Pizzo or Cima di Pretare by the Fonte delle Ciaule

The harsh east face of Monte Vettore ends in a little-known but deeply evocative summit: the Cima di Pretare, known simply as “il pizzo” (the peak).
Seen from the road that climbs from Pretare towards Forca di Presta, this impressive face certainly makes a big impression on the keen mountaineer.
For a long time I had dreamed of venturing right up under the great face, passing near the Grotta delle Fate. Many times, climbing Monte Vettore, I had stopped beneath the face, taking lots of photos to work out the possibilities of climbing it. But the pictures certainly don't help you understand the true nature of this rock face.

I had had a first encounter with the rocks of the east side of Monte Vettore on a fun outing with D.R. We had climbed the right-hand edge of the Canalone dei Mezzi Litri, following a barely hinted line among low pinnacles and spurs of rock outcropping  from the green, sloping meadows of the western ridge.

I still had the memory of the rock sizzling between my hands and, in my eyes, the marvellous rock formations I had come across on that improvised hike. An approach to the east face of Monte Vettore, right beneath “il pizzo”, was for me a little dream to be fulfilled calmly, without asking too much either of the mountain or of myself. And so on my birthday I gave myself a special outing that I had been keeping in the drawer since the year before.

On the road from Pretare to Forca di Presta you come to a large car park, a widening of packed gravel where you can leave the car. We are at 1400 metres, near a spring that is marked without a name on the CAI (Italian Alpine Club) map, a trough that gives the shepherds and their flocks plenty of cool water. A little higher up, east of the car park, you can easily pick out the Canalone dei Mezzi Litri, which climbs straight up to the Rifugio Zilioli.
Having located the Canalone dei Mezzi Litri, you cut across the open grassy slopes to its lower end where, near its right-hand edge, a path begins that winds among lush mountain pine. The path moves decidedly east, passing among trees and tall spurs of rock. The path is not waymarked at all. There are signs of poor maintenance; in places the erosion of the mountain has taken over and short stretches of path have completely disappeared. It isn't clear whether this path is the old  Sentiero dei Mietitori (mentioned in Calibani's book on the Monti Sibillini); in fact, though, this path runs at a height that in my opinion is too high for it to be that path.

The morning cool gives way to a hot, sultry wind rising from the valley along the face. I stop under a scraggy little clump of trees to look for some relief from the summer heat that is rapidly advancing. Suddenly a dull, unsettling noise makes me jump: a boulder the size of a football rolls down a small gully not far away. It's enough to make you go pale, the thought that this whole mass of crumbly rock is on the move. The strong temperature swing between night and day makes the rocks move and stones come loose. It's my first real encounter with this dangerous phenomenon I had only heard about. This time I've been far-sighted: I have my helmet with me and I don't hesitate even a second to put it on.

Following the path I move further and further east and slightly upwards (a mistake that will cost me the approach to the Grotta delle Fate). Moving upwards I leave the path and start climbing some green and decidedly steep meadows. The ice axe is not a tool to be used only in winter conditions; it turns out to be useful as a support and as an anchor where it is hard to find truly solid ones.

After a couple of hours' walking I find myself at the foot of a small gully formed by the run-off of meltwater and by the well-known Fonte delle Ciaule. The gully is characterised by sloping slabs between which, in places, a small trickle of water slowly flows. On the right-hand side of the gully I can see more sloping grassy slopes (too sloping), lots of loose rubble and rock slabs. I feel I'm venturing into an entirely new mountain and it's certainly not prudent to take chances when you're alone. It doesn't take long to realise that I won't climb by the steepest side; I'll be content to climb by the Fonte delle Ciaule. So I decide to move along the right-hand edge of the gully up to the summit pyramid, where a wide funnel full of loose rubble leads to the summit of the Vettore. Since leaving the path there have been quite a few grade II (UIAA) moves. I have to move slowly, shifting one foot at a time. Some moves are exposed, and this reinforces my “right choice” not to venture any further beneath the face of the “pizzo”.

When I finally reach the ridge, under a blazing sun and completely dehydrated, I catch my breath at the foot of the cross dedicated to Ilario Pallotta, a few metres below the summit. From here I can see, not far away, the Cima di Pretare. When the few condensation clouds thin out I decide to set off again. In less than twenty minutes I'm on the Cima di Pretare. The landscape takes your breath away; the drop falls without a break all the way down to Pretare, among pinnacles and little hanging meadows. I can only imagine what one might feel on a route that remains, prudently, still a dream.

After a demanding thousand metres, both physically and psychologically, I decide to go down via Forca di Presta. On the path I find a T-shirt lost by a lad who was on his way down. At Forca di Presta I meet the lad and give him back his T-shirt. In return I get a lift back to the car, parked at the bottom of the Canalone dei Mezzi Litri.

My experiences over these years spent among the mountains of the Apennines have always been gradual. Sometimes I have gone up solo, chancing routes that were not always easy and not always in proportion to my level of experience. But when I heard the voice of instinct I always knew how to put a stop to the risk. It isn't easy. You have to put ambition aside and think that there will certainly be other chances to live new and more exciting adventures.

This hike was exploratory as never before; I gained priceless experience, I understood something about the mountain, about this marvellous mountain, the Vettore, its loose rubble, its hanging meadows and its pinnacles plunging into nothingness.

At last, after some months of personal uncertainty, I feel I have recovered my desire for adventure, always steeped in that caution that has helped me through these years.