I’ve just finished writing about Santa Cruz de La Palma for the book and looking back at what I’ve written for something to contribute to the blog, it’s clear that for me, La Palma is all about my day yesterday mountain biking in the volcanic mountains. The sail here, after the first couple of days of heavy-weather beating, was tedious. For three days, I sailed with the wind directly behind me without even once touching the sail trim. Three days of lurching downwind willing the wind to shift enough to unfurl the genoa. Oh, I caught a fish (don’t know what) but hadn’t really considered how to kill it and ended up with a bloody cockpit that looked like a murder scene – which I suppose it was – kind of! As I was approaching the island on Sunday, I remember looking up at the towering volcanic peaks looming over the town of Santa Cruz de La Palma and wondering if it would be possible to hire a mountain bike on the island. Well, actually, I’m lying. My first thought, having fallen asleep under the sprayhood without setting the alarm and waking to see a confusing, blurred array of orange streetlights like varicose veins rising vertically (yes vertically) from the shoreline, was less concerned with planning my time ashore and more about avoiding the immediate danger! I needn’t have worried. It would take me another three hours to reach the rocky shore but it was a careless mistake and one that I won’t be repeating. So, having read the pilot book’s introduction to the island of La Palma, I knew that the magnificent peaks rising to 2400m, well above the clouds behind the town were part of the Parque National de la Caldera de Taburiente ­and formed the world’s largest volcanic crater. La Caldera de Taburiente is 27km in circumference and 763m deep. The pilot book also boasted of a ‘most attractive town’ with ‘original Canarian houses’ and a load of old toot that would clearly appeal to the elderly tourists arriving on the Saga cruise ship but for me, the volcanoes beckoned.

Arriving in Santa Cruz de La Palma, the marina is brand new although the spring-tide swell is making it no better than an anchorage. It is near the town though, it’s clean, it has electricity and includes use of the nearby Real Club Nautico. Santa Cruz is trying too hard to be ‘quaint and is suffering from the one-day cruises that pass through here on their way to Tenerife or Gran Canaria. I rather liked the town of Los Llanos inland on the west side of the island though and it was from there that I began a mountain bike ride into the volcanoes. So, if it’s ok with you, I’m going to talk about that – just that.

Not one to compromise on these things, I chose a hard route climbing to 1300m before having the choice of a technical ‘singletrack’ or a fast ‘firetrail’ descent. Other than a few trips on my little fold-up bike, I hadn’t ridden since leaving the UK and wasn’t sure what my level of fitness would be. I felt pretty good though and besides wanting to push myself hard, I was keen to cover as much ground as possible. So, yesterday, suitably kitted out with all the appropriate gear, a pocket full of dried bananas, a Bergamont mountain bike, the list of six next destinations and a dice, I set off with eight fellow riders. Most of them had travelled from Germany specifically for the mountain biking and looked like strong riders. I expected the pace to be fast. There were two leaders, Daniel and his father Siegmund. Daniel explained that the first half of the ride, the 1000m climb, would be as one group but we would then split. He would ride with whoever wanted to tackle the technical singletrack and Siegmund would ride with those who preferred the faster, wider but less technically challenging trails back down. It was only after I’d chosen the technical route that I discovered I was the only one but I got the impression that Daniel actually preferred that route and was perfectly happy to accompany me down while the others went with his dad. But that was yet to come. For now, there was just the small issue of the gruelling climb… and the realisation that in the UK, our rear brake is on the left and our front brake on the right. Not so in Europe. After a few miles, I thought I might get used to it being the ‘wrong’ way around and of course, for the climb, it was not such a big problem. Coming back down would be different though. It would need to be instinctive and a mistake could have been disastrous. Fortunately, during one of the rest stops, Daniel quickly swapped the brakes over and although I had one less thing to worry about, I no longer had any excuses – national pride was at stake! Mercifully, although the climb was lung-burstingly tough and in places, too steep even to ride, there were a few short downhill sections through the dense pine and laurel forests that cling to the side of the Taburiente volcano. This was just a tantalizing hint of what was to come but already, it was obvious that this was a strong group and the leaders were not about to slow things down. Our trail took us across a vast lava flow that I’m told featured in a BBC documentary in which a hypothetical eruption caused a tsunami that wiped out the east coast of America. Apparently, the suggestion by a respected scientist was taken out of context and has been quoted as imminent fact much to the irritation of the islanders. However unstable the island might be though, standing on the rough rusty-grey lava crust in the path of what was clearly a powerful eruption was one of those singularly overwhelming moments that, I hope, will continue to define my adventure. Chintzy souvenir shops don’t thrill me – Give me fire and brimstone… Oh, and a mountain bike! Talking of which, the anticipation of an immense downhill ride back to the town must have added to the occasion and we weren’t far from the top. As I’d been labelled the ‘downhiller’, I was privileged to follow Daniel in front of the main group through the trickier singletrack sections and at the time, despite being only marginally in control for much of it, I thought I was keeping up with him fairly admirably. I would later discover that he was in an entirely different league and I could only stand and watch as he effortlessly jumped from rocks I could barely walk down.

It was during a late lunch beside what appeared to be a huge bottomless hole in the ground that I decided to invite Daniel to throw the dice for me. The bottomless hole, about ten metres diameter, turned out to be the result of a gas bubble rising through the molten lava and although the setting was symbolically perfect for the dice-throw, I felt like I’d hijacked a special moment for everyone in the group. I hadn’t meant to. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one anxious about the imminent descent (no, not into the bottomless hole!) and that might be why everyone was so quiet but I had just begun explaining the ‘Where to next?’ concept to Daniel when it became obvious that I had everybody’s attention. The group were soon talking enthusiastically about the project and so, before setting off on the final push to the top, Daniel threw the dice. A one would have been a short sail to another island in the group and a six would have been Dakar in Senegal. Number two would have been a bleak anchorage on the edge of the Sahara whilst three, four and five were various islands within the Cape Verde archipelago over 800Nm away. Yey… A four. I didn’t have a favourite but had hoped that it would be one of the Cape Verde islands and the dice had duly chosen Porto do Tarrafal on the island of Sao Nicolau. It’d be 840Nm of sailing which would likely take well over a week so it wasn’t going to be easy but yet again, it was in the right direction and, with no marina, would be a peaceful anchorage in the tranquil shelter of another spectacular volcanic island.

Back on the trail and still grinning from the result of the dice throw, we continued the climb. I had been grateful for the rest when we stopped for lunch but I was really starting to get tired and had fallen behind the main group two or three times. The trail then became wider with a few fast sweeping downhill corners that weaved around craggy rocks on one side and a steep wooded drop to the other. This would be the last section we’d ride together and as the rest of the group set off, I was left waiting alone in utter silence as Daniel fixed a puncture further up the trail. It was a strange moment. The only sound was that of my own breathing and as I gazed around at the extraordinary volcanic terrain, my heart raced at the thought of the ride ahead and when Daniel finally arrived, I was anxious to get going. He explained that he would ride some distance behind me and instructed me to put my saddle down as I’d be balanced over the back wheel for most of the descent. He told me to wear my sunglasses outside of my helmet straps so that if I fell, they’d just fall off and not poke an eye out (yeah right… like that could happen eh Tony!) I put on the knee armour I’d been carrying in my rucksack and saw from the look on Daniel’s face that this was as much fun for him as it was for me. The climb to this point had been a huge investment and I set off at a determined pace – too fast. From the first tricky section, I was all out of shape and hopelessly uncoordinated. I was on the wrong line and was dragging the back wheel with the brakes fully on. Stop. Concentrate. Regroup. “Your back brake is only for going faster around corners - just use the front” said Daniel. “All your weight is on the front wheel and that’s the one that’ll slow you down so long as you keep your weight back”I set off again at a more controlled pace and although I was still hovering over the back brake constantly, I quickly found a rhythm. The trail became very narrow and as technically challenging as anything I’d ridden before but it felt fantastic. At a narrow rocky section that looked to me like it might end in disaster, I stopped to consider the route down. There was a rock to the right with an uneven landing behind it and a tricky, tight, steep route to the left of it. I stood looking at the route around the rock before asking Daniel to go first so I could see how he would do it. Casually, Daniel simply rode up onto the rock, straight down the middle and dropped effortlessly into the trail below. I walked! Slightly embarrassed, it was a comfort to learn that in fact most people carry their bikes down that particular section. At the next challenge, Daniel said “…and here we walk” but it looked no worse than the last one and I was determined to have a go. Actually, I negotiated the drop pretty well but such was my surprise at having landed it, I lost control and went sprawling into the undergrowth – no harm done. Then there was a long, fast, flowing, rugged singletrack section that seemed to go on endlessly and it felt incredible. I didn’t even consider attempting the next drop. I didn’t have to – it was insane. Only ten people had ever negotiated it on the guided rides and I was keen to see how, or if, Daniel would tackle it. Without hesitation, he set off into a tight right hand turn poised over a series of rocks directly below. The turn was too tight to ride around normally so, balanced, he bounced the back wheel into line. Then, heading straight at the drop and again, not even bothering with the technical route around the rocks, he rode straight down the middle, over the huge rock at the bottom and landed neatly on two wheels. From there to the bottom it was a fairly straight forward, fast ride to the café where the others were waiting. It hadn’t taken very long to get back down but it was everything I’d hoped it would be. The ride had been challenging, just as I’d hoped. The other riders were friendly and the guides clearly enjoyed it as much as the paying customers. My fitness had not let me down and the dice had landed well. All together, a very satisfying day indeed so I can leave for the Cape Verde’s knowing that the island owes me nothing.