beyond recognition.
Entire villages and swathes of farmland vanished beneath ash and lava. The eruptions continued for six long years, with further, smaller outbreaks in later decades. Today, they have left behind a black, otherworldly landscape that seems straight out of a dark fairy tale. Shrouded in mist, it takes on an almost eerie beauty.
Legends still surround the day the eruptions began. One tells the story of a young groom in the village of Timanfaya, on 1 September 1730. During his wedding celebrations, a piece of falling lava struck and killed his bride. Overcome with grief, he disappeared into the flames. According to the legend, he became el diablito, the little devil that César Manrique later immortalised as Lanzarote's iconic symbol.
Twisted shapes of lava
In the Timanfaya region, I visited Volcán El Cuervo. The road leading there was swallowed by mist, but the volcanic spirits seemed determined to lift my mood, conjuring up a rainbow along the way. I followed a dark trail edged with stones to protect the fragile vegetation, walking through a veil of gossamer-fine mist – or rather, a cloud – towards the small volcano whose outline I could barely see.
The trail leads right into the crater, where traces of an ancient lava lake are still visible on the walls. In this striking yet austere landscape, bizarre lava formations lie scattered about, among them volcanic bombs – blobs of molten rock hurled into the air during an eruption.
As they spin and travel through the air along a parabolic path, they can twist, stretch and deform like lumps of dough, taking on peculiar streamlined or kneaded shapes. Sometimes these lava bombs resemble imperfect cakes fresh from the oven, but you can also make out other intriguing, twisted shapes.
As the molten rock cools and hardens, trapped gas bubbles expand and leave behind many tiny holes, giving the lava its porous texture.
"In the past, people on Lanzarote used porous volcanic stone to filter precious rainwater," guide and journalist Raquel Herrero tells me in the Timanfaya visitor center and museum, where I linger as it rains outside. "In a traditional device called a destiladera, water slowly seeps through the stone, leaving impurities behind. Then it drips into a clay jar to keep the water cool."
Lanzarote wine, grown on lapilli
Outside the national park's protected area lie vineyards; you wouldn't really expect to find them in this black, seemingly lifeless volcanic wasteland. Smoother terrain completely covered in lapilli (volcanic grit fallen from the sky) appears to be prime wine-growing land. The area around La Geria is particularly famous for this (although the La Geria winery itself was a bit disappointing, feeling rather like a tourist trap with its massive, inauthentic souvenir shop).
The actual soil in which the vines take root lies beneath a layer of lapilli, which protects the soil. The lapilli allow the scarce rainwater to infiltrate effectively, retain moisture and protect the underlying layers from drying out. The vines are sheltered from the wind by small, crescent-shaped walls. This creates stunning scenes that are hard to find anywhere else in the world.
"Lanzarote has three types of wine-growing soil," explains sommelier Vicenta at the Casa Museo del Campesino (a farmhouse restored to its former glory by Manrique), where I take shelter from the rain. Meanwhile, I sip a delicious glass of white wine.
"The bermejo is red soil on ancient basalt, the jable is sandy soil of marine origin, and the rofe or picón is the black soil containing fresh lapilli around and near Timanfaya and La Geria." I wonder whether the recent heavy rain might affect the taste of the wine.
Lanzarote climate: why it is so dry
The exceptional flowering in early spring was even visible from space. Unlike the other Canary Islands, Lanzarote and Fuerteventura are largely desert-like because of their relatively flat terrain. Moist ocean air carried by the north-easterly trade winds simply blows over these islands, bringing little rain. On islands such as Tenerife, the moist air hits the mountains and is forced upwards, where it cools and turns into rain.
The Canary Islands also usually escape the cold weather fronts that sweep in from the west across the Atlantic. A vast high-pressure system – the Azores High – normally steers these rain fronts towards Europe, leaving the Canary Islands sheltered beneath a sort of high-pressure 'umbrella'.
But last winter, the Azores High was much weaker than usual and had shifted southwards. This is linked to a negative phase of the North Atlantic Oscillation (NAO), the weather phenomenon that plays a major role in Europe's climate.
Atmospheric river towards the Canary Islands
As a result, moist air from the Caribbean could flow eastwards, carrying massive amounts of moisture towards the Canary Islands and bringing heavy rain across the archipelago. And because the flow continued for so long, it formed what meteorologists call an 'atmospheric river'.
Another well-known atmospheric river is the Pineapple Express, which carries moisture from near Hawaii to the west coast of North America. These rivers in the sky transport enormous amounts of water vapour – sometimes as much water as the Mississippi or even the Amazon. When they shift course or grow stronger, the effects can be huge.
In the past, Lanzarote was greener and had more vegetation than it does today. As on Fuerteventura, centuries of grazing, farming and erosion – followed by the great volcanic eruptions of the eighteenth century – left much of the landscape bare. But perhaps shifting weather patterns and atmospheric rivers played a role too.
And zooming in from the atmosphere all the way down to the ground, we can see how rough, bare lava gradually becomes covered with lichens and other small but hardy plants and life forms. These are the first steps towards soil formation – the beginnings of a greener and gentler landscape. The sight of lichens and mosses growing between lava and mist made me imagine the earliest stages of plant life on Earth.
As you've seen in the pictures, Lanzarote has black soils. But these are very different from black chernozem soils. Read more about the soils and colours of Fuerteventura, the hazards of La Palma and the eruption of the Cumbre Vieja volcano. Discover how clouds form, and explore other spectacular volcanic regions such as Kamchatka, Peru and the volcanoes of Europe. And here's more about a forgotten but cataclysmic eruption of Mount Vesuvius.
Kathelijne, editor of GondwanaTalks: I am intrigued by how earth, life, air, ocean and societies interact on geological and human timescales.
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