The final push
One final look back at what I'd come up. Clouds scraping the side of Mulhacén. Sweat pouring off every part of my body.
The Garmin Forerunner 205 reported the number that I'd been dying - almost literally - to see from the morning - 3,485m.
I'd hiked - well, walked - up the 16.59km (10.3mile) climb, ascended around 2,170 metres (7,000 feet-plus), all in 3 hours and 45 minutes. My Polar heart-rate monitor informed me that my poor corazón had averaged 137bpm during the moving portions of the trek. Even taking into account stops for photographs, removing pesky stones and a couple of calls of nature, the total time was sub-4 hours. I'd come up it at a comfortably hard pace and could have gone, say, 30-to-40 minutes quicker if my life depended upon it.
Why is there always someone above me?
A shrine dedicated to the Virgin of the Snows (Virgen de las Nieves) marks the peak.
Interestingly, on August 5th every year, just one day before my ascent, the hardy folk of Trevelez make a pilgrimage to Mulhacén with a statue of the Virgin de las Nieves in tow. Starting in the wee hours of the morning and celebrating mass at 11am on the mountain-top, the romeria, undertaken every year since 1912, allows true contemplation from the highest point in mainland Spain.
The shrine also contains a small plaque dedicated to the memory of three British climbers who lost their lives on the mountain in March 2006. It's patently dangerous to underestimate the potential dangers imposed by any peak. Here, sadly, was a stark reminder that, just sometimes, things do go horribly wrong.
Mulhacén, naturally, offers some stunning views of the environs. Lugging up my Canon EOS 350D had been a good idea, after all. I'd summited from the easier south side. The north face offered 'proper' climbers the chance to test their mettle.
Sitting contently on top of the mountain, other climbs summited from various sides.
'Eh, Pepe, you told me this was a walk in the park!'
A well-earned pint of beer was ordered after I'd trekked the 8km trail down to the minibus pick-up point at Alto Del Chorrillo. A 50-minute ride down and I was back in civilisation. A job well done.
The moral of this story is pretty simple. Find your own Mulhacén, whatever it may be, believe in yourself and you will conquer it.
The biggest regret that this was a purely personal crusade. I should have taken the opportunity to raise money for charity, to help others, rather to fulfil my own personal endurance trial.