Today we explored one of those places that quietly waits in the background of Gran Canaria’s modern world — the Antigua Batería Antiaérea Montaña de las Tabaibas, a small former military position located near the airport in the east of the island.
Not a tourist attraction.
Not signposted.
Not restored.
Just a forgotten piece of history overlooking the plains of Gando.
Driving With Respect
The adventure began, as many of ours do, by slowly driving around the surrounding area. The landscape near the airport is a mixture of dry volcanic terrain, scattered houses, dusty roads, and open views toward the runway of Gran Canaria Airport.
We made sure to respect private properties. No gates opened. No boundaries crossed. No unwanted intrusion. Exploring responsibly is part of what we stand for. There’s a difference between curiosity and carelessness — and we always choose curiosity with respect.
After finding a suitable place to park without disturbing anyone, we stepped out into the warm air and began walking toward the hillside.
A Hill That Doesn’t Look Like Much
Montaña de las Tabaibas is not a dramatic mountain. It doesn’t dominate the skyline. It doesn’t look impressive from a distance.
But sometimes history hides in places that don’t need to shout.
The hill is modest in height, a dry volcanic rise shaped by wind and time. The path upward is uneven but manageable. Loose stones shift under your feet, and the ground carries that earthy brown-red tone so typical of the eastern side of Gran Canaria.
As we walked, planes roared overhead — a constant reminder of how close we were to the airport. Modern aircraft climbing into the sky above a position that was once built to defend against them. The contrast already felt powerful.
An Unexpected Abandoned House
Along the way, something unexpected appeared: an abandoned house.
It stood quietly beside the path, weathered and empty. Faded walls. Silence. No clear sign of when it had last been lived in. It added another layer to the atmosphere — human presence, long gone.
For a moment, the house felt like a bridge between two forgotten stories — civilian life below, military vigilance above.
Reaching the Top
The climb wasn’t long, but it felt meaningful.
At the summit, the remains of the old military installation revealed themselves slowly. Not dramatically. Not in perfect condition. But unmistakably.
Concrete forms embedded into the ground. Circular shapes. Low protective walls. Positions carved strategically into the hill.
This was it.
The Antigua Batería Antiaérea.
Where the Gunners Once Waited
On top of the hill, we found several recessed positions — hiding points where the gunners once had to be stationed. You can clearly imagine how soldiers would have crouched behind the concrete, scanning the horizon, waiting for potential threats.
From here, the view is wide and open. The plains stretch out toward Gando. The airport runway is visible. The coastline shimmers in the distance.
It’s easy to understand why this location was chosen.
During the uncertain years surrounding World War II, the Canary Islands held strategic importance. Even though Spain remained officially neutral, defensive positions like this were built in case of attack. The fear was real enough to prepare — even if the battle never came.
And that’s perhaps the most striking part of this place.
It was built for war.
It waited for war.
But war never arrived here.
Silence Above the Runway
Standing there today, everything feels calm.
Instead of military commands, you hear wind.
Instead of anti-aircraft guns, you hear passenger jets.
Instead of soldiers scanning the sky, you see travelers heading toward holidays and reunions.
History and modern life exist side by side.
The concrete is cracked. The edges are worn. Nature is slowly reclaiming the structure. Yet the layout is still clear enough to imagine the tension that once lived here — the long watches, the uncertainty, the anticipation.
Why Places Like This Matter
The Antigua Batería Antiaérea Montaña de las Tabaibas is not famous. It doesn’t appear in glossy brochures. There are no information panels explaining what happened here.
And maybe that is exactly why it feels authentic.
Exploring places like this reminds us that Gran Canaria is more than beaches and resorts. Beneath the surface lies a quieter history — one of preparation, strategy, and silent defense.
Today, we walked respectfully.
We observed carefully.
We left everything as we found it.
And as we descended the hill, planes continued to rise into the sky — unaware of the concrete ghosts watching from above.
Another hidden chapter discovered.
Another forgotten place remembered.
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