Resting Place of a Devil

13.11.2016 - 14.11.2016

The first thing I’d heard about Tenerife (as a stop during our expedition) was that we were going to climb a volcano.

I learned its name later: El Teide. Up, and down again, over 2 days. The day before meant slipping on the stairs and getting a deep cut in your heel before hiking for six hours. Oh yeah, why not. Daily business. The following morning brought backpacks and a tour bus. The latter – the former would be interesting – drove us up and out of the city, higher and higher, through changing vegetation.

After a quick stop at the information centre we were dropped at the beginning of a trail. We had lunch, and then we were off. At first the road was easy to follow steadily upward, winding back and forth and back again. The steep climb that followed was worth quite some Oh’s and Ah’s, a zigzag that never seemed to end. Up and up we went, the stronger taking the heaviest backpacks and sometimes even two.

The group spread out, as is to be expected. From the 3000m mark I decided not to stop until I’d reached the Refugio. I succeeded. Funnily enough my cut hardly bothered me, neither my backpack (one of the smallest) nor my muscles. I just got the rhythm, one foot after the next, and casually got higher and higher. The last bit was in the shadow of the mountain, and things started getting cold pretty quickly. By the Refugio – it took me 3 ½ hours – it was literally freezing.

The few people there told me to get more clothes on asap, and I did. All of them. And thank God that I took my sleeping bag; it was definitely needed as we waited for the Refugio to open, four of us huddled in it. I walked down a bit once to help, and then it finally opened so we could go inside and defrost. And eat the food we’d carried all the way up. An early bed followed, as we were going to get up at 04.00 the next morning.

My dorm was woken up by music, it might have been Rocky but I was still half asleep so I’m not entirely sure. We actually got up a bit later, and breakfast lasted longer, so the goal of leaving at 05.00 wasn’t exactly reached, but well. Walking on rocky paths by torchlight brought its complications, and a few people’s old injuries started hurting again. I was lucky to be pretty fine, enjoying a muesli bar here and there. 

We reached the top of the cable car by twilight dusk, and the top seemed so close yet so far. The last bit up was perhaps the steepest, and the sun had started to rise behind the clouds just before I made it. Along the way we encouraged each other to keep going, come on, we’ve almost made it, and everyone stood at the top, even those who complained the whole way.

The crater is pretty small, with sulphur fumes warming you up here and there. We positioned ourselves along the edge and huddled into shared sleeping bags, freezing now we weren’t moving anymore. It was -4°C, but it felt like -8°C, with the cold wind cutting through your clothes.

The view totally made up for it though. Tenerife, a few other islands, all was visible. I left as one of the last. 
Going down was a lot easier. Especially because once we’d reached the cable car, the mountain guard warned us for rapidly changing weather and even forbade us to go on.

Although the expedition didn’t feel completed because of it, the view from the cable car was refreshing and beautiful. I looked up the mountain and couldn’t believe, that I had actually climbed all that way, 3718m. Holy. Shit.

Ps. My outfit is gorgeous, right? ;P