Tenerife Day 5: We're gonna need a bigger boat

I woke up a little later on day 5, maybe around 9am. I looked outside the apartment and it was crystal clear blue sky. I looked north and Teide's summit was clearly visible. I knew that a partial thaw had taken place the previous day, and I just hoped it was enough to make a summit attempt.

I ate my final MDS breakfast, checked my rucksack and drove up to the national park. I stopped in the same lay-by as the previous day and spoke to the same park ranger again. I asked her if it was possible to climb Teide. To my delight she said that the path to the Mountain Refuge (3250M) on Teide’s slope had ice and snow, but was passable with care. She looked down at my trainers and said, but to go higher I would need crampons. I knew she was being helpful, but that amused me a little. It was like she was saying my kit was inadequate - hence the Jaws the movie reference in the blog post title. I thanked her and drove around to the start of the path (2350M). Luck was with me as a car pulled out of a space and gave me the final parking spot. I say parking spot; it's just a dirt patch at the side of the road. I strapped on my pack. I was carrying 10kg again, including 3l of water, 1.5l of which was slung across my front pack and fitted with a smart tube.



I set off up the wide path, which park ranger pickup trucks and rescue vehicles frequently use.



The path was mostly covered with snow and ice, but some of it was avoidable. All around me some of the lower snow had melted, but higher I could see that very little appeared to have gone. The first 3 miles are a steady climb up this wide path, gaining almost 400M in altitude. The scenery is quite spectacular all around, with good views over some parts of the island already. About 2 miles into the climb you pass by Teide's eggs, which are actually lava bombs spat out by the volcano during an eruption.

Wouldn't fancy one of these landing on my head would you?




From one of those shots you can see already that I am past cloud level at this altitude of approx 2650M. There were some amazingly deep snow drifts on parts of the path, some well over my head, but fortunately avoidable. I had started walking with just a long sleeve Raidlight Winter top on, but had very soon added my water/windproof jacket on as a fierce and biting wind cut through me. I reached the start of the ascent proper at 2725M. At this point you have a choice. You can either turn left and take an easy stroll to the top of Montagne Blanca, Teide’s next-door neighbour, or take a right and start heading more steeply uphill onto Teide itself. I had passed a couple of people on the approach to this position, and looking up I could see quite a few more at various stages of the ascent. It had taken me an hour so far.

As I began the steeper ascent I got hot. This part of the ascent was out of the wind, so I stripped back down to just my long sleeve top and carried on. It was too warm for a hat, but the risk of sunburn was high so I wore my buff, pirate style. I climbed at a quick but steady pace. There were quite a lot of parties of people making the ascent that day. I must have passed more than 30 people in total. I noticed that they were all carrying walking poles with ice tips, they all had heavy boots on, many wore crampons, and some even had ice axes! I outdid them in the big rucksack stakes though, but was envious of their crampons at times. The whole path was snow covered. There was no avoiding this snow at all. It was at least 2-3 inches deep, and there were some much deeper drifts in places. After about 40 minutes climbing I reached a small plateau where some snow had melted in places. I took this photo where you can see the proportion of the lava bombs to the ice-pole-sporting climbers.



A few minutes later I took this self portrait looking back at the same area.



The bit of greenery on that plateau soon gave way to snow, and some really deep drifts. This drift was shoulder height and you had to squeeze in between it and that rock to get through.



My shoes were gripping quite well, but I did slip and slide a little. Inevitably my feet got a little wet but I was careful to try and stamp-off excess snow from the upper of the shoe. I took this nice photo, looking back down. You can see the Las Canadas mountain range in the background, and middle ground was the area from which the 3 mile approach to the main climb is formed. You can make out the snowy path in places that stretches for 3 miles out of sight and back to the road.



I had been passing a lot of people on the ascent. All of them kindly stepped aside as I went past. Most of these people were younger and better equipped than me, but looked to be struggling with the altitude more than I did. I don't recall having any issue with the altitude last time I attempted Teide in March. From time to time I would pause a take a few seconds, but that was due to the amount of ascent rather than the thinness of the air. Maybe I'm fairly fortunate in some genetic element and not too susceptible to altitude sickness or altitude affects. It would be nice, to counterbalance my utter lack of genetic running-ability genes! Still, Teide is just 3719M. I'm sure if you put me another 1000M up on top of Mont Blanc I'd have decidedly less to say on the matter!

One hour and 10 minutes (2:10 total) after starting the steeper ascent I made it to the Mountain Refuge at 3250M. There were two people working there and a handful of people resting. Some would end their climb there and return, others were heading up, and a couple heading down.



I took 10 minutes rest at this point. I ate all of my cashew nuts and my Peperami. I had been getting cold on the approach to the mountain refuge, so I put on a fleece over my top, put my jacket back on. I put the buff around my neck as a scarf and put on my hat, my big Gore-Tex gloves on, as well as pulling up my hood over the top. I managed enough Spanglish to ask if the cable car was working. The answer came back "no". I was a little gutted, as I knew that meant access to the final 160M ((the cone) of the summit was closed. Visitor numbers are carefully controlled, but I had a summit pass which I had applied for before leaving. It also meant that I would not get to use the easy way down, I would have to walk the way I came. In all honesty I doubt I would have got the cable car anyway, but it would have been a nice safety net if I became too tired. Once more I conjured up some Spanglish and asked if I would be able to make it any further with my New Balance trainers on, without crampons. Very difficult came back the reply. I did at this point agonise over continuing on or not. The last 100M of the climb had been more difficult. More snow had turned to ice and some sections were quite treacherous.

One guy headed off up and a couple of minutes later I decided I would at least take a look. I would just get as far as I could and then turn around. I set off, pulling my hood up tight around me as the wind-chill cut the temperature well below 0C.

I took the first photo just after the mountain refuge looking back, and the second photo about 10 minutes into the climb later.




I encountered deeper drifts which I had to go through. Luckily for me I was able to step in other peoples footsteps, as I was not the first to climb. It's not easy to see the depth, but you can just see the shadow that the lip of the drift casts on my leg. The depth was up to my thigh! This had ceased to be any kind of a training run/walk, this was like mountaineering!



I didn't take too many photo's looking up but this one illustrates perfectly what steepness and the conditions were like for the whole climb after 2725M (the end of the easy 3 mile part!).



As I gained more height all of the snow became ice. I began to seriously struggle in places with no traction whatsoever. There was no way whatsoever I would have been able to make it without the help of the cramp-on wearing people who had climbed before me. I was able to step in the footsteps and ice-holes that they had made and make continued albeit more slow progress. There were a few sections where you had to scramble on all fours, and some sections that were so icy that I'm not sure how I got up them. It was absolutely freezing cold now. My face was so cold than drips on my nose were freezing. I think the wind chill was up in the -teens. When I went in March the summit temp was -22, so I imagine that it was similar today.

Suddenly, I rounded a corner and it was there; the summit cone! I was at 3535M and to all intense purposes that day, the summit. OK, it was not the very very peak, but I would have easily strolled up the last section if it was open that day. I was very pleased to have done it, as the smile on my face shows.



I didn't hang around long. It had taken me 3 hours to reach the summit and it was 15:05. I doubted it would take me 3 hours to descend, but I had to assume such as so set off back down. The descent to the Mountain Refuge was very tricky. I fell on my arse countless times, but didn't injure myself. Going up was hard, but going down was impossible for me to stay upright for long. I resorted to sliding down sections on my bum where there were dangerous sections and small drops. I slipped, slided and bumped my way back down to the refuge, but gradually began to run and pickup speed afterwards. The ice gave way to snow on lower slopes and made it possible for me to run. There were sections where I was forced to walk, but for the most part I descended fast, sliding but then gripping with each footstep. The descent was actually less hard on my knees as a result and really very enjoyable.

I met an English family half way down. I told them it wasn't far to the refuge. They were staying there for the night and continuing in the morning. You can book in advance to stay the night at the Mountain Refuge if you ever fancy a go. They have a lovely fireplace, but I heard that they don't light it unless the temperature gets to -7, inside the refuge! I met a few other people ascending on both the steep, and the 3 mile path back to the car. I stopped to chat for a few seconds and ran on. I think most of them thought I was a little crazy running down a snowy mountain. I made it back to the car in just 1.5 hours. That was fast I thought. I wondered what I could do in dry conditions? I got back to the car a little after 16:30 and drove back down to the coast, arriving around 17:30. I had a lovely Italian meal in Los Cristianos with my sister and then went back to my apartment. Me and my sister were going to go Christmas shopping the following day. I was at last, going to take a day off training!!

Well, at least that's was the plan...

Tenerife Day 4: Montana De Guajara & Roque Del Conde

I woke up and had one of my MDS camping breakfasts again, working on the assumption I could have a hard day ahead and hopefully climb Mount Teide itself. The weather up at the volcano looked fine. You could see the very tip of it from the apartment by the coast, just above the hills and mountains. I drove up to the national park through some low cloud and poor weather, but it cleared as I reached the plateau as I got above the clouds. However, as I reached the plateau I was shocked to see ice and snow all around me, some piled at the sides of the road. The mountains all around were tipped with ice and then Teide came into view.

This is the shot I took on Teide on day 1.



These I took that morning; note the snow.



The rain storm I had been caught in at 2000M had been a snow and ice-storm just a few hundred metres in altitude above me. I stopped at a viewpoint at the side of the road and told me ranger that I was thinking of climbing Teide, but was it possible? She told me that the path was closed, as it was completely covered in snow and ice. There was no one there to physically hold me back if I wanted to make an attempt, but obviously I wouldn't be trying. I was asking the locals and getting advice. So, it would appear that I do learn, even if it is only marginally faster than a pigeon.

I got back in the car and drove around to the foot of the mountain, stopping along the way to take a few photos. Although the sky was mostly clear, there were 'whiteouts' in some places and much reduced visibility. This photo was taken at the start of the Teide ascent path. Teide's tip is visible to the centre left.



This photo was taken a couple of hundred metres further down the road, looking out towards Las Canadas mountain range, which is of course not visible at all! It gives you a good idea of the conditions around the peak though.



So, I then started to drive back towards Las Canadas, which eventually emerged into view as I cleared one of these whiteouts. I'm not sure what meteorological phenomena was it play in this shot, but it looks pretty eh?



I stopped by the hotel that I been at two days earlier, The Parador (the only hotel in the national park), and asked if my items had been returned. They had not, and had not been before I left the island. I assume they are gone for ever. I took this photo of the hotel, with the highest mountain in Las Canadas in the background; Montana De Guajara.



Seeing this gave me an idea. The peak was around 2700M, one thousand metres less than Teide so there was less snow (at least from the angle of the photo). My guidebook showed two routes to the summit; a short one, almost going straight up, and one twice as long skirting around the left side and making a less steep approach. The authors had marked the short path as 'potentially dangerous', and that was without snow and ice. So, I thought I would try the long route. I set off alone the dirt road, which had a barrier across to prevent any cars going through.
My route is shown in red. The green cross is where I parked, the blue cross is the start of the ascent, the red cross is where I turned.



The dirt road wound it's way up and down, and around the mountain for 2.5 miles until the start of the easier summit path at that blue cross. I took a couple of photo's on the way round. This one shows the mountain above me in full sunlight and quite sheer so little snow shows.



This one just a rock formation, but shows some ice and snow on the dirt road. A definite thaw was taking place, but all the places in shadow were still quite frozen.



I reached the summit path, the difficulty level was shown as high, but it didn't in any way look technical just lengthy and steep in places. I was the first person that day (it was around midday at this stage) to attempt the path. I could tell because it was just fresh snow on the path, making it especially difficult to follow in places. I had to back track a number of times and no doubt confused the daylights out of people who followed later. The path zigzagged back and forth up he slope. After half an hours climbing I was around half way up the slope heading towards the first ridge when this bank of cloud came tumbling over the cliffs ahead and started bearing down on me.



This spooked me, after my experience on day 2, and I pretty quickly turned on my heels and descended. I pass a couple of German walkers on their way up behind me and they seemed not be at all bothered by it. By the time I reached the plateau again the cloud had cleared a little. Still I started walking back towards the car and then took the detour loop you see at the bottom of that map. I was intending to follow a set walk, but I forked left instead of right at one point, following someone’s footsteps. I assumed they knew where they were going, I was wrong. The person wandered aimlessly around obviously lost. I used my GPS to loop back round and back to the fork in the road. I could have then taken the right branch but instead I saw the cloud was much clearer over the mountain above, and I was convinced that the cloud I had seen was more or less just evaporation and not any kind of rain cloud so I headed back and set off up the ascent path again.

After 30 minutes I passed the point where I had turned and soon after approached the first ridge, but in doing so headed into deeper snow.




Once over the ridge I got a great vista of the Canadas range, and looked out accross a huge expanse of substantial but fairly harmless looking cloud that filled the valley the other side of the ridge.



The path skirted the valley and wound round towards the back of the mountain, positioning you to make a final summit approach from behind. In some places the snow had melted whilst in others it was still shaded and quite substantial.




I had set myself a time limit of stopping at 3pm and returning to ensure I made it back in daylight. I passed yet more German walkers who had also heard the warning about the ascent/descent on the other side of the mountain and were wisely returning the same route that I was using. They had decided to call it a day too. I weighed up my options and decided that I would walk until 2pm instead to be on the safe side (I was playing very cautious after my nightmare experience). I was up at 2500m at this stage and didn't want to get caught out up here. I turned sharp right and headed up the summit path. There were lots of snow drifts but mostly easy to skirt around. The climb was quite tiring even though I was down to under 10kg backpack weight now, but I pressed on until the stroke of 2pm. I judged that I still had at least another 30 minutes of climbing, maybe more, to summit and so stuck to my plan and turned heel to return. I was at around 2600M at this stage. I took a self portrait looking back the way I had come from.



I decided I would run all the way back where safe to do so. I found that my shoes offered quite a lot of grip in the snow surprisingly, and bounded down much quicker than I had anticipated. I ran back around to the top of the first ridge where I happened upon yet more German walkers, a younger couple this time. I got them to take a photo of me, with the volcano Teide as the backdrop.



This was a little lower at around 2500M. They spoke good English and asked if I was running. I said I walked up, but was running back down. "Respect!" the guy said. That made me quite happy. I said goodbye and trotted off back down the slope and headed down. I made much faster progress than I thought, descended in no time, ran back along the dirt road and was back at the car by 3pm! So, I had 3 hours of daylight left and still plenty of energy to waste. I headed down towards the coast on the Vilaflor road. I would usually avoid this road because it is winding and slow, opting for the faster road through Guia Des Isora. However, this was means to an end. I stopped near Vilaflor at the start of an official walk called the Pasaje Lunar (Moon Walk). I was told in the town that it would take anything between 4 and 8 hours to complete, so this was out for today but I put it on my list of things to do.

I headed further down towards the coast and stopped in Arona. There is a huge mountain that dominates the skyline on the Las Americas coast. It's called Roque Del Conde (Condor Rock), but known locally as Table Mountain.



I stopped off at a small car park and the sign on the board said 3.5km each way, 2 hours each way. By this time it was 4:30pm and the sun sets just after 6pm. There was a 450M net gain in altitude from 700 to 1150M, but the route actually drops into a ravine after the first kilometre before climbing back out, so probably more like 500M in total ascent. The approx route is shown below.



I had summit fever, and having missed the Guajara’s summit through self-caution, I felt I wanted to try for this one. Of course there was no way I would make it with a heavy backpack, so I took two small bottles of water and left my backpack in the car. I could now run properly at speed. The path after the ravine was the remains of a donkey trail used to farm agricultural terraces all over the slope. I took this shot of an old threshing circle just before main ascent.



The path was very rough and very steep in places, but with careful footwork, run-able. I ran up the mountain at a good pace, walking now and again for short times for recovery. I was against the clock and had given myself 45 minutes each way, meaning I should just make it back for 6pm. I pushed myself hard, scrambling on all fours in places and forced to walk in others where the path was just too tricky to run. I took a good shot of the path looking back, so you can see the kind of footwork required.



This shot was not in fact the summit, just a path past a large rock on the way, but it illustrates the angle of ascent. The donkey trail had vanished by now, and it was just a matter of scrambling and climbing to reach the summit.



Shortly before the summit I passed two people on the way down, German again. No surprise there! However these looked like random tourists. One had his shirt off, and the other looked like his dad. They said it was maybe 10 minutes to summit. I had just about enough minutes to spare I thought, if I was quick. I dashed past and ran or scrambled up the remaining area and hit the summit. Yay!

I literally took this one photo for proof and dashed straight back down. It had taken me 43 minutes exactly.



The descent was probably trickier than the ascent and I was certainly more tired after expending all my effort to reach the summit in time. The Germans were surprised to see me so soon "that was quick" one chirped. I left them to stroll down. There was no way they were making it before sunset. I ran down without incident, but took a few walking breaks meaning that the descent took me 38 minutes. Not a bad day’s work. After that summit I was tired and hungry and felt I had worked hard. I had another great meal that evening with my sister and went to bed, still with a vague hope of making an ascent on Teide before the week was out.

Tenerife Day 3: Re-plan and re-stock

So, the day after the nightmare of the previous day

I woke up at my sisters house to the sound of heavy rain outside, much like the day before. I felt quite well rested, but from the sound of the weather knew I would be doing little that day. I stayed in, dried things out, and used the Internet at her house for much of the day.

Camping was now out of the plan. There was no point now. First, the weather was bad and secondly to reach the areas I wanted to train meant driving and there was little point camping next to my car each evening. I took out my tent, sleeping bag, roll-mat and a couple of other bits and pieces from my rucksack and left them out for the rest of the week; losing 2.5 kilos in the process, and quite a bit of the bulk. My New Balance MDS1100 shoes and the orthotics inside were still dripping wet. My Sister had lent me some trainers but they were two sizes too small. Once the rain stopped mid afternoon I went on a shopping trip. I bought a fairly cheap pair of trainers to use for getting around whilst my other dried. I also bought a cheap fleece to replace the one I lost. Finally I bought a big pair of Gore-Tex waterproof/windproof gloves; guaranteed to keep you dry they said. The skies cleared to blue in the afternoon, the sun came out and it warmed back up to 24C. You would hardly have even known that there had been a storm; unbelievable.

I went back to my sisters house. She was still at work. At about 6pm her boyfriend asked if I felt up to a short run with him. I did, so we ran from Adeje down to the beach at La Caleta, down a gradual 2.5 mile gradient, then returned by the same route. So, just a 5 mile run but with 250m of descent, then ascent. Somewhat less than the 20 miles I had planned, but better than nothing. I had to use the new trainers without orthotics, but I got away with it for such a short distance. We then all went out for a meal, after which I dropped them off at their house and drove back to the apartment. I decided that the following day I would drive up to Teide national park and see if I could make a summit attempt on the volcano.

Tenerife Day 2: What doesn't kill you...

Where do I start with this one? Even now, just a week later, I struggle to recall all of the details of that day. I read somewhere once that the brain 'forgets' traumatic experiences. I think that happened here to some extent.

You are going to need to kick back and get comfortable, this is a fairly long post, sorry.

A few days before I flew out, as most people do, I checked the 5 day forecast. Tuesday and Wednesday were shown as cloudy, with a little rain. I was a little disappointed, but thought no big deal. I was going to be in Tenerife, it's hot all year round, I can survive a shower. I had packed in my rucksack: a waterproof jacket with hood, several layers of clothes (primarily to combat the cold I would experience on day 2 climbing the volcano Mount Teide), included full length running leggings, a warm Berghaus hat as well as my Raidlight desert cap, and some very expensive 'Windstopper' gloves. This was amongst all of the other kit I carried for the 3 day camping trip. My backpack weighed around 12kg, including 3 litres of water. I planned to top up with water at the half way (A place called Las Lajas: 10 mile) point that day, to provide sufficient to last out the first day, cook, and enough to see me through to a water stop the following day.

I got up at 6:30am and made breakfast in the apartment. I ate my MDS breakfast of Porrage oats, banana chips and powdered milk, all prepared with a pint of boiled water. I washed this down with 50g of PSP22; a carbohydrate-loader drink. This is a fairly big breakfast; around 900 calories. I had 100g of salted cashew nuts, 45g of SIS Go electrolyte and a Peperami to snack on as I ran/walked, and then a Mountain House 800 Kcalorie meal in the evening. This would be the same menu I would eat every day. This is around 2700 kcal total. I drove my hire car to Adeje in darkness; about a 20 minutes drive, and sat in a car park waiting about 15 minutes for dawn. I knew the path was rough, and despite having a head torch, it was not safe to travel the rough trails in darkness. Adeje sits about 250m (800ft) above sea level. My half way point would be the recreation area of Las Lajas that I visited the previous day. This would be after 10 miles, and at 2100M (7000ft). I always knew that this would be a hard day. That is a lot of altitude to gain in a short time, with a big pack, over very rough terrain. I had calculated I would need to cover 2 miles per hour over the day to enable me to reach camp (20 miles). Below is the route for the first 10 miles to Las Lajas.



The first 5 miles (shown in blue) is, for the want of a better phrase, an established footpath. It is reasonably easy to follow if you keep your eyes peeled. The second 5 miles (shown in red) is a path of my own design. In other words there is no path. I would be cutting cross country through a steep uphill pine forest for about 2.5 miles, but hopefully locating what looked like old dirt road on Google Earth, for the last 2.5 miles and following it as it zigzagged sharply up the mountain to Las Lajas. This section is shown below.



I had agonised about this route choice for many hours before I left. I knew it was risky, not following a path and just trekking through a forest, but there was no other realistic way of reaching the 2000M plateau in a single day if I stuck to paths or roads. I had Google Earth on constantly, zooming in, and altering the viewing angle to try and find a route. I eventually settled on the one you see. I hoped to gain a ridge top and walk it's entire length to Las Lajas as hopefully this angle illustrates.



The green cross is where I would leave the path after 5 miles of trekking; at 1040M. The red cross is Las Lajas where I would meet a road at 2100M; after 10 miles.

So, scene set, I'll get back to the story. Dawn eventually cast enough light for me to make out detail on the hills and cliffs above. I strapped on my pack and walked up the very steep road to a (closed) tourist information stand at the entrance of Tenerife’s most famous walk; Barranca Del Inferno (Hell's ravine). Here I took a sharp left, away from the Inferno walk, and then a right to join a rubble strewn path. I was on familiar territory here, having walked these first 5 miles back in March of this year as blogged here. I would be gaining 800m in just over 2 miles as I followed the zigzagging path to the cliffs above. The weather was a little overcast, but there was a little blue sky. I was dressed in a long sleeve Under Armour Metal HeatGear compression top, and Raidlight shorts. I knew I would be generating a lot of body heat on this day with the considerable ascent and was dressed for the part, but I had my extra layers either on top, or in the webbing of my rucksack.

I set off walking up the hill. I knew there was no possibility to run this steep bouldered path with the weight I was carrying (or even with no rucksack!). Glancing at my Timex speed/distance watch (GPS-driven) I was just about averaging 2mph. I climbed steadily resisting the temptation to push for a better pace, conscious that I had to cover 20 steep and tough miles that day. I reached the cliffs above (1100M) about an hour and 10 minutes later. It was here that I paused for 5 minutes. I first sent out my position to the tracking website to update my live-tracking blog post (click satellite view). I had the intention to update once per hour, but as it turned out the position you see was the first and only update I managed to send.

I took this photo at this point.



The wind was a little gusty up there, and you can see it was a little cloudy and I think it was drizzling slightly. I pressed on ahead, taking a wrong turn and having to cut back cross-country onto the right path. This lost me a little time and I hurried to catch up, managing to run parts of this section. The next 3 miles were undulating, gaining and loosing a couple of hundred metres but overall remaining around 1100M. The weather seemed to brighten up as these next two photo's show.




Those were the last photos my lovely ultra-lightweight doomed Casio Exilim S3 would ever take. I was going down into a ravine on the left side, and then climbing up and back out of the ravine on the right side. You can see the nice inverted V shape on the first Google Earth view of my route. As I climbed out of the ravine it started to rain. I wasn't sure if it was a shower or not, but I took off my rucksack and got out my waterproof jacket and put it on. The temperature was a little cooler now, but my legs were warm from the effort, so I left my shorts on and continued. Shortly afterwards I emerged from heavy forest, into lighter but still covered forest, near a small village called Ifonche. There are signs of agriculture all around and I saw a few farms and knew that a road was but a few hundred metres away.

I had reached the point on my map where the blue line ends, and I was to go cross country and make my own path up the mountain for 5 miles. The rain had a got a little heavier, and I think I briefly considered heading for Ifonche and seeking shelter and safety. However, I had no reason to suspect that the rain would not just stop any minute so I looked down at my PDA/GPS which was showing a Google Earth screenshot and a flashing dot with my location on it. It had a faint red line showing my planned path, so I headed off vaguely northerly back into the heavier forest. My path was initially in a shallow ravine, wide enough to drive a car up, and to my surprise there were small cairns now and again way marking the path. This was comforting, knowing that maybe I wasn't the only person to have attempted this route. The climb became steeper as I reached the source of the ravine and climbed up to my ridgeline. The wide path vanished but small cairns still persisted from time to time even though any kind of path had gone. I was perhaps 1 mile up the mountain when I came across an old narrow (8 inch wide) aqueduct going in the same direction that I was heading. Again this was comforting; it was like following a little road.

It got colder, the rain got heavier and visibility got poorer as I headed into low cloud. It was at his stage that I first got concerned. I weighed up my options of turning on my heels and going back down the mountain to Ifonche, continuing, or even pitching camp then and there. However the hill was steep and boulder strewn and besides I thought I was just being silly. I mean, imagine pitching camp because of a bit of rain? I compromised, took off my rucksack again, and put on a North Face fleece on top of my compression top, then put my waterproof jacket back on and pulled the hood up. I put on my Windstopper gloves and fastened my jacket sleeves over the top of the base of them, to keep out the cold. My legs were getting wet but I wasn't really feeling any cold on them because of the workload and heat they produced.

I continued on, but the aqueduct started to veer off to the left as though to contour a particularly steep hill ahead. Comforted by its presence I decided to follow it. I did this for perhaps half a mile, before glancing down at my PDA and seeing that it really was not going in the right direction. I was forced to backtrack on my route exactly and then head up the very steep section. It was getting hazier but I still had reasonable visibility. To illustrate the terrain and visibility at this stage I have this photo which I took with a disposable camera a few days later. I encountered similar cloud conditions, but no rain. So you will have to use your imagination here. Terrain the same, but add heavy rain.



Now, the next couple of hours are hazy. I don't remember every detail. I may have to keep coming back and adding more if I remember any, but this is where things got bad.

The rain got worse. Imagine the heaviest rain you have ever been in, or driven in, and this as it. I had my hood up, so this amplified the sound and was really demoralising. The cloud got thicker, but I was clinging onto some stupid hope that I would gain so much altitude that I would emerge through the top and into fine weather. These shots show the poorer visibility and rock strewn ground quite well.





Because of trees, rocks and large boulders it was impossible to follow a straight path. I constantly had to weave left and right to contour obstacles as I headed upwards. Visibility became so poor I only had 10M at the most. It was like walking in thick, but more tangible, fog. A little while afterwards I found myself walking downhill. I looked at my PDA/GPS and it seemed think I was still going in the right direction. But that couldn't be right I thought; My route is all uphill, and steep uphill at that? I veered off to one side a for a while to see how this would affect my illustrated course. Then the GPS said I was walking back the way I had come? I got very worried very quickly. I had a real concern that the cloud and terrain was affecting the GPS signal, as I read it can, and I was getting 'bounces' sending me off in the wrong direction. In fact I could already be well off course and lost. I literally walked around in circles trying to get the GPS to show me which way to go, but which ever way I walked always seemed to be the wrong direction. I began to panic now. I was lost and in the middle of nowhere. There was thick forest and ravines all around me for miles in every direction. I stood still in the heavy rain and wind, my mind in overdrive panic. I looked around in every direction at this kind of scene, but with the heavy rain on top.



I thought I should pitch camp here and now and briefly scanned the forest floor. It was useless, there were boulders everywhere and I was getting colder as I stood still. I had only pitched the tent once and what If I could not get it up in time and lost too much body heat? No one was going to find me in this remote location, especially not in this weather. I remembered my compass and that I was heading almost exactly due north. I took it out but in my confusion and panic I realised that I needed a more precise bearing or I could just miss the road and head miles into the forest. I put it away and fear gripped me. I was cold, my legs were wet and red from the lashing rain and wind, and I had no idea which direction out of 360 degrees I should go in. I don't know for how long this persisted, but at some stage I began to fear for my life. You realise just how insignificant you are under the power of Mother Nature. I was not under; I was right in the middle of a storm cloud. I could not see anything, I was cold and scared. I had visions of my body being found weeks later, or worse never been found at all because of the remoteness of my location. It's not a nice feeling more or less being convinced you are going to die. I remember taking down my hood to ease the drumming sound from the rain to try and clear my thoughts. Then I put it back on to stay warm and dry. I must have done this dozens of times in the next couple of hours in my confused state of mind. My heart was racing as I panicked and I knew I had to calm down.

I crouched down, resting one hand on the ground and took a few deep breaths. bizarrely then I remembered a phrase from the book/film 'Dune'- "Fear is the mind-killer." How right that was. I had no clarity, I was scared and panicked and had no idea what to do. I repeated that line in my head a few times, taking deep breaths, and some semblance of calm returned. I had to start moving and get warmer, or probably eventually die. I needed to get to a road. I had no path to follow the way I had come from, and was probably exactly in between my start and destination. I had one chance and that was to put all of my faith in the PDA/GPS. I didn't think about this until afterwards, but a past training incident had made me buy a piece of kit that proved crucial. My PDA (I had two PDA's; another spare in my rucksack) was in an Aquapac, a waterproof bag. If it had not been in that bag, the PDA would have been destroyed over the next hour or two along with my other electronics that met that fate. Several times over the next couple of hours I pondered just dropping my 12kg backpack and enabling myself to move faster, but my better sense stopped me. All my water (probably not an issue given the weather!) clothes and provisions were in there. All the time I had been scanning for cover; a cave, anything, but there was none.

I stood up and just walked in a random direction, correcting my course until the GPS indicated I was headed back towards my red line and due north. I was hard to keep my head down looking at the GPS and move through the terrain. I tried to took ahead and make visual markers. I would think "yes, I'll head towards that tree". Of course I was in a forest and I would glance away momentarily, look back up and all the pines trees looked the same! How stupid I was. A couple more times I seemed to be veering off the wrong way and doubled back. More panic, followed by crouching and deep breaths and I would try again. I started to head steeply upwards again. This must be right I thought.

Mother Nature lent me a helping hand. I was glancing around and the cloud thinned out for a few seconds off to my left. The other side of a small ravine I thought I caught site of the dirt road I was looking for. I headed west towards it, dropping down into the ravine and climbed up the other side on all fours. I emerged at the top on my hands and knees with a dirt road in front of me. I think I experienced 2 or 3 seconds of relief, before I realised that I was still in trouble. Firstly I had no idea if this was the right dirt road, but I didn't remember seeing another on Google Earth, and secondly this was still only half way to Las Lajas.

At least I knew which way to head on the dirt road as it headed sharply upwards. The road could probably accommodate a 4x4 vehicle but was very rough. Worse though for me; it had practically turned into a river. I frequently just waded up to my ankles in rainwater. All around new mini waterfalls have sprung up as water gushed down from the higher ground. I was cold but now moving at a better pace on a better walking surface my body stayed warm enough. The dirt road zigged and zagged and seemed to go on for ever. I questioned many times if it was the right road, or right direction, still very scared indeed.

I don't know for how long it was happening but my back and arms were getting colder. I had a habit of hooking my thumbs under my rucksack shoulder straps when ascending, as do many people, and this proved to be a terrible error. My very expensive Windstopper gloves were not of course waterproof. Sure they could fend off a light shower, but this was no light shower. They had been patiently soaking up rain for some hours, reached there fill-point and were now draining water inside my waterproof jacket (I had fastened my jacked over the gloves base remember) down my arms and because of the angle I was walking up at, down my body, back and hips. At the time, because of my state of mind, I didn't fully realise this and just assumed my waterproofing on the jacket had eventually failed. I knew my hands were soaking wet and cold, but I did not make a connection. So, I continued on getting colder now. I increased my pace to try and compensate. I kept checking the GPS and did not seem to be getting closer because of the zigzag road. It always seemed like 'just half a mile now', but 10 minutes later it looked like it was still half a mile to go.

I hoped I was getting close and imagined myself coming into view of the restaurant at Las Lajas. I would stumble in, half frozen; drop my pack to the ground to a look of horror from the owner who I had met the previous day. He would then rush round his counter, and help me get out of my soaked clothes, ply me with towels and coffee, and sit me in front of the log fire. I replayed this scenario in my head, resting all my hopes on it and then I suddenly thought "what if it is closed?". Worry came over me again, but I knew it was dangerous to assume the place would be open. In fact I had to assume that it would be closed because of the storm. I made another plan. I would get to the road and phone my sister. She would panic of course, but even she would take an hour to reach me. I knew that as soon as I stopped moving my body temperature would drop even further. I remembered reading (or TV) about an experienced SAS operative training in either the Brecon Beacons or Dartmoor. Late in his career, he was by then in a desk-bound role but decided to take part in an exercise with potential new recruits. To cut a long story short he pressed on in a blizzard whilst others stopped and sheltered. He made a long ascent and was warm, but when it plateau’d his body temperature dropped too much and he just slowed, stopped and died.

I knew I was in this situation now. I was carrying a lot of weight, had gained plenty of altitude and managed to stay warm. But, I was wet. When I stopped I would be in big trouble. I was not sure my sister would get to me in time, but it was the best plan I had right then. After what seemed an eternity I rounded a corner and saw a red pickup truck leaving the recreation area. My first sign of civilization; it brought immense relief to me, but it vanished out of view and away. I prepared my mind for the restaurant being shut. It was, and shut up so tight with heavy log doors I could not have barged my way in if I wanted to!

I walked on and stopped by the road. I unzipped my rucksack pocket and took out my phone. It was off? It wouldn't switch on. It was destroyed along with all of my other electronics. However, I had another phone, my new one. It was in a light plastic case to stop it getting scratched, and was better protected I hoped. I hoped to swap the SIM card between the phones. I took off my gloves to give me better dexterity and looked in horror at my hands. They were waxy-looking; blotchy - big patches of yellow and blue all over. I peeled back my sleeve and my whole arm was the same, as was the other. They didn't even look like parts of my body. I could only imagine what the rest of me looked like. One word came to my confused and panicked mind; hypothermia. I looked down at my legs, they were no longer red, but pale, but not as cold as my arms. I dropped my pack and opened it to find that the contents were wet. A long sleeve Helly Hansen top soaked, spare socks wet through. I reached down to the bottom and found my Raidlight winter leggings. They were more or less dry at least. I quickly put them on, anxious to keep what warmth I had left in then. My hands were so cold I could only get the SIM out of the broken phone, but not into the other one. I managed to push the SIM card into my leggings pocket and put the phone away. I started to shiver more now.

Even if I could have got hold of my sister, she would not arrive in time. I needed help fast, I needed help now. A few cars came past on the road going either up towards the volcano Teide, or back down towards the coast. I thought I should thumb a lift from a car going down to the coast, and in the direction of my sister. I help out my arm to passing cars going down, but none stopped. It was pouring with rain, I must have looked terrible but they just flew by. I got colder and more scared, thinking of the state of my skin and what that meant. I was now desperate. A car came up the hill, going the wrong way for me. By now I just wanted to get in a car, any car, and feel warmth. I literally jumped in front of the car and waved my arms. I stepped back and it passed by, but pulled over on the road. I ran over to the car. Inside was a man and woman (in their late fifties or early sixties), they were German. I speak a little French and Spanish, but no German. I indicated that I was freezing cold and wanted to get in the car. The man understood and got out. He tried to open to boot of his hire car but was unfamiliar with how. Odd the detail I remember, but I remember it was a Seat car, because I just instinctively lifted the S badge on the boot and opened it (I drive a lot of rental cars!). I put my rucksack inside and also my water-soaked jacket and glove(s) (I lost one at some point, I don't know where).

I got in the back of the car and he set off saying he was going up towards Teide. I didn't care, I just wanted to be inside. I indicated for the heater to be turned on, which he did, although I didn't feel it. I took off my wet fleece and compression shirt, stripping down to my bare torso. I wasn't sure what was best, wet clothes or no clothes? By now I was shivering badly and chattering uncontrollably. I put the fleece back on, and then a few minutes later took it off. The man reached into his back and miraculously pulled out a towel and said 'make rub' indicating I should rub myself. I did just that. I rubbed so hard on my arms and body that it probably would have hurt if I would had had more feeling. I rubbed frantically, like someone crazed, all the time shivering as my body tried to generate warmth.

While this was going on the scene outside the car was like the scene from Dante’s Peak where a car is escaping an exploding volcano and rocks fall all around. The road up to Teide is steep and winding. The heavy rain had caused some pretty substantial rock falls and the German driver was not only unfamiliar with the roads, but also in poor visibility and having to dodge large rocks. He misjudged some hairpin corners, weaving onto the other side of the road and giving his poor wife heart failure. Fate conspired to spare us from a head-on crash on this 10 mile journey. There were accidents to avoid and park rangers were desperately trying to clear debris from the road to prevent further accidents. All this seemed unimportant to me though, as I tried to get warm. I was in a state of shock at my state by now, shivering badly, but still trying to rub my skin warm in the back seat. The occupants of the car hadn't registered quite how bad I was and pulled over in a lay-by to take photos of a famous rock! He went to take the keys out of the car, and I said no please leave them in for the heater. I was shivering violently and uncontrollably now, and they realised I was in a poorly state. I then remembered the geography of the national park and looked through the rear window and a building I could just see a few hundred metres away.

Hotel, I said, pointing at it. Please take me to the hotel. He understood and drove around to it. I got out of the car thinking 'hot shower'. I had my leggings and trainers on, and just a towel wrapped around me. He opened the boot, but I was beyond concern for my possessions and just headed for the door. He indicated he would bring my stuff. I pushed my way into what turned out to be a kind of canteen which was fairly full of walkers, or coach party members all sheltering from the weather. The looked at me in horror as I stood shivering violently and chattering (ff ff ff ff ff, you get the idea). I stood by the counter, dazed and confused. I didn't know what to do. I looked at people buying coffee, but could not bring my mind to step forward and push into the queue. I just froze, totally confused. The German man then came and guided me through a staff door and through to the hotel reception where I approached the counter. The receptionist was there with the manager as it turned out. I said please I need a hot shower. The manager took one look at me and just grabbed a door key. He guided me upstairs into a hotel room and into the bathroom.

I was beyond any body shyness and simply took everything off, pulled on the tap and set it to maximum heat. I didn’t notice, but the manager gathered up the clothes there and took them away leaving me alone. I stood with the water running over my head and body at first. I didn't even feel it being hot for quite some time. I've since read that hot water reduces shock, and it certainly did. It calmed me down fairly quickly. I think the towel that the German gave me to 'make rub' was absolutely critical to my recovery. I have since read that it's not a good idea to let anyone with suspected hypothermia to get it a shower because it can cause the cold blood in the limbs to go to the heart and cause cardiac arrest (It's called after drop. So please no one follow my example here. I was lucky and got away with it, but what I did was dangerous!). I think just maybe I had heated myself up enough with towel in the car, and also not warmed up my arms first in the shower, giving my body chance to heat up. Then again, maybe I would have been fine anyway, getting straight in? I just don’t know, I’m not a doctor. From reading the symptoms I'm sure I had the onset of hypothermia. The fact I was still shivering was good though, because you can actually stop shivering if you get too cold. I stayed in the shower for a long time. I'm not sure, maybe half an hour?

I warmed up, but was still very shaky and confused. I took this to be low blood sugar. The manager came back to check on me and I asked for something with lots of sugar; Coke maybe. He sent up a porter with a teapot full of hot chocolate; perfect. I put all the sugars in the first cup and drank it down. I poured two more cups, emptying the pot, and maybe 15 minutes later started to feel a little better. It was only at this point that I was sure I was going to be ok. The German guy came up to the room and dropped off my hat. I thanked him profusely, I'm sure he got the gist. I'm sure that if he would not have stopped and aided me how he did, I could have died.

I just lay down and rested for a while. The manager came back. He had dried my leggings and bought he a T-Shirt to use. Sadly the UK SIM card in the leggings pocket was lost to the washing machine. I dressed and went downstairs. My rucksack was behind reception and I checked into the hotel with my soaked (but still usable) passport. They were not even going to charge me for the room, but I figured I owed them and booked a night anyway. My sister’s boyfriend had given me his business card, and I had it with me for some reason. I called him, and then he got my sister to phone the hotel.

I relayed my story to her, and she said that she had not seen the weather forecast either the night before. However at work that day, colleagues had told her that an 'Orange Alert' had been issued to the Canary Islands; one state down from the worst. The worst storm in 2 years had hit Tenerife. All schools were closed (and stayed closed the next day) and there was flooding down by the coast. It turned out that this was the same storm front that caused the recent ice-storms in the USA. She had tried to warn me but could not get through to me, and was worrying because I had been out of contact. I told her I was OK and would stay at the hotel that night. I went back into the canteen and had a meal; Canarian potatoes and rabbit stew. Can't say as though I would normally pick rabbit stew, but wow it tasted amazing.

Afterwards, I went back to my room and fairly quickly fell asleep. Sometime later, I was woken by the phone. My sister and her boyfriend had braved the weather and awful drive up to Teide, to come and see me. The hotel receptionist told them that there was a local Red Cross centre that was dealing with a hypothermia case nearby apparently. If I would have known there was a Red Cross centre I would have gone there. As it turned out, it all worked out ok, by some mix of luck and judgement.

My sister convinced me to come back and stay at their house, so I checked out of the hotel (I did pay anyway). I tried to give the manager some money as well, but he would not have it. I realised I had dropped items on the floor of the German peoples car. I left a letter there, written in Spanish (by my sister’s boyfriend) asking if the items were returned to call. I checked a few days later and nothing, so I think they are gone. I just thanked everyone and went back to Adeje.

I left in their car:
A Windstopper glove (good riddance)
Under Armour Metal long sleeve compression shirt
North Face fleece
Raidlight desert cap
Timex Bodylink watch and GPS unit

Destroyed by the rain:
Nokia N70 mobile phone
Casio Exilim S3 Camera

Lost in the wash at the hotel
UK SIM card

Big pound value in losses, but frankly I don't care as I survived.

I will no doubt dissect this day further in a later post, but I have been writing it about 4 hours and it's late now.

The obvious big lesson is to watch the local weather forecast or ask a local. I was well prepared for cold or a normal rain shower, but ill prepared for what hit me.

Stay calm (easy to say I know).

Always have an exact compass bearing to use as a backup.

Waterproof liner for rucksack.

I can thank my fitness; any less fit and I may now have made it to the road.

Perhaps most crucial was my Aquapac. A waterproof bag that my PDA/GPS was in. It enabled me to use the PDA with GPS and get myself to safety. All my other electronics were destroyed by the rain, only the kit in the Aquapac survived. Highly recomended.

No doubt there are other lessons I learned, but it's late and I’m tired.

I'll post up the rest of the weeks story tomorrow, and over the next couple of days. There are more tales to tell.

Tenerife Day 1: Preparation day

I arrived on the island on Sunday evening, picked up a rental car, and my sister met me and showed me the way to the apartment. I did little more than go straight to bed. The following day I first gathered a few necessary supplies; cooking fuel tablets and a lighter, plus two 1.5l bottles of water. I tried out my live tracking with my phone and GPS. It worked, but was temperamental connecting to Vodafone back home. Despite my best attempts I was unable to get my uk phone unlocked for a Spanish SIM in time for the trip. So, I would be stuck with using my UK SIM.

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.