Pico

Pico is defined two different ways in the Azores. It is the name of the second largest of the islands. It is also the name of mountain located on that same island, the tallest mountain in all of Portugal; a stratovolcano that is 2351 meters (I know my readers are mostly American, but I’m trying to be European friendly, so bear with me if I put things in meters first) in height, or 7713 feet. It is not the tallest of mountains, but it still is prominent in the skylines of all of the central Azorean group. It is also, consequently, one of the most popular hikes in all of Portugal, with numerous companies providing guided hikes up its slopes. Shiloh and I used Tripix Azores, and for 65 euros, we had two guides to pace us, and lead us on the right path, with provided insurance in case we got lost, and, most importantly, hiking poles. They even provided transportation, on request, to the start of the hike, which was especially necessary, as it would have been a 4 hour walk uphill for us car-less hikers to get to the start.

Casa da Montanha

Here, we meet the rest of the group hiking with us. There are something like 10 Italians (I don’t remember, they all kind of blended together) and two German women. Shiloh and I are by far the youngest in this group, and probably the most unprepared. A sign board in the mountain house illustrates the climb details: 3.2 kilometers (2 miles) of trail; 1.2 kilometers (.75 miles) of elevation. It is a very steep and treacherous trail, with no real set path, only 46 posts to guide a hiker to the crater. The mountain house gives each of us our GPS (to track us in case we get lost) and we head out the doors, ready to summit this sleeping giant.

Post 2

Our guides, Matteo and Raisa, a husband and wife pair from Brazil, inform our group in both Italian and English (they also speak Portuguese and Spanish!) that the distance between Posts 1 and 2 was actually the longest. The let us take a quick break, to help us acclimate to the pace of climbing this rugged trail (full of loose volcanic rocks waiting to twist a knee or sprain an ankle). It also gives us a chance to take in our first view of what lies below. A blanket of green stretchs below us, all the way to Madalena, where Shiloh and I had spent the night. We also get our first views of the island of Faial. We trek on, eager for the views awaiting us at the top, with the knowledge that the distance between each pole will never be as long as the stretch we just traveled.

Post 17

This is officially our third stop. We made a stop at Post 6, but only briefly. At Post 17, we take a break at a rare flat spot. The last 15 posts have included the stretch appropriately called “A Walk in the Park” (this being because it wasn’t as steep and wasn’t as slippery). At this post, we got a view of mountain goats, who make us look silly as they effortlessly scale the side of precipitous rock formations. But, distracting from the goats is the amazing view of the massive shadow of Pico. It covers almost the entire west side of the island, illustrating the true scale of the peaceful sleeping volcano we are climbing. I cannot even imagine the damage it would wrought if it ever were to explode again like it did in 1562, when there were 2 years worth of lava flows!

Post 33

This stretch flies by surprisingly fast. Banter with the guides, and between Shiloh and I speed up the process, although sharp focus is still necessary. One particular stretch is full of slippery lava rock, and I am especially thankful for the hiking poles, as well as my hiking boots, providing grip in this treacherous section. I am also thankful that the weather is remaining sparkling clear, as I was afraid that we wouldn’t even get to see anything when we got to the top (I made sure to knock on some wood just in case). Here we have another example of just how high we are. Isolated clouds lie below where we rest. It is a unique experience. I have summited mountains before, but none where the clouds were below me. We appreciate the cool breeze that is relieving the stress and sweat we are all feeling. Matteo and Raisa keep our spirits up. Only 13 posts to go!

Post 46

Getting to the final post reveals a different view than I expected. It was nearly impossible to see the top before, as the imposing crater wall looms in the way of our final destination. But, as we approach the final post, we climb higher and higher above the clouds, with the clouds becoming thicker and more clumped. Thus, the clouds have the appearance of the world’s largest cotton ball, stretching for miles below the rocks we rest on in preparation for the final ascent. The crater is not the true summit. That honor goes to Piquinho, which is what appears to be a pile of sharp boulders (Aa!) This requires we leave our poles behind and clamber up using our hands. Adrenaline was going to come in handy.

The Top

The time flies by, and we are at the top! We are at the highest point in all of Portugal, 900 miles in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. See, many of the beautiful views I have been lucky enough to experience have are not limitless, or there may be cloud cover. This view, however, is almost entirely clear, and there are no nearby high points to inhibit the view. It is crazy to think that as I look south over the vast expanse of clouds I could start “walking” that direction and not reach dry land until Antarctica. Looking west, I see Faial, the island I spent so much time on, looking minuscule. Looking north, the island of São Jorge is visible, and I also see Graciosa for the first time. Terceira is also visible to the east. It took 3 hours to get to the top, but the 30 minutes we get on the summit make it all worthwhile. A solitary stone pillar marks the summit, one all of us weary adventurers crowd around to get our photos of the top of the world. A feeling of victory is tangible in the air, as all but one made it the top. We have united together to conquer a giant, no matter our race, gender, religion, or language. I think that is one of the amazing things about hiking. It brings everyone together to reach a goal, and for a short period of time, all differences are forgotten. I wish everything in the world was like hiking. Maybe the world would be a happier place if everyone viewed life as a upward climb, one is made easier with encouragement and helping hands!

The Descent

After we descend Piquinho, we have some homemade aguardente courtesy of our amazing guides, and celebrate a toast to our success. That is the last happy moment for a while, as the climb down is treacherous and painful. One bent hiking pole, a twisted knee, and some moments of bruised pride later, we finally make it back to the mountain house. Our descent is hindered by damp clouds making it hard to see more than 15 feet in front of one’s self, and our spirits get gradually lower. We continued to strain ourselves to maintain grip due to the steep decline, as we contend with loose lava rocks trying to mock us at every step. But, we make it to the bottom, and the certificate I get indicates what can never be taken away: “I climbed Pico!”

 

Thanks for reading! Please subscribe if you are new, clicking the blue button at the bottom right. Feedback is appreciated! This was the second of three posts of the Three P’s of the Azores. Next is “The Pleasant Azorean” which details our adventures with hitchhiking! Look for that within the next few days! Ciao!

Jeremy Caldeira