Over 2,000 metres above the shimmering blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, I’m cycling across Tenerife’s sun-scorched volcanic caldera, past meteorite-shaped fragments of glistening black obsidian, eerie red sand dunes, twisted needles of rock and the stark 3,718m cone of the Teide volcano.

This is the high-altitude lunar landscape of Tenerife’s Teide National Park – a world of strange volcanic formations, hallucinogenic colours and one unique two-wheeled challenge.

Tenerife – a beckoning blip in the Atlantic Ocean, 300km from Africa – has become one of the key training grounds for the world’s best cyclists.

The best elite riders of recent times, from Sir Bradley Wiggins to Primož Roglič, have come here to boost their aerobic fitness and sculpt their climbing skills in the airless landscapes.

The island is popular with amateur riders, too, thanks to its 3,000 hours of annual sunshine. But the Vuelta al Teide is the island’s first major international road-cycling sportive.

Playground of the pros

At 2,034km², Tenerife is the largest of Spain’s autonomous Canary Islands, and the Vuelta proudly showcases the island’s diverse scenery – from pine forests and coastal views to mountain villages and volcanic landscapes.

The event, launched in 2018, now attracts around 1,000 cyclists every May. Most are Spanish but some have travelled here from as far afield as Chile and New Zealand.

There are two routes available: a 175km loop from Puerto de la Cruz, in the north of the island, with a savage 4,400m of climbing; or a 95km odyssey from Santiago del Teide, in the west, to Puerto de la Cruz, with 2,000m of climbing.

Neither option is easy. Both rides are spectacular.

And whatever course you choose, you will have to pedal to a lung-throttling altitude of 2,361m – the highest road on the island. That’s 452m higher than Mont Ventoux.

After a drab British winter, a 95km slog with 2,000m of ascent in a hot, arid, oxygen-choked volcanic landscape feels brutal enough for me.

Unlike many of the zombified cyclists I later speak to at the finish line, I’ve cycled at altitude before, so I know it’s going to feel like double.

But the brave ones are rewarded with some stunning additional segments, from the coastal views of Buenavista to the picturesque mountain town of Masca. I’m jealous. But not that jealous.

Following a breakfast of eggs, bread, muesli and yoghurt at Hotel Alua Tenerife, a bike-friendly hotel in Puerto de la Cruz, I join the bus transfer to Santiago del Teide – a cluster of white-walled buildings surrounded by vineyards and fig trees, not far from the glistening black sea cliffs of Tenerife’s western coast.

Here, cyclists in technicolour clothing are gathering around the start line. The whole scene is drenched in blazing early-morning sunshine, and the air smells of sun lotion, fruity energy drinks and fear.

After a short countdown, we’re soon pedalling through the town’s narrow streets to begin the first climb to the 1,180m Arguayo peak, which averages 7 per cent. It’s a no-nonsense start, but I settle into a steady momentum.

The smooth road slides between rugged volcanic terrain freckled with brown-red rocks and plump cacti, and it offers sweeping views of the dazzling Atlantic to the west.

I’m being supported by Alberto and Marcos Delgado of Tenerife Bike Training – brothers from the village of La Orotava who run tours on the island.

Alberto tells me it takes British visitors a few days to acclimatise to the heat.

And Marcos warns that the high-altitude national park is seriously tough.

“Save your bullets for later,” he insisted. With their words ringing in my head, I try to keep my heart rate under control.

Red hot

The road darts south-east, before we swing north for the long, brutal 25km ascent to the Teide National Park. There is 1,460m of ascent to the Narices del Teide (“nostrils of Teide”) lookout point, nestled at 2,087m.

But there is 1,760m of vertical gain to the highest point of the course, near Mount Teide. And it’s hot.

I’ve hired a sleek Pinarello from Bike Point Tenerife and I already appreciate the featherlight frame as we are hit by leg-torching gradients of 14-15 per cent.

The epic climb averages 6-7 per cent overall, but it’s a tough start.

Some riders are already weaving around the road, but many started early to begin the longer course.

They have tackled the killer ascent out of Masca, with its obscene 11 per cent average gradient, and are now joining us for the main volcanic section.

The climb continues through a dense pine forest, which offers some deliciously cool shade.

The towering Canarian pine trees are coated in a thick layer of bark, which isolates the tree from heat and fire, and they can cleverly draw in moisture from the air through their needles.

With my parched throat, it’s a skill I wish I shared. I grind slowly into the strange lunar landscape of the Teide National Park – a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

With its prehistoric craters, black lava tubes, eerie domes, cathedrals of rock and red soil, it’s a mesmerising cycling destination.

A straight road shoots north, seemingly without any bends, for 8km, which messes with the mind.

But we’re rewarded at the Mirador de los Poleos with a vista of the lush green pine forests and jagged black volcanic rocks far beneath us.

The road then surges south and east as we dive deeper into the park.

I pass strange blue-green rocks and black chunks of obsidian. It’s exposed here and I can feel the molten heat of the sun bouncing off the road.

Tenerife may be in the same time zone as the UK, but it’s on the same latitude as the Sahara.

When I arrive at the Narices del Teide lookout, I can see craters on the side of the 3,135m Pico Viejo volcano – these are the ‘nostrils’ that erupted in 1798, creating the striking black lava fields that now stretch across the landscape.

Explosive terrain

I realise with a jolt that I am now cycling above the clouds, which I can see in the valley below. This is the park’s strange ‘sea of clouds’ phenomenon.

Geography and climatic conditions combine to create a wreath of clouds around Teide’s slopes, which serves as a nebulous ‘gateway’ for cyclists to pass through.

I spot Marcos by the side of the road and he tops up my bottles and hands me some local Tenerife bananas, which I’m extremely grateful for.

It’s been a tough morning, but I’m now in the stunning Las Cañadas caldera. In this rock-hewn cauldron, I ride past jagged red rocks and blinding white-yellow pumice fields.

The next 10km are relatively flat, but at this altitude even flat roads are exhausting.

Every pedal stroke feels harder, and I wonder if I have a slow puncture. But this is just what happens when the body is starved of oxygen.

The groups of cyclists now thin out, leaving us all facing our own private battles.

The lack of oxygen and the stunning volcanic views invite an awed silence, so I get low on the bike and tune in to the relaxing sound of my whirring wheels.

The scenery is dazzling. I cycle past the photogenic Roques de Garcia, which erupt out of the earth like gnarled fingers, then I pass green-tinged rocks and white dunes.

Some of the sand here has been blown all the way from the Sahara.

As we sweep around a bend, I glimpse the menacing triangular peak of Teide. It reaches 3,718m in altitude, but the highest road here is at 2,361m.

If you want to go higher, you need to take the tourist cable car, or grab a pair of hiking boots.

This is the most striking road on the island, featuring a long, straight stretch of tarmac that heads directly towards the volcanic cone.

But the road is a false flat and the volcano never seems to get any closer.

In fact, I’ve got another 600m of ascent to contend with, at this lung-burning altitude, before I pass the volcano.

But it is this mix of beauty and brutality that explains why so many cyclists flock here. We’ve only done 50km, but it feels like a century ride.

When I glide past the volcano, with its stark red, brown and purple flanks crowned by white-tinged rock, it is hard to suppress an instinctive shiver.

Teide – which is still an active volcano – was seen by Tenerife’s indigenous Guanches people as the dwelling place of gods and devils, and it remains a foreboding sight.

Down it

Most cyclists are now tormented by jelly legs and burning lungs. Dazed and fatigued, I continue grinding along the undulating roads.

By now, every slight rise in the road feels like an Alp. After a day of searing sun and soul-sapping climbs, it’s a relief to feel the road tilt downwards.

From here, it’s a 30km, 2,000m descent to the beaches of Puerto de la Cruz, with a smooth 5 per cent gradient.

I slide onto the drops – for the first time today – and enjoy the glorious descent, which curls through pine forests and zips around walls of red-brown rock.

After 5km, we dive through the clouds, whose vapours coat my skin in a moist sheen, before emerging into dazzling sunlight.

It’s a surprisingly fatiguing descent, with riders looking disoriented after a day at high altitude.

Yes, it’s exhilarating but concentrating this late injects a final flourish of fatigue.

Thankfully, after much swirling and curling, I glide into Puerto de la Cruz and cross the finish line in the scorching afternoon sun.

Many cyclists sit hunched over their bikes, panting hard but smiling. Somebody hands me a medal, but my mind is still up on the volcano.

Fortunately, Alberto and Marcos are waiting with drinks. Refreshed, I head to the food tent for a cold coke and a plate of paella by the sea.

Glancing down at the beach sliding into the Atlantic Ocean, and then up to the volcanic peak of Teide above, I realise there aren’t many places where you can ride from 2,300m to the beach in just a few kilometres.

But Tenerife is not like other islands. And this sizzling volcanic adventure is not like other sportives.

The Vuelta al Teide returns to Tenerife on 17th May 2025. Head to Vuelta Al Teide for more information.