Up we go

Alien tentacles! Cthulhu raising to the surface! Tremble, you feeble humans... etc

When I went up the Mount Teide two years ago I didn’t really have a plan. Well, I had the most basic of all plans — to go up and survive. People told me two things at once — first “it’s kinda easy, you just need to pace yourself” and the second “but the altitude sickness can strike even the most fit people”. With this mixed message in mind, I can tell you I was going up listening to myself and asking all the time “am I ok?”, “am I still ok?”. I was perfectly fine, but this type of self-monitoring is not conductive to enjoyment.

This time I knew it was doable, and my first concern was the weather. What if the (blasted) calima turns up again? We won’t be able to see anything!

I can say straight away that we were much luckier this time — there was almost no dust in the air and the visibility was a lot better. First day, we saw Gran Canaria, La Palma and La Gomera above the sea of clouds while still on the bus. Next day, only La Gomera was visible from the top of the mountain at dawn, but that was also fine — I personally didn’t even get the camera out of the backpack, see the explanation later.

Tickling the air

The second concern had to do with this beautiful weirdness from the title photo. Tajinaste Rojo, red bugloss of Tenerife, towel of jewels or whatever you chose to call it. I knew it would be about the right time for them to bloom, but our guide was adamant that we are not going to look for them specifically. So I was making plans to somehow split from the group, go search for them, probably get lost in the caldera... Turned out, I needn’t have. We stopped at the Visitors Center El Portillo to change, rearrange our luggage, etc. — and there they were! The Center has a landscaped area dedicated to local flora. There were quite a few tajinaste plants in bloom right there. We later saw some along the road too, but this year there were none along the route.

Vaya, what long tentacles you’ve got

So, as it happens, I had my flowers craving satisfied almost the first thing. From that point on I was already a happy woman. But it got better (in a weird torturous way).

We started our ascent by Montaña Blanca (the White Mountain, which is orange. Yeah. Go figure). It was the same route as before, the one most people who ascend on foot take. Wikiloc probably has hundreds of variation on the theme.

Fuerteventuraesque Montana Rajada to the right of the path

When you start going by that route, first you ascend very slowly by a dirt track, then you stop for a breather just where the actual slope of Teide starts. From there, an old path starts climbing a lot sharper to Altavista mountain refuge. Apparently, the path was used in the past for bringing stuff up the mountain on the backs of beasts of burden. Considering the amount of stuff we were carrying, that bit didn’t change since.

Retama above-the-clouds

White Spartocytisus supranubius, Broom above-the-clouds was in bloom. We saw it last time too, but I like this specific term so much, I feel compelled to point it out again.

Huevo Roto

Last time we also saw these dark lava balls called Los Huevos del Teide (Teide’s eggs or Teide’s balls). This time we noted how many of them were broken. That produced certain amusement in our group since huevos rotos (“broken eggs”) is one of the basic dishes in Spanish cuisine.

Bonus track

One of the unexpected pleasures was to find “violeta del Teide” in bloom. I knew about its existence, but I was concentrating on tajinaste since it is so much more spectacular. But it was so nice to find the small blue-flowering plants scattered along the route. The biggest number of them we found just behind Altavista refuge, as you start going up from it.

Anaga mountain range with its cloudfall in far distance

We got to the refuge without any problems. If anything, we were going up too fast — when we arrived, the door was still closed. The rooms (there are three dormitories with bunk beds) are distributed between 5 and 6 pm; all spaces were fully booked. You must reserve the refuge in advance, or get it reserved for you, as it was our case. I am reasonably sure they won’t throw you out if you turn up there, frost-bitten with your teeth chattering, and ask for help, but you won’t have a bed. Also keep in mind that the door is closed at 10.30.

I especially like the way the letter “п” is drawn, without the horizontal stroke.
You can almost imagine somebody with a bad eyesight copying it off a screen, tongue sticking out in concentration.

After we had a little rest and snacks in the refuge it was still light outside so I decided to go up a bit, to see if the view opens up to the left (as you look down). At the level of the refuge there is a crest of lava rock blocking the views, you can see it on the very last panoramic picture.

I was going up for a while already when I stopped to take a pic and realised that there was another member of our group going up behind me. I stopped to wait for her and we carried on together. In a little while, we saw two young guys going down the same path. They greeted us really happily (I am reasonably sure that we all had certain light-headness due to the altitude). Their older companions followed soon, one of them carrying a flag of “Canarian Independence Party”. They stopped to chat; the independist turned out to be big fan of Russians in general — he is one of the few remaining people who still remember who won the Second World War. At some point he produced the bit of paper you can see above. On it, it is written, or rather drawn, in Russian:

Russians remember!
Canary Islands
NOT
Spain
Independence!!”

Just imagine that — you go up Teide and you carry with you a sticker of your Spanish party in RUSSIAN! That shows quite a dedication I say.

Shadow of Teide and Gran Canaria

The other guy turned out to be a botanist, and my companion made a mistake of telling him that I was very interested in botany. So we ended up having a conversation about botany after the political one; by the time we were finished the shadow of Teide was racing across the caldera of Canadas del Teide. It was clear that, what with no torches with us, we can’t possibly go up, so we went back down to the refuge. As we learned next morning, that was a big mistake.

Panorama from refugio

So the next morning we got up at 4.30 to start by 5.30 (or was it 5? I must have blocked it). Most of us didn’t get a wink. Adults in a large dormitory situation don’t tend to sleep well. I think I slept a bit, but woke up about three-ish to find a guy across the passage snoring and a woman across another passage complaining loudly about it. I guess I wasn’t quite awake, coz I did something I wouldn’t normally do — I took my pillow and reached with it across the passage to push him a bit and make him change the position. It turned out, however, that the guy wasn’t the one who was snoring, he was quite awake, and was startled and shouted out loudly. Now I am not sure I can live it down with this group as they didn’t stop talking about the episode all of the next day after the ascent was over. Maybe I need to change the group.

Anyway, here comes the hard (although exciting) bit. We started from the refuge and, before we came to the level of the upper station of the cable car, the wind picked up and was blowing really hard, some gusts literally enough to lift you off your feet. A few members of our group stayed there — the wind plus the strong smell of sulfur was too much for them. Majority carried on though. Some considerable stretches of the ascent we had to go on all fours, and at one point it looked like we can’t do it all the way to the top. Then one of the guides went up to investigate, came back and said it was possible to go up with caution. So up we went. The sunrise was very sunrisey. Only La Gomera was sticking over clouds and I find it too dangerous to take my camera out of the backpack. Still, it was quite a beautiful, adrenaline drenched experience. If any of my companions publishes a deserving pic of that sunrise I will add a link here.

Now, our plan was to go down by cable car. Except of course the cable car didn’t run in this wind. We we went down on foot, by the same path we came up and NOT by Pico Viejo, thank God. We had our intended walk almost doubled as a result.

So, two important lessons, for me at least. First — if there is a chance to go up, go up. Take a lantern, take water and go. You don’t know what’s gonna happen.

Second — you really truly don’t know whats gonna happen in the mountain. So have plan B, plan C and plan D just in case.

Did I say two? Three, actually — take a pair of earplugs and enjoy a peaceful sleep. The switching on the light will wake you up anyway, so... no point in listening to your companions snoring.

Pictures from Teide at Shutterstock — here