Roque Bermejo, which could be translated in old Spanish as the “Red Rock”, on the easternmost tip of the island of Tenerife, the closest to the European continent, at the foot of the lighthouse of the Cape of Anaga, is the perfect example of what were coastal farms in the Anaga Peninsula. Remote points connected to the rest of the island by sea, as the journey through the steep and forested mountains of Anaga was much more tiresome and long than the maritime alternative.
In our case, we reached this remote place, after trekking the 4 km distance within the small and cute town of Chamorga in the Anaga Mountains and the coast of Roque Bermejo.
These 4 km downhill and then uphill, 8 km in total, are all done traversing the virginal ravine of Chamorga, which even today carries water almost every single day in the year, which is not usual anymore in Tenerife.
Trekking the beautiful ravine of Chamorga is one of those tours that excite any lover of hiking, due to the geological and botanical diversity that one enjoys in it from the wooded summit to its sandy coastal beach, from the mist and dampness of the evergreen rainforests of the hill to the each time drier coastal area.
Once we reach Roque Bermejo, we find the terraces of an old farm that belonged to the Osuna Family of La Laguna and that eventually during the second half of the twenty century became a property of the Tenerife Bishopric.
The farm was abandoned in the middle of the last century and just some silent witnesses of its old splendor remain, such as the chapel of Candelaria, built in the 30s of the last century and only recently tiled with the image of the Virgin of Fatima, or the old house, once in ruins and today precariously inhabited.
Roque Bermejo owes its name to a large reddish and magnificent crag, located on the coast, over the sea, called by some Corcovado that settles on the ocean as if it was a stone sail boat.
The rock is next to a small black sand beach and a tiny port with a small store, which is a temporary shelter for very few small fishing boats. So few that in our last visit to the place only one boat, with the evocative name of Canarias, could be seen in the port.
Another big rock, separates the port area from the small coastal town of Roque Bermejo, surrounded by another beach, a place with no permanent inhabitants.
As in all confines of the island, this one also seems to have stopped time. The mixed effect of very sparsely populated areas, heavily exposed to the sea and the wind, with no signs of urban furniture, signs or posts, where even the old mooring bollard of the tiny port shows the wear of decades of neglect, deep rust…these are sites that evoke another era, as the crew of the boat, a pair of canaries of royal stamp, she with her straw cap and he with his gray trousers and abundant white hair, as taken from an old photo of the 50s. Imperishable. Splendid.