El Pinar de El Hierro

The thermometer drops eight degrees in twenty minutes. One moment you're at sea level in La Restinga, watching divers haul tanks onto boats; the next, the rental car's engine strains around hairpin bends while Canarian pines slide past the windows. By the time El Pinar's church square appears at 800 metres, the Atlantic feels like a distant memory—even though it's only twenty kilometres away.

This is El Hierro's southern municipality in miniature: two distinct climates stitched together by a serpentine road that locals navigate with practiced nonchalance. Up here, the air carries the scent of pine resin and wet earth. Down there, salt spray coats every surface. The same volcano responsible for both landscapes erupted underwater in 2011, sending fish fleeing and dive operators scrambling to update their reef maps.

The Harbour That Isn't a Resort

La Restinga refuses to play the typical Canarian coastal village. No sweeping promenade, no cocktail bars blasting music, no sandy crescent for Instagram. Instead, volcanic rock shelves drop straight into water so clear that boats appear to hover above the seafloor. The harbour hosts twelve dive centres, each claiming particular knowledge of the Mar de Las Calmas marine reserve. They need it—underwater lava tunnels shift after every storm, creating new swim-throughs and collapses that only locals track.

Dive boats leave at 10 am and 2 pm sharp. Summer slots book weeks ahead; winter visitors might find themselves alone with the instructor. A single-tank dive costs €45, including equipment, but bring cash—card machines malfunction when the internet connection drops. Non-divers can snorkel the protected inlet by the old fort, where parrotfish nibble algae from rocks and the occasional octopus jets between crevices.

The village's three seafood restaurants compete for whoever landed the morning's catch. Ask for 'vieja' (parrotfish) simply grilled; it arrives tasting like seabream with none of the bone-picking drama. Portions are substantial—order one dish to share unless you've hiked down from El Pinar on foot.

Pine Forests and Pre-Hispanic Whispers

Back up the hill, El Pinar proper spreads along a ridge at roughly the same altitude as Ben Nevis's half-way lochan. Stone houses with red-tiled roofs sit among kitchen gardens where elderly residents still plant by the moon. The archaeological museum, housed in a former school, contains just three rooms but the volunteer guide speaks excellent English and will demonstrate how the native Bimbache people knapped obsidian for tools. Entry is free; donations keep the lights on.

Behind the church, marked paths strike into the pine forest. These aren't dense Scandinavian woods but open stands of Canarian pine, their needles long and silver against black lava soil. The trees survive fire by storing water in their lower trunks—a useful adaptation on an island where summer lightning strikes are common. Waymarked routes range from thirty-minute strolls to three-hour circuits that crest minor volcanoes. Download the 'El Hierro Sendas' GPX file before leaving Wi-Fi range; phone signal vanishes within 200 metres of the village edge.

Temperature swings catch walkers out. At midday in April you might bake in a T-shirt; by 4 pm a cloud bank rolls up from the east and the mercury plunges to 12 °C. Pack a fleece, water, and something sugary—the village shop closes at 2 pm and doesn't reopen until 9 am next day.

When the Volcano Stole the Sea

Every local over thirty remembers October 2011. The underwater eruption began with bass drums of seismic activity, then dead fish floating in La Restinga's harbour. The government evacuated the village for three months; residents returned to find their boats coated in volcanic grit and the dive sites transformed. New lava tongues had created fresh walls at 25 metres, while former coral gardens lay buried under grey sediment.

Drive to the Mirador de La Restinga at sunset and you'll see the evidence—a darker patch of water where the eruption occurred, now teeming with fish attracted to the nutrient-rich currents. Information boards show before-and-after photos, but the real story comes from Fernando at Buceo El Hierro, who'll point out where his favourite grouper used to live 'before the mountain got angry'.

Sunday Silence and Starlight

Weekends operate on rural Canary time. Saturday sees farmers selling goat cheese and honey from car boots in the square; by Sunday morning El Pinar shuts completely. The mini-market shutters stay down, the bar serves only coffee, and the church bell tolls for Mass at 11 am. Plan accordingly—buy wine and snacks on Saturday or face a 40-minute drive to the nearest open supermarket in Valverde.

Darkness arrives suddenly at this altitude. Streetlights are deliberately dim to preserve night-sky quality, making the Milky Way visible on clear nights. Bring a tripod; the island's Starlight Reserve status means photography bans on bright torches after 10 pm. Locals gather on the church steps instead, chatting quietly while satellites track overhead.

Getting Here, Staying Put

Flights from Tenerife South land at El Hierro's tiny airport twice daily; car hire desks occupy a Portakabin next to the runway. The 45-minute drive to El Pinar crosses lunar lava fields before climbing through agricultural terraces where bananas give way to vines, then pines. Without wheels you're reliant on bus R02—three services daily, last departure 4 pm, no Sunday service.

Accommodation splits between rural houses in the village (stone cottages with wood-burners for winter) and simple apartments in La Restinga. Neither offers hotel service; expect self-catering and bring supermarket supplies from Valverde if you arrive late. Prices hover around €70 per night year-round—no seasonal gouging, but no bargains either.

Winter brings cloud and occasional rain. Some restaurants close January-March, so email ahead rather than trusting Google opening hours. Conversely, August packs the island with mainland Spanish families and accommodation books solid. Late April or early November hit the sweet spot: calm seas for diving, cool mornings for walking, and village bars where you can still hear the coffee machine hiss over conversation.