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The island of Lanzarote gets only ~150ml of rainfall each year, and most of the island relies on water desalination plants for drinking water. However, most houses are built to a traditional design, and sit atop a water tank, which is shielded from the sun by the building and therefore conserves the water stored there. You can also see larger underground reservoirs in the middle of villages. The lack of water has led to a unique method of 'dry' vine cultivation for wine - in the centre of the island, you can see fields of black volcanic ash, which overlies hollows in which vines are planted singly behind semi-circular walls which protect from the wind. Their roots reach down into a layer of manure and the thin soil beneath the ash, and the 10-12cm ash layer conserves the moisture that allows the grapes to grow (no other irrigation is given once the vines are planted). All harvesting and wine production is done by hand, with over 2000 viticulturalists on an island of only 150,000 people, providing valuable, sustainable local employment.

On a Canaries cruise, my mum and I took a trip to Timanfaya volcano and its visitor centre today. Although the most recent big eruptions were back in the 1700s, and 1824, at the visitor centre there is still (carefully-monitored) volcanic activity directly under our feet - as demonstrated by the guide handing us handfuls of gravel scraped up from the surface, which were almost too hot to hold. We also saw straw dropped into a cleft in the ground catch fire, and 'geysers' of steam created by pouring cold water down narrow pipes, not to mention steaks merrily sizzling on a barbecue grill set over a glowing hole in the ground. I learned volcanos in this area are made of basalt, so black and red (iron oxide) ones are younger and sharper, yellow/brown ones older (up to 3m yrs old ) and smoother, They are fissile, so they all pop up in a row, not randomly. The landscape looks rocky and almost barren for miles around (40% of the whole island) with lava flows right down to the sea from the centre of the island, where often only lichen (white then yellow) can grow. However, there are over 600 species of plants and creatures across the national volcano park as a whole. Mainly tough, spiny desert-adapted plants, nocturnal insects and a few birds, the biggest of which is a gyra vulture, plus rabbits, rats and an indigenous Canarian shrew. Some of the oldest parts look like the 'Hollywood' version of a desert, with what appears to be sand dunes, complete with camels for the tourists to ride on (not part of our trip). Most of the park is forbidden to walkers due to the extreme roughness and fragility of the lava fields and the danger of falling into a hole or cave, but the bus tours 14 km of the park on precipitous roads to give tourists a good flavour of the unique landscape. It is like nothing I have ever seen on earth - even the dry, rocky parts of Lanzarote looked positively verdant after being in the heart of the park.

A very enjoyable day being introduced to the craft of whittling today. I learned lots about making spatulas and spoons, but I was inspired to make a wooden fish for my downstairs loo, which will soon be redecorated with an undersea theme) (final pic shows finished item on 21 Feb). This was a bigger and chunkier project than most others', so I didn't get very far, it will need to be finished at home. I also learned about correct sharpening - my mind was blown by the discovery that you can sharpen tools on a strop made from a fungus, birch polyphore, which grows on dead or dying birch trees. We were each gifted a fresh slice of fungus for future use. I will now be more confident about trying whittling by myself, and taking care of my beginner's blades.

Today I made my first attempt at a cyanotype picture. This specially-coated paper is light-sensitive, and produces beautiful prints if you lay vegetation such as ferns on top of it, so that some areas are shielded from exposure, and the rest turns a beautiful bright blue when rinsed in cold water to 'fix' it. Results vary according to the light - development took much longer in the weak winter sun than the instructions implied (>30 mins v 10 usually) but I was pleased with the result. I used various bits and bobs from the garden - ivy, seeds, a snowdrop or two, tiny ferns. That's mum's birthday card sorted - she loves snowdrops, and a handmade card is nicer than a shop-bought one.

Hard labour for our large group today, cutting back the vegetation near the main track around the woodland, to make way for a tractor which is digging a trench to lay pipework for the woodland centre, to improve the water supply. Plenty of practice with bow saws (branches over wrist thick), pruning knives (under wrist thick), loppers (thumb thick) and secateurs (finger thick max).

To Beechbrae, for an extended 'Branching Out' groups reunion, in the aftermath of storm Isha, and just before storm Jocelyn. Pretty soggy underfoot, among the younger trees, but between us all, working in teams, we planted about 20m of mixed hedge in jig time, leaving lots of time for a much needed hot drink and a catch-up, since our group leader hadn't thought to instruct us about any other jobs we could do :)

Much tea-drinking for warmth, and more polytunnel bed maintenance, supervised by a friendly and hungry robin, who looks more like a wren, he's so fluffed up. Slight snow on the ground, frosty light, and so cold a barrow of compost containing potatoes, which had been in the polytunnel for a week, was frozen solid. The robin was happy when we unearthed some worms for him - he is quite tame now, comes right up to peoples' feet sometimes, and flits in and out of the open door as the mood takes him. The chickens are still roosting in the apple trees at night rather than in their cosy straw-filled henhouse, silly things.