Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 5/Her Majesty's birthday celebrated on the Peak of Teneriffe
HER MAJESTY’S BIRTHDAY CELEBRATED ON THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE.
On her voyage home from China, Her Majesty’s ship Fury touched at Teneriffe, and the captain with some of the officers determined to celebrate the Queen’s birthday on the summit of the famous Peak, while at the same time the usual honours were being paid on board the ship. Accordingly a party, consisting of Captain Bedford Pim, Lieutenant Perceval, Lieutenant Godfrey, Royal Marines, Lieutenant Gordon Stuart, St. Helena Regiment, and T. E. Boileau, Esq., started from Santa Cruz at 11 a.m. on Wednesday, May 22nd, 1861, en route for Orotava, from whence the ascent of the Peak must be made.
Laguna, the capital of the island, was reached at 12.30, after which the aspect of the country gradually improved, until at Suazal, which is about half way, the valley of Orotava opened upon the view, displaying scenery the beauty of which it would be difficult to exaggerate. At Suazal it is the custom to rest the horses and take dinner, which is served in the old Spanish fashion; the party, however, by a great effort persuaded the cook to forego the usual bountiful allowance of garlic. From Santa Cruz to Suazal there is an excellent, broad, macadamised road, but from the latter place to Orotava it is nothing but up hill and down dale, with very sharp curves at the bottom, round which the coach is driven at ful gallop. The team, generally mules, require more attention than the coachman alone can give, and therefore a boy is employed to run alongside the animals, thrash them, clear them, and make himself generally useful. When the speed is considerable he seizes a trace, and contrives to keep pace with his charge until going slowly again. On the present occasion the lad unfortunately tripped, fell under the mules, was kicked by the near wheeler, and then the fore wheel passed over him. The coach was, of course, stopped as quickly as possible and the boy picked up; the poor fellow was severely injured; he was carried to the nearest house, where his wounds were bound up, after which the carriage pushed on, some of the party walking, so as to give him plenty of room. Finally he was lodged in the hospital, and a handsome subscription collected, the doctor asserting that the cure would be rapid and complete.[1]
La Puerto de Orotava was reached at 7.30, and very good accommodation obtained at the fonda or inn situated in the Plaza.
The town of Orotava, or “La Villa,” is built some distance up the valley, while the port, or “El Puerto,” is of course on the coast; from either place the ascent can be made, but the Puerto is generally chosen because an English gentleman (Mr. Goodall) residing there takes pleasure, in the kindest and most disinterested manner, in making all the arrangements necessary to insure the comfort and success of his countrymen.
At 10 in the evening the party were gratified by a full view of the magnificent Peak. The clouds had dispersed, leaving a brilliantly clear sky overhead, while the full moon illumined a scene scarcely to be surpassed.
The forenoon of the following day (23rd) was spent in necessary preparation, and at 3.45 p.m. the travellers left the Puerto, and almost immediately commenced ascending. The cavalcade had quite an imposing appearance, each horseman having a native in attendance, as also a man for each baggage mule, while a guide in his picturesque mantle headed the procession.
The baggage consisted of two barrels of water, corn for the horses, food, wine, fireworks, and warm clothing. Hard boiled eggs, fowls, and bread formed the staple of the eatables; coffee, wine, brandy, with champagne for the Queen’s health, the drinkables; the fireworks were from China; the warm clothing consisted of coats, blankets, and wrappers to keep out the cuttingly cold wind.
The afternoon was warm, thermometer 84°; but very soon after leaving El Puerto the temperature cooled, and by 5.15 it was 68°, at which time the last village was passed. Nothing could be more rugged and toilsome than the road; in many places, after winding about for an hour, not more than a mile was gained. At 6.30 the ultima thule of cultivation was reached, and the party found themselves fairly enshrouded in the clouds, when a halt was called, and additional clothing put on, the temperature 58°, and heavy drizzle falling. A Spanish scarecrow loomed gigantically through the mist from the last patch of cultivation, and proved to be the last vestige of civilisation.
It was still light at 7.30 when the moon rose, the horses therefore were enabled to pick their way; but how they managed to keep their footing was a marvel, the track being of the very worst. At length, soon after 8, the glad tidings that half the journey had been accomplished was announced, temperature 42°. Hardly had this good news been imparted when the clouds and mist assumed a gauze-like fineness, through which the party soon penetrated, and a scene lay before them which called forth the involuntary admiration of every one, and caused the toil of the ascent to be forgotten in a moment. Below, to the northward, the clouds rolled along like hummocky ice-fields, while a magnificent lunar rainbow spanned that part of the heavens; above, the sky was cloudless, brilliant with stars and full moon; right in front was “the Peak” rearing upwards, its gigantic form so clear and well defined, that it was difficult to believe it out of reach, while to the right and left lay immense blocks of rock in every conceivable form as far as the eye could reach.
After various rhapsodies had been indulged in, the horses again scrambled forward about half-a-mile, when the Estancia de la Sierra was reached, and an hour’s rest and refreshment taken by man and beast—temperature 38½°.
Several attempts were made to sketch the scene from this bivouac. The outline, indeed, of the noble peak was obtained, but the lunar rainbow, stratum of clouds, bright sky, wild and picturesque groups of men and horses round the fire, with the background of rugged rocks heaped into all sorts of fantastic shapes, proved too much for the artists, who were fain to carry off only an indelible impression on their minds.
About ten the cavalcade again proceeded and now found the road much better, leading over an extensive plain of pumice, which reaches quite to the base of the peak. This pumice has all the appearance of a light-coloured gravel, and is simply the congealed froth or foam of the volcano. It has probably been thrown down in a shower, and subsequently huge masses of slag have been sprinkled over it in every direction, the dark colour of which contrasts strongly with the reflected light of the pumice gravel upon which it rests.
Over these plains the horses made good progress, passing several patches of snow, and after resting a few minutes at the foot of the peak commenced the ascent of that “mountain on top of a mountain.” Scrambling, rolling and pitching, in a manner which rendered it difficult to keep the saddle, the party toiled upwards, and at length reached the “Estancia de los Ingleses” or resting-place of the English; much to the delight of the English, at least.
It was now eight minutes past midnight, and therefore the commencement of her Majesty’s natal day, the announcement of which was received in a truly British manner, although the cheers in that rarified atmosphere were by no means so resounding as they would have been in the foggy climate of dear old England. The preparations were soon completed for the display of fireworks, which were pronounced “magnifico!” by the muleteers and guide. Fortunately the clouds cleared away, and the shoulder of the peak, illuminated by various coloured fires, was seen and admired by the people 10,000 feet below, and for many miles round. The inhabitants of the quiet valley of Orotava will therefore most probably remember the day of the month on which her Majesty the Queen of England was born. At 2.30 the horses were again mounted and urged upwards, and after a nervous and most uncomfortable ride reached Alta Vista at a quarter past three. This small level spot, beyond which neither horses nor mules can go, was the site of Professor Smythe’s observatory, the walls of which are fast falling to decay; here every vestige of vegetation ceases, and the thermometer having reached freezing point, with a fresh S.W. wind blowing, it proved but a bleak resting-place. Accordingly the horses were immediately sent down again to the Estancia de los Ingleses, while the party lost no time in completing the last 1000 feet of ascent. If the road was bad before, it was ten times worse now. Each one had to look out for himself, scrambling and jumping over sharply pointed blocks of slag of every conceivable size and shape, to the serious detriment of cuticle. At last, however, this gymnasium was cleared, as also some patches of hard snow, when the travellers found themselves at the foot of the cone, composed of ashes and scoriæ, which forms the true summit of Teneriffe. To climb this proved no easy job, its moveable surface being held so loosely together as to yield readily at each footstep; however, about half-way up, the pumice-gravel gave place to a more solid footing, and a little more patience and perseverance enabled the party to gain the top just before the sun rose. The daylight had been spreading upwards, and to the right and left, for some time previously to the advent of the great luminary, therefore every one was prepared for his appearance; but imagination fell far short of the reality, when the huge disc of a blood-red colour was observed to rise majestically from the ocean and assume the command of day. Turning round from the contemplation of this glorious scene, another scarcely less wonderful struck every one with astonishment; this was the shadow of the gigantic peak stretching away upwards of fifty miles, and partly eclipsing the isle of Gomera. This monster shadow, the largest in the world, was defined so clearly that one of the party waved his cap on the edge of the crater in the hope of seeing the action reflected, after the manner of the human figure on the summit of the Brocken, the loftiest of the Hartz mountains, but the closest scrutiny failed to detect any corresponding movement. It was a wonderful sight, standing on the highest pinnacle of the great peak, 12,200 feet above the sea, to look down upon the panorama of the eastern part of the island, bathed in the glow of the rising sun, while all to the westward, including the greater portion of the island of Gomera, was wrapped in the deepest gloom.
The summit of the peak is simply the edge of the wall, forming the crater, and is therefore very narrow, so much so, indeed, that only one person can stand on the extreme top at a time. The brim of the crater is not horizontal, like that of Fayal, but dips to the southward as much as 45°;. all action has long ceased, and now hardly a wreath of escaping smoke is perceptible, although the entire surface is caked with sulphur, and many fine crystals are lying about. A strong S.W. wind blowing keenly, with a temperature below freezing, stagnated the blood of all the party, so long used to the warmth of the tropics, and compelled them to seek shelter under the lee of the summit-blocks, where, in a short time, circulation was restored; rather too quickly, indeed, as was proved by the captain’s inexpressibles, the seat of which was completely burnt through. It appeared that all over the top, at less than two inches below the surface, the temperature was above boiling point, the bulb of a thermometer just placed in the ground caused the quicksilver to rise immediately to the top of the scale, and the tube would have been broken had it not been instantly removed. After this caution, every one, as may readily be imagined, moved about with extreme care, visions of boiled travellers rising vividly to the mind’s eye.
The clouds which the party passed through on the ascent quite dispersed as the sun arose, leaving hill and valley, cultivated ground and barren ridge very distinct, so much so, that some one declared he could see the “Fury” in Santa Cruz Roads—quite possible, with the aid of a good glass. The view was lovely and most extensive, the visible horizon being 140 miles distant, Gomera, Herro and Palma plainly visible to the south and west, while to the north and east only the summit of Gran Canaria could be seen rising through the masses of clouds which obscured the low lands; these clouds in several places rested on the bosom of the ocean, and looked exactly like floes of rugged ice in the Arctic Regions.
Having thoroughly enjoyed the glorious prospect on every side, the party now prepared for the grand ceremonial of the day: the champagne bottles were produced, and the popping of the corks proved that the cold had not impaired the vigour of the wine, which was drunk with the heartiest good wishes for the health, welfare, and long life of the Sovereign Lady of England; the cheers, as mentioned before, were not so lusty as could have been wished, owing to the difficulty of respiration at such a height. The natives, who had also ascended to the summit, were not forgotten, receiving each a bumper of champagne, which they drank, shouting La Reyna d’Inglaterra; and as soon as their cups were drained to the bottom, asked for more. Whether the enthusiasm of the English was catching, or whether they approved of the flavour of the wine, who shall say? Having collected a few specimens from the extreme top, consisting principally of crystals of sulphur, the descent was commenced, and effected with considerable expedition as far as the bottom of the cone, when the snow was once more crossed, and the lava field gained. Diverging to the right, ten minutes’ scramble brought the party to the mouth of the celebrated ice cave, into which every one descended by a neat wooden ladder. The cave was small, with three outlets, running apparently into the bowels of the earth; the bottom was covered with solid ice, so that it was impossible to ascertain the depth. From the roof many icicles depended, while some large conical masses of drift snow were piled up in a line with the entrance. The temperature was 33°, but the atmosphere felt much warmer, being completely sheltered from the wind. From this cave the Teneriffians obtain their summer supply of ice, which is said to be inexhaustible; most probably it is a frozen spring.
Starting from the ice cave, the party pushed on to Alta Vista, and in little more than an hour after leaving the summit reached the ruins of Professor Smythe’s Observatory. Some dried-up bushes grew in its vicinity, otherwise all was bleak and drear; but about 100 feet below a few peak violets were gathered, and every foot of descent gained the aspect of vegetation improved, while at the commencement of the Pumice Plains shrubs appeared, and gradually heaths, arbutus, and Portugal laurel closely approaching small trees in size. The plains were reached at half-past eight, and the horses again mounted, this time with joy and thankfulness, for every one was very tired. Pushing on for Orotava, the Estancia de la Sierra was gained at ten, and a short halt called while the muleteers dispatched the débris of the provisions. Having satisfactorily concluded their operations, a final start was made for La Villa, which, being in the direct road to Santa Cruz, is a much better place to call at on the return journey than El Puerto: the carriage, therefore, had been ordered to wait at La Villa.
As mentioned before, the track from El Puerto was bad indeed, but that to La Villa was execrable; it could only be compared to a rut, into which huge pieces of rock had been sprinkled promiscuously; the horses, however, with marvellous sagacity, picked out their way, and kept their legs, so that no accident occurred. It should be remarked that, in general, bits are not used for the horses, but a sharp iron band across the nose does duty instead; it is not nearly so good as a bit for picking up a stumbling horse, because it bends the head down instead of elevating it; but on the whole, it appears to punish less than the heavy torture iron usually forced into the mouths of Spanish horses.
For upwards of two hours the track was of the vilest, but in spite of a powerful sun, was patiently jogged over. At length the party were cheered by signs of cultivation and a better path, and in process of time—namely, nearly two p.m.,—dismounted at the door of the Fonda, in La Villa, thoroughly tired, having been 22 hours scrambling amongst rocks, up hill and down dale, on foot and on horse-back, alternately wetted by the clouds, dried and frozen by the cold, nearly boiled by sulphur cauldrons, and finally stiffened and scorched by fatigue and a broiling sun.
Ablutions and a change of apparel proved somewhat refreshing, and the carriage being ready, the last half of the journey was commenced at 2.30, in the hope of arriving on board by sunset.
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Teneriffe, seen from the Sea.
The time from La Villa to Santa Cruz may be said to have been spent in constant excitement. The poor boy, whose accident has been recorded above, had been pronounced out of danger; the coachman, therefore, was in the highest spirits, which he kept up to boiling point at each stopping-place, while narrating the boy’s safety. As may readily be imagined, he soon became utterly reckless, and drove at full gallop, and, as it would be hard to find better cattle, the carriage flew along, down hill and round the curves, on two wheels. It was all the same, on went the vehicle as if bewitched, keeping its equilibrium by a miracle. When the curves failed, a large rock or other obstacle on the road was selected to drive over, and it was no fault of the driver that all his passengers were not shot out from their seats on more occasions than one. The fellow also amused himself by pointing out a brother coachman who had capsized the English consul. This worthy, on being interrogated at one of the stoppages, narrated the story with the most charming frankness. It appears that the English consul had offended the rascal, who therefore determined to do him to death; seizing, therefore, a favourable opportunity, the unfortunate consul was trundled over a deep curve by his friend the driver, but, malgré the odds, escaped with only a few bruises. The carriage rattled through Laguna at a gallop. Jehu would not abate his speed one jot, but, on the contrary, amused himself by shaving a camel, or grazing a house at the corner of a street, or avoiding children at play by a hair’s breadth. Taking all the circumstances of the case into consideration, it will not be wondered at that when the driver called out “Here we are!” every one responded “Gracios a Dios!”
Thus ended a very pleasant trip to the Peak of Teneriffe, the more gratifying because the object for which it was undertaken was successfully carried out. The party were, undoubtedly, the highest of her Majesty’s subjects on her birthday, and from no place, whether in or out of her dominions, did heartier good wishes for health, happiness, and long life emanate than from the summit of the highest “Peak” in the world.
On board the Fury also the occasion was improved to demonstrate the affection and respect universally felt by Englishmen for their Queen. The ship was dressed in mast-head flags, and each man had something—not champagne, however,—with which to drink long life and happiness to her Majesty, while, at noon precisely, a royal salute was fired. The Spanish authorities had been informed that every honour would be paid on the Queen of England’s birthday by the man-of-war in the roads; an officer, therefore, was sent off to inquire the exact programme, as his Excellency the Governor desired to make an equal demonstration on shore. Accordingly, as soon as the first gun was fired, the batteries commenced, and again at sunset, when another royal salute was fired from the ship it was echoed, gun for gun, from the town. The sunset salute was fired by the particular desire of the loyal “Furies”—absence, it is said, makes the heart grow fonder, and the Fury had been absent five years from home.
The number of guns fired in the combined salutes of noon and sunset make up the exact number of years of her Majesty’s age—forty-two; may she live, at least, as many years as symbolised by the combined Spanish and English salutes—eighty-four!
At 2 a.m., 26th, the Fury terminated her visit to Santa Cruz, which was, and will continue to be, couleur de rose to all connected with it. The last of the glorious Peak was seen more than one hundred miles off, and it finally disappeared with the setting sun.
- ↑ “The little boy is all right again, and, though still in bandages, has returned to his duties. He expresses much gratitude for the generous relief left for him in my hands. But, from his way of taking the matter, I fear he will, or, at least, may be, killed outright the next time British officers go to Orotava, as he will certainly fling himself under the carriage wheels.”—Letter from Mr. Consul Johnston, dated July 13, 1861.