My Crimany Cryptid Chronicles- The Angulia Peluda: Demon of the Ravine

The Anguila Peluda: Demon of the Ravine

Anguila Peluda, the hairy eel of Anaga. A demon in disguise. Exorcised, but never gone.

High in the Anaga mountains of Tenerife, where mist clings to volcanic cliffs and ravines cut deep into stone, lies Barranco de los Infiernos—the Ravine of the Damned. Within it, a pool known as Charco de la Anguila. The Pool of the Eel. But this wasn’t just any eel. This one had hair.

Locals spoke of a monstrous eel that slithered through the Palmital ravine, its head covered in thick fur, its gaze full of malice. They feared it wasn’t just a beast—it was something darker. Something sent to torment.

The Anguila Peluda—Hairy Eel—was said to be enormous, with a head bristling with coarse hair and eyes that gleamed with malevolence. Some claimed it could hypnotize with a glance. Others swore it was a demon. Its presence was so disturbing, a priest was summoned to exorcise it.

Historian Manuel de Ossuna y Van Den Heede recorded the tale in 1897. The priest came. The rites were performed. And the creature vanished.

But here’s the twist—even after the exorcism, the fear remained. The pool kept its name. The legend lingered. And some say, on moonless nights, the water still stirs.

For me, Anguila Peluda isn’t just folklore—it’s a symbol. A creature that wears its curse like a coat. That spirals through myth and memory. That reminds us: not all demons wear horns. Some wear fur.

Was the Anguila Peluda a real animal? A metaphor for colonial dread? Or something else entirely—a cryptid born of volcanic isolation and whispered warnings? Whatever it was, it left behind a name, a story, and a chill in the water.