Skip to main content

Escapados de Bouldering en Tenerife

Tenerife? Jeezo, you might say. Think of a volcanic carbuncle with a union-jack cocktail umbrella sticking out of it and you're pretty close. Two gin and tonics I needed just to be persuaded onto the plane. I stuck flight-mode on the phone and jacked in to something chilled while the plane got Britishly lathered.

Tenerife does not promise much unless you're an over-hormoned 17 year old from Essex, then I guess it looks like a soda-pop dream sequence from Grease - all cheeky eager lads, fast cars, sunglasses, drinking games and all-night partying. Whatever floats your boat. We got our bags and were first in the hire car queue.



Tenerife is a volcanic island off the coast of Africa, in the Canaries. That's from the brochures... think hot, black sand, sulphur etc. The island above the lucky-bag bracelet that is the the tourist strip is first of all banana plantations, then dry pine forest, then all spewed lava and crumbly ashy soil. Even the rocky coast is frazzled like burnt egg and the most attractive rocks turn out to be mostly jenga towers of choss. Meandering around the island on the bendiest roads up 2000m to Mount Teide was fun for a while. The Star Wars desert was cool but I still hadn't found anything to climb and was beginning to dream of sedimentary rocks, smooth flowing sandstones and marbled schist. No such thing. More barren lava-scapes.


Nights were languorous and argumentative, trying to keep my cool with plummy ex-pat types who fed me too much beer and kept bringing up the bloody Falklands War, must be an island thing, I thought. One guy kept lifting his T-shirt to show me his Paras tattoo and how he was 'fraternising with the enemy' (I am Northern Irish). He told a good story about arresting Gerry Adams though. I tried to avoid buying the Guardian in the morning.

Still no rock worth a second glance. I sat on burlesque towers of coastal lava watching the crabs scuttle up and down the surf line and decided to try the south.


The road along the south coast is not promising either... a long strip of terrifying motorway more like a sequence out of Tron... I now think nothing of cutting any c@*t up just because I can... after a week of it you begin to change, and not for the good. Anyway, aside from various spats with other drivers (in a unique gestural Esperanto), I found a haven... a climbing shop, stuck at the end of a little village in the hills called Granadilla. The shop was open, the owner was pleasant and spoke a European English, he seemed surprised that I did not believe there was any climbing on the island. He handed me a colourful guidebook and off I trotted to find these fabled Barrancos - gorges washed clean and smooth by flash-floods, with perfect hard orange basalt.


I was not disappointed. The gorges are hot little affairs, but pleasant and quiet, like linear rock gardens. You can meander along them for ages, ankles pricked by strange plants and creepers, birds twittering and flashing in the shadows, lizards diving into noisy undergrowth. You expect to come across an old granny in a sunhat out watering the Geraniums, but instead you find perfect boulders nestled amongst pleasant sport routes on the gorge walls.



These Barrancos are like a greenhouse version of a climbing centre , I thought, but one which is populated only by the occasional crusty (it's free camping under the pines, just bring a wok, wine and cheapo sleeping bag). The bouldering was excellent, the vibe quiet, I'd go back if I could face the Hire Car company...



(for a new Tenerife bouldering guide to the island, check out the Topos page on www.stonecountry.co.uk)


Popular posts from this blog

The Metadata of Being Human

Shamanistic zoomorphs, lithic graffiti, hallucinogenic tableaux, territory markings, knife-sharpeners … rock art – l'art rupestre – is so far beyond our traditional 'linguistic' history, it does not have an interpretative alphabet or a single line of confirmed meaning. There are many interpretations of the 'gravures' (carvings) and 'abris ornés' (decorated caves) in the hidden bivouacs throughout the forest of Fontainebleau. The sandstone marks easily under the nib of a hard flint from the deeper calcareous geology and this soft stone canvas has allowed our European ancestors to carve the stylised and modernistic strokes we might note as remarkable in a Picasso painting. Most of the carvings involve complex hash-marks and grids, overlaying each other, occasionally with mandala-like boxes. Sometimes there have been carved astonishingly beautiful anthropomorphs, (stylised human-like figures), or zoomorphs, (deities or humans manifesting in animal form) or argu...

Ben Lomond - a Gaelic palette

Loch Lomond, Wednesday 28th December 2016 Mist, water and silvery light: a very Gaelic palette in midwinter between the storms, which these days all have names - we've been through Barbara's tantrums and Conor's backlash, but today was one of those steamed-up car sort of days. Warmish air from the southwest is rolling about Loch Lomond and gathering a chill as it picks up speed towards the snow-patched summit, so I take the clockwise 'wind with my back' option, steeply up the Ptarmigan ridge from Rowardennan, hearing a chuckle in the mist which is either a red grouse or the eponymous bird. Each landmark on the map is a clue to the Gaelic landscape - Tom Fhithich I think may be the raven's beak-nosed boulder or crag half up towards the knoll of Ptarmigan, which just breaks the mist, and assumes the role of target summit for the meantime as the main peak is in cloud. The small hidden tarns are full of slushy grey ice and the 'yellow bealach' is a...

Cobbled Together

The south peak ('Jean') on The Cobbler, 12th December 2015 Here's an interesting round-song of place-names for Arrochar, in cartullaries and statistical and printed records since 1395: Arrochar/Arochar/Arrochquhair/Arrochquhare/Arroquhar/Arachar/An Tairbeart Iar/An t-Àra ... I was walking uphill wondering what sticks, what's in a name, why do they change, does the landscape care, who are the caretakers of a place-name? We might just be flecks of mica flashing briefly on a sun-struck pebble in the streams, but names are important to us in our brief mappings of our landscapes. Our human territories are marked by names, sign-postings, marker boulders, paths and cairns, amongst other structures, both textual and physical. 'The Cobbler' mountain - Arrochar's finest and most distinctive peak - is a curious example of the fluidity of naming the landscape; of confusion, habit, fashion, politics, class, and misinformation. The confusion starts even w...