On maps and in the 3D renderings of Google Earth, the western side of Monte Sirente looks like an inclined plane sloping gently down towards Ovindoli, Celano and Aielli.
From the summit of the Sirente, for those who have been up there from the north side, this side of the mountain looks like an endless succession of humps and dolines.
The route that climbs from Val d'Arano to the summits of the Sirente and Punta Macerola, being very long (about 8.5 km), may seem monotonous and extremely demanding.
Yet this route keeps plenty of surprises for the hiker: the landscapes, the variety of the terrain and of the possible routes, the little summits all around...
We arrive rather late at the mouth of Val d'Arano and right away you sense the care the public authorities devote to these places: the land is farmed, but human presence is controlled and not invasive. We stop the car near the no-entry sign.
Near the sign two young men are getting ready: they are Flavio and Antonio. We had only met on the internet, after a quick exchange of emails. Flavio recognises me and introduces himself. I'm happy to meet him and to turn the virtual reality of the internet into a real moment of acquaintance. Quite naturally we end up setting off as a group, even though Flavio and Antonio have different goals. They have to get home early and, with a long route ahead of them, they have to try to be quick.
With me there are also my neighbour Massimo and my wife Valeria. Despite the height gain, I hope this hike is within her reach.
Massimo, for his part, is an experienced mountaineer and has come with us to learn, to get to know us and to get his legs into shape.
At 8.40 our day begins. Leaving the car, we follow the path that climbs slowly towards the Bocchetta di Prato Popolo. The dirt track, very easy going, runs through a thick wood; the trees are still bare. On the branches you can just make out the buds ready to burst open for the spring that is now close. I try simply to imagine what walking in the wood might be like at the height of its spring awakening. I promise myself to come back with the children, a thought that will keep coming back to me all day.
As we move along the path we slowly gain height without feeling the effort too much. Valeria, who hadn't been to the mountains for a long time, shows no sign of tiredness... at least on this first stretch of the route. Along the path you can hear the constant rush of the water of the Torrente La Foce. In the distance the Serra di Celano shows its steep ramparts, plunging furiously into the valley as if to meet the facing walls of Monte Etra and Monte Secino. You can tell that the rocks in the distance form the spectacular Gole di Celano. I promise myself a visit as soon as possible.
The gorge is wonderful and contrasts sharply with the Avezzano plateau; I take a few photos, but against the light the result doesn't do full justice to the valley.
When we come out of the wood we're at the Bocchetta di Prato Popolo. The sun shines high in a sky streaked with a few clouds. It promises to be a hot and demanding day. A grey mare is galloping madly across the meadows, she seems seized by a sudden fit of happiness. She stops, then starts running again, climbing towards Vado Castello (towards Aielli).
From the Bocchetta di Popolo we can immediately see the summit of Monte Sirente and, having studied the maps a lot, I can also guess the position of Punta Macerola.
We follow the path for a short stretch, then leave it to follow an imaginary line pointing towards the summit of Punta Macerola.
At around 1900 metres, perhaps a bit more, we start floundering in the snow. On this side the Sirente has a peculiar feature. The rocks are deeply eroded by karst. The limestone has dissolved, forming holes as much as 40 centimetres wide and more than a metre deep. The snow has covered these holes and, when you accidentally put your foot on this soft snow, you end up sinking in up to your knee.
Massimo, like a good mountaineer, wore approach shoes. This saved him from cooking his feet in a hard, heavy boot. We, on the other hand, already have rather tired feet. A winter trekking boot is not ideal for walking on long dirt tracks.
When the snow arrives Massimo changes, putting on shoes better suited to snow.
As we gain height the view of Monte Etra becomes more and more fascinating. This little summit of 1818 metres has a wonderful bearing that contrasts with the Avezzano plateau below and blends in wonderfully with the nearby Serra di Celano. I'm very taken with the place.
Several times we take the map out to study the route, but we can't work out which line to take. Flavio and Antonio have quickened their pace and I see them floundering and snowshoeing up the slope. They look very tired... they will tell us later that they found it hard going on insubstantial snow, having to avoid and skirt round the rocks sticking out. It would have been even more tedious to keep putting the snowshoes on and taking them off.
I take some photos of Flavio and Antonio, to leave them a memento from someone who watched them climbing in the distance.
With Massimo and Valeria we stop a couple of times to drink and eat. Valeria is really made of tough stuff. She never complained, not even once... and yet I know very well how much it cost her to climb out of the many holes in the snow.
But then again, why complain? Aren't we here to toil?
At 2150 metres Valeria is worn out, she moves slowly and with great effort. The snow is deep and every step forward is extremely demanding. With my stride, much longer and quicker, I could easily go three times as fast. But one of my goals is to keep a compact group. Nobody gets left behind.
It has got late: it took almost 5 hours of walking to climb about a thousand metres of height gain. We weigh up the time needed for the return and realise it's starting to get late. Massimo suggests that he start back with Valeria while I go and earn myself the summit of Punta Macerola.
Massimo and Valeria stop to drink; I carry on at a forced-march pace, I can't waste time.
The last 100 metres of height gain are a massacre. It's two in the afternoon. My legs are in pieces, I'm dehydrated and I've eaten nothing but a sandwich. Flavio and Antonio are coming down from the Sirente and I see them stop on a pyramid of snow that I take for Punta Macerola. I wave to them, they see me and come towards me.
Flavio has the GPS and I ask him if he can tell me which of the 3 pyramids of snow is actually Punta Macerola. The GPS stopped showing the position of Punta Macerola a little while ago, so I decide to head for the highest summit.
When I reach 2276 metres I start crying like a child. I miss my partner. I would have liked to bring her up to this beautiful summit. It would have been a wonderful moment for me and for her. But things don't always go the way you imagine you can make them happen.
The phone rings: - Hello Giorgio... it's Antonio... the GPS has marked the summit. Look, the real summit is this other one further north... - I'm struck by Flavio and Antonio's thoughtfulness and grateful to them for showing me the way... for me this is priceless.
In a flash I remember reading that Punta Macerola is 26 metres lower than this pyramid of snow and rock. I'm furious with myself. I feel furious for having made the trivial mistake of choosing the highest summit, even though I knew Punta Macerola was the lowest pyramid in the whole area in front of the Sirente.
Rucksack on my back, I hurl myself down the slope, I run, I'm a runaway locomotive. In less than 10 minutes I'm on Punta Macerola. Inside me there's a whirlwind of emotions. All this is the fruit of serious reflection and of enormous tiredness. For this summit I've wrecked all my principles: I left Massimo and Valeria on their own, I stopped using the map, I chased "conquest for conquest's sake", a summit hunt that has by now become sterile, for which I'm sacrificing "family" and "friendships". I ended up cultivating the athletic feat while emptying it of the principles of the "rope team", of "camaraderie", of "mutual help"... emptied of the moral values that gave me so much comfort in the past, the very values for which I originally founded the Gruppo Escursionistico Aria Sottile. The principles of friendship and of prudence that could live side by side with a passion for the mountains, with the pleasure of experiencing these enchanting places with serenity and patience. Enchanting places capable of giving me back peace and tranquillity. Places where I began my deep reflections on life, places well known, not for nothing, as a calling to meditation.
I reach Punta Macerola just to tick it off. Yesss... this time too I've scored a goal... but just as in football stadiums you breathe an air of violence... I feel that this hysteria has pervaded my every action; the pleasure of collecting summits has become a self-destructive craving... yes... because a challenge against yourself produces a winner and a loser... and they're always the same person.
The descent is more like one single great tumbling fall. The deep snow lets me come down at unheard-of speed. Now my aim is to rejoin my original little group, because only there do I feel at ease, only in their company can I truly enjoy being in the mountains.
For Valeria the return was a test of endurance, patience and strength of character. The stiff boots have wrecked her feet. She puts one foot in front of the other with exasperating slowness. I feel frustrated and guilty for having imposed such a demanding hike on her. I load her rucksack onto my shoulders to lighten her step. All told, the descent from the Bocchetta di Prato Popolo was even longer than the ascent.
Flavio and Antonio catch up with us on the way down; they did a loop that took them over all the summits and back down by the Vallone del Puzzillo: they covered a route of 20 km with a total height gain of over 1130 metres.
Valeria and I, our legs mangled with tiredness after more than 16 km of route, both had the chance to rethink the way we want to go to the mountains. As far as I'm concerned, I've nurtured the hope of being able to enjoy these moments of pleasure more serenely, without letting the craving for conquest grip me too much; when all's said and done... to bring it all back to a sensible remark of Massimo's... we're still just Sunday Hikers... and there's nothing wrong with that... it's fine as it is.
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