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.

Shevil Israel - Review

Jerusalem city walls.

Well, what an amazing country.  Fantastically beautiful to walk through, and it is truly amazing to be able to walk along miles of Roman aqueduct, or just randomly turn a corner to find a piece of architecture from Byzantine or Roman times, or further back, right back to stone age cave dwellings.  The people are friendly, and this is a civilised place where nobody tried to beg from me or 'guide' me, and I felt quite safe camped out alone in the middle of nowhere.  Food was good, and I could get a beer most anywhere, the mediterranean climate certainly made a nice change to London at this time of year too.  Not sure I'd want to go there in the summer months mind you.  Of course I did have my issues with security guards in various places, but let's face it these could happen in the UK too - not saying that is exactly a good thing, but it makes it hard to be overly critical, and after all the Israelis have rather more justification than we do.  Certainly I'd advise anybody to visit, and just apply a bit of common sense (not something I myself have in great quantities of course).

Following the blazes down the Carmel cliffs.

What about the INT itself?  Pretty awesome I have to say - this is a superb country to hike through, and clearly thought has gone into making the trail go by many of the most outstanding features, be they geographical or historical.  There are issues of course, I could have done with less clambering over barbed wire - I wonder if Israel has the same sort of right-of-way laws as we have here.  The 'blazes' took a lot of getting used to as well, often I'd get to a junction and see no indication as to the way, or worse, a blaze that was actually a little way down the wrong route - eventually I learned to look more at the way the blaze was painted, than where exactly it was.  I guess, if the INT is an official route maintained by some quasi-governmental agency, such as the Pennine Way is here, then to be honest they're not doing the greatest job.  But if as I rather suspect it is entirely the work of a small group of enthusiasts who dash up and down repainting the blazes every couple of years, then fair play to them, it is a thing of wonder.

Paddling in the Med.

As for my own plan - well, to be honest the distances may have been a bit too much, especially the three twenty-three mile plus days.  I certainly wouldn't want to keep up this sort of pace for the whole six hundred miles!  One particular problem is that at this time of year there aren't really enough hours of daylight for this sort of mileage, so I did end up with many hours of night-hiking.  Not the end of the world, but again not ideal.  Also, there were plenty of places I passed through where I'd have happily have spent an hour or two looking around (or having a beer!), which wasn't really possible given the pace I needed to keep up - this as much as anything would mean I'd be tempted to stick with the guide as and when I come back to do the whole thing.  Still, I made it, still in one piece - time to start planning my next trip :)

Photos of the trip are of course here.

Shevil Israel, Day 9

Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

What, you want to hear about my sightseeing?  Well, I am going to write about it... only nine miles today, and with no pack and, woohoo, ibuprofen, walking is no longer a problem.  It is more a question of, how much can I pack in given my flight leaves at 19:25.  So, straight into the Old City, which reminds me of Marrakech but is much less stressful... even when a boy tells me somewhere is closed, it turns out he is correct - further on a checkpoint is only passable if you are Muslim.  Interesting how in some areas Israel actually bends over backwards to placate international opinion.

Western Wall and the Dome of the Rock.

I visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, an astonishing hyperspace collision of different Christian denominations.  Wandering around the various sections on a Sunday, I pass first a group of Catholics chanting away, then a little further along there are bearded Eastern Orthodox priests conducting their own ceremony.  A short distance away I reach the Western Wall, as near as I can get to the Temple Mount itself, the Dome of the Rock gleaming above it.  Then it is back to the Jerusalem Trail, although I take a little detour to the City of David archaeological park, including an amazing - and claustrophobic - climb of a 600m Herodian sewer, only uncovered over the last few years..

Down in the sewer.

From here the Jerusalem Trail heads east and around the city, I pass various tombs on the way up the Mount of Olives, walk past the Hebrew University and on to Ammunition Hill - a memorial to the Israeli fallen in the Six Day War.  From here it is not far back to the hotel where I pick up my bag, then get some shakshuka sandwiches - eggs cooked with spicy tomato - for lunch.  Then off to the bus station - just to be on the safe side, I want to leave a fair bit of time to get to the plane, in fact it's only 3pm when I reach the station.

This turns out to be wise.  After fighting through two floors of shopping mall(?) I reach the ticket office, and stand in line for a bus.  This takes an hour to do the 30 minute journey claimed by the bus company web site... and does not in fact go all the way to the airport.  By the time I am at the elderly looking terminal 1 via a shuttle bus, another half hour is gone.  Security now kicks in with a vengeance... numerous people ask me what I've been doing in the country, who I know there etc.  I am asked about my trip to Morocco last year, I pass through several security doors, they open my bag and prod my camp stove, and in a bizarre moment, pierce my bags of dried food before taping them shut again.  Finally I get through - to find the plane does not in fact go from this terminal.  More waiting, another bus, and finally I'm at terminal 3.  Just time for a couple of beers before a tiresome 5 hour flight, and, oh joy, a freezing bike ride back to London.

Rock cut tombs.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Shevil Israel, Day 8

Farewell to the Israel National Trail.

Only eleven miles!  The plan was, if I lost a day for any reason a short last day would mean I could still make my flight.  As it is I can take things easy, so after climbing the Sataf I grab some breakfast - it is still Shabbat, but no problem getting a coffee, or even a beer here.

Before long it is time to say goodbye to the Israel National trail, which keeps on South all the way to Eilat - one day maybe.  Hello though, to the Jerusalem Trail, a twenty-five mile or so circular walk reaching from the hills beyond the city, where I am now, to the Mount of Olives east of the Old City.  It makes for a pleasant walk anyway, though I do spend a while stuck behind a group of students.  Feet feel a bit better today too.

Hills outside Jerusalem.

I'd hoped to pay my respects at the Yad Vashem Holocaust museum, it is shut however so instead I head up the informational path to Mount Hertzl.  This provides a stirring history of the Zionist struggle against first the British administration, then the nefarious Arabs.

From here it is a winding and hilly route through the parks and residential streets of the modern city.  I pass the Knesset - more machine guns - and the starting gate for the Jerusalem marathon, which took place this morning.  Had hoped to get lunch hereabouts but it is all shut, so I push on to my hotel.  Nice to finish walking in daylight, also very nice to have a shower.  I celebrate arriving in the Holy City with several beers and a 'Jerusalem Mix' - beef, chicken and merguez, grilled.  No holiday is complete without merguez.

The Knesset.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Shevil Israel, Day 7

Monument on the 'Burma Road'.

Eigtheen miles, and no relief for my aching feet.  I also have a pounding headache thanks to the red wine last night - well, I suppose it is appropriate that I should suffer on the road to Jerusalem.  I limp along at around two miles per hour, with breaks the effective speed is rather lower...

I actually feel happier as the trail makes a steep climb of the 620m Mount Orna, endorphins or something I guess.  The route here follows the 'Burma Road' - so named by a British Journalist - which was built during the 1948 war to get supplies to Jerusalem.  Much respect to the volunteers who cut a road through this hilly terrain, I could wish it was a bit less rocky mind you.

On the slopes of Mount Orna.

After a steep descent I reach the martyrs' forest, where six million trees grow in memorial to the victims of the Holocaust.  It is of course impossible to visit this country without contemplating the horrific tragedy these people suffered just before the birth of their nation.  If any man's death diminishes me, how much more so the death of so many?  The number is too large to comprehend, but certainly as a European I feel my continent diminished by the loss of those men, women and children.

Home for the evening.

Well... I keep walking, a gentle climb for six miles or so then a last steep push to Tzova.  Google maps showed a couple of hotels here so it seemed a reasonable place to stop, but I arrive to see a barrier across the road.  The guard speaks no English, so I dig out my phrasebook, and it turns out that yes, there are restaurants, but no, they are shut 'cos it is Shabbat.  Oh well, it's actually nice to retreat to my tent and not have to deal with the real world.  Again, can't be bothered to cook, but I have some remarkably calorific 'savoury cookies' and chocolate left over from lunch, so, all good.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Shevil Israel, Day 6

Roman mausoleum.

Another long day, twenty-four miles, not really looking forward to it as I pop my last ibuprofen tab - really should have done that shop.  I pass a Roman mausoleum - a haunt of John the Baptist apparently - then hike on into woodland.  Seems the INT follows the Tel Aviv to Jerusalem cycle trail here, makes for easy walking and I make decent time.

My only food though is my supply of dry meals, so I need to go fourteen miles to reach a picnic area with water for cooking and cleaning.  Can't say I'm sad to find a man there selling food... His English is limited, but his 'borekitos' (?) are most tasty.  Some kind of flaky pastry and cheese, plus the obligatory olives.

Cyclists get actual signposts...

Still a way to go though, and my medication is wearing off... I struggle on, telling myself that it is 'only' eighteen miles tomorrow.  I do notice that my guide says there is a mall on the trail at around the twenty mile mark, with a pharmacy.  This becomes a goal, I need some batteries for the GPS too.  Maybe there will be a bar!  So, it's a little disappointing when the 'mall' turns out to be a deserted industrial estate.  Maybe there are shops off in the distance, maybe even open ones... damned if I'm wandering off to see.

So, me and my GPS exert the last vestiges of our energy and get to Latrun, which has a roadside service area, excellent.  Batteries, lunch for tomorrow, check.  No painkillers sadly, but there is a surprisingly good Italian restaurant where I consume pasta and a bottle of Israeli red.

Judean hills.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Shevil Israel, Day 5

Heading towards Tel Aviv - Reading Power Station is in the
centre - close up images readily available on the internet.

Trouble with a real bed is, I really don't want to get out of it, for one thing my feet are killing me.  Twenty-one miles to go though, so best, or least worst, foot forward.  I successfully improvise a route to join the INT at a beach just North of Tel Aviv, then walk along the prom until I say goodbye to the Med in the scenic environs of Reading Power Station.  Time to get the camera out then - no sooner done though, than a fat old guy wearing a pair of speedos jogs over and demands I delete my photo, or he'll call the police!  Not wishing to prolong this disturbing encounter I comply... "I care about my country" he says.

Walking through the grapefruit groves...

Well, not sure if he called the cops, but a hundred yards along another black 4x4 rolls up, this time the machine gun toting guard wants to see, and indeed photograph, my passport.  Well, you know what?  I too care about my country, as much as anything because for all its faults it still upholds certain freedoms, such as, you know, being able to photograph things without having automatic weapons waved at you...

Anyway... my route from here stays beside water, this time the Yarqon river.  For several miles I'm in parks on the north side of Tel Aviv - I planned to get some shopping done here, but forget to do it, trying to get to the safety of the country I guess.  Well, before long I am walking between tall reeds, and the Yarqon is little more than a creek.  Having failed to shop, I eat into my chocolate reserves for lunch, supplemented by a grapefruit from the, er... grove? I am walking past.

Seems the river is with me all day... eventually I reach the Yarqon springs.  I had planned on cooking my own dinner this night, but after the day I've had I fancy a beer, so, I attempt to go to Rosh Ha'an... I get as far as the old train station, which is now two rail lines and a motorway away from town.  Oh well... a quick hike through Tel Afek park - lovely in daylight I'm sure - and I'm at my planned camp spot.  Seems to be a ploughed field, so I keep walking and after a bit find some bare earth to camp on... Not feeling too hungry, also can't be bothered to cook, so I eat the last of my chocolate then go to bed.

Bedroll worked surprisingly well at cushioning the rocks...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.