sun surf 52

Sun and surf's up in the Canary IslandsThe largest of the Canary Islands and the closest to Africa, photographs of Fuerteventura’s long stretches of golden sand fringed with dunes and palms tend to be overly represented in tour brochures for the region. Where neighbouring islands have piles of volcanic debris sloping precipitously down to rock- studded coasts, Fuerteventura is fringed with some of the most glorious beaches to be found anywhere.

There is still some dispute about how this particular island got its name. Some suggest it comes from fuerte aventura, the “tough adventure” of the initial voyage of discovery. Others claim it comes from fuertes vientos, the strong winds that are its most immediately obvious climactic feature.

Some of the breezes here would earn a respectful whistle on the wildest parts of western Scotland. Happily they are tempered with rather more sunshine than you are likely to encounter in Ayrshire. The combination has encouraged the development of a regular base for windsurfers and kite-surfers.

As the various Canary Islands attempt to establish some individual identity, it’s not surprising that Fuerteventura plays up its sporting attributes. It’s a relaxed island, though, and the surfing crowd hasn’t become as cliquey and exclusive as it has around Tarifa on the Spanish mainland. Instead, on Fuerteventura, a number of beginner courses and informal surf-schools encourage everybody to give it a try.

Not that exertion is compulsory. The resort of Corralejo, on the northern coast, has a sublime stretch of sand a short walk out of the town centre. This is spacious enough to ensure that, even in the high season, you don’t have to walk far to find your own space.

Those of uptight sensibilities should be aware that some of the stretches of beach here encourage nudity, and the Scandinavians and Germans rarely need much encouragement. It is always entertaining to watch a rookie kite-flyer chasing his strings through a line of insouciant naked matrons from Stuttgart.

Fuerteventura is more than a floating beach, though. The best way to see the impressively desolate volcanic centre of the island is to gun through it on noisy dune buggies.

The Spanish, a people who thrive on noise, have made a cult of these infernal machines. The environmentally sensitive should appreciate, however, that this means of transport makes more sense in the middle of an island where the sun and the lack of shade make walking impractical. Just be prepared to end your hour-long trip caked in volcanic grime that needs a good half-hour under a power shower to remove.

Betancuria, named after the 15th-century Norman conqueror Jean de Béthencourt, is the closest the island comes to a fortress capital. You can reach it on a bus that glides round the hairpin bends on the hill roads, whisking you away from the tourist strip.

The impressive church of Santa Maria is mostly 17th-century, although there has been a church on the site since the early 15th century, and some of the decoration inside dates from the earlier period.

The church and the nearby Museo de Arte Sacro evoke an age when this Canary island was substantially more pious. A complementary museum, the Casa Museo de Betancuria, attempts to document the folklore of the native Guanche people with domestic artefacts and utensils, although, Spanish history not being overly respectful of conquered native populations, the story of the Guanche remains sketchy.

Betancuria is an enticingly tranquil retreat, with the occasional souvenir shop but nothing too tacky. Once the educational bit is over, the Casa Santa Maria cafe is the perfect spot to shelter from the sun at a shaded garden table.

Of the resort centres, Corralejo is presently caught on the cusp between being a charming Spanish town and a throbbing tourist resort. At the height of the summer season it tilts irresistibly towards the latter, but during the winter months it is possible to enjoy more of its former identity as a fishing port.

The town’s parallel streets divide the town fairly neatly into the tourist area with souvenir shops and bikini outlets jostling with surf-gear emporiums, and the locals’ area with coffee shops, tiny bars and hairdressers. You merely have to walk a block or two to escape the crowds.

It helps that many of the local restaurants have realised that their strength lies in serving up local produce in as traditional a style as possible. Gregorio El Pescador is an established and popular restaurant, specialising, as the name suggests, in fresh seafood and fish. Chase some grilled prawns or langoustines with a crisp white wine from neighbouring Lanzarote.

Local seafood includes lapas or limpets, usually served with the green mojo sauce made from parsley, coriander, cumin and garlic. A particular Canaries fish is the alfonsiño, a striking pink colour with delicate white flesh, usually shallow-fried. Everything comes with a side serving of papas arrugadas, the wrinkled boiled potato ubiquitous in the Canaries, accompanied by spicy red or green sauce.

For something a little different, El Sombrero in Corralejo pulls in the tourists by offering several variations on the fondue theme, in which customers can fry their morsels of meat, simmer them in fragrant stock or go for the traditional Swiss cheese bath. The produce is very fresh and the atmosphere very welcoming.

You can finish your Fuerteventura meal with queso majorero, the island’s definitive goat’s cheese. To be authentic the goats have to graze on wild marjoram to convey the herby flavour. Cheeses come in various stages of maturity, with the occasional addition of olive oil or roasted or smoked paprika.

Those going for the hardcore authentic Canarian experience can sample gofio, a kind of sweetened cornmeal mush that was the staple carbohydrate for centuries. It might be generously compared with polenta. Most of us are unlikely to be enticed away from the fish courses, but the older locals still swear by gofio. Perhaps they need the ballast to stay upright when the Atlantic gales begin to howl.