Teide blizzard

Peaks: Montana Blanca (2758m)
Area: Teide, Tenerife
After a great morning in the hills, part one of the intricate plan completed, things took a turn for the worse as I ate my Canarian stew in Vilaflor. I received a text from the Altavista hut saying it was closed, as were the paths, and the cable car, due to snow and ice on Teide. A real blow, as this was the main point of the trip. I thought I would try to walk up anyway, although rather tired after the morning, as the text implied the dorms would be open. So I headed up through the pine forests into the extraordinary volcanic landscape of Teide for the first time. The weather improved a tad as I got higher, intermittent sun, high cloud on the peaks, around 4C as I left the car (tricky to park) and began to walk up Montana Blanca under leaden skies with bag packed for the two day expedition via the hut. With a good distance in my legs already, this was a tad tiring, but I jogged most of the easy-angled slopes up the lunar landscape of the utterly bare Blanca slopes - reminded me of the Laugavegur in Iceland. Soon, an ominous steady drizzle began, and this gave way to sleet as I climbed. The odd snow drift appeared. Then, above some long zigzags, the sleet changed to snow - which started to come down very heavily under rapidly darkening skies. At Montana Blanca (just a slight rise on the slopes of Teide), the path upwards was 'closed' - my trail running shoes were working well on the soft snow, but I didn't have any kahtoolas (I had considered packing them but didn't think I'd get them on as hand luggage). I continued upwards in a worsening blizzard to just below 3000m - but at this point had to make a decision. The snow was coming down hard, the path covering over. I would have been able to make the hut, but I was wet, and the temperature suddenly - and quite noticeably - dropped like a stone. The main issue was the strong possibility of ice tomorrow morning - which would have ruled out Teide and the ridge to Viejo. So, with regret, I descended back to the car in very cold weather, intense wind-chill, and drove all the way back down to Vilaflor with the heater on full blast and icy sleet giving way to rain, then sun, as I descended. I managed to bag a cell-like room for a few quid at the classically Spanish Sombrerito in town, and dined on classic Canarian food: goat stew, mojo and papas arragudas. Some compensation at least.