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We agree on an outing on the Gran Sasso. We'll sleep out in the open at Campo Imperatore, then at first light we set off on the paths.
When we get to Campo Imperatore the sky is partly covered with cloud and a strong, cold wind is raging over the whole square. Sleeping up high along the path would make the night a bit... ahem... long. We decide to sleep in the car. The Multipla I bought recently was a choice made partly with this in mind. It's a big car, handy for carrying lots of hiking companions or for sleeping in before a hike.
We fold down the seats and slip into our sleeping bags. Next to us a great number of campervans and cars... they're all here for the night of San Lorenzo. Some have even pitched a tent on the car park. After a short chat sleep takes over and we sleep straight through from ten in the evening to first light.
At six other hikers start to arrive; we too get out of our sleeping bags and are on the move in a few minutes. We're on the path and the mountain is already swarming with hikers. Most of them are walking towards the Rifugio Duca degli Abruzzi.
The temperature is certainly not summery: over the last few days a weather front from the north has cooled the air up high and we're forced to put on our windproofs.
At the foot of Monte Cefalone we meet the usual chamois, keeping a safe distance. They seem to be laughing at us from high on the rocks. For them it's so natural to perch on peaks and knolls as if it were nothing.
We pick up the long chute that climbs between rocks and small outcrops to the Cefalone; at a col we cross over and start down the long, exposed Malecoste ridge.
My memory of this ridge had faded quite a lot. The exposure is considerable and I must admit I found myself ill at ease more than a few times. The unease gets much worse when I'm forced to walk on fine gravel. To get past a little downhill step on fine scree I decide to deviate and end up down-climbing. I feel much more at ease climbing than on a surface (even a gently sloping one) covered in pebbles and sand. It's a paradox, because climbing unroped on exposed spurs is a far more serious imprudence than moving along a path.
On the southern side the mountain plunges towards Assergi; on the northern side the tilted slabs slide inexorably towards the Vallone del Venacquaro. The optical effect on the ridge is exceptional. We go first on the southern side, then on the northern one and finally on the southern side again, following the faint beginnings of a trace. Only a few pitons driven into the rock confirm that we're going the right way.
We often use hands and feet to keep our balance; I'm surprised that no fixed steel or kevlar rope has been put up yet. At the foot of Picco Giovanni Paolo II we climb carefully on fine gravel. Maurizio waits while I go into the hole... with my whole rucksack... awkward, terribly awkward; I should have taken the rucksack off, but laziness wins hands down.
I tell Maurizio to pass me the rucksack, then he follows me right into the hole. We're on the summit of Picco Giovanni Paolo II, also known as the gendarme of the Malecoste or Cima Wojtyla. The view, plunging away on every side, is astonishing. Maurizio is overjoyed to be here, thrilled to have done this ridge and to have climbed this summit.
In the distance, just as happened three years ago in this very spot, the Corno Grande and the Corno Piccolo are being covered in cloud. Monte Corvo too is starting to cloud over, and the clouds look threatening. The damp, cold wind lashes us from the north and we fear a change in visibility...
Ending the day at 9.00 in the morning would be a real shame, so we carry on to Cima delle Malecoste. We get there in half an hour; we're keeping up a really excellent pace. What strikes you most on the summit of the Malecoste are the rocks below, the spires and pinnacles that drop in a long, rugged ridge towards the Sella di Falasca. The huge bulk of Monte Corvo seems out of reach and, as every time, I still wonder how I'll ever get to its summit.
We come down from the Malecoste and drop into the Vallone del Venacquaro. It's here that we find ourselves among erratic boulders of gigantic size and dolines that look more like real sinkholes.
We head for the Sella del Cefalone, where we cross over towards Val Maone. At the Sella del Cefalone we go down and meet hikers climbing towards Pizzo d'Intermesoli. The path coming down from the Sella del Cefalone calls for some care here too. I don't have poles and I'm forced to use my hands.
We walk below the pinnacles of the Cefalone to the Passo del Portella. Maurizio often goes ahead to act as my “hare”; I chase him, but it's hard work. He has excellent legs and an iron will and, although he says he's an anxious type, he shows quite the opposite: the calm of someone with a real passion for the mountains. I, on the other hand, have lost my fitness yet again; as usual I'm short of breath and heavy-legged. A terrible diet has also put a few extra kilos back on me; I know I should be more careful, but the reality of daily life is far more complicated than you might imagine.
The weather seems to be holding and luckily we don't end up in the fog. We reach Campo Imperatore at twelve thirty. The car park is crowded with people; at the Albergo di Campo Imperatore they have set up a counter and a barbecue. We order 10 arrosticini and two rolls with sausage and greens. All this is just the right refreshment for the spirit and the "belly"... We're happy with an excellent walk in the mountains. And we're already planning more hikes...
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