Mount Teide by Bicycle

If there’s a sure way to put pressure on yourself to do something ‘epic’ then announce beforehand that you are going to do it. We are in Tenerife as we want to explore another Island in The Canaries other than our usual choice Lanzarote, in case we are missing something special, but also because it has a great big lump in the middle called Mount Teide, a Mecca for Cyclists … partly because this is where all the professionals train in the winter months.

Why would I want to pedal up a mountain for 31 miles, 2,300 metres for 4 hours (just to reach the top). Obviously, I’m an idiot, but more seriously, I use cycling as my barometer to gauge my resistance to the aging process after 57 summers. I approach these challenges lately with massive trepidation, fear and respect, whether it’s a 2,300 metre mountain or a lung bursting 3 minutes up a 25% cobbled hill in Belgium, I do not take for granted that I will succeed.

Before flying out I was in communication with another stranger off the internet, a virtual cycling friend, Ruben from Belgium. We agreed to ride the mountain together but he arrived in town dosed up on antibiotics for a throat infection, not the best preparation. I decided to do a half distance, half height reconnaissance of the mountain on my own, apparently the temperature at the peak can be 10°C when it’s 30°C at sea level, surely going halfway I’d be OK in my summer kit today … wrong … it started raining, hard, “OK, I can cope, it’s warm rain”. The gradient was hard but acceptable except when I took an accidental short cut for half a mile at 25% … ouch, ouch, ouch.

About 2 miles from my destination halfway up the mountain the clouds went black, the rain became torrential and lightning bolts started to pepper the area. It was like ‘Mordor’ in Lord of the Rings. I stood by a shack with about 10 inches of cover under the roof eaves, I’ve never sucked in my belly so hard. More than anything, it taught me to respect this mountain far more than I already did. The rain eased, I didn’t want to return the same way so I risked obliteration by lightning bolt for 2 miles then set off downwards, on roads that were now cascading rivers of water. Was the weather going to ruin my chances of ‘ticking off’ this challenge.

A very accurate weather forecasting site for the Mt Teide Observatory was found and the day was decided. It may be 19°C and clear skies at the top. We went for a meal the night before with Ruben and his lovely family, the final decision was he wasn’t feeling fit enough to join me.

I set off at 08:00, summer kit, with a rain jacket, arm warmers, spare gloves, 3 croissants, jellybeans, 4 gels and 4 extra hydration tablets stuffed about my person and my bike. Almost instantly, a weird ticking noise at the back, I tweaked with the gear index … repeatedly … no success, not a disaster, I’ve started so I will finish. The traffic is horrendous for the first 5 miles and scary at times, only after La Camella did it ease, I stopped at a garage in Arona having already drank 2 x 800ml bottles of water in the first hour at 29°C. Refuelled, the next hour took me on a scenic road of multiple switchbacks towards Vilaflor. About 2 miles from Vilaflor my mobile began to ring, I never ever use my phone for speaking and people know not to call me, it must be an emergency … “What’s up Deb?” … “Hi Steve, it’s Ruben, where are you”.

Ruben was on his bike only 10 minutes behind me. He knew my planned schedule and hoped to find me on route, we agreed to meet at a restaurant in Vilaflor, in the 10 minutes I waited I drank 2 Cappuccino coffees, ate an Oreo cake, a fig cereal bar and refilled my 2 x 800ml bottles … again. Ruben arrived saying he wished to support me at this halfway point (much nicer than Mordor today) and send me on my way with his best wishes before he went back down … until we clipped back into our pedals … “OK, I’ll go with you”

Riding together on a mountain is not so easy, you can only really go at a pace that is comfortable for you. Luckily, for me anyway, Ruben’s lack of preparation due to sickness combined well with my 95kg body weight to see us producing almost identical pace as we tapped away at approximately 8mph. Deb was also now reassured that I wasn’t on the mountain alone. The scenery from Vilaflor to the top is stunning, forests, passages through rocks, open vistas then volcanic rock flows.

After 4 hours we reached the top, sort of. We were at 2,300 metres, oxygen is about 20% lower at this height, our power was down and fatigue was biting hard. Another restaurant, next door to the hotel used by professional team Jumbo Visma through winter, more water, energy drink, crisps and a large sandwich. Perhaps it was oxygen starved delirium that caused Ruben to park his bike across the exit door, no one could get out until we spotted the mayhem. As we left, another internet virtual cycling friend from Luxembourg, ‘Roman’, contacted us, he would try to meet us near the bottom.

Ruben decided the maximum elevation point was actually about 3 miles and 200 metres more climbing further on … “Good grief, I thought you was meant to be ill, man”. We did it, we did it, we did it … actually a proud moment for me.

Home time, my Belgium friend wanted the shorter route back retracing our outbound route. Me, I wanted to do a loop and descend towards the West. A pattern was emerging, “I’ll go with you”, I kept thinking his family only thought he was going out for a shorter ride, he will be in so much trouble, eeek! It was a 30 mile descent with very few corners, faaaaaaaaaast. After completing the downward 30 miles slightly quicker than the upward ones, over 3 hours quicker, we met Roman for a coffee in Chio. At this point Ruben pointed out a slight wobble on my rear wheel, closer inspection a broken spoke, oh no, the weird ticking noise I had all day, perhaps explaining why I pedalled for half of the descent while my friend was freewheeling, my brakes were rubbing slightly on my buckled wheel rim … yikes, was it rubbing slightly all the way up.

With 20 miles to go I had to loosen the back brakes slightly and still attempt to descend following the line Roman and Ruben were taking at warp speed, not exactly taking it easy on my poor back wheel. Finally, we parted company with Roman and reached Los Cristianos where I parted company with my fellow mountain slayer and found myself solo once again, another 150 metre to climb to exit the town, painful after 80 miles, then a nice final descent to our apartment.

82 miles, 9,327ft elevation gain, 6hrs 16mins riding time. A brilliant day on the bike with a likeminded cycling friend … never again … but I will never forget.