[See cut below.]
[Illustration: THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE.]
The island of Teneriffe has received its present name from the
inhabitants of the adjacent island Palma, in whose language =tener=
signifies snow, and _iffe_, a hill. In extent, wealth, and fertility it
exceeds all the other Canary islands. It continues to rise on all sides
from the sea, until it terminates in the celebrated peak represented in
the cut, which is, however, situated rather in the southern part than in
the center of the island. The ascent on the north side is more gradual
than at the other parts, there being a space along the shore about three
leagues in breadth, bounded on the sides by high mountains, or rather
cliffs; but more inland it rises like a hanging garden all the way,
without any considerable interruption of hills or valleys. The form of
this island is triangular, extending itself into three capes, the
nearest of which is about eighty leagues from the coast of Africa. In
the middle it is divided by a ridge of mountains, which have been
compared to the roof of a church, the peak forming the spire or steeple
in the center.
The elevation of the peak of Teneriffe, according to the most accurate
measurement, made by Cordier, is twelve thousand, one hundred and
sixty-six feet, or nearly two miles and one-third above the level of the
sea. In the ascent, the first eminence is called Monte Verde, or the
green mountain, from the high fern with which it is covered, and
presents a level plain of considerable extent. Beyond this is the
mountain of pines, which are said to have formerly grown there in great
abundance; but its steep sides are now craggy and barren, and its whole
appearance very different from that of the eminence described above.
After passing this summit, the traveler reaches a plain, on which the
natives have bestowed the name of Mouton de Trigo, and upon which the
peak in reality stands. It is a mountainous platform, rising more than
seven thousand feet, or nearly a mile and a half, above the level of the
sea; and here the currents of lava, hitherto concealed by the
vegetation, begin to appear in all their aridity and confusion, a few
lowly shrubs and creeping plants alone diversifying the surface of a
desert, the most arid and rugged that can be imagined.
A small sandy platform of pumice-stones, bordered by two enormous
currents of vitreous lava, and blocks of the same nature, ranged in a
semicircle, forms what is called the station of the English, on account
of the peak having been so often visited by British travelers. This
platform is ninety-seven hundred and eighty-six feet, or upward of a
mile and three-quarters above the level of the sea; and beyond it the
acclivity is very steep, great masses of scoriæ, extremely rough and
sharp, covering the currents of lava. Toward the summit, nothing but
pumice-stone is to be seen. In fact the peak can only be ascended on the
east and south-east sides. As it is impossible to get round the crater,
the traveler’s progress is arrested at the spot at which he reaches it.
Here the two orders of volcanic substances are to be seen, the modern
lavas being thrown up amid the ruins of ejections much more ancient, the
immense masses of which constitute the platform on which the peak is
placed. The shattered sides present a series of thick beds, almost all
plunging toward the sea, composed alternately of ashes, volcanic sand,
pumice-stones, lavas, either compact or porous, and scoriæ.
An incalculable number of currents, comparatively recent, which have
descended from the peak, or have issued from its flanks, form irregular
furrows, which run along the more ancient masses, and lose themselves in
the sea to the west and north. Among these currents more than eighty
craters are scattered, and augment with their ruins the confusion which
prevails throughout.
The crater can alone be reached by descending down three chasms. Its
sides are absolutely precipitous within, and are most elevated toward
the north. Its form is elliptical; its circumference about twelve
hundred feet; and its depth according to Cordier, one hundred and ten
feet. Humboldt, however, estimates it at not more than from forty to
sixty feet. The sides are, agreeably to the former of these observers,
formed of an earth of snowy whiteness, resulting from the decomposition
of the blackest and hardest vitreous porphyritic lava. All the rest is
solid, and the lowest part occupied by blocks, which have fallen down
from the sides. These solid parts are covered with shining crystals of
sulphur, of a rhomboidal and octahedral figure, some of which are nearly
an inch high, and are, perhaps, the finest specimens of native volcanic
sulphur yet known. Vapors issue in abundance from among these blocks,
and from an infinity of fissures which preserve a very intense heat.
These vapors consist solely of sulphur and water, perfectly insipid.
Beside the incrustations of sulphur, opal, in thin plates, is formed
with great celerity. Humboldt regards the peak of Teneriffe as an
enormous basaltic mountain, resting upon a dense secondary calcareous
stone.
Various travelers have asserted, that the cold is intensely keen on the
summit of the peak; that respiration is difficult; and that,
particularly, spirituous liquors lose all their strength; which latter
circumstance they ascribe to the spirit being more or less exposed to
the sulphureous fumes exhaled from the crater. Cordier, and several
other accurate observers, declare, however, that neither the smell nor
the strength of liquids appeared, at this elevation, to be in the least
degree impaired; and that volatile alkali, ether, and spirit of wine,
possessed their usual pungency. They add, that the cold is very
supportable; and that neither the aqueous sulphureous vapors, nor the
rarity of the air, render breathing difficult.
We extract the following interesting particulars from Humboldt’s account
of his visit to Teneriffe.
“Toward three in the morning, by the sombrous light of a few fir
torches, we began our expedition for the summit of the Piton. We scaled
the volcano on the north-east, where the declivities are extremely
steep; and came, after two hours’ toil, to a small plain, which on
account of its isolated situation, bears the name of Alta Vista. It is
the station also of the Neveros, those natives whose occupation it is to
collect ice and snow, which they sell in the neighboring towns. Their
mules, better practiced in climbing mountains than those hired by
travelers, reach Alta Vista, and the Neveros are obliged to transport
the snow to this place on their backs. Above this point the Malpays
begins; a term by which is designated here, as well as in Mexico, Peru,
and every other country subject to volcanoes, a ground destitute of
vegetable mold, and covered with fragments of lavas.
“We observed, during the twilight, a phenomenon which is not unusual on
high mountains, but which the position of the volcano we were scaling
rendered very striking. A layer of white and fleecy clouds concealed
from us the sight of the ocean, and the lower region of the island. This
layer did not appear above sixteen hundred yards high; the clouds were
so uniformly spread, and kept so perfect a level, that they wore the
appearance of a vast plain covered with snow. The colossal pyramid of
the peak, the volcanic summits of Lanzerota, of Fortaventura, and the
isle of Palma, were like rocks amidst this vast sea of vapors, and their
black tints were in fine contrast with the whiteness of the clouds.”
By an astronomical observation, made at the above elevation at sunrise,
it was ascertained that the true horizon, that is, a part of the sea,
was distant one hundred and thirty miles. Our traveler proceeds thus:
“We had yet to scale the steepest part of the mountain, the Piton, which
forms the summit. The slope of this small cone, covered with volcanic
ashes, and fragments of pumice-stone, is so steep, that it would have
been almost impossible to reach the top, had we not ascended by an old
current of lava, the wrecks of which have resisted the ravages of time.
These wrecks form a wall of scorious rocks, which stretches itself into
the midst of the loose ashes. We ascended the Piton by grasping these
half-decomposed scoriæ, the sharp edges of which remained often in our
hands. We employed nearly half an hour to scale a hill, the
perpendicular hight of which does not exceed five hundred feet.
“When we gained the summit of the Piton, we were surprised to find
scarcely room enough to seat ourselves conveniently. The west wind blew
with such violence that we could scarcely stand. It was eight in the
morning, and we were frozen with cold, though the thermometer kept a
little above the freezing point.
“The wall, which surrounds the crater like a parapet, is so high, that
it would be impossible to reach the Caldera, if on the eastern side
there was not a breach, which seems to have been the effect of a flowing
of very old lava. We descended through this breach toward the bottom of
the tunnel, the figure of which is elliptical. The greatest breadth of
the mouth appeared to us to be three hundred feet, the smallest two
hundred feet.
“We descended to the bottom of the crater on a train of broken lava,
from the eastern breach of the inclosure. The heat was perceptible only
in a few crevices, which gave vent to aqueous vapors, with a peculiar
buzzing noise. Some of these funnels or Crevices are on the outside of
the inclosure, on the external brink of the parapet that surrounds the
crater. We plunged the thermometer into them, and saw it rise rapidly to
sixty-eight and seventy-five degrees.
“We prolonged in vain our stay on the summit of the peak, to wait the
moment when we might enjoy the view of the whole of the archipelago of
the Fortunate islands. We discovered Palma, Gomera, and the Great
Canary, at our feet. The mountains of Lanzerota, free from vapors at
sunrise, were soon enveloped in thick clouds. On a supposition only of
an ordinary refraction, the eye takes in, in calm weather, from the
summit of the volcano, a surface of the globe of fifty-seven hundred
square leagues, equal to a fourth of the surface of Spain.
“Notwithstanding the heat we felt in our feet on the edge of the crater,
the cone of ashes remains covered with snow during several months in the
winter. It is probable, that under the cap of snow considerable hollows
are found, like those we find under the glaciers of Switzerland, the
temperature of which is constantly less elevated than that of the soil
on which they repose. The cold and violent wind which blew from the time
of sunrise, engaged us to seek shelter at the foot of the Piton. Our
hands and faces were frozen, while our boots were burnt by the soil on
which we walked. We descended in the space of a few minutes the
sugar-loaf, which we had scaled with so much toil; and this rapidity was
in part involuntary, for we often rolled down on the ashes. It was with
regret that we quitted this solitary place, this domain where Nature
towers in all her majesty.”
To the above we subjoin the following extract from the account published
in the first volume of the Transactions of the Geological Society, by
the Hon. Mr. Bennet.
At the distance of thirty-four leagues from the island, Mr. Bennet had a
very distinct view of the peak, rising like a cone from the bed of the
ocean. The rocks and strata of Teneriffe, he observes, are wholly
volcanic, the long chain of mountains, which may be termed the central
chain, traversing the island from the foot of the second region of the
peak, and sloping down on the eastern, western and northern sides, to
the sea. Toward the south, or more properly the south-south-west, the
mountains are nearly perpendicular, and though broken into ridges, and
occasionally separated by deep ravines, that are cut transversely as
well as longitudinally, there are none of those plains, nor that gradual
declination of strata, which the south-eastern and north-western sides
of the island exhibit.
Mr. Bennet ascended the peak in the month of September, 1810. We give
the abridged details of this expedition in his own words.
“The road to the city of Orotava, is a gradual and easy slope for three
or four miles, through a highly cultivated country. Leaving the town,
after a steep ascent of about an hour, through a deep ravine, we quitted
the cultivated part, and entered into forests of chestnuts, the trees of
which are of a large size. The form of this forest is oblong; the soil
is deep, and formed of decomposed lava, small ash and pumice. I examined
several channels in the strata, or ravines worn by the rains, and there
was no appearance of any other rock. Leaving this forest, the track
passes over a series of green hills, which we traversed in about two
hours, and at last halted to water our mules at a spot where there is a
small spring of bad and brackish water issuing from a lava rock. The
ravine is of considerable depth. The range of green hills extends a mile
or two further, the soil shallowing by degrees, until at length the
trees and shrubs gradually dwindling in size, the Spanish broom alone
covers the ground. Leaving behind us this range of green hills, the
track, still ascending, leads for several hours across a steep and
difficult mass of lava-rock, broken here and there into strange and
fantastic forms, worn into deep ravines, and scantly covered in places
by a thin layer of yellow pumice. As we proceeded on our road, the hills
on our left gradually rose in hight, till the summits were lost in those
of the central chain; while, on our right, we were rapidly gaining an
elevation above the lower range of the peak. We met with several small
conical hills, or mouths of extinct volcanoes, the decomposed lava on
the edges of the craters having a strong red ochreous tint. At length,
an immense undulated plain spreads itself like a fan, on all sides,
nearly as far as the eye can reach. This plain is bounded on the
west-south-west and south-south-west, by the regions of the peak; and on
the east and north-east, by a range of steep perpendicular precipices
and mountains, many leagues in circumference, called by the Spaniards
=Las Faldas=. On this plain, or desert, for we had long left all show of
vegetation, except a few stunted plants of Spanish broom, a sensible
change was felt in the atmosphere; the wind was keen and sharp, and the
climate like that of England in the months of autumn. All here was sad,
silent and solitary. We saw at a distance the fertile plains on the
coast, lying as it were under our feet, and affording a cheerful
contrast to the scenes of desolation with which we were surrounded. We
were already seven or eight thousand feet above the level of the sea,
and had reached the bottom of the second region of the peak.
“Having reached the end of the plain, we found ourselves at the bottom
of a steep hill, at the foot of which is a mass or current of lava.
After a laborious, not to say hazardous ascent of about an hour, the
pumice and ash gave way, and the mules sinking knee-deep at every step,
we arrived at about five in the afternoon at the other extremity of the
stream of lava, which, descending from the summit of the second region
of the peak, divides at the foot of the cone into two branches, the one
running to the north-east, and the other to the north-west. It was here
we were to pass the night; so, lighting a fire made of dry branches of
the Spanish broom, and stretching a part of a sail over a portion of the
rock, we ate our dinner and laid ourselves down to sleep. I, however,
passed the best part of the night by the fire, the weather being
piercingly cold. As I stood by the fire, the view all around me was wild
and terrific; the moon rose about ten at night, and, though in her third
quarter, gave sufficient light to show the waste and wilderness by which
we were surrounded. The peak and the upper regions which we had yet to
ascend, towered awfully above our heads, while below, the mountains that
had appeared of such a hight in the morning, and had cost us a day’s
labor to climb, lay stretched as plains at our feet. From the uncommon
rarity of the atmosphere, the whole vault of heaven appeared studded
with innumerable stars, while the valleys of Orotava were hidden from
our view by a thin vail of light fleecy clouds, that floated far beneath
the elevated spot we had chosen for our resting-place; the solemn
stillness of the night was only interrupted by the crackling of the fire
round which we stood, and by the whistling of the wind, which coming in
hollow gusts from the mountain, resembled the roar of distant cannon.
“Between two and three in the morning, we resumed, on foot, our ascent
of the mountain, the lower part of which we had climbed on horseback the
preceding evening; the ascent, however, became much more rapid and
difficult, our feet sinking deep in the ashes at every step. From the
uncommon sharpness of the acclivity, we were obliged to stop often to
take breath: after several halts, we at last reached the head of the
pumice hill. After resting some short time here, we began to climb the
stream of lava, stepping from mass to mass. The ascent is steep, painful
and hazardous; in some places the stream of lava is heaped up in dykes
or embankments; and we were obliged to clamber over them as one ascends
a steep wall.
“We halted several times during the ascent, and at last reached a spot
called La Cueva, one of the numerous caves that are found on the sides
of the mountain; this is the largest of them, and is filled with snow
and the most delicious water, which was just at the point of
congelation. The descent into it is difficult, it being thirty or forty
feet deep. One of our party let himself down by a rope: he could not see
the extent of the cave, but the guides declared it to be three hundred
feet in length, and to contain thirty or forty feet of water in depth.
The roof and sides are composed of a fine stalactitic lava, similar to
that found on Vesuvius, and it is of the same nature as that which
flowed on the surface. We rested here about half an hour, during which
we had an opportunity of observing the rising of the sun, and that
singular and rapid change of night into day, which is the consequence of
an almost entire absence of twilight. As we ascended the north-east side
of the mountain, this view was strikingly beautiful: at first there
appeared a bright streak of red on the horizon, which gradually spread
itself, lighting up the heavens by degrees, and growing brighter and
brighter, till at last the sun burst forth from the bed of the ocean,
gilding as it rose the mountains of Teneriffe, and those of the Great
Canary; in a short time the whole country to the eastward lay spread out
as a map. The Great Canary was easily to be distinguished; and its
rugged and mountainous character, similar to that of the other islands,
became visible to the naked eye. The cold at this time was intense, the
wind keen and strong, and the thermometer sunk to thirty-two degrees.
After a short though rapid ascent, we reached the summit of the second
stage of the mountain, passing over a small plain of white pumice, on
which were spread masses of lava, and at length arrived at the foot of
the cone. This division of the mountain forms what is generally termed
the peak of Teneriffe: it represents the present crater of Vesuvius,
with this difference, however, that while the surface of that mountain
is composed of a black cinder or ash, the superfices of this appear to
be a deposit of pumice of a white color, of scoriæ and lava, with here
and there considerable masses that were probably thrown out when the
volcano was in action. Numerous small cavities on the side of the
mountain emitted vapor, with considerable heat. Here begins the only
fatiguing part of the ascent; the steepness of the cone is excessive; at
each step our feet sunk into the ash, and large masses of pumice and
lava rolled down from above; we were all bruised, and our feet and legs
were cut, but not materially hurt: at last we surmounted all
difficulties, and seated ourselves on the highest ridge of the mountain.
This uppermost region does not appear to contain in superficies more
than an acre and a half, and is itself a small crater, the walls of
which are the different points on which we sat, and are plainly visible
from below. Within, the lava is in the most rapid state of
decomposition. The surface is hot to the feet, and the guides said it
was dangerous to remain long in one spot: as it was, some of us sunk to
our knees in the hot deposit of sulphur. Upon striking the ground with
the feet, the sound is hollow, similar to what is produced by the same
impulsion on the craters of Vesuvius and Solfaterra. I estimate the
depth of the crater to be, from the highest ridge to the bottom, about
two hundred feet, forming an easy and gradual descent.
“The view from the summit is stupendous: we could plainly discover the
whole form of the island, and we made out distinctly three or four of
the islands, which, collectively, are called the Canaries; we could not,
however, see Lancerotte or Fuerteventura, though we were told that other
travelers had distinguished them all.
“From this spot, the central chain of mountains that run from south-west
to north-east, is easily to be distinguished. These, with the succession
of fertile and woody valleys, commencing from San Ursula, and ending at
Las Horcas, with the long line of precipitous lava rocks that lay on the
right of our ascent, and which traverse that part of the island running
from east to west, from their point of departure at the Canales, to
where they end in an abrupt headland on the coast, with their forests,
and villages, and vineyards, the port with the shipping in the roads,
the town of Orotava, with its spires glittering as the morning sun burst
upon them, afford a cheerful contrast to the streams of lava, the mounds
of ash and pumice, and the sulphurated rock on which we had taken our
seat. The sensation of extreme hight was in fact one of the most
extraordinary I ever felt; and though I did not find the pain in my
chest arising from the rarity of the atmosphere, by any means so acute
as on the mountains of Switzerland, yet there was a keenness in the air,
independent of the cold, that created no small uneasiness in the lungs.
The respiration became short and quick, and repeated halts were found
necessary. The idea also of extreme hight was to me more determinate and
precise than on the mountains of Switzerland; and though the immediate
objects of vision were not so numerous, yet as the ascent is more rapid,
the declivity sharper, and there is here no mountain like Mont Blanc
towering above you, the twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea
appeared considerably more than a similar elevation above the lake of
Geneva. We remained at the summit about three-quarters of an hour, our
ascent having cost us the labor of four hours, as we left La Estancia at
ten minutes before three, and reached the top of the peak before seven.
Our thermometer, which was graduated to the scale of Fahrenheit, was,
during our ascent, as follows: at Orotava, at eight in the morning,
seventy-four degrees; at six in the evening, at La Estancia, fifty
degrees; at one, in the following morning, forty-two degrees; at La
Cueva, at half past four, thirty-two degrees; at the bottom of the cone,
thirty-six degrees; at the top of the peak, one hour and a half after
sunrise, thirty-three degrees. The descent down the cone is difficult,
from its extreme rapidity, and from the fall of large stones, which
loosen themselves from the beds of pumice. Having at last scrambled to
the bottom, we pursued our march down the other course of the lava, that
is to say, down its westerly side, having ascended its eastern. The
ravines and rents in this stream of lava are deep and formidable; the
descent into them is always painful and troublesome, often dangerous: in
some places we let ourselves down from rock to rock. I can form no
opinion why there should be these strange irregularities in the surface
of this lava; in places it resembles what sailors term the trough of the
sea, and I can compare it to nothing but as if the sea in a storm, had
by some force become on a sudden stationary, the waves retaining their
swell. As we again approached La Cueva, we came to a singular steep
valley, the depth of which, from its two sides, can not be less than one
hundred to one hundred and fifty feet, the lava lying in broken ridges
one upon the other, similar to the masses of granite rock that time and
decay have tumbled down from the top of the Alps; and, except from the
scoriæ, or what Milton calls ‘the fiery surge,’ they in no degree bear
the marks of having rolled as a stream of liquid matter.
“We descended the pumice hill with great rapidity, almost at a run, and
arrived at La Estancia in little more than two hours. We then mounted
our mules, and following the track by which we had ascended the
preceding day, we reached, about four o’clock, the country-house from
which we had started.”
The first eruption of which there is any distinct account, occurred on
the twenty-fourth of December, 1704, when twenty-nine shocks of an
earthquake were distinctly felt. On the thirty-first a great light was
observed on Manja, toward the White mountains. Here the earth opened,
and two volcanoes were formed, which threw up such heaps of stones as to
raise two considerable mountains: the combustible matter, which still
continued to be thrown up, kindled above fifty fires in the vicinity.
The whole country for three leagues round was in flames, which were
increased by another volcano opening by at least thirty different vents
within the circumference of half a mile. On the second of February
following, another volcano broke out in the town of Guimar, swallowing
up a large church.
A subsequent eruption in 1706 filled up the port of Guarachico. The
lava, in its descent, ran five leagues in six hours; and on this lava,
houses are now built where ships formerly rode at anchor. Neither of
these eruptions was from the crater on the summit of the peak, for that
has not ejected lava for centuries, and it now issues from the flanks
only. The last eruption was on the ninth of June, 1798, and was very
terrible. Three new mouths opened at the hight of eighty-one hundred and
thirty feet, or upward of a mile and a half above the level of the sea,
upon the inclined slope of the base of the peak toward the south-west.
Above this, at the hight of ten thousand, two hundred and forty feet, or
nearly two miles, M. Cordier found a vast crater nearly four miles and a
half in circumference, which lie ascertained to be very ancient. Its
sides are extremely steep, and it still presents the most frightful
picture of the violence of subterraneous fire. The peak rises from the
sides of this monstrous aperture. To the south-west is the mountain of
Cahora, which is said to have become a volcano in 1797. The other
mountains of Teneriffe, which tradition reports to have been formerly
volcanoes, are Monte Roxo, or the red mountain; several mountains,
called the Malpasses, lying to the eastward; and one (Rejada) in a
southern direction. Throughout the whole of the distance between Monte
Roxo and the bay of Adexe, according to Mr. Glass, the shore is about
twenty-five hundred feet, or nearly half a mile in hight, and
perpendicular as a wall. The southern coast has a much superior
elevation, the chain of mountains by which it is bounded being,
agreeably to St. Vincent, eighty-three hundred and twenty feet, or more
than a mile and a half, above the level of the sea.