Arrecife

Descending into Cueva de los Verdes feels like sneaking into the geological equivalent of an underground speakeasy, complete with moody lighting and surreal volcanic decor-a cavernous cocktail shaken by Mother Nature herself. Located near the sleepy village of Haria in Lanzarote, this subterranean maze formed roughly 3,000 years ago when lava tore through the limestone like a hot knife through butter, leaving behind a cathedral of otherworldly rock formations. Be smart and dodge the late-day tourist hordes by arriving first thing in the morning-preferably around opening at 10 AM-armed with sturdy shoes, a sense of humor, and about €10 per person. Tours run regularly, so reservations aren't strictly necessary, though showing up early makes you feel smug as you saunter past late risers fumbling with their sunscreen tubes outside. And while there's no active volcano here-sorry thrill-seekers-the guides gleefully spin tales of pirates and hidden villagers, adding color to each dripstone and shadowed crevice. You'll leave with dirt on your shoes, a new appreciation for lava-tube acoustics, and a quirky story involving pirates, volcanoes, and underground hideouts-definitely worth recounting over tapas and vino later.

If you've ever dreamed of channeling your inner Lawrence of Arabia-minus the heatstroke-then climbing aboard a camel at Timanfaya National Park is your ticket. The setting here is pure Martian chic: volcanic craters and scorched, lunar-like terrains crafted by Mother Nature in her angsty teenage years, otherwise known as Lanzarote's fiery eruptions in the 18th century. Sure, camels aren't native Canarians, but they've been schlepping locals (and now you, lucky traveler) across these otherworldly landscapes since the days when pirates roamed and tourism meant trying not to get kidnapped. Plan your visit early in the morning orlater in the afternoon, when the sunlight hits the volcanic peaks just right-perfect for envy-inducing selfies and fewer sweaty, sun-crisped tourists crowding your camel's personal space. Book at least a day or two ahead, as the camels' schedules are surprisingly regimented and punctual-these beasts won't wait around for your late-night sangria hangover to fade. Bring sunscreen, sunglasses, and maybe a scarf-less for flair, more for protection against stray camel slobber or volcanic grit on windy days. Budget roughly €12-€15 for the pleasure, a price far cheaper than an interplanetary trip to Mars with Elon Musk. Even if sore thigh muscles and a lingering camel aroma aren't exactly on your bucket list, riding atop a lumbering dromedary through Lanzarote's volcanic moonscape for half an hour is worth it-if only to smugly tell friends back home how you boldly "conquered" the lava fields by camelback.

Descending beneath the waves aboard a bright yellow submarine off Lanzarote feels like stepping into a slightly surreal Beatles lyric-except with fewer hallucinogens and more curious grouper eyeing you suspiciously through reinforced glass. Located in the glossy harbor of Puerto Calero, the Submarine Safari is part Jules Verne fantasy, part Jacques Cousteau adventure, and entirely delightful. You'll hover silently past shipwrecks, volcanic rock formations, and marine life blissfully unaware of the floating metal capsule filled with giggling tourists snapping underwater selfies. Book your dive ahead-at least a few days-to secure a good morning slot when visibility is clearest and fish are enthusiastic and photogenic, not yet bored by repetitive submarine traffic. Budget around €60 per adult and grab your dramamine if you're prone to seasickness-though, honestly, the futuristic interior feels stable enough for Captain Nemo himself to sip a cappuccino. Ultimately, whether you're a diehard marine nerd or just chasing novelty beneath the waves, the Submarine Safari is worth it-because honestly, how many times in life can you casually brag at dinner parties about your brief stint beneath the Atlantic in Canary Islands waters, dodging skeptical barracudas in a craft that sounds suspiciously like a Beatles prop?

Tucked discreetly into the volcanic folds of Nazaret-a sleepy village far removed from Lanzarote's manicured resorts-LagOmar Museum is the sort of accidental gem you find when you stop listening to Google Maps and start listening to locals gossiping over their morning cortado. Legend whispers this whimsical labyrinth, etched directly into rust-colored lava rock and dotted with secret stairways, turquoise pools, and groovy '70s flair, belonged briefly to Omar Sharif-who, rumor has it, lost it in a feckless card game soon after buying it. Whether that's strictly true (and, honestly, who really cares?), the setting feels deliciously Bond-villain chic, blending Cesar Manrique-inspired architecture with Moroccan souk intrigue. Aim for late morning, ideally on a weekday, to beat the bus tours and the Instagram selfie brigade. Plan your visit two or three days in advance (or wing it-this isn't the Louvre), bring €10 for admission plus a little extra for tapas and vino blanco in their stylish bar, and wear sensible shoes unless tumbling down volcanic stairs in flip-flops sounds fun to you. LagOmar is worth the pilgrimage, if only so later you can casually mention, cocktail in hand, how you spent the afternoon lounging in Omar Sharif's (maybe) former bachelor pad.

Perched high atop a volcanic cliff in the rugged charm of Haria, Mirador del Rio isn't your average scenic overlook-it's where Cesar Manrique, Lanzarote's famed artist-architect, decided to show off. Imagine James Bond villain lair meets minimalist chic, with jaw-dropping panoramas of La Graciosa and its neighboring islands spreading out beneath you like an absurdly photogenic picnic blanket. Go early morning or-better still-just before sunset, when the golden light spills dramatically across the cliffs, making you feel artsy and sophisticated, even if you usually can't tell Van Gogh from Van Halen. Bring a windbreaker (trust me) and a camera with plenty of memory-this is selfie turf of the highest order. Budget around €5 per person for entry, and avoid the midday heat and crowds unless you enjoy elbowing selfie-stick-wielding tourists for the best angle. Plan ahead just enough to beat the tour buses-no one looks good photobombed by eighty sunburned Europeans in matching hats. Quirky note: people have actually tried hang-gliding from here, which-though ill-advised and probably illegal-is precisely the kind of misguided audacity that would make Manrique crack a knowing smile from the beyond. Ultimately, Mirador del Rio is worth visiting not purely for the sublime vista, but for the smug satisfaction you'll feel when casually dropping into conversations that you stood where art, geography, and borderline lunacy spectacularly collide.

If your idea of adventure involves trading crowded tourist beaches for windswept desert islands, then hopping over to La Graciosa from Órzola is exactly the sort of intrepid escape you didn't know you needed. This delightfully off-grid dot of land, lounging lazily off the northern tip of Lanzarote, feels like the slapdash set of a Sergio Leone spaghetti western-in a good way. Catch the ferry early (aim for the morning departures around 8 or 9 AM if you want to maximize your Robinson Crusoe hours), and plan at least a day or two ahead; even sleepy outposts require a little forethought. Bring cash (€30 per adult for the ferry ride, plus a few extra euros to rent a gloriously rusted bicycle or buy enough sardines and crisp local wine to keep morale high). Don't forget sunscreen, snacks, water, and a generous helping of humor-because on La Graciosa, Wi-Fi is about as common as unicorns, and shoes are delightfully optional. Your reward? Picture-perfect beaches, surreal volcanic landscapes, and bragging rights for having braved the Atlantic winds aboard a ferry that sways like Hemingway after cocktail hour. Even if pristine sands and solitude aren't your usual jam, trust me, stepping foot on Europe's most charmingly rugged island outpost makes for one heck of a story-especially when retold later over tapas and more wine.