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There’s a place in Gran Canaria where people move like water. Where they appear and disappear between the mountainsides‘ green upholstery, as if appearing from a spring. For example, in Valleseco (Dry Valley), named despite being far from dry as it‘s less wet than the neighbouring ravines of Madrelagua and Valsendero.

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The good folk of Valleseco also have a soul that’s as transparent as water. Lose yourselves in a municipality to discover a way of life that’s as hard, in terms of the daily effort needed to make a living, as it‘s fair, what with the area’s rich natural resources. Perhaps you’ll run into Bernardino and Candido, two retired gentlemen who meet daily at the bus stop in the Lanzarote neighbourhood. "This is tranquility, friend. The best life you can have,“ they’ll tell you before offering to explain everything you could possibly want or need to know about Valleseco.

In the bar next to the main road founded so long ago that hardly anyone remembers the year, a group of neighbours converse sharing tapas of cheese and a bottle of local red wine. There emerges from the kitchen a waiter with a steaming rare sirloin steak. A sample of the region’s rich cuisine, where cattle form part of the landscape.

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Valleseco is a place which feels mist’s embrace. Clouds cling to the trees, the roof tiles of the houses, and the mountains too. The fog keeps the midlands‘ green spirit alive, aids agriculture, and helps the municipality’s 6,000 apple trees grow. The fruit from these trees make the miracle of the fizzy Atlantic cider possible. You’ll taste the earth and fog in every sip.

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The midlands of Gran Canaria are full of magic and mystery. Keep your eyes open at all times. For when the fog rolls back and the sun comes out, we see in the distance the figure of an old woman tending her garden. She’s one of Vallesco’s springs. A flash of Gran Canaria’s rural essence.