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Our first view of Mount Teide, in the distance; seen through the swirling mists as we drove through the pine forested, dorsal ridge of the island. We are already in the clouds at about 2000 m (6000 feet). |
| Abruptly we found ourselves above the tree line and Teide can be seen above boulders of solidified lava from ancient eruptions. |  |
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Although the trees cannot, some plant life manages to keep a hold up here. We saw none, but apparently ravens do make a living on these high slopes. |
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The excuse for this excursion was the flying visit to us in Tenerife by Terry and Kath, Nicky's parents from Jersey. The hire car was very cheap at only 3500 Pesetas (£14.00) per day, but with four up we pushed its little heart to the limit on some of these precipitous slopes! By the time we stopped for coffee and a filled roll, the wind had a vicious, cold bite to it. |  |
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Geologists theorise that originally there was a much larger volcano here, perhaps 4880 m (16,000 feet) high. If so, this distant ridge is all that remains of the far wall of its crater. The vast expanse of perfect, fine gravel underfoot is the result of its ongoing erosion. |
| El Teide itself looms behind Nicky. It last erupted in 1909. At this height (2400 m, nearly 8,000 feet) there was snow lying in the shadow of each boulder and the wind cut you in half. |  |
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Nigel and Terry decide maybe not to attempt a barefoot assault on the summit today... (Kath, wisely, stayed in the car!) |
| As we prepare to leave Santa Cruz, Santa Cruz prepares itself for Christmas. The trees in our favourite street are magical with their million fairy lights, and cafe-life continues in the warm, balmy evenings. |  |
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The massive bronze guardians of Santa Cruz's monument to its war dead, fig-leaves still firmly in place, stand impassive to the tent of fairy lights erected over their domain. |
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After two months stationary in these warm waters, the propeller and ropecutter are encrusted to nearly twice their normal size with barnacles. While running the engine I then managed to catch a line in the prop... My attempts without protection got me a bleeding hand and head (They're very sharp, these barnacle shells!). Even looking like the famous Milk Tray delivery operative, I had to give up. Once again a local SCUBA diver - Franscisco - saved the day. I can't understand why Nicky won't stop laughing at this photograph... |  |
