North Downs Way, Part 1

Spring has finally arrived in the UK, so I can get out into the countryside without having to wear my thermal underwear.  Last year the South Downs Way went well, so an obvious plan for this year is to do the North Downs in the same fashion - in fact that was my original idea last time, but the only hotel I could see working for the first weekend seemed to be booked out for the whole year.  Much like its neighbour to the south, this is a long distance path running for a hundred miles or so along the ridges of Surrey and Kent, specifically from Farnham to Dover.  Again there are alternate routes towards the end, either via Wye and Folkestone, or via Canterbury.  I reckon I can complete the thing over five weekends.

Starting out in Farnham.

As with the last weekend of the SDW, I have got Sarah and Stuart along for company, so three of us set off from Farnham station.  I can't say it's the most memorable of walks to begin with, we walk through woods, past golf courses, and in ditches that I suspect are ancient earthworks.  There is a ridge, the Hogs Back, but we're not on it - the A31 not being an ideal walking route.  Still, we get some excellent ploughman's lunches at the Good Intent in Puttenham, and then pass some points of interest.  Firstly, I drag the others up a hill to look at the ruined St. Catherine's Chapel, scrambling down a steep, sandy slope on the other side reveals why this is not the official route.  Then up another hill, this time on the Way, we pass St. Martha's, a church only accessible via a mile or so of dirt track, and amusingly find a wedding party toiling down it.  Before long - only fifteen miles today in deference to my companions - we reach our stop for the night, the Manor House Hotel.  Very nice too, we have a bit of a swim and try out the jacuzzi before dinner and several beers.  There's a wedding party here too, not the same one.  Hope they didn't mind me patronising their bar too much - I did pay!

Reminiscent of Portugal, apparently.

Sunday brings more clear skies, I do wonder if the tourist board or some such should pay me to walk the downs, always seems to be nice when I do so.  An interesting route today too... for most of the morning we walk on the south side of a ridge, wooded but often with views towards the Surrey Hills, and eventually towards the South Downs too.  At regular intervals we pass pillboxes, built in the early days of World War Two when a German invasion seemed imminent, and still in good condition.  For lunch, we descend into the Mole Valley and head to the Stepping Stones Inn for beer and sandwiches, then cross the Mole via the stepping stones in question.  Then it is the first big climb of the Way, Box Hill, hardly a mountain but certainly steep.  It is mainly steps cut into the hillside so really not that hard, and before long we reach the top, with its car park and many people enjoying the first sunny weekend of the year

Pillboxes on Box Hill.

The way continues along another ridge, yesterday's sand - prehistoric beaches I assume - giving way to familiar chalk.  Slowly we make our way downhill, but there is a sting in the tail, before we reach our destination, Reigate, we must climb Reigate Hill.  But again it isn't too bad, and once at the top we get an interesting folly to look at, then something I had no idea was there, Reigate Fort, part of the London Defences built in the 1890s due to concerns over a possible French invasion - funny to think the Entente Cordiale was signed just a decade or so later.  From here we clamber down the hill in time for a beer or two before getting the train back - just about, Reigate Station apparently being designed, much like the fort, to keep people out.

Donated to the people of Reigate by Sir Robert William Inglis.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

El Teide

Mid April, and England continues to be cold and unpleasant, so I'm off to tropical climes.  Specifically Tenerife, famous for its many coastal resorts which are a mecca for holidaying Brits, and its 'eternal spring' climate.  I of course have something a little more energetic planned than just lazing by the pool - a climb up the volcanic mountain El Teide, which at 3,718m is the highest peak in Spanish territory.  It is possible to get within 180m of the summit via a cable car, but I'm going to do it the hard way, parking up at an altitude of 2,380m, giving me a climb comparable to Ben Nevis, but much higher of course.

'Teide Eggs', with the lava flows that spawned them behind. 

The drive up is an adventure in itself, I leave the beaches and karaoke bars of Los Cristianos behind, and soon find, rather to my surprise, the arid landscape of the coast giving way to much greener surroundings, trees, a profusion of wild flowers, cacti and even vineyards.  Higher still and I'm into the 'corona forestal', pine trees rooted into the rocky hillsides.  The road continues to rise through steep switchbacks, then reaches a crest as I enter the Teide national park, and the caldera surrounding the peak itself.  This is a ten kilometre or so wide ring of hills formed as the land here collapsed after an eruption of the volcano - the term 'caldera' was in fact coined by geologist Leopold von Buch after a visit to this very spot.  All of a sudden plant life all but vanishes, instead there is an alien landscape of lava fields, hills of pumice, and a little way off the towering cone of Teide itself.

The easy way up.

Shortly I'm at the car park, and any further ascent will be under my own power.  To begin with it is easy enough, the route is along a gravel track, wide enough for vehicles and with a gentle grade.  I don't seem to have any trouble with the altitude thus far, as the track curves around the slopes of Montaña Blanca - so named for the white(ish) pumice of which it is formed.  This is a neighbouring peak to the much larger Teide, and after an hour or two I reach a junction, the track continues towards to the top of Montaña Blanca, whereas I need to take a steep footpath up the side of the volcano.  An interesting spot this as well, marked by the 'Huevos del Teide' ('Eggs of Teide'), a number of 'accretion balls' formed during an eruption, by cooling lava on the top of flows rolling down the slopes, picking up material on the way.

My route leads up to, then alongside, and then over, one of the lava flows from the last eruption, the solid, heavy basalt at least being easier walking than the loose pumice.  The going is hard now, I'm getting to the 3,000m point and I'm starting to notice a little shortness of breath.  At one point I get a vague flutter in my stomach, a first sign of altitude sickness?  I take a break, eat a chocolate bar, and head on, taking it slowly.  The steep climb does mean I am gaining height quickly enough nonetheless, and after an hour or so I'm at the Refugio de Altavista, a mountain hut where you can in fact stay the night, prior to heading to the summit to watch the sun rise.  I'm just here for lunch, but it is certainly a fine place to stop with a wonderful view across the caldera and out to sea, with the island of La Palma easily visible.

Sulphurous gases emerging from a fumarole at the crater.

It is past 1pm though now, and the permit I need to access the summit is only good from 1 to 3pm.  There's another 250m or so of climb to the upper gondola station where I will present my permit, so I had better move on.  Doing so is becoming very hard however... the higher I get, the more I find that I just cannot get enough oxygen to my muscles.  I plod up the slope, panting like a sprinter, and feel my heart beating faster and faster in an attempt to compensate for the lack of oxygen in my blood... after only a little way I need to stop, take deep breaths, and wait for my pulse to settle down.  And then repeat.  In this wise I make my way, at least it means I get to regularly admire the awesome vista behind me.  In the end, it takes me forty-five minutes or so to reach the level of the gondola station, and then I just have a little bit of flat to reach it - there is a circular route around the peak, fairly thronging with tourists who have taken the cable car up.

At the summit, behind me the island stretches out to
the Northeast with Africa in the distance.

Reaching the gate leading to the summit path, I fumble for my permit and hand it over, receiving some (to me incomprehensible) Spanish in response.  I get the feeling I was expected to be here at 1pm, to then spend fully two hours making my way up and down... I guess they're set up for people taking the cable car.  Eventually the warden says 'one hour' and waves me through, and I'm back to heaving my way up switchbacks.  With the end in sight it seems easier somehow, and after a mere half an hour I reach the small crater, and smell the sulphurous fumes emerging from it.  The last few yards are a scramble along the crater edge, actually passing through the hot vapours, before reaching the highest point.  From here there is an amazing panoramic view, clouds far below over the coast of the island, and then out to sea in all directions, each of the other Canary Isles visible.  I take a few photos, and even a bit of video, before heading back down, and I'm pleased to see that as long as I am walking either on the flat, or downhill, I don't find the altitude a problem at all.  Once again eschewing the gondola, I make it back down to the car in a little under three hours.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.