It's appropriate that Mt. Teneriffe is named after the island of Tenerife, the largest of the Canary Islands*. On maps in the 14th and 15th centuries the island was known as Isla del Infierno, literally meaning "Island of Hell." While they were probably referring to the volcanic activity, our Mt. Teneriffe has earned its Hellish reputation without so much help from the underworld.
Teneriffe has always tortured me.
Way back in the before time (before kids, that is) I climbed up Mt. Si, traversed across the saddle, summited Mt. Teneriffe, and descended the road. Then my (unnamed) partner discovered he had left his keys in my car at the Mt. Si trailhead several miles away. It was a long, grumbly walk.
In 2008, Tokul and I started up on our first Turkey Burner the day after Thanksgiving, but she fell on a section of the ridge covered in slick rock and we turned back. Tokul summited the next time we went up, but still no views.
In 2011, it was so cold I wasn't sure we were going to make it up, then I wasn't sure we'd make it down. Also, no views.
The 2012 Turkey Burner was so nasty I only got one picture down in the woods.
The one good weather opportunity I had became an opportunity to find balance in life rather than race to the summit to try to hold on to a fleeting sunset. I didn't summit, but instead learned a valuable lesson. For that I can thank Mt. Teneriffe.
Back to the present, though, it promised to be another wet, nasty slog. It was raining when I left the car at 6:30am in the dark. It rained as I passed the waterfall in the dark. It rained and blew when I gained the ridge. At least I was able to turn off my headlamp.
I hoped to find snow higher up, but never really did. There were a few dinner plate sized patches left from the previous storm, but it was a far cry from what I had dreamt of or what would be there the following weekend.
Instead, Treen and I had a good workout to burn all the turkey we'd consumed the night before and then hurried down the trail to get back in time to put the wool hat aside and don the ballet dad costume.
I'd say that maybe next year I'd get lucky and have great weather on Mt. Teneriffe, but I'm not terribly confident that's the case. This might just be a mountain I'm not destined to see in good weather. In the end, that's ok. It's a good reminder that not everything has a happy ending. Sometimes it's best to just be content with a good workout and a pair of trail-tested boots.
* It's probably named after Mt. Teneriffe in Australia given the other Australian names in North Bend, but that makes for a lousy story.
