Day #3 - When you climb to the top, it is time to go down

Our guide, José, picks us up at 01h, pitch black and the party is getting dying down. We have a 40km drive halfway up the mountain, to the Casa da Montanha.

Pico is the highest mountain of Portugal, with 2351m and is the result of three eruptions, the last one about 2000 years ago. Our mission, to see the sunrise from the peak.

We get to the registration with our guide, and there are two women joining us for the climb, the mother (Pam) and daughter (Alex), who are Americans. They clearly do not seem ready to do the climb (around 7km in total, up and down a very steep slope), and when God spread beauty and goodness in the world, they came out short, really short.

Bizarro set us up with chocolates he bought yesterday, we got also a bottle of water and a sleeping bag, as well as 2 walking sticks, and we went off into the night.

It was pitch black (the full moon was mostly covered with clouds) and there were showers. The night was cold, and as we made way up the mountain, our American companions would let out the occasional "oh my gosh, there is mud! Be careful" and similar useful warnings.

One hour into the climb, José clearly declares that at the pace the girls are going, we will not get to the peak on time. They insist they want to do it together (such is the beauty of familial love) and we agree to ditch the guide and go ahead the six of us, solo, up the mountain to track the 45 markers that lead to the top of the mountain.

We had three though hours, with myself and Mareco leading the climb, with tricky slopes and slippery rocks, but in the end, we reached the bloody 45th. It was 06:00, and we lied down in our sleeping bags, and tried to stave off the cold and sleep a while.

I woke up at 07h, feeling very cold and wet. It had rained a very fine rain and the clouds stood below us, as the first light started to flood the top of the mountain. I woke up the guys, and as the sun managed to break through the clouds, bathing us in warm and silent light, with no wind to howl at us, we enjoyed the ecstasy in that graceful moment, as witnesses of some earthly mystery that cares not for men or memory.

Pam and Alex arrived a bit later, still on time to check the orb ascending on the horizon, and offer us some interesting platitudes on climbing and resilience. Good for you girls!

At this point I should say, that Pico has on top of it a small mound, very steep, that needs to be climbed by hand and feet. It's called Piquinho (little peak) and some of us decided to climb that last 70m elevation with our guide.

Piquinho is inside a caldera, which looks like a picture from the British Highlands, all stones, grass and moss. We climbed the last milestone and as we got to the very top, we could see steam pouring from some cracks - the volcano is still active. And in some crevices, beautiful and tiny white and purple flours were blossoming...