Sunday
23 July (Diarist: Laurie)
Laurie's
Day
Extended
soupy weight reducing breakfast followed by strenuous effort not to be last packed
for once, nearly frustrated by forgetting my picnic tablecloth.
Well marked steeply descending path, not really
deserving its dot status on the map. Salamander spotted by the path, rather
camera shy; also big bright orange lilies further down.
Martin
W was lost in the vicinity of a signpost and was abandoned to his fate as the
rest of us were going the wrong way anyway, descending a bit too far downstream
in the Val Canali. The path rises in steep zigzags to Treviso Hut. I get
talking to a party of five middle-aged Italians and discover that one of them
knows my friend's father in Bassano.
No
Martin at the Hut, even after apricot juice, cappuccino and fizzy orange. The
others decide that it is my duty to wait for Martin W as they have to rush for
their earlier plane, but I need to be persuaded with bribes.
Martin
W arrives, Dave, John and Martin B depart, and I settle into yet more rifugio
food and drink.
A view from near Rifugio Treviso
Looking back to Rifugio Treviso
The
path then contours along the wooded valley side for a mile before facing up to
the Forcella d'Oltro. I plod up, promising Martin that I'll stop at the first
water. But it's a dry valley. At the top the group of Italians tell me that
Dave, John and Martin B brewed up here and left 15 minutes earlier. The gap
increases to 50 minutes by the time Martin is up and ready for off again.
Martin W took these pictures before Laurie headed off on his own
The
path now turns along the ridge for 2 miles, keeping high and exposed. By now
I'm getting fed up with alternately chasing the three then waiting for the one.
Martin says he'd rather take an extra day and do the next section on his own,
so I don't bother stopping any more. Soon the path begins a gentle descent into
an amazing area of fir trees and rock pinnacles. My slightly guilty feelings at
leaving Martin increase as it starts to rain, and increase further as the rain
becomes a thunderstorm, with lightning flashing around the firs and the rock
needles.
The
paths become impossibly slippery and I slither down off the path with an
Italian couple. Lightning strikes uncomfortably close and I as I leave the
woods, then the storm eases and I reach the Passo Cereda rifugio. A quick stop
and then on down the road. The other rifugio, the Padreterno, looks closed. I
talk to the woman there, she gets me some water and I go on down the lane to the
hamlet of Mattiuzzi.
Some
passers-by say there are three others five minutes ahead, but these turned out
to be Italians going the other way, and they say Dave, Martin and John are an
hour further on. I fill up with extra water at an Artesian well.
More thunder
rolls and I'm worried about entering wild remote country in a storm and maybe
missing the others. So I turn back, relieving my conscience into the bargain. And
it pours, another thunderstorm.
Martin W took this picture of impressive fungi at some point on his journey to Mattiuzzi
Two
miles back, and at the Padreterno hut they say Martin has already passed: so
how did I miss him? Then a man explains, in English, that Martin went to the 'House
in the Trees', and gives clear directions. So back again into the storm,
dodging the lightning, crossing the valley for a third time, and up to a house
with a large conservatory type extension. And sure enough, when I open the door,
there is Martin, plus about forty kids of all ages making the sort of racket
you might expect.
I
take off my sack and waterproofs, sit down by Martin, and share the pestering
he is getting. Some kids are curious about the mountains - "do you climb"
"do you use ropes?" - and some are curious about our nationality. Some
read to us out of an old-fashioned English textbook. One child reads words from
my dictionary with the same expansive gesture for each one. Since they
generally follow the Italian rule of pronouncing each and every letter, almost
nothing is recognisable, and we realise what a stupid language English is. They
bring us coffee and tell us there are a couple of spare beds with the children
if we wish to sleep inside. I wonder if sleep is likely. Another hour of half
understood conversations, and they come up with dinner. Soup and cheese for
Martin, with tomatoes and grated carrots, then coffee and grappa for the older
kids and adults. They let us dry our boots under the stove, and this offer is
quickly followed by directions to the outside wash basins. (The older ones who
are classed as 'helpers' are more interesting to talk to and we eventually
establish that the place is a children's holiday camp run by a church
organisation, with a few permanent residents from families with problems.
Martin
uses his head torch to wash by, which is a mistake as it proves a popular toy
and he almost loses it. Eventually bedtime comes and the noise ceases
surprisingly quickly, apart from fits of coughing which don't subside until I
have quietly put a plastic bag over my smelly trainers.
Sunday
(still) - Martin B, Dave and John's Day (Diarist: Martin B)
We
start with a steep descent and then a sharp ascent to the Treviso Hut. My
cappuccino arrived before the others. The ascent had featured the girl in
yellow with the sore boob, and the girl in grey with no underwear.
We decided to part company with Laurie and
Martin W due to Martin W's pace (half an hour behind us at Treviso
Our view back to Rifugio Treviso
On
up to Forcella d'Oltro. Uneventful.
Forcella d'Oltro (above and below)
Before
we leave we see Laurie half way up, forging on, but Martin W appears to be
sunbathing below him. The contouring path which followed required great care. Lots
of concentration needed. Steep drops.
Eventually we descended through rock towers, stones,
grass, mud, Italians, etc. John kept falling over.
John forges on towards Passo Cereda and the start of the final stage of our walk
Rifugio
Cereda brought ice creams and a thunderstorm.
A
stroll down to Rifugio Padreterno should have solved the problem (drinks) but
it was shut. On then to Mattiuzzi for water, and then lunch where the ascending
path finally leaves the road at 1200 metres. Conveniently sit out a storm
whilst lunching (4:30 pm).
On up
a pleasant path through woods and up a ravine. No sign of the fixed rope across
landslip debris mentioned in the guidebook, but the path did go up a very bouldery
river bed for a while.
Eventually
reached a highish point, only to find we needed to go a lot higher. Things now
got tricky (6 pm). After 50 yards we were on an aided section when a
thunderstorm got going. We sheltered under an overhang. John was very agitated.
Sat on rucksacks as suggested in Laurie's book.
The
storm passed and we continued on interminably. It was hard going all the way. Aided
in places, not in others. Steep, nasty scree, steep frozen snow, but only I
used my axe. Cloud below, as all day, and above.
Stupendous
views, if atmospheric and not capturable on film. Giddying drops. It was a
great relief to reach the Forcella di Comedon (2067 metres), after an 850 metre
climb, at about 8 pm. It didn't take long to descend to the Bivacco Feltre
(1930 metres) which we spurned in favour of a lovely meadow. My freeze dried supper
was quickly cooked and this entry made by 10 pm by candlelight.
Decide
on a 7:30 start again tomorrow. Just the route description makes me giddy. Lots
of interesting flowers today, but no time to identify them. Nearly 13 hours on
the hoof.
Here's our route - 20 km, with 2400 metres of ascent.
Click on the images for better versions.
Thanks go to Martin W for supplying the pictures taken during Laurie's tenure as diarist.
No comments:
Post a Comment