Climbing the Mountain, or The Highest Kiss in Spain

Before I go back to Tenerife, I need to talk about El Teide. We climbed it with Josh´s uncle Fran and his climbing class, a lucky chance since Fran knows more about Tenerife and its environment and history than anyone has a right to, and gave mini-lectures, so we got to learn things too.

El Teide is the highest peak in Spain (although I personally think that including islands is sort of cheating, but whatever mainland); the second highest peak is nearby, part of El Teide´s caldera. If you know anything about volcanoes, you´ll know that this means that at some point an even larger volcano existed, then blew up, leaving a crater (the caldera) and the burgeoning beginnings of the current El Teide. Even if you don´t know anything about volcanoes, suffice to say that it was a fucking big mountain. El Teide isn´t exactly anything to sneeze at either (did I use that idiom correctly? And to think I just graduated from college). Wikipedia informs me that the peak is 3718 meters above sea level, which is pretty darn high (Wikipedia also informs me that El Teide is highest elevation of the islands of the Atlantic, and that it is the third largest volcano in the world from its base. This is impressive.)

Anyway, the thing is pretty darn high.

The mountain itself sits inside El Teide National Park. Riding up on the bus, we wound higher and higher into the clouds, as laurel forest turned into pine, passing small hamlets and villages. When we finally emerged above the cloud layer, the terrain was becoming more volcanic, almost desert-like; the pines faded away, leaving only native plants standing. To reach the path, we drove into the caldera, the landscape increasingly desolate and uneven, resembling the grand canyon in its plunges and variations in rock shade, texture, layers.

The climb from the base (the parking lot, in other words) to El Refugio (the Refuge) where we would spend the night is intended to take about 5 hours. It begins as a relatively easy climb, winding its way slowly up the base, then suddenly shoots up a ridiculously steep incline to the Refuge. From there, the peak itself looms about another hour up the trail, again intensely steep and extremely rocky.

The climb is extraordinary. Set in a landscape so alien its almost lunar, the varied lave flows creating distinct and beautiful patterns and colors spreading out from the volcano, or piling up in distinctive waves. Low vegetation dots the landscape, leaves a pale green to avoid too much sun, sometimes forming fields sometimes a lone plant. We came at the right time to see the plants in bloom, particularly the Tajinaste, a tall purple annual that will soon retreat back into the earth. As we climbed, the views became increasingly spectacular, lit by a sun that was falling down El Teide´s far side and sending its long shadow out towards the island Gran Canaria in the East. The increasingly golden sunlight brought out contrasting colors in the flows, and brought into relief the patterns of flow along the base of the volcano. In short, it was magnificent.

After a potluck dinner (nearly everyone brought something homemade! bravo, Spain!) we went to look at the stars, the air outside ridiculously cold for the middle of summer (never did I think I would be wearing sweatpants, a hat, gloves, two jackets and long underwear during my travels his summer, but there you go). The stars were incredible, more than I´ve seen anywhere except perhaps my parents´farm in the middle of nowhere, and maybe even more than there. Then it was time for bed, in order to get up at 5am to climb to the peak before sunrise.

Shivering, following a night of sparse sleep due to a creaky bed and a deep snorer, we began the climb up into the dark. Navigating by the lights of our group, it seemed like we were following fairy lights from farther up the mountain as the tiny headlamps of groups up ahead winked in and out as the wound toward the peak. The sky gained a rim of color as we climbed, eventually becoming light enough to see without the lamps as we passed the outpost of the cablecar that bears the less adventurous to a view below the peak. The last part of the climb became harder with the altitude, as Fran warned that the air was now so thin that we had to go slowly, taking deep breathes and stopping occasionally to look out over a landscape that was being revealed.

We reached the peak about ten minutes before the sun rose above the clouds, with enough light to easily climb around the crater that marks the peak, wisps of suphur issuing from its sides and perfuming the air. Pictures were taken, excitement ran high and we achieved the highest kiss in Spain. The sun rose golden, and the day was beautiful.