The dunes of Maspalomas

My son has a specific photograph in mind and he wants to get it. He’s a very driven young man. The location’s somewhere in the middle of a massive series of sand dunes. They are steep and unforgiving. I’m slightly obsessed with the fine details of the natural patterns on them.

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There are signs every few metres saying that there’s no access to the dunes. It’s meant to be a nature reserve. However, there’s a constant procession of people in the distance walking across them. I’m wondering where they’re going and why they all look so impelled. I’m also wondering what they might be disturbing. There’s certainly a lot of bird life in the lakes near the town.

I decide not to go with my son, and I watch as he mounts each dune and disappears again, popping up and then disappearing until I can’t tell if that’s him or not in the distance. It’s as if he’s in a mini Sahara.

It’s only then that I realise all the people wandering around the dunes are completely naked and that I’m standing there fully clothed with my camera and a long lens. I say fully naked, but some of them do have hats on. Given the power of the sun I’d have said that was a wise precaution, although I’d probably want to protect more than my head.

An intense rainbow breaks out against the blue clouds.

The day is turning to evening as orange light edges up the sky behind the palm trees and the lighthouse in Maspalomas.

There are Common Swifts, Apus apus, here. They are always technically difficult to photograph, especially as it’s getting dark now.

This one looks great against the reddening sunset clouds.

It’s a glorious sunset.

A glorious sunset on Palm Beach.

My son comes back. He’s captured the epic picture of huge sand dunes that he wanted. It’s time to head into town to find out what the local speciality food is. So far, everything’s been mouthwatering.

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