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| The Deserted village of Las Fuentes |
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| Cave house in Las Fuentes |
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| Finca Montiel |
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| The Island of La Gomera from El Choro |
Walking to The Deserted Village in a calima
Walking from Tenerife's National Park to it's highest village
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The Parador with Tenerife's 2nd highest peak, Pico Viejo, in the background  Leaving the Parador, I headed towards Montaña Guajara, Tenerife's fourth highest peak at just under 9,000ft. .  After forty minutes of walking, I was on the summit of the pass, where I stopped briefly for a snack and to enjoy the stunning views of the National Park and the Parador below, now reduced to the size of a dolls house.  From the pass, the route tracked diagonally below cliffs towards the summit, although from here, the path was not immediately obvious.  The climb involved some minor scrambling over boulders with sheer drops hundreds of feet to the caldera floor below.  After one hour thirty minutes of walking, I reached the summit of Montaña Guajara, where I stopped for a short break to enjoy the views of Teide and the National Park.  Gran Canaria apparently floating in the sky from the summit  The Ucanca Valley from the summit  The east coast and Gran Canaria from the GR131  The Barranco de Las Arenas from the GR131  Descending from the summit, I joined the European GR131 route and began descending towards Montaña Arena, a black sand volcanic cone below Montaña Guajara. Here, the path becomes a boulder-lined route across this surreal black 'beach'  Descending swiftly, I joined the path to the Lunar Landscape, a valley of wind and rain eroded pumice pinnacles.   After a steep descent, the outlying houses of Vilaflor, the highest village in Tenerife, came into view.  After just under five hours of walking and jogging, I arrived in the centre of the village and one of the most welcome views on the whole walk! |
Walking Tenerife's Royal Roads
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| Ruins of San Jose Chapel |
Before the arrival of the TF1 motorway and the TF28, the old high level road it replaced, travel across Tenerife was along the camino real, or royal ways. These old trade routes linked towns and villages across the island and many of them are still in existence today. Lately, tourist authorities on Tenerife appear to have realized that attracting walkers to the island is good for tourism and a comprehensive program of path restoration and signposting has been undertaken in the last few years. One of the problems I have found however, much as I welcome this initiative, is that the authorities seem a little shy in promoting their work. It is often difficult to find any literature at all relating to the new network of paths and when I have found any, it is usually so poor that it is of limited use.
Today, I decided to walk a section of the southern camino real that extends from El Escobonal to Fasnia and passes through the Barranco De Herques, using directions taken from a website of footpaths in the area. I had printed off a short walk that utilizes part of this five kilometer path between the villages with the intention of exploring the ravine.
The walk directions advise parking on or around the TF28 road bridge across the barranco, and although there are spaces on the bridge where it would be possible to leave a car, I felt uncomfortable with this idea so drove to La Escobonal where I located a camino real signpost. Parking nearby, I set off downhill on a narrow metalled lane following the green and white signposts and paint markings. The scenery in the Agache region is not the most picturesque, being a very arid, desert-like area but I was hoping that I would find something of interest to compensate for the lack of scenic splendor and I have to say that with the help of the superb waymarks and information boards, the walk proved to be a delight.
Initially, I descended on narrow, tarmac lanes and dirt tracks to the Casa Del Cura, an old 17th century house and birthplace of José Castro, founder of the San Joaquin church in Fasnía. From here, I followed more signposts to the wonderfully preserved ruins of the San José chapel, which has the partial remains of walls on three sides and a simple wooden altar and benches on a wooden floor. Mass is held here on the last Sunday of every month in spring and summer.
Behind the altar, on one of the remaining wall sections, is a crude wooden cross and the whole 'building' is reached by steps leading up from the narrow Camino Real. The chapel, which is located in a lofty location with the sea forming an impressive backdrop, was destroyed by a storm in the Agache region in 1927 and a new church built in the higher part of El Escobonal
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| Beñamo Mountain |
Close by is Montaña Béñamo, a sacred Guanche site where once existed a tagoror, or circle of stones on the peak, where the community leaders held meetings. The hill was also reputed to have had trees growing on the summit which were cut down and used in the building of the original chapel. From here, I followed a track passing terracing to arrive at the Barranco De Herques, an impressive example dividing the municipalities of Güimar and Fasnía.
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| Herques ravine In 1770, naturalist José de Viera y Clavijo discovered a high ceilinged cave in the ravine and wrote that it was ' full of mummies, counting no less than one thousand'. The location of the cave appears to have since been lost in time once again, despite subsequent numerous attempts to re-locate it.
Reaching a rural road I followed it back up to the TF28, which I followed across the Barranco de Herques once again, before eventually arriving back in El Escobonal.
Once back in El Escobonal, the directions I had obtained from the internet advised me to pay a visit to the Archaeological and Ethnographic museum in San Jose plaza. Unfortunately, when I got there, it was closed for 'reforms' and I had to chuckle quietly to myself as the completion dates for these 'improvements' was February 2011! It seems that the somewhat haphazard approach to promoting tourism on the island extends beyond walking. |
Walking in the Afur Valley
Despite having lived and walked in Tenerife for three and a half years, the island continues to surprise me. Yesterday, as forecasts promised temperatures rising to the mid-
thirties by the early part of this week, I set off for the Anaga Mountains from the south with the temperatures already nudging the high twenties. As I drove north, the whole island appeared to be quietly simmering in the heat, with the haze as evident over Santa Cruz and La Laguna as it had been in Los Cristianos in the south. Turning off of the TF5 autopista, I headed for the mountains and was surprised to see a white topping of cloud slowly tumbling over the summits and hanging over the nearby valleys as I headed towards the village of Las Mercedes. Climbing up into the Anaga Rural Park on the steeply winding road, the atmosphere changed abruptly as I passed through laurisilva forest, the wet roads evidence of the moisture laden cloud drifting through the branches and condensing on the leaves before dripping onto the tarmac below. Soon, I was forced to turn on my headlights and slow my speed considerably as I was having difficulty seeing more than a few yards ahead in the gloom. Arriving at the Casa Carlos restaurant, I parked and surveyed the scene, or I would have had there been one to survey. Normally, from the restaurant there is a fantastic view into the Afur valley, which was my destination for the day but now all that was 'visible' was a swirling white blanket hiding everything apart from the nearby flora. Setting off, I followed the steep path in eerie silence down towards Taborno as it passed through tree heather dripping with condensation from the moisture laden clouds. From Taborno, I followed a contouring path through giant ferns and brambles, the wet ferns soaking my shorts as I pushed through them before arriving at a house that abruptly materialised from the mist. A woman brushing the path outside the house wished me 'buenos dias' and I replied 'mucha bruma', which in the circumstances probably didn't need saying and as I continued downhill, pungent smelling woodsmoke from a nearby bonfire mingled with the fog, as more houses materialised out of the mist before de-materialising just as rapidly .
thirties by the early part of this week, I set off for the Anaga Mountains from the south with the temperatures already nudging the high twenties. As I drove north, the whole island appeared to be quietly simmering in the heat, with the haze as evident over Santa Cruz and La Laguna as it had been in Los Cristianos in the south. Turning off of the TF5 autopista, I headed for the mountains and was surprised to see a white topping of cloud slowly tumbling over the summits and hanging over the nearby valleys as I headed towards the village of Las Mercedes. Climbing up into the Anaga Rural Park on the steeply winding road, the atmosphere changed abruptly as I passed through laurisilva forest, the wet roads evidence of the moisture laden cloud drifting through the branches and condensing on the leaves before dripping onto the tarmac below. Soon, I was forced to turn on my headlights and slow my speed considerably as I was having difficulty seeing more than a few yards ahead in the gloom. Arriving at the Casa Carlos restaurant, I parked and surveyed the scene, or I would have had there been one to survey. Normally, from the restaurant there is a fantastic view into the Afur valley, which was my destination for the day but now all that was 'visible' was a swirling white blanket hiding everything apart from the nearby flora. Setting off, I followed the steep path in eerie silence down towards Taborno as it passed through tree heather dripping with condensation from the moisture laden clouds. From Taborno, I followed a contouring path through giant ferns and brambles, the wet ferns soaking my shorts as I pushed through them before arriving at a house that abruptly materialised from the mist. A woman brushing the path outside the house wished me 'buenos dias' and I replied 'mucha bruma', which in the circumstances probably didn't need saying and as I continued downhill, pungent smelling woodsmoke from a nearby bonfire mingled with the fog, as more houses materialised out of the mist before de-materialising just as rapidly .
Descending to the 1,400ft contour, I was suddenly treated to a superb view into the Barranco de Guardoz and as I continued, the village of Afur came into view below me. 
Descending further, I reached the outlying houses of the village clinging to a ridge and followed a paved path down into the bottom of the the valley. 
The fertile valley is known for it's stream and as I crossed the bridge to the village it was clear the flow of water, which in the winter months almost becomes a river, would soon be reduced to a few rockpools until the winter rains returned.
The main part of the tiny village consists of a few houses and a church haphazardly arranged along the valley road and 
often, when arriving in places as remote and isolated as this, I feel a little like an intruder, so I didn''t hang around long before locating the path out of the village. 
Climbing steeply, I arrived at a ridge and the amazing site of abandoned cave houses hanging precariously in a cliff-face, a wall built in front of these dwellings being all that stood between the original occupants and the valley floor several hundred feet below. Having passed this awe-inspiring sight, I re-entered the mist and climbed to the tiny hamlet of Roque Negro, where I located a relentlessly steep path up to the ridge road, which I followed back for a couple of miles to Casa Carlos. 
From here, I observed a cloud inversion in the Afur Valley and the amazing sight of the nearby summits protruding like mystical islands from a sea of white cotton wool before I set off on the drive back south in brilliant sunshine. Full size versions of photos below.Barranco de Las Cuevas Negras
Photos of yesterday's walk from the village of Erjos through the Barranco de Las Cuevas Negras in the Teno Mountains
Montaña Colorada, The Red Mountain
The weather yesterday here in Tenerife was superb with clear blue skies and I took the opportunity to climb to the summit of Montaña Colorada from the peaceful village of Cruz de Tea. The peak itself is not particularly imposing but from the summit marker there are stupendous views in all directions with the high peaks of Montaña Guajara and Sombrero de Chasna particularly dominant. The climb from the village is a strenuous 1.5 hour hike up paths that are often difficult, being covered in loose, gravelly red soil and rocks, making the walk initially a little like struggling up the side of a sand dune. Eventually, the gradient eases and the going becomes easier underfoot as you enter pine forest, giving you more chance to enjoy the scenery. Montaña Colorada means 'Red Mountain', and although the description 'mountain' may seem a little exaggerated, there is no denying it's colour! As you ascend, the summit cone peeks tantalisingly between the pines, frequently disappearing again making the climb seem longer than it really is. Once on the top, it is well worth stopping for a break to admire the 360 degree views, which in clear weather extend from the coast to the caldera rim. The return route is the almost total opposite of the outward path, as it descends through terraces of vines and fruit trees before following a deserted country road steeply back to the village. As you reach the village, you will find a very large, well preserved tile kiln, next to the appropriately named Tasca El Horno, where you can enjoy tapas and a drink as a reward for your earlier efforts. Photos below.
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| Montana Colorada |
Walking the Rio Conde
Last Thursday, my wife and I walked the Rio Conde, a disused water channel running through the mountains from Adeje to Arona, which is a town close to our village, Chayofa. The plan was to bus to Adeje and then climb up to the Rio Conde and follow it to a point where it passes closes to Chayofa before leaving it to follow a path back home. The channel is about a metre wide and very vertiginous in some places as it skirts around cliff edges, so the walk is not for those with a fear of heights. There are also sections where the slabs on the top have broken and a balancing act is required to negotiate these, which is a little unnerving at times. At one point, it crosses a ravine and although the channel is quite wide, you have nothing to protect you from a sheer drop on either side so concentration is vital. Because of this, I forgot to take a photo of the aquaduct as it crosses this point. The walk went well until towards the end of the channel when it started becoming very overgrown and it was necessary to climb down off of it at some points. It was during this section where I had an encounter with a prickly pear cactus and sustained an injury to my leg. I'm still not sure but I think I may have a cactus needle buried in my shin although the swelling is going down now. Hopefully, if there is a needle in it, it will work it's way out in time. This is the second injury I have sustained to my left leg in recent weeks but I suppose after years of walking with hardly any problems, I was due some bad luck. The walk took 5.5 hours overall, although it was made longer by some of the overgrown sections and the injury, which slowed me down a bit. Photos here
Climbing Roque del Conde
For visitors to the south of Tenerife, the prominent table-top summit of Roque del Conde is a familiar sight, even if they do not know it by name. Sitting just inland from t
he resorts of Los Cristianos, Playa de Las Americas and Costa Adeje, this 1,000 metre summit is visible for miles around. The mountain is the most prominent remaining peak of the Adeje Massif, the oldest part of the island and from the coast, the mountain looks almost unattainable but there is a good path from the village of Vento, near Arona, which can be followed to the saddle between Roque del Conde and Centinela. From here, the path crosses to the seaward side of the mountain giving stunning views to the coastal resorts and on a clear day, the summit of Teide. As you ascend the partially paved trail to the top you will see many old terraces and threshing circles, once used for threshing cereal crops. Arrival at the summit is a surprise to most as instead of the vertiginous ridge that most expect to find, a huge sloping plain is revealed and even this high up, there are abandoned terraces, long since fallen into disuse. It is worth spending time exploring the various paths on the summit as well as locating the plaque commemorating the Guanche mencey Ichasagua, who fought the invading Spanish from his stronghold on the mountain, the peak also being known by the alternative name of Roque de Ichasagua.
he resorts of Los Cristianos, Playa de Las Americas and Costa Adeje, this 1,000 metre summit is visible for miles around. The mountain is the most prominent remaining peak of the Adeje Massif, the oldest part of the island and from the coast, the mountain looks almost unattainable but there is a good path from the village of Vento, near Arona, which can be followed to the saddle between Roque del Conde and Centinela. From here, the path crosses to the seaward side of the mountain giving stunning views to the coastal resorts and on a clear day, the summit of Teide. As you ascend the partially paved trail to the top you will see many old terraces and threshing circles, once used for threshing cereal crops. Arrival at the summit is a surprise to most as instead of the vertiginous ridge that most expect to find, a huge sloping plain is revealed and even this high up, there are abandoned terraces, long since fallen into disuse. It is worth spending time exploring the various paths on the summit as well as locating the plaque commemorating the Guanche mencey Ichasagua, who fought the invading Spanish from his stronghold on the mountain, the peak also being known by the alternative name of Roque de Ichasagua. In the Land of the Giants - A Walk to Playa Seco
The Teno Mountains, in the west of the island, end abruptly at the sea forming towering cliffs plunging up to 600 metres into the ocean at Los Gigantes (The Giants) and it is from these that the resort takes it's name. These rugged mountains boast spectacular mountain scenery with remote villages nestling in the vast valleys or barrancos, that separate the 
various ridges in the area. The most famous of these is Masca, a tiny, Canarian village standing guard at the start of the popular Barranco De Masca walk that descends for around 600 metres through the labyrinthine ravine to the sea. Between the Barranco de Masca and Los Gigantes are two other barrancos, the Barranco Seco and the Barranco Manchas de Los Diaz and it was these that I set off to explore from the village of Santiago Del Teide at 8.30am on a beautiful May morning. Following the ridge above El Molledo, I reached the path into the Barranco Manchas de Los Diaz after around an hour, and with many of the surrounding mountains still cloaked in shadow, began the descent into the gloomy ravine.
I knew that the walk would be fairly tough so I had planned an early start to give me as many hours of daylight as possible. In the event it turned out to be prophetic as a series of circumstances led me on a marathon walk that saw me staggering back to Santiago del Teide at 7pm in the evening. As I descended into the barranco on a good, partly paved path, the prominent tower of Roque Blanco (above) stood bathed in sunshine on the opposite side of the valley, over 700 metres above Playa Seco. A raven flew overhead croaking it's woody call and looking back, if I was a more suspicious person, I may have seen it as a warning and turned back there and then but I was enjoying myself immensely as I descended rapidly, with no inkling of the trials to come. The path descended steeply and at times was fairly overgrown and this was to be the start of my problems. Trying to round a bush growing across the path, I stepped on a large boulder lining the way, which promptly rolled and caused me to fall, landing heavily on my left leg, which had buckled double under me. The pain shot through my knee and I sat for a moment massaging it and once the pain subsided, slowly stood up. I was quite surprised to find that I seemed to have suffered no ill-effects and after putting my full weight on my leg, decided I had
had a lucky escape. I continued unhindered downhill and arrived at the Galeria Junquero. The galerias are tunnels bored into the rock to access water contained in underground aquifers, from where much of the islands water is obtained and there are many examples scattered around the mountains. Here, there was a gated tunnel with large keep out signs and a tajea, or gutter, with fast flowing water (right) issuing from the galeria. This was to prove a lifesaver later in the day but now I was intrigued by an old building and rusty old rails and rail-trucks that lay around and wondered what they could have been used for. The rock hereabouts was a chalky white and I wondered if this had at one time been a mining area for obtaining minerals, possibly calcium. Up to now the path, aside from being overgrown in places, had been easy to follow but suddenly became indistinct. I found myself in the streambed looking for the way, which I found and promptly lost again as I was diverted by the maintenance path of the tajea, which now led to a rough block building being constructed in the side wall of the barranco. Adjacent to this was a cave containing building materials with a bridge over a gap leading to the building fashioned from some of the old rails tracks. Judging by the rusty generator in the cave, it seemed as though the project had been abandoned for some time and I retreated in search of the onward path. Having once again located this, I continued down the streambed, which was proving very difficult to negotiate as it continually disappeared over dry waterfalls. This combined with scrambling over large boulders was not helping my knee, which was starting to stiffen slightly. I arrived at one waterfall with no obvious way down, I could see the onward path on the far side of the fall but there was no way of getting to it without hanging over the edge of the fall and shuffling along on a ledge around five metres above the streambed. This may not sound very high but it actually feels a lot 
worse when you have to hang over it clinging on with your fingers and toes. After some time spent trying to determine the best way of negotiating this obstacle I eventually managed to get across and continued down the streambed (right) as the higher path along the barranco walls had by now completely vanished. After around four hours of diversions and climbing down waterfalls, I had my first glimpse of the sea and found myself a short time later standing on Playa Seco as the surf broke on the rocky shore. The huge cliffs towered over the boulder strewn beach and I was amazed to the see the jaunty colours of an umbrella as well as numerous craft in the bay which included jet-skies, tourist boats and divers dinghys. I assumed that the people with the umbrella had arrived by boat as they did not looked equipped to walk in the barranco. I crossed the beach, (below) which proved difficult walking across the boulders to the mouth of the Barranco Seco at the other end where I stopped for lunch. The plan was to investigate the Barranco Seco, which I knew led to the pass on the Masca road and if viable, follow it to the road before walking along the tarmac back to Santiago Del Teide. If it didn't prove to be a viable route, I would turn around and retrace my steps back up the descent path in the Barranco Manchas de Los Diaz. After sitting for a while enjoying the sunshine and watching the boats in the bay, I set off and entered the Barranco Seco, soon locating some stone cairns along the stream-bed and encouraged by these, started following them. After around half an hour, the path left the streambed and began climbing and I soon found myself clinging to the side of the barranco wall with no obvious onward route. I knew that if I was going to turn around, I needed to make a decision soon, which I did, and descended back down the barranco to the beach. Since the fall, my knees seem to have stiffened up and I was now having problems walking over the boulders as I crossed the beach. Not only did I have sharp pains shooting through my left leg due to the fall, but my right knee was also stiffening, presumably due to me compensating for my left leg, and this coupled with the rough four hour descent had obviously taken it's toll. On reaching the far side of the beach and my descent route, I was now stumbling regularly on the boulders, my balance seriously affected by the problem with my knees. I began climbing back up in the now very hot sun, tripping over the rough ground as I skirted around large boulders and it seemed to take an age to progress along the streambed before I reached the large waterfall I had struggled with earlier. I decided that the best way to tackle this was to climb up the rock face of the waterfall, as I has missed the turning for the path along the cliff wall and didn't want to retrace my steps lookin
g for it. Again, from below, the waterfall looked an easy scramble up the rocks but when you're clinging on by your fingers and toes, it seems much higher. After a tricky climb, I eventually pulled myself onto the top and sat to regain my breath and cool off, although this was proving difficult in temperatures around 30c! As if this wasn't enough, I now had a new problem, I ran out of water! I always carry two litres of water with me and half a litre of an orange juice/water mix but all I now had was half of this left and no water at all. I knew this was serious as I was now thirsty and the heat in the barranco was stifling with no breeze and little shade. I had to get back to the Galeria Junquera and hope that the water was drinkable. From there, I knew the serious climbing would begin and water would be essential if I was to get back to the top of the barranco wall. After a slow plod and with my mouth like a sandpit, I reached the galeria and after testing it, decided that the water was probably safe and filled up my bottle with two litres. I now began what was probably the most gruelling climb of my life as I staggered on my near useless knees in the blazing sunshine up the barranco wall towering 760mtrs over me, seemingly reaching into the sky. I stumbled on, tripping regularly as my knees refused to lift my feet high enough off of the ground and rested every 30mtrs of ascent, taking shade wherever I could find it. Just as I was settling into a rythym, I suddenly had a severe bout of cramp in my right thigh muscle, presumably brought on by dehydration, although by now I had drunk around three litres since setting off all those hours ago. I sat massaging my thigh to relax the muscle and once it had passed, stood once more to continue my way up the wall of rock that seemed to never get any smaller. After an interminable time and many more rest stops, I finally reached the lip of the barranco and sighed with relief at the sight of the town of Tamaimo in the Santiago Valley that I had last seen over nine hours before. I still had around an hour to walk back to Santiago Del Teide but knew that the serious climbing was done and staggered back towards the village, suffering yet another serious attack of cramp in my thigh along the way. Having massaged this away, I set off again along the walled path into the village with barely had enough energy to celebrate the wonderful sight of my car parked at the side of the road, where I had left it 
10.5 hours earlier. The relief should have been immense but I was too exhausted to be overjoyed and sat in the car to rest for a few moments before driving home reflecting on the fact that the giants had almost claimed a victim.
various ridges in the area. The most famous of these is Masca, a tiny, Canarian village standing guard at the start of the popular Barranco De Masca walk that descends for around 600 metres through the labyrinthine ravine to the sea. Between the Barranco de Masca and Los Gigantes are two other barrancos, the Barranco Seco and the Barranco Manchas de Los Diaz and it was these that I set off to explore from the village of Santiago Del Teide at 8.30am on a beautiful May morning. Following the ridge above El Molledo, I reached the path into the Barranco Manchas de Los Diaz after around an hour, and with many of the surrounding mountains still cloaked in shadow, began the descent into the gloomy ravine.I knew that the walk would be fairly tough so I had planned an early start to give me as many hours of daylight as possible. In the event it turned out to be prophetic as a series of circumstances led me on a marathon walk that saw me staggering back to Santiago del Teide at 7pm in the evening. As I descended into the barranco on a good, partly paved path, the prominent tower of Roque Blanco (above) stood bathed in sunshine on the opposite side of the valley, over 700 metres above Playa Seco. A raven flew overhead croaking it's woody call and looking back, if I was a more suspicious person, I may have seen it as a warning and turned back there and then but I was enjoying myself immensely as I descended rapidly, with no inkling of the trials to come. The path descended steeply and at times was fairly overgrown and this was to be the start of my problems. Trying to round a bush growing across the path, I stepped on a large boulder lining the way, which promptly rolled and caused me to fall, landing heavily on my left leg, which had buckled double under me. The pain shot through my knee and I sat for a moment massaging it and once the pain subsided, slowly stood up. I was quite surprised to find that I seemed to have suffered no ill-effects and after putting my full weight on my leg, decided I had
had a lucky escape. I continued unhindered downhill and arrived at the Galeria Junquero. The galerias are tunnels bored into the rock to access water contained in underground aquifers, from where much of the islands water is obtained and there are many examples scattered around the mountains. Here, there was a gated tunnel with large keep out signs and a tajea, or gutter, with fast flowing water (right) issuing from the galeria. This was to prove a lifesaver later in the day but now I was intrigued by an old building and rusty old rails and rail-trucks that lay around and wondered what they could have been used for. The rock hereabouts was a chalky white and I wondered if this had at one time been a mining area for obtaining minerals, possibly calcium. Up to now the path, aside from being overgrown in places, had been easy to follow but suddenly became indistinct. I found myself in the streambed looking for the way, which I found and promptly lost again as I was diverted by the maintenance path of the tajea, which now led to a rough block building being constructed in the side wall of the barranco. Adjacent to this was a cave containing building materials with a bridge over a gap leading to the building fashioned from some of the old rails tracks. Judging by the rusty generator in the cave, it seemed as though the project had been abandoned for some time and I retreated in search of the onward path. Having once again located this, I continued down the streambed, which was proving very difficult to negotiate as it continually disappeared over dry waterfalls. This combined with scrambling over large boulders was not helping my knee, which was starting to stiffen slightly. I arrived at one waterfall with no obvious way down, I could see the onward path on the far side of the fall but there was no way of getting to it without hanging over the edge of the fall and shuffling along on a ledge around five metres above the streambed. This may not sound very high but it actually feels a lot 
worse when you have to hang over it clinging on with your fingers and toes. After some time spent trying to determine the best way of negotiating this obstacle I eventually managed to get across and continued down the streambed (right) as the higher path along the barranco walls had by now completely vanished. After around four hours of diversions and climbing down waterfalls, I had my first glimpse of the sea and found myself a short time later standing on Playa Seco as the surf broke on the rocky shore. The huge cliffs towered over the boulder strewn beach and I was amazed to the see the jaunty colours of an umbrella as well as numerous craft in the bay which included jet-skies, tourist boats and divers dinghys. I assumed that the people with the umbrella had arrived by boat as they did not looked equipped to walk in the barranco. I crossed the beach, (below) which proved difficult walking across the boulders to the mouth of the Barranco Seco at the other end where I stopped for lunch. The plan was to investigate the Barranco Seco, which I knew led to the pass on the Masca road and if viable, follow it to the road before walking along the tarmac back to Santiago Del Teide. If it didn't prove to be a viable route, I would turn around and retrace my steps back up the descent path in the Barranco Manchas de Los Diaz. After sitting for a while enjoying the sunshine and watching the boats in the bay, I set off and entered the Barranco Seco, soon locating some stone cairns along the stream-bed and encouraged by these, started following them. After around half an hour, the path left the streambed and began climbing and I soon found myself clinging to the side of the barranco wall with no obvious onward route. I knew that if I was going to turn around, I needed to make a decision soon, which I did, and descended back down the barranco to the beach. Since the fall, my knees seem to have stiffened up and I was now having problems walking over the boulders as I crossed the beach. Not only did I have sharp pains shooting through my left leg due to the fall, but my right knee was also stiffening, presumably due to me compensating for my left leg, and this coupled with the rough four hour descent had obviously taken it's toll. On reaching the far side of the beach and my descent route, I was now stumbling regularly on the boulders, my balance seriously affected by the problem with my knees. I began climbing back up in the now very hot sun, tripping over the rough ground as I skirted around large boulders and it seemed to take an age to progress along the streambed before I reached the large waterfall I had struggled with earlier. I decided that the best way to tackle this was to climb up the rock face of the waterfall, as I has missed the turning for the path along the cliff wall and didn't want to retrace my steps lookin
g for it. Again, from below, the waterfall looked an easy scramble up the rocks but when you're clinging on by your fingers and toes, it seems much higher. After a tricky climb, I eventually pulled myself onto the top and sat to regain my breath and cool off, although this was proving difficult in temperatures around 30c! As if this wasn't enough, I now had a new problem, I ran out of water! I always carry two litres of water with me and half a litre of an orange juice/water mix but all I now had was half of this left and no water at all. I knew this was serious as I was now thirsty and the heat in the barranco was stifling with no breeze and little shade. I had to get back to the Galeria Junquera and hope that the water was drinkable. From there, I knew the serious climbing would begin and water would be essential if I was to get back to the top of the barranco wall. After a slow plod and with my mouth like a sandpit, I reached the galeria and after testing it, decided that the water was probably safe and filled up my bottle with two litres. I now began what was probably the most gruelling climb of my life as I staggered on my near useless knees in the blazing sunshine up the barranco wall towering 760mtrs over me, seemingly reaching into the sky. I stumbled on, tripping regularly as my knees refused to lift my feet high enough off of the ground and rested every 30mtrs of ascent, taking shade wherever I could find it. Just as I was settling into a rythym, I suddenly had a severe bout of cramp in my right thigh muscle, presumably brought on by dehydration, although by now I had drunk around three litres since setting off all those hours ago. I sat massaging my thigh to relax the muscle and once it had passed, stood once more to continue my way up the wall of rock that seemed to never get any smaller. After an interminable time and many more rest stops, I finally reached the lip of the barranco and sighed with relief at the sight of the town of Tamaimo in the Santiago Valley that I had last seen over nine hours before. I still had around an hour to walk back to Santiago Del Teide but knew that the serious climbing was done and staggered back towards the village, suffering yet another serious attack of cramp in my thigh along the way. Having massaged this away, I set off again along the walled path into the village with barely had enough energy to celebrate the wonderful sight of my car parked at the side of the road, where I had left it 
10.5 hours earlier. The relief should have been immense but I was too exhausted to be overjoyed and sat in the car to rest for a few moments before driving home reflecting on the fact that the giants had almost claimed a victim.
Thinking back, I came close to having to call the emergency service for the first time in my life and wondered if I could have done anything differently. The main problem was obviously the fall and had I felt pain upon standing after this incident, I would have turned around at this point. If I made an error it was trying to return up the Barranco Seco instead of resting on the beach and returning the way I had come down the Barranco Manchas de Los Diaz. However, at this point I didn't feel that my knees were causing me any real problems, it was only as I started up the Barranco Seco that this problem started to effect me significantly. The water problem was largely caused by my progress, which was so slow that I eventually ran out. I was lucky that I had passed the Galeria Junquera earlier in the walk and knew that I might be able to top-up when I reached it again. . This unfortunate series of events combined to put me in a situation that, while never really life threatening, would certainly have been embarrassing had it been necessary to call for help. My route is marked on the map in red and you may need to zoom in to see it once you have clicked on it.
A Walk in the Anaga Mountains
This video was shot on a beautiful walk to the village of Taborno and around the summit of Roque Taborno.
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