For English speaking visitors.
Cándida was taking her time, driving along in the far right lane of the Oceanside Expressway, fascinated by the slow ceaseless swaying of the masts in the yacht harbour. In the meantime, the city of Las Palmas was being strangled by the embrace of this inlet of passionately blue ocean between Santa Catalina Park and the isthmus called La Isleta.
Just then, the strident sound of a car horn disturbed her fascination. This sudden interruption upset her: she looked around, trying to see who was responsible for so much uproar. The honking resumed and now she noticed that it came from one of those new sports utility vehicles, which was proceeding along in the left lane. That vehicle wasn’t familiar to her. When she arrived at the traffic lights opposite the Club Náutico, she had to stop at the red light. Then she could see that the driver of that disturbing vehicle was Léon, her older brother. Taking advantage of the stop, she called out:
“Where’d you get that scandalous car? You’re acting like a kid with a new toy. Not even your sons would behave like that!”
“I had to trade in my old one,” he said with a wide smile, “it was giving me too many problems. But listen—I have to tell you something very important.”
“Well, why don’t you invite me for a cup of coffee?”
“That’s done! Where do you want to have coffee?”
“As near as possible. I’ve got a lot of things to do later.”
“We can park at the Corte department store and go up to the cafeteria.”
“Great idea! See you in a minute.”
Cándida hadn’t seen her brother León for quite a while and there were a lot of things she wanted to talk over with him. They would start talking about family matters and then end up by resolving world problems so that their respective children wouldn’t have so many problems to face in the immediate future. What was more to the point, there were some socio-political-economic events occurring here in the Canary Islands which could cause unease for future generations.
On entering the cafeteria Cándida looked around, then saw her brother sitting at a table next to a window, perusing the menu, apparently not having seen her. She stood at the entrance and looked at him for a long moment. He appeared to be quite relaxed now, almost contented; he didn’t have that look he had when, on occasion, she saw him in the waiting room at the airport. The look he had on those occasions would cause her to start worrying about him. “Fortunately,” she thought as she walked over to the table, “time does not pass in vain.”
León raised his head and saw her approaching. Smilingly attentive as he always was with her, he got up and pulled out a chair for Cándida. She was the eldest of the four children and had a strong resemblance to their mother, whom León idolized. The other strong link between them was the uncommon imaginative capacity they both had. These links, however, didn’t prevent them from having heated arguments on occasion.
After a kiss on the cheek, she sat down, beamed at him and asked:
“So what’s that very important something you want to tell me?”
“Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that you were right,” he said, beaming back at her with a mischievous and mysterious grin.
“What was I right about?”
León broke out in a series of ironical chuckles.
“Come on—out with it! What was I right about?”
“Do you remember what happened at the Tierras de Manuel Reservoir?”
“You better believe I remember it!” she replied, almost on the point of indignation. “You think I’m going to forget that?”
“Well, I think that this time you get the last word,” León said, with a mischievous grin on his lips and a special sparkle in his eyes.
“Is that so.” she replied, staring at him with a piercing look which was both furious and mocking at the same time…
* * *
Cándida still remembered that day…León had telephoned from El Sao to let her in on an unusual discovery he had made. He had only told his wife and children about the discovery. He was treating it as if he had seen a flying saucer land: don’t tell everybody so they won’t think you’re crazy. However, he had phoned her right away because they had that strong link between them: an uncommon imaginative capacity coupled with the ability of not losing sight of reality.
León had discovered two enormous fish in the Tierras de Manuel Reservoir. Each one, he told her, measured some two to three metres in length. León knew that fishing in the many reservoirs which were spotted throughout the island was one of her pastimes, so right away, she thought he was pulling her leg.
“You’re pulling my leg, little Léon,” she said, surprised at the audacity of the joke.
“Nothing like that at all!” he replied. The underlying anger in his reply seemed to make the telephone vibrate. “I’ve seen them with my own eyes! And what’s more, I was using binoculars—and I got it on my video camera.”
“You saw them through binoculars?”
“Yes—I was out hunting and I took a break up there on the ridge above the reservoir.”
“You mean from the ridge where the orchards are? Oh, little brother…what you saw was a shoal of carp…or better yet…two shoals of carp.”
“No, no, little sister,” he said, with underlying anger still in his voice, “in the video, you can see half the body of one of them when it breaks water.”
“Come on León, you’re trying to tell me—that here on Grand Canary island, where the reservoirs are emptied almost every other year—you’re trying to tell me that there are fish that large in one of the reservoirs!”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you…you amateur angler. That’s what I’m telling you because the Tierras de Manuel Reservoir has never been emptied—as far as I can remember in my lifetime—and I’m not a young lad.”
With the speed of a HAL computer, Cándida compared this information with all the data on reservoirs and fishing she had stored in her memory. Recalling the numerous occasions when she had looked at that reservoir from El Sao, it had always been full; now she couldn’t even recall having seen the water level low.
“You know…you’re right,” she muttered, “now that you mention it…I’ve never seen it empty…”
Her thoughts returned to the old “Cortijo de el Sauz” as it was called in those days, due to the abundance of saus, the willow trees which grew there. These lands figured on maps today as El Sao estate. Her great-grandmother Isabel had been sent away there, as if into exile, when she defied her father’s wish to marry her off to a widowed gentleman who was twenty years older than she was.
Her great-grandmother Isabel later inherited that estate and it has remained in the family since then, intact in one form or another, except for one parcel with an abundant spring flowing at the rate of 80 litres per second, or ten azadas, as the local measure was called in those days. That parcel was sold to another well-known island family “for a mere pittance,” according to Cándida’s father. After having to marry another man, her great-grandmother Isabel had become a widow while she was still an inexperienced young woman who thought that her lands had more than sufficient water from several other springs, so she had agreed to that sale.
It wasn’t as if she had been wrong about that sale; she just couldn’t foresee the future availability of water on these lands. Fortunately, there is one small treasure of a water source, resting today under a rockslide, which still provides iron-rich water from the Romero ravine. This water is similar to the spring water from Los Berrazales and it has been both medicine and refreshment for the people who live in this privileged corner of the island.
El Sao is located in the northwest corner of Grand Canary Island, surrounded by Montaña Gorda, the rocky platforms called Los Andenes de Fagagesto and Los Andenes del Hornillo, and the pine-covered mountains of Tamadaba. There at the foot of these highlands, towards the western coast, lie Los Berrazales and the verdant valley called Valle de Agaete. Nearly the entire length of that valley can be seen from the house at La Palma, built by her father to replace the estate steward’s old living quarters, which, after more than two hundred years, had deteriorated into a dangerous state of ruin.
But it is from Los Eucaliptos ridge, about a hundred metres from the house, where you can see some of the most sensational panoramas on the island. From there, you can look along the rugged cliffs at Los Caideros de San José, viewing the rough seas off the north coast, overlooking the tableland at Los Llanos and then you can see Agaete, all the way from Casa de San Pablo, the old hot-springs resort hotel, down to the end of Valle de Agaete where it opens up into the sea, sheltered by the slopes of Tamadaba on the left and the high plateaus at Caideros and Los Llanos on the right.
The lands of the old Cortijo comprise a piece of paradise still relatively unmarred by the works of man. The flora and fauna are preserved as they were in the pre-asphalt period. Its micro-climate, an amalgam of near-tropical breezes from the Valle de Agaete combined with chilly mists from Fagagesto and the peaks of the high central mountains, produces the cohabitation of prickly pear and pine tree, where sage and gorse grow side by side; all the plants native to this island can be found there, almost without exception.
As for fauna, a multitudinous sampling of the indigenous species and a few others which live on this miniature continent find shelter in the many crannies of the massive rocky ridges surrounding this area, particularly the multi-strata Montaña Gorda. You can find big sleek crows, small speedy hawks, little turtle-doves, feral cats, and giant lizards which can measure more than thirty centimetres in length; smaller copper-coloured lizards and rainbow-coloured butterflies are seen everywhere and the yellow-breasted alpispa can be observed flitting along running water. Sometimes, you encounter an owl, or even the mysterious butcher-bird, which people in El Sao called the singing shrike.
Cándida particularly remembered the stories her great-aunt Agustina would tell her about this singing shrike. She was the oldest and the most superstitious person in the family. According to her, if you heard this shrike singing from your right, it was a good omen: you would be showered with good fortune, health, and love. On the other hand, if you were to hear this shrike singing from your left, you’d better run off and hide in the deepest cave on Montaña Gorda. This shrike only sings just before nightfall or at dawn. It is a solitary creature, seldom seen during the day. In aspect, it is a bird of prey with a well-formed body, but its dusty grey plumage with black trimmings on wings and throat is not particularly attractive.
What was an attraction for Cándida was the legend which had been woven around this bird of prey in bygone times. This legend probably originated from the influence of some relatives on their return from Cuba. And that is precisely what happened to one of Agustina’s sisters. For her, the mere presence or the singing of this mysterious shrike was responsible for any event which might occur in the life of the family, be it fortunate or unfortunate. Due to this, she often became the object of affectionate joking from her relatives, Cándida’s father included.
The largest spring at El Sao surges out of a black crevice in the lava at the upper reaches of the volcanic ravine. This stream of pure water filtered by millions of basalt fragments, although it is now diminished, still rushes down in a stunning cascade to fall into the pool carved out by the force of the water. The strongest children of the family, those who could resist the breathtaking chill of that crystalline water on the hot days of summer, would stand under the shower of that cascade and then splash across the dark gravel of that pool.
Cándida remembered when that water flowed freely, gurgling down the lower reaches of the ravine, filling its channel with slender reed stems and silvery yam leaves. That flow had sufficient force to turn the water-wheels of the three old gristmills which in bygone times had made El Sao a meeting place for many people from nearby villages.
But there came a time when that flow of water was confined and muzzled and escorted away to the banana plantations and towns on the northeast coast. The serpent, taking the form of a winding pipeline, had entered this paradise. This was the beginning of gradual a deterioration, although it was not as drastic as in other places, where tarmac snakes came slithering in to sully the last vestiges of some exceptional natural scenery.
All the area around El Sao is an attraction for anyone who possesses a minimum of sensibility and two eyes to see, for it is an authentic botanical garden organized by nature itself. Notwithstanding this, its major attractions are invisible: the perfume of its plants, the sounds of it waters and the songs of its birds. Blending the essence from a hundred different plants and trees creates a characteristic aroma which you would not be able to perceive in any other place. Mingling the sighing of the wind in the rugged ridges with the quavering call of birdsong produces some of the most suggestive symphonies. Even blindfolded, Cándida thought, she could recognize this area by its aroma and music…
The sound of whistling in her ear roused her—then she remembered that Léon was still on the other end of the telephone line.
“Hey…you still there…what were you thinking about?”
“Oh…excuse me Léon…I was thinking about what El Sao was.”
“You mean what it is! In spite of time and progress,” he said vehemently, “it’s still a unique spot and I hope it’ll continue that way as long as I and my children live!”
“With those loonies who think they know it all running around loose, trying to line their pockets at the expense of everyone else, I really do have my doubts, dear brother.”
“Those bloody fools are spoiling the few remaining spots worth looking at on this land—let’s see how they’re going to make a living when there’s nothing left to attract the tourists,” he said with fury in his voice, “they’ll have to eat the rocks!”
“Okay Léon, please calm down…tell me exactly what you discovered.”
“As I was saying—I was sitting at the point up on that ridge—suddenly I saw this big shadow in the water. You know that point is about a hundred and fifty metres above the reservoir—from there it looks like it’s almost under your feet—you can see into the water better than you can from the shore itself.”
“I totally agree with you,” Cándida said, “but, at that distance, a shadow could very well be a big shoal of carp.”
“But then, another big shadow appeared. It came right up to the surface—I saw its back roll out of the water. When that happened—bunches of fish jumped and thrashed around. It looked like surf breaking all over the reservoir!”
“You’ll have to let me see the video…”
“I’ll leave it for you at mom’s place—after you look at it, phone me—tell me what you think about it.”
“Okay, I’ll pick it up there,” she said, and hung up the phone.
Two days later, after looking at the video, Cándida was convinced that Léon might have made an authentic and extraordinary discovery. She called him, told him that it was really something extraordinary, that she was going up to the reservoir to have a look for herself. He tried to dissuade her.
“Forget it, little sister, they were carp.”
“Why are you so sure about that now?”
“I was talking to a guy I know who does some work for the Environment Ministry and I showed him a copy of the video. He was sure they were groups of carp—or worse yet—catfish that some unscrupulous fool released there.”
“But…that big and that fat? That’s impossible…you should talk to somebody who really knows something about freshwater fish…take him up there so he can see for himself. Can you imagine it! A Loch Ness monster in miniature! It could become a great tourist attraction,” she said with a tone of irony.
“Hey—take it easy. My sons looked at that video—they’re sceptical about it too. Thinking it over, it could be a bad deal—the area could be overrun by curiosity seekers, they could spoil the whole place.”
“Well...now I’m the one who’s curious and intrigued…you’re not going to pop that balloon,” she said, surprised at her brother’s sudden indifference to his discovery.
“Okay—okay—we’ll talk about it,” he replied, and hung up.
She knew his “we’ll talk about it” only too well. Months, or even years, could pass before he got back to the subject. For the moment, that was it, so she continued with the routine of her everyday life, which wasn’t exactly lacking in surprises…
* * *
In the cafeteria the volume of voices was rising. The lunch-hour was approaching and almost all the tables were now occupied. Cándida looked around and saw men with hurried looks on their faces, women who looked bored even though they carried various shopping bags, and a few foreigners whose tired-looking faces reflected bewilderment.
“So—what are you thinking about, little sister? Would you like a piece of cake?”
“Oh, thank you no, I’m on a diet.”
“I hope you’re not ill,” he said, with a worried look.
“No, thank God…and I don’t want to be. And you…you should start looking after yourself a little.”
“Come on, just let me enjoy it without the sermons.”
“So, you’ve taken up the search for the reservoir monster again. I wonder what’s made you do that now.”
“A couple of days ago, I was remembering that episode. I asked myself why I gave up without investigating it the way it should have been done. So last weekend, when I was at El Sao, I went out on the point and sat in the same place—and I saw them again.”
“Don’t tell me!”
“You better believe it! Although my foolish sons still insist they’re groups of carp. They’d rather do that than take the trouble to walk out to the point and sit there waiting for a couple of hours—they just can’t be bothered.”
“They can’t be bothered to find out that some extraordinary phenomenon is taking place on this island? That really disappoints me…I wonder why this younger generation has lost their capacity for imagination.”
“Ah—these young people are more practical, little sister. We’ve made everything too easy for them.”
“You’re right there. But it seems, looking at it from our point of view, that these young people today have no dreams, only objectives. On the other hand, I think they must have some dreams, but what happens is…we live in a different reality, and it’s difficult for us to understand them.”
“You can say that again! Most of them only have objectives—and we’ve put the ladder up for them.”
“I suppose you’re right…but getting back to the fish. What have you got in mind, Léon? I was wondering if we shouldn’t tell somebody from the media…get them to carry out an investigation.”
“Not be a bad idea, but…” he paused, as if he was thinking about something else.
She waited for him to continue. He was usually direct in conversation; she didn’t understand why he suddenly seemed evasive.
“You know what I’m going to do?”
“Go ahead—tell me,” he said, leaning forward as if he were suggesting that she shouldn’t raise her voice.
“On Friday, I’ll go up to the reservoir to see everything with my own eyes, and, depending on what I see, we can decide what to do. What do think?”
“I was hoping you’d say something like that,” he said, smiling with satisfaction.
“I’ll take my binoculars and video camera. Instead of going out to the ridge where the orchards are, I’ll go directly to Lomo del Roque. From there, I’ll have them directly under my view, close enough to see if they’re carp, black bass…or even Nessie herself.”
“You’re crazy! You’ve forgotten how dangerous Lomo del Roque can be!”
“Oh come on, I remember it wasn’t easy to walk along there, but for somebody who knows the place, it’s not dangerous.”
“Have you got any idea how much brushwood has grown around there? You won’t be able to find any of the paths.”
“Oh, that’s not so important for me.”
“I don’t want you to go by yourself and I can’t go with you because tomorrow I’m flying to Stockholm with Eduardo—the rest of the week I’ll be in Tenerife, and then on Friday I have stay at El Sao.”
Cándida remembered her brother’s interest in flying, and the great effort he had made to obtain his commercial pilot’s license. Léon was a still a young boy when he designed and built his first remote-controlled model airplanes. On one occasion, their mother had punished him by not letting him go to the cinema because he had taken the motor from an electric coffee grinder for one of his experiments. Now he divided his free time between flying with fellow pilots to places in Europe or Africa and going up to El Sao, where he had inherited a part of the lands from their father. At the present time, Léon was hard at work there, clearing the track leading to the house at La Palma.
“Excuse me…did you say Stockholm? I’ve got such wonderful memories of that city and its surroundings!”
“Yeah, it’s a beautiful and interesting city,” he replied.
“Yes, but there’s something wrong there. When I was there, I didn’t hear birds singing in the nearby forests. It was such a strange experience, not hearing birds singing in those lovely forests.”
“You go during the winter?”
“No, it was summer.”
“ Well—that is strange.”
“Mrs. Lindkvist, the lady who invited me, said that it was because of the quantity of pesticides that had been used for agriculture all over the countryside. To tell you the truth, it gave me the sensation of being in a phantom forest. After that, I understood why the birds singing in the palm trees drove Mrs. Lindkvist crazy when she stayed here at Ojos de Garza.”
“But listen—getting back to what you said about going up to Lomo del Roque—don’t go by yourself. Take one of your children with you.”
“My children? Hah! They’re all too busy! But even if they weren’t so busy, the mere thought of losing half a day to go along with their mother on her crazy adventure looking for a monster would be enough reason to lose themselves in hyperspace. No, don’t you worry Léon, I can find those paths as easy as finding the lines in my hands.”
“Well—be careful what you do. You’re not up to that kind of hiking anymore.”
“Hey…a bit of respect, youngster, a bit of respect,” she said, smiling as she picked up her purse and stood up.
“You leaving already?”
“Yes, I’ve got things to do. Pay the bill, big boy. Say hello to everybody,” she said throwing him a kiss. “I’ll keep you posted…”
* * *
That Friday dawned with a crystal clear sky in spite of it being summer. This was what Cándida needed in order look down through the water at the reservoir from more than a hundred metres above the surface. She prepared what her daughter Nina jokingly called the “Cándida Trophy” bag. In one of the compartments she put the video camera with its tripod, the 35-mm. camera, extra film, the binoculars, and a mini first-aid kit. In the other compartment she put the day’s rations: sandwiches, fruit, yoghurt, water, and napkins. She always kept a bag with hiking boots and beach sandals, a towel, a blanket, and a reserve bottle of water in the car. Inspiration or the capricious trade winds didn’t usually catch her unprepared.
She went into the den and phoned Léon. It was early and he was still at home.
“Hello…you on your way?”
“I was just going out the door,” he said.
“You going directly to El Sao?”
“Yeah—why?”
“I need a favour.”
“Hey little sister, I’m in a hurry—the workers are coming to clear the track and I can’t make them wait.”
“I won’t keep you a minute. I’m going up to the reservoir after lunch. I’ll leave my car at Gáldar and take a taxi up to El Hornillo.”
“A taxi! What for?”
“I want to walk down from El Hornillo to Lomo del Roque, but I have no intention of walking all the way back up.”
“Yeah—I see you got a plan.”
“Late in the afternoon, before nightfall, could you or one of your sons pick me up in that Jeep and give me a ride to Gáldar?”
“Yeah…well…okay. But be careful what you do!
“Don’t worry Léon! You’ll be nearby. I’m taking my cell phone and you’ve got yours, so everything will be under control…God willing.”
“Okay…we’ll see you up there.”
She hung up and went to have a look at her cell phone. She checked the battery and the pre-pay card. She imagined that this device could be an infernal apparatus for many people, but she considered it the invention of the millennium, in spite of some inconveniences. It gave her a sense of security when she travelled from one part of the island to another. She could contact her family if something came up and she never felt far from help, except in areas without coverage, which fortunately weren’t many.
She left after an early lunch, thinking ahead to the traffic jams which formed on the North Highway recently. The long lines of vehicles were the result of some interminable public works projects. She couldn’t understand why such projects on the island took so long to complete. Sometimes, the notion that these projects were prolonged deliberately passed through her mind. The delays had to benefit somebody! That somebody could be on any of the steps of the pyramid, from the highest to the lowest. Yes, it was simplistic thinking, but it was the only explanation she could think of.
Just as she had expected, there was a traffic jam. She sat in the car, contemplating this precious coast where the sea is streaked with a million shades of blue and the furious and foaming waves were biting into the outraged shoreline. For a while, gazing at the sea and listening to the radio distracted her from the monotony of the stop-and-go caravan of four-wheeled ovens which had formed on this torrid August afternoon. Then she put a compact disc into the unit; the sound of Vaughan Williams’ Sixth Symphony took her mind off the caravan for the remainder of the journey.
Leaving her car at a car-park in Gáldar, she flagged down a taxi. At Los Andenes, she asked the driver to stop at the bend in the road where an observation point overlooks the precipice. She saw a group of six people who looked like foreigners standing there at the edge of the precipice.
It’s a wonder the competent authorities hadn’t put up a guardrail there. The route along the reservoirs was being used more and more by tourists, and islanders themselves. A guardrail was needed there and at several other places; those competent authorities were probably waiting for the first accident before deciding to put up guardrails.
She went down the path to the point where the group stood, contemplating the dramatic beauty of the rugged mountains and the pine forest.
“Buenos dias,” she said. Some of the foreigners replied with a courteous “Good morning,” while others optimistically repeated her “Buenos dias” greeting.
“Muy bonita,” said one of the men, gesturing towards the mountains. Cándida appreciated the effort the tourist made to speak with her in Spanish, so she continued the conversation in English, enjoying the pleasure of acting as hostess in that solitary point of her land. They told her that just looking at this spectacular landscape made them feel enthusiastic. One of them said they had been coming on holiday to Grand Canary Island for twenty years and every year they came to visit Los Andenes.
She tried to answer all their questions, pointing out the details of the surroundings and naturally, El Sao, her own particular Xanadu. They listened in fascinated attention, surprised at her knowledge of the area. A sensation of virtuous pride flushed through her at that moment.
Then the group of foreigners moved on and she was alone. Cándida took the video camera from the bag and prudently advanced to the edge of the cliff. From the spot she chose she could see part of the Tierras de Manuel Reservoir, situated between the pine forest and El Sao. Nearly impossible to see from the road, it was not well known. From way up here, the small reservoir looked like a black basalt chalice filled with an ethereal emerald liquid.
Suddenly she saw a dark shadow moving under the emerald surface of the water. Comparing it to the length of the dam, she could see it was quite large. There it was, in the centre of the viewfinder. Just then, another large shadow appeared to the right of it.
“There they are,” she whispered with contained enthusiasm.
She pressed the button, making a conscious effort to hold the camera steady, for she was shaking like a leaf with excitement. She didn’t know which of her facets was more affected, as an angler, or as an explorer. When the shadows moved out of sight she went back to the taxi. She was sure the driver would be getting impatient by now…and he was. She would have to give him a splendid tip to take that furious look off his face. A few minutes later they arrived at the plaza in El Hornillo.
The plaza and the nearby hermitage had been refurbished since she was last here many years ago. This was a charming place, although the terraces along the slopes of the ravine hadn’t been cultivated for a long time. They looked like empty benches in front of an altar, with the hermitage at the top. She decided to go in and looked for the grounds keeper so he could let her in. Solicitously, he unlocked the door of this small temple.
The hermitage of Santa Teresita is built on the austere lines of the most traditional Canarian style and it is meticulously maintained. The statue of the saint is situated in a niche painted in an ingenious style and decorated with flowers. Contemplating the face of this saint reminded her of summer vacations during her childhood, when she and her cousins enjoyed the simple but joyous feast day celebrations where the people of El Sao and El Hornillo were brought together in congregation.
A statue of San José stands at the right side of the niche, the Virgen del Carmen at the left. A large crucifix rises from its support on the floor. The altar is covered with immaculate openwork embroidery linen; representations of the Stations of the Cross cover the white walls. The simple confessionary at the entrance, the benches and knee rests, are carefully preserved. All these elements make the hermitage a harmonious place for prayer and the re-creation of one’s vistas.
When she went out, she looked up at the cliffs behind the plaza. She could see the numerous cave dwellings, the troglodyte quarters as many call them. It is an impressive sight which excursionists would miss unless they knew the turnoff leading right on down to El Hornillo from the road to Los Andenes.
After this stopover Cándida started down the trail which connects the hermitage and El Sao: the old gristmill route. Since leaving the principal route, she hadn’t come across another human being, with the exception of the grounds keeper at the hermitage. The trail was steep and not at all easy walking. She proceeded slowly, resting every now and then. After about twenty minutes, reaching a spot where she could see a part of the level stretch before the bend in the trail where it turns towards the caves at El Roque, she sat down for a moment and had a drink of water.
As she was getting to her feet again Cándida caught a fleeting glimpse of a person walking along that bend in the trail. She had just enough time to see that this person was a woman dressed in a grey blouse and a long black skirt; a long plait of hair trailed down her back, past her waist.
Cándida wondered why this woman was wearing that long skirt…it was not at all practical for walking along that steep and difficult trail. It occurred to Cándida that this woman might be one of those neo-folklorists who had lost her way to one of those new and numerous pilgrimages which had proliferated on the island during the last few years. Returning from the farm at Las Hoyas with her brother Claudio a month ago, they had to stop to let one of those pilgrimages proceed along the narrow road to Fagagesto; neither of them remembered pilgrimages being so numerous during their childhood.
This woman had to be really foolish, walking along that difficult trail between the brambles and cactus dressed in that long skirt, when hiking along that trail dressed in jeans was difficult enough. There was no trace of this woman when Cándida arrived at El Roque, and she didn’t see this woman walking down the slope leading to the gristmill.
“Well,” she thought, “this woman can really walk fast on that steep slope. This woman must be one of the locals.”
Cándida examined the loose ground along the trail, looking for the footprints made by this alleged pilgrim. She couldn’t find any. Probably, this woman was skipping along from stone slab to stone slab, as she would do herself, depending on whether she was wearing beach sandals or hiking boots.
From the caves at El Roque, it was only a stone’s throw by line of sight to El Sao. With the binoculars, Cándida could see the men working on the track, as her brother had told her. She took out her cell phone and called him. There was no answer; he must have left his cell phone in the car. Cándida moved along towards the ridge which jutted out over the reservoir. Then the going really became difficult.
As her brother had told her, a lot of brushwood had grown around there and she couldn’t find any of the paths. Drooping agaves and withered tabaibas, stunted almond trees and dried-out willows were all obstacles to her progress. Nevertheless, she carried on, trying to remember the co-ordinates of the area.
Fifteen strenuous minutes later, she reached the big rocks on the point of the ridge. Before she could look into the waters of the Tierras de Manuel Reservoir, even before she took a glance down below, she had to lean back and rest on the warm sloping surface of one the big rocks. She was really tired out.
When she felt rested, Cándida took the binoculars and prepared to make a critical and objective observation of the reservoir. She put the strap over her head and stretched out on her stomach at the edge of a big rock overlooking the still and silent water cradled between the crags as if it had been sleeping for dozens of years, disturbed only now and then by the watchman on his rounds.
After a few minutes of patient observation she saw a shadow about two or three metres long emerge slowly from the depths. The great creature was escorted by a troop of fish, carp or black bass, swimming nervously about, nipping at its flanks. Rising through the water with serene slowness, the great creature seemed to be enjoying the attentions of its attendants. Cándida felt the tingle of goose-flesh breaking out all over her body. In spite of what her brother had said and what she had seen on the video, what she was looking at now was absolutely amazing. She could hardly believe her eyes.
She wondered how much food such a creature needed, although this reservoir was probably full of fish; given its difficult access, nobody came to fish here. And apart from that, the waters from the reservoirs at Barranco Hondo and Lugarejo flowed into this one, maintaining a steady supply of fish.
Cándida couldn’t think of what she should do now. Sitting up to stretch her arms, which were cramped from holding the binoculars, she took out her cell phone and called her brother. Again, there was no answer. She looked over at the area around La Palma. It looked like somebody was sitting down at the point on the ridge where the orchards are. It was probably her brother. She put the binoculars to her eyes and looked across the ravine to the point on the distant ridge.
It wasn’t her brother. It was somebody else, clothed in grey and black attire. She focused the lenses carefully and clearly saw and recognized the neo-folklorist pilgrim.
“I can’t believe it,” she said out loud, “what is that woman doing there?”
Anger rushed through her. Her brother had forgotten to take the cell phone with him; she couldn’t call and tell him what she had seen in the water and saw now, there on the point of the ridge. Shaking with double frustration, she leaned back for a moment, then rolled over onto her stomach and re-focused the binoculars on the water below.
The afternoon sun was falling behind the peaks so there were no reflections on the surface now; she could see into the water more clearly. The great creature was still in the same place, suspended placidly in the water, apparently serving as a dinner table for the smaller fish. Then a second shadow came up abruptly, on the left flank of the first great creature. It was about the same size, and it brought its own troop of nipping attendants. Cándida’s amazement increased by the minute; paradoxically, at the same time her mind calmly came to the conclusion that she was witnessing the most singular sight of her life.
The two creatures moved slowly towards the dam, followed by their attendants. Just then, a third shadow appeared, directly below the rock where she was stretched out. The three creatures stayed just below the surface. She reached into the bag and brought out the video camera. Through the viewfinder, Cándida could see that the third one was only about half the size of the other two.
When she had the three creatures together in the viewfinder, she placed the video camera in a steady position on the rock and filmed them for a long while. Then she put the camera away and gazed at the strange scene in all its totality, with simple eyesight.
Some minutes later, one of the larger creatures made a quick flipping turn and a quarter of its body splashed up through the surface of the water. The troops of small fish broke ranks and retreated in various pulsating waves. It looked like there were at least a hundred fish flashing away in fright. She couldn’t forgive herself for not having one of the cameras in her hands at that instant. After a while, the water settled into its smooth stillness. Then she could only see the smallest creature, descending back into the depths.
Cándida could see that only about two hours of daylight remained now. Gathering up her equipment in a hurry, she started down the path towards El Sao, feeling alternating flashes of excitement and disappointment: what a shame she didn’t catch that stampede of fish on film. Looking over towards La Palma, she didn’t see anybody out there at the point on the ridge where the orchards are.
She decided to go down along the trail to the gristmill instead of taking the path through the almond trees. The first thing she saw as she approached this old gristmill was the water tower: it looked like some picturesque medieval tower. It had been built quite high so the water would pour out through the sluice with sufficient force to drive the water-wheels.
Cándida felt deeply moved when she saw this tower, remembering when she was a little girl and her older cousins would warn her not to go near it because a great big snake lived there and it could swallow a child whole. They would tell her anything to prevent her from falling in and drowning. Her older cousins at El Sao were her guardian angels during the summer holidays. Moving around the rugged land there could be dangerous if you didn’t know it well…and sometimes it was dangerous even if you did know it well.
Entering the gristmill, Cándida stopped in her tracks—petrified with shock. Her brother had told her that the gristmill had suffered more than one act of vandalism, but she had no idea that the results were so devastating. Only a part of the door was still hanging from the hinges. The round mat and cornmeal box lay destroyed on the floor. The grain hopper was dismantled and several components were missing. The white plaster walls were defaced with foul graffiti. Half the roof had disappeared. She sat down on one of the platforms, overcome with sadness at the sight of the cold-blooded destruction of this place, which had once been so full of warm human life and activity.
Cándida remembered those long sleepless nights when the grain was being ground, when both the young and the old would gather to pass away the long hours with a variety of string instruments and an accordion or two. She also remembered the card games they played, using grains of dried corn as counters, as well as those scary stories which were told by turns.
She went down to the cave which housed the water head…she found that what she liked best about the gristmill was smashed to smithereens…only the bare skeleton of the wooden water-wheel remained in place…one solitary grinding stone stood in vertical oddness next to the door.
“Oh no…oh no…” she moaned. Her grieving words went echoing across the deep ravine. “Léon…Léon…you should be dragged down here by your ears!”
With those woeful words resonating back and forth across the rocks she went out to the trail and turned her steps towards one of her favourite places in this piece of paradise: the laundry trough.
This laundry trough was long and quite wide, constructed with stone slabs. The sloping sides of porous pumice-like volcanic rock served as natural washboards. This was one of the meeting spots for the few children who lived at El Sao. The youngest children would test their skills building model boats to race there in the current produced by the discharge from the water head. From time to time, memorable water wars were waged there, using the spiny-edged leaves of the agave and the silvery yam leaves as water launchers: the larger the launcher, the wetter the enemy.
For Cándida, the major attraction of this laundry trough was swimming in it. On the warmest summer nights, especially when a full moon illuminated the area, the young girls of the family, attired only in their petticoats, would wend their way to this laundry trough, shepherded by an older cousin as a precaution in case of an accident. Anybody who was out wandering about, on passing by this laundry trough, might have imagined that he had become lost in an enchanted forest.
This wandering wayfarer would see a young faun sitting atop a dark boulder in the middle of the ravine, surrounded by the silvery leaves of the yam plants and whispery cane thickets. Meanwhile, a group of water nymphs would be frolicking about in the current, with white petticoats clinging to their wet young bodies and their faces shining in reflected moonlight, looking like white water lilies with lips puckered by the chilly water.
Cándida felt tired when she arrived at the laundry trough so she sat at one end of it, resting her back against the trunk of an almond tree. She gazed at the current for a few minutes and calculated that the rate of flow was only about one azada. Sighing, she leaned her head back against the tree, closing her eyes, imagining the full flow as it was in the old days. She sat there for a while like this, then opened her eyes—and jumped to her feet with her heart leaping up to her throat. There stood that woman, in that grey blouse and long black skirt, just two metres from where Cándida now stood.
“Good afternoon, and may God bless you,” that woman said in a soft voice.
“Good afternoon,” replied Cándida in a squeak, with her heart still up in her throat.
“Did I startle you?”
That woman seemed to take everything in her stride, but Cándida was surprised that she spoke to her in the familiar mode of address, which was unusual in Spanish, especially between strangers out here in the country.
“Yes, thou didst startle me a bit. Art thou from this part of the country?”
“I am. And so are you, I reckon.”
“In a way…my father was born here,” replied Cándida, looking closely at that woman, who was still standing just two metres away from her. Her face had features which were of an uncertain age and somehow, her face seemed familiar.
“I saw you at El Roque, up there over the reservoir.”
“And I saw thee,” said Cándida, realizing that she just couldn’t speak to that woman in the familiar mode of address, “sitting on the point of the ridge…”
That woman now leaned forward and her clear blue eyes stared intently at Cándida: “What were you looking at with so much interest? Were you looking at the big fish?”
“Yes…yes I was. Thou hast seen them?”
“I have seen them many times,” that woman said, still staring intently at Cándida.
“They are quite impressive…aren’t they? But it seems that only a few people know about them.”
“So much the better,” replied that woman as she stroked her long ash-blonde plait of hair, “it is sufficient that the family know it.”
That reply left Cándida somewhat surprised—her curiosity compelled her to ask: “Art thou part of the family?”
“I am. But you do not know me,” that woman said in a tone which did not invite further enquiry into her affiliation.
“Is it not difficult for thee to walk along these trails with that long skirt?”
“No it is not. I have always done so. Always.”
Cándida was puzzled by her emphasis: “Always?”
“Always—since I was fourteen years of age.”
Cándida now looked into that woman’s clear blue eyes…and thought she might be slightly mentally unbalanced. Cándida returned to the more neutral subject of the fish: “Thou would not have people know that there are such big fish in the reservoir?”
“I already told your brother that some time ago.”
“Thou told my brother?”
“Yes.”
Cándida now began to understand Léon’s attitude but she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t told her anything, given the confidence which existed between them.
“And thou would not have people know about the big fish…why?”
“Because many people would come here and they would kill the fish in order to know what they are—El Sao would be finished forever.”
“And how,” Cándida said as sweetly as she could, “would that affect thee?”
“This is my land—I do not want them to destroy it. I want the descendants of El Sao to continue enjoying this land.”
Now it was Candida who stared intently: “That poor woman is definitely mentally unbalanced,” she thought, turning her head away in embarrassment and bending over the laundry trough. She lowered her head, gathering chilly water in her cupped hands and splashing it on her face. When she raised her head and cleared her eyes she was alone. That woman in that grey blouse and long black skirt had disappeared into the gathering darkness of evening.
Cándida had to sit down on the edge of the laundry trough. She made an effort to calm down. She grabbed the cell phone and called her brother. This time, he answered:
“Hey—where are you? Do you know what time it is?”
“And where have you been? I’ve been calling you…” she said through clenched teeth, “…you didn’t answer!”
“Okay—okay. But did you manage to see anything?”
“Did I see anything? How can you ask me that…you…you big brat,” she shouted, as the cell phone trembled in her white-fisted grip, “I’m going to tell you a thing or two! Where are you, anyway?”
“I’m parked by Las Casillas, down below the cliff—in case you don’t remember. I’ve been waiting for you…”
Cándida waited until they had arrived at the Hotel Guayarmina before speaking to Léon. She didn’t want to distract his attention from the dangerous road winding down from El Sao. As soon as he turned onto the Valle de Agaete road, her fury made her ask:
“What…damn game are you playing?”
“Playing? Me?”
“Yes damn it! You knew all the time they were some big fish! What’s all this silly stuff about groups of carp?”
“Did you really see them?”
“Yes! I really saw them! And I saw something else…”
Léon brought the Jeep to a screeching stop. “Don’t tell me you saw her!”
“Saw her?”
“Yeah—you know. That woman with that plait and long skirt.”
“So you saw her too?”
“No—not today anyway…”
“So when did you see her?”
“When I went by myself. When I went to see for sure that those were really big fish in the reservoir.”
“Where did you see her? What did she say?”
“I went up to the orchard with a telescope. All of a sudden—there she was! She scared the hell out of me…I didn’t think anybody would be around there that day. I had just confirmed that they were really big fish—then she appeared out of nowhere.”
“But,” Cándida insisted, “what did she say?”
“She said: ‘Your discovery must not go beyond El Sao…’ her words exactly.”
“She said something similar to me.”
“Really?”
“That’s what I’m telling you! Who do you think that woman can be?”
“I haven’t got the slightest idea,” Léon replied.
“And didn’t she seem a bit…strange to you?”
“Strange? Yeah—real strange—with that costume!”
A heavy silence then filled the inside of the Jeep. Léon continued down the road, staring straight ahead. Cándida put her head back and closed her eyes. They both felt tired out by the day’s events. It was already night when they reached Gáldar. Cándida stepped down from the Jeep, then looked back in at Léon.
“What shall we do about those monster fish?”
“For the moment,” he said, “let’s leave them alone—okay—we’ll talk about it.”
“Okay then, see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, good night. Drive carefully—it’s night now—take it easy.”
Traffic on the highway was light, but she drove slowly. She was really tired out. She tuned the radio to some meaningless pop music so she wouldn’t doze off. Her head kept spinning, thinking about the strange events which had occurred that afternoon. She felt contented about seeing those monster fish alive and swimming serenely around in the reservoir. An irresponsible visitor had probably released some strange foreign fish there.
At least she’d be able to have the last laugh on her smart aleck nephews for years to come. They’d think twice before talking about carp in the future. That strange woman however…the appearance of that strange woman…somehow that spoiled it for her.
As soon as she arrived home she left her bag of equipment in the hallway and went into the den. She called her cousin Anita, the oldest woman in the family now. Anita went up to El Sao every weekend and knew everybody who was usually around there.
“Good evening, Anita, how are you?”
“Oh it’s you little Cándida. It’s been such a long time since I heard from you!”
“How’s everything at your place?”
“Nothing new, thank God. And how are you and your family?”
“Everybody’s fine, thanks. I’m calling because I have to ask you a question.”
“What’s the question?”
First she told Anita about her encounter with that woman, describing her attire and her long ash-blonde plait. Then she asked the question: “Do you know her?”
“No, I can’t say I do. Can’t recall ever seeing anybody like that.”
“Well, that is strange…that woman said she was part of the family.”
“My goodness, I’ve never heard anybody mention a strange woman like that.”
“Yes…it is very strange,” said Cándida.
“And how did you say she was dressed?”
“She wore a long black skirt and a grey blouse, with a high collar and long sleeves. Her hair was ash-blonde with a few grey hairs, in a long plait down past her waist. She had clear blue eyes, and she was more or less your height.”
“My goodness, I’ve never seen anybody like that at El Sao…” she said, pausing a few moments, then continuing, “…but somehow, your description sounds familiar.”
“Oh well, there’s nothing to be done. Sorry I bothered you. Please give my regards to your husband and your brothers.”
“I’ll do that my dear. Good night, and thank you for calling.”
After taking a bath, Cándida had supper with her daughter. Nina wanted to know all about the trip. She was astonished when she heard the description of the monster fish and she didn’t make a single joking remark. And Cándida didn’t make a single comment about that strange woman.
Then Candida went down to the sitting-room and stretched out on the couch. She turned on the television. She was just dozing off when the phone rang. She jumped up and hurried to the den, surprised that somebody would call at this late hour.
“Hello, who is it?”
“It’s me little Cándida, it’s your cousin Anita. Sorry, were you asleep?”
“No, no, I was just dozing off…what is it Anita?”
“When you called this evening and told me about your encounter with that strange woman at El Sao, you know, the description intrigued me. Somehow, it reminded me of somebody, but I couldn’t remember who it was.”
“And—did you find out?”
“Well…in a way…but it turns out to be quite odd.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I remembered that my mother—may she rest in peace—had some old photos put away, so I looked through them. And I found one that exactly fits the description of that strange woman.”
“And whose photo is it?”
“It’s great-grandmother Isabel, the owner of the entire El Sao estate, a century and a half ago.”
