Next I made a trip up to the centre of the Island to Teide National Park. It's about a 50km drive from sea level at the coast, to the plateau just over 2000M. The weather was fine; not a cloud in the sky, but at that altitude it was of course much cooler than on the coast (where it was 24C). I stopped off firstly at the foot of the Veijo volcano, which is half way down West side of the Teide Volcano. This would be my descent on day 2 and I was keen to see what the terrain was like. It struck me as much steeper than Google Earth shows, but I almost expected it I think. Google Earth never seems to show just how steep a slope is. I asked a park ranger about the area and she told me than climbing Veijo was one of the toughest climbs on the island. Less than Teide with approx 1000M gain, but it was steep and the path wasn't great. I asked about a descent form Teide. She estimated 7-8 hours because of what she called 'badlands'; a difficult surface to walk on, very rocky and broken up. Before arriving I had estimated 4 hours for the descent, so this would perhaps have changed my plans. That said, I would have been running (where possible) and not walking, so maybe 4 hours would have been realistic. I've marked the placed I stopped on this map; STOP1.
I got back in the car and drove down from the Teide plateau about 10km to a recreation and camping areas called Las Lajas. It is on one of the main roads coming up from the coast, way past the towns of Arona and Vilaflor for those who know the island a little. I've marked this STOP2 on the map. I had read that this recreation area had a restaurant, and was surprised to find that it was open, even in winter. Las Lajas would be my half-way stage on day 1. I stopped and had a coffee and then decided to hedge my bets about it being open the following day and so bought 4 x 250ml bottles of water and a snickers bar (as a treat!) and then ran about half a mile up the nearby Mountain de Las Lajas and there secreted them away and marked the location on my PDA (GPS on). So, at least I would have some fresh water the next day even if the place was closed. I ran back down the mountain to the car and literally drove round the corner and parked again. On the map you will see a thick blue line near STOP2. This was the route (there and back) that I was going to reccie that afternoon. I was concerned about a description in a guide book about a narrow shelf hovering over a thousand foot drop, and wanted to see if I dared tackle it the following day, or change my route for that section.
I strapped on my backpack, which I only packed with essentials, plus waterproof jacket, gloves and hat etc, as well as plenty of water. It was only perhaps 5kg, the lightest pack I would sport all week. The route is shown below. Green x is the car, red x is where I stopped and returned. The yellow markers are the 'dangerous' section.
Part of the route from another angle.
The return route was a little over 5 miles, but gained 350M (1150ft), so it would be a taxing reccie, and not a gentle stroll! The start of the route was virtually invisible. A single white arrow chalked on a rock about 10M off the road. If you did not know it was there (or lacked GPS) you would never find it. I should at this point state that this is typical for Tenerife. Unlike the UK, where there are signposts on every footpath way marks and stiles etc, there are practically none in Tenerife. There are a handful of easy tourist trails that are well signposted, but that is it. For the rest, you are relying on past trekkers having left little chalk marks, or painted white or green spots on rocks, or maybe little cairns (a pyramid of 3 of 4 little rocks in Tenerife) to mark the footpath. It is all too easy to get lost and you frequently backtrack to pick up the right path in some places. As it happened the past trekkers on this route had done a good job, and the route was well way-marked with these 'signs'. I had no trouble following the path. This photo I took illustrating the easy path to follow.
All the paths are rough in Tenerife; just different grades of rough. What you see above is almost the best it ever gets. Everything else is much rougher; bigger rocks, boulders etc. What struck me as I walked, quite steeply up at times, through the pine trees was that the bottom 3 or 4 metres was burned. My sister had told me (and it was on international news) that forest fires had swept through the island. This area had got off reasonably lightly, but practically every tree was scorched.
Eventually I made my way past the huge round mountain called 'the Sombrero' on that Google Earth shot and up onto the ridge of Las Canadas mountain range. The north face of the ridge is steep to sheer cliff, whereas the south side is just very steep to less steep. This photo was taken from that ridgeline. If you look closely (near the bottom of the shot) you can make out a road than runs horizontally, a thousand feet below.
Dominating that photo is of course the Volcano Teide. The volcano Veijo is the bulge half way down the left hand side, 600M lower than the summit. What is funny is that the Volcano doesn't look steep from that angle. You'll just have to take my word for it that it is!
I ran and walked along the ridgeline at intervals, depending on the terrain keeping an eye on my GPS as I approached the feared 'dangerous section'. Abruptly the path vanished into an almost sheer wall of rock. At the top of the rock was an arrow pointing up through a narrow gap. To the left was the sheer drop straight down.
To try and give some perspective here is a shot of the whole ridgeline I took a few days later. This section was about half way along it (top to bottom; a thousand feet remember)
Now I understood and immediately didn't like the look at it and scanned around for a way around on the south side of the ridge. It appeared I wasn't the first the think it as someone had way marked a path, at least for 30M or so, past this section. The route meant descending off the ridge on a very picky boulder strewn path, through some thick undergrowth. Abruptly the way marks vanished and I was left to find my own way back up. This meant climbing on all fours, carefully at times, and eventually emerging perhaps 100m past the dangerous section back at the top of the ridgeline. This was quite an exhausting and lengthy detour to pass such as small section, but I understood why now. I ran on for another 1/4 mile before deciding that was far enough, and I had met my objective for that section.
I made my way back, but as I reached the area where I would detour down bravado got the better of me and I thought I would just take a close look at the dangerous section, from the return direction. I made my way forward and was on a narrow ridgeline. The drop to the south: maybe on 5M sheer, but an awful lot longer on the north (my right). It certainly was not 1000ft straight down, as the guidebook authors had made out (that was the drop to the canyon floor where the road is), but it was certainly a drop that would seriously injure or kill, and certainly one that it would be impossible to climb back up from. After about 50M I got to the hard section. As described in the book, you had to step out and down onto a narrow (6 inch) shelf and edge along it about 6ft, before climbing back up and over the rocks, then climbing down that almost sheer wall that I had faced on the approach. Now I was there it didn't look quite as bad as I expected, and the sheer drop was not visible as you lowered yourself down on the shelf. You would have to look behind you and down to see it. I'm not rock climber, but even I fancied this section if nothing else than to face down a fear of heights. Sporting the backpack was somewhat of a hindrance, but I figured I would manage it.
I remembered watching TV about rock climbing and one of the golden rules is that you always have 3 points of contact with the rock, moving only one limb at a time. I followed it to the letter as you can imagine. I lowered myself down onto the shelf, clinging to the rock on my left. I didn't once look down (in case I got struck with vertigo), and edged across without any issue and climbed back up. I managed to lower myself back down the face on the other side, using a slightly different and safer route than the one suggested. I was pleased with myself for tackling it, but wondered if the following day with a pack weighing in at almost 12kilos at 3 times the bulk if I would do the same, or play safe? I had proved to myself I could do it, but a big wide pack would counter-balance me more, and would increase the risk factor massively. I pondered on it as I ran along the ridgeline and headed back to the car. It had taken me about an hour and a half to get to the half way stage that day, but barely 40 minutes to run back down to the car. I managed to get the car almost stuck in a ditch (no nice lay-by to park in), and had to use some ingenuity to stop the wheels spinning in the dust and eventually get it back on the road. I was driving a dinky little Hyundai Getz; a few horse power less than I am used to!
I next drove to what would be my campsite for day 2; the day of the Teide ascent/descent (via Veijo). This time the recreation area had no restaurant, no facilities (apart from BBQ stands!). It did have a few water taps, which I had confirmed from my sister were no good from drinking from. This was a blow, and would mean I would have to stock up and carry more water on the ascent to Teide, to ensure sufficient for that night and into the following afternoon. I had one small water bottle that I stowed behind a rock, and cursed that I had not brought more with me in case of this eventuality. Still, it was not a major hurdle.
I made my way back down to the coast and the apartment. I packed my 30l Raidlight rucksack, and 5l front pack (my new Raidlight Evolution pack was not even close to getting a look in here; far too tiny!). It was absolutely cram-packed full once my tent and sleeping bag/roll-may were inside, as well as my extra clothes, waterproofs, cooking equipment and provisions for 3 days (inc 3 litres of water for first day). It was so crammed full I was forced to store some items in the webbing on the outside of the rucksack (Helly Hansen top, hat, gloves etc). The Raidlight pack was bursting at the zips. I put it on. Wow, was it heavy. I had never carried, let alone trained with, a pack of this weight before. I knew I would be at least 11 kilos when I was advance-planning, but this was more. I don't have a precise weight, but I'm sure it was 12k at least. Not only the weight, but the bulk meant that it was twice my little body-frames' width. I must have looked stupid carrying it! I did take a photo of it, but the pic was sadly lost as you will read later. I timed sunset that evening. It was 18:15, not 17:05 like a website had told me. Serves me right for believing what I read. However, it said sunrise was at 06:45. It was actually at 07:45. So, right amount of daylight, just time-shifted one hour.
I laid out my clothes for the following day, and set my alarm clock an hour later. At least I would get an extra hour in bed! I then went out for a meal with my Sister and her boyfriend at a lovely Italian (always thinking carbs me) in La Caleta, near Adeje. I got to bed around midnight. Before I drifted of I thought the day had gone well; the reccie was a success. It looked like all my hard work and meticulous planning was going to pay off. I had no idea that the following day would almost very nearly be my last.
1 comment:
Hi Rich, hope you had a good Christmas.
Can't wait to read more!!
Steph
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