If you haven't seen it already, there is a new poem about the visit to the crater below El Teide on frankenstina. It was an added bonus to the experience to have this poem beautifully read - at sight, and from my quirky handwriting - on our last evening by Chris, one of our leaders.
I've tried to convey something of the vastness which made me feel ant-like as I perched on La Fortaleza, one of the remaining original parts of the caldera wall, made of red basalt. I've borrowed an image from Eliot's "The Waste Land", and used it to suggest that the presence of a volcano is always an uneasy reminder of the forces over which we have no control.
