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Sunday 28 September 2008
The Monti Marsicani are a mountain group inside the Abruzzo National Park. Because of its position, far from the main motorway routes leading to Rome, we have always neglected exploring the Park, concerning ourselves more with mountain groups such as the Velino, the Gran Sasso or the Monti Reatini. Wrongly, we concentrated on nearer mountain groups, thinking that the mountains of the Park were of lesser interest. We are talking about the Apennines, of course, mountain formations with little dolomitic erosion, grassy ridges, soft slopes and delicate, lovable curves.
Never visiting the Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise National Park at least once is certainly a serious gap for any self-respecting hiker.
Monte Marsicano as a destination can give great satisfaction to the mountaineer and to the most hardened hiker. The most convenient starting point is near Opi, a small village of houses perched on a rocky crag. Coming from Pescasseroli you go past Opi, leaving it on your left. At the first junction on the Strada Regionale SR 83 you turn left onto Via Strada Dei Cementi; the first on the right is a dirt track (hard to spot) that takes you close to a sheep farm. As soon as the road becomes impassable you leave the car.
For this hike there are three of us: me, D.R. and Andrzej, whom we had taken along on the long trek on Monte Velino a couple of months earlier. Andrzej has a good pace and a great longing for the mountains, as we do, for that matter. We get on well because, while staying together, each of us manages to find our own moments of solitude, reflection, thought and, for Andrzej, a little prayer too.
The morning is cool, a few timid wisps of mist still wander about the valley and over Opi, giving a strange, ghostly look to this first autumn hike. It's a month since I've been out and my body is weakened. You lose your fitness and your capacity to recover so quickly... but I already know we'll make up for it. D.R. has already been up the Marsicano but gave in (it didn't take much) to the temptation of bagging the two summits of Serra Cappella and the Ninna in one go. We head through the wood following fairly clear traces of path. You have to be very careful not to confuse the path proper with the tracks left by livestock, horses and red deer, which at this time of year populate these mountains. We hear the deep bellowing of the deer, it being the mating season. We even manage to see a few on the ridges, but they are very shy and quickly flee at our presence.
Out of the wood we find ourselves on the western ridge of the fore-summit of Monte Marsicano; slowly we decide to bear left (towards the north), heading for the more southerly of the two summits of Serra Cappella. The ascent is long but not too exhausting. The ridge is a grassy inclined plane covered with stones. It's still early, the ridge is still in shade and the frost on the stones is frozen. A couple of times I risk falling, but the trekking poles make it much easier for us to keep our balance.
The two summits of Serra Cappella (South at 2056 m, North at 2038 m) are reached easily. The distances are covered quickly too. The view towards Pescasseroli is nothing to write home about, and the clouds that were gathering all around certainly didn't make it any more interesting. Towards Monte della Corte, to the east, you can already enjoy a wilder panorama of woods and bare mountain peaks. A few deer are still wandering about, we hear their insistent roaring, of some we see the silhouette fleeing in the distance, but as usual the photographs don't do justice to these splendid wild animals.
The return from Serra Cappella is quick: we move along the rocky crest that drops sheer on the north side. At the foot of the north fore-summit of Monte Marsicano we wish one another good luck. We are already tired from the climb to the Serre and now we have to tackle a rather steep pull of about 200 metres. D.R. and I take the slope head-on. We reach the top strangely exhausted. Me panting, D.R. muttering to himself every twenty metres (strange, since he's not the complaining type).
From the north fore-summit of Monte Marsicano we have the summit of the Marsicano within reach; not far off, Andrzej is waiting for us: he didn't want to go up the fore-summit, bearing along the ridge towards the main summit instead.
From the summit of the Marsicano you get a very clear view of the whole group. The two summits of Serra Cappella, Monte della Corte, the north fore-summit of the Marsicano, points 2252 and 2253, Monte Ninna, Monte Forcone and Pizzo di Monte Calanga.
The weather begins to turn, the clouds close in above and around us. We are all tired and no longer so sure we can reach the Forcone or the Ninna. We decide to reach the col between points 2252 and 2253. Here a question arises. How come this col is higher than the main summit that gives its name to the group? How come it is not considered a destination in its own right, as the watershed summit between Marsicano, Forcone and Ninna? And the key question: how do we decide whether a high point on a mountain is a summit?
We eat our sandwich, a few snacks, some fruit and plenty of water. Between a chat and a photo we spend a quiet half-hour resting. We decide to go down by way of the summit of Monte Calanga, to see that enormous cross you can see straight from Opi.
The descent winds along the western ridge of the Marsicano, following the path that leads into the wood and then onto the dirt track. The descent is gruelling too, yet in spite of everything we reach the cars in just two hours. Perhaps we walked too fast. Andrzej seems to be feeling it. When you go into the mountains as a pair, it's a different matter. As three you have to be more careful, because you risk swallowing up the unlucky third. But as usual Andrzej doesn't seem to complain, although he is visibly happy to be back at the car.
Once again a very successful hike. Serra Cappella Nord, Serra Cappella Sud, the fore-summit of Monte Marsicano, Monte Marsicano, Monte Calanga.
I have to say “mea culpa”: lately I've been concentrating too much on the number of summits I bag. D.R. too confesses to me that this is not what we should be looking for. I can't wait for the winter season, when an expedition to conquer a single summit is already a physical and spiritual massacre. The cold winter and the snow that hinder our way are enough, helping us to go deeper down into ourselves, because that is exactly what we were looking for.
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