They aren't pirates; they were. But they behave like pirates. Salcai-Global employees are holding Gran Canarian passengers and tourists hostage, blocking mobility on the island with an indefinite strike that will ground more than 600 journeys this weekend. The vehicles, the backbone of public transport in Gran Canaria, have become hostage to a union and business battle that hides more than just labor improvements: the staunch defense of a monopoly that has controlled intercity transport in the province of Las Palmas for decades.
The strike is concentrated in two critical periods: from 06:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m. and from 17:00 p.m. to 21:00 p.m., when the movement of students, workers, and tourists is highest. With minimum service coverage set at 75%, it is estimated that 300 routes go uncovered each day, forcing thousands of people to seek improvised alternatives.
This Sunday, the situation will be even worse: the weekend schedule cuts will be compounded by driver strikes, leaving tourist areas like Puerto Rico, Playa del Inglés, and the airport itself virtually disconnected. A picture of a third-world destination in the middle of peak season.
Stations converted into cages
The image in San Telmo says it all: endless lines, empty platforms, and tourists carrying suitcases in the sun, not knowing if there will be a bus. University students trying to get to campus and workers who depend on intercity transportation find themselves trapped in absolute helplessness. "It's a hidden kidnapping," muttered one resigned passenger, watching as his bus driver joined the strike.
The pressure strategy: monopoly or nothing
The unions insist that the protest is necessary. "It will continue, even if it's annoying," declared driver Juanma Trujillo this Friday. Meanwhile, Santiago Domínguez (CCOO) issued a warning: if the Lanzarote and Fuerteventura councils don't intervene, the partial strikes will turn into a total paralysis. But behind the union noise lies a darker undercurrent: the preservation of a shielded business. Salcai-Global not only manages most lines, it also conditions any attempt at competition or diversification in public transport. The strike, more than a demand, is a message of power.
Tourists and residents, the hostages
The strike coincides with the massive influx of visitors, in a September where hotel occupancy exceeds 80%. The blow to Gran Canaria's international image is evident: tourists stranded at stations, families struggling to find taxis, and road congestion due to the rise in private cars. Meanwhile, the Canary Islands Council and government are looking the other way, caught between union pressure and fear of harming the interests of a monopoly that has turned intercity transport into a private domain.
The south of Gran Canaria isn't just suffering a strike: it's suffering a hijacking. Passengers are involuntary hostages in a struggle that exposes the island's dependence on a single operator, Salcai-Global, and the inability of institutions to guarantee alternatives. Tourists take home long waits and a sense of chaos. Residents, the certainty that mobility on the island is hijacked by those who claim to defend it. And the monopoly is ironclad.
