Adventures in the Alps: Discovery, Height Limits, and Hidden Charm
Life’s most incredible adventures often come by chance, and my recent trip through the breathtaking Alps was no exception.
This journey reminded me of the unpredictable beauty waiting just beyond the planned destination. Sometimes, the best stories are found when we step off the beaten path.
Like many of my destinations, I found this place by chance. Yes, I had thought about going to Colle del Nivolet to visit my beloved marmots, but not today. There is a trail I want to do there, but after almost a year of barely leaving the house, I wanted to take a couple of preparatory walks first. The trail I want to do at Colle del Nivolet is maybe at 3000 meters, and I can feel sick at this altitude. So I looked for something simpler first.
By the way, did you know that everyone has their own height beyond which they can't move anymore? Many years ago, an instructor told me how he (together with a group) had climbed a peak - I no longer remember what it was called, the peak. I was young, strong, and trained, he said. We got to a few meters from the peak, literally a dozen. I fell, he said, and I couldn't move anymore. It was infinitely frustrating; I couldn't do these few meters and had to give up.
Climbers and instructors in the Caucasus love to tell fairy tales, and I didn't believe him. I laughed. Only here, in the Alps, have I known this feeling.
An Italian family owns a house at an altitude of 1800 m in Val d'Ayaz. They can no longer come to this house and must sell it because, with their age, the doctors have forbidden them to stay so high.
I noticed that you start to feel the height starting from 1500 m. A couple of years ago, I wanted to climb from Passo Salati (2980 m) towards the Stolemberg peak, but at a certain point, my head started spinning so much that I had to give up the idea. Since I'm walking alone, and at 60+, I prefer not to look for trouble.
Well, said this: I will turn back to my Monday adventure.
The day started off badly: I took a wrong turn and wasted an hour before I got back on the right track. At Rosone, you can see a car road on the map. All the maps, photos, etc. show a car road. But, as it often happens in Italy, the maps, arrows, and pictures are not always what you see in the place. This one was a terrible one-car lane. If you find another car, you must reverse gear until you find a larger space to make the other car pass.
And to your right, right where the asphalt ends, the cliff begins. It's even worse than the Amalfi Coast: at least the road there is pretty wide almost everywhere. In the Alps, narrow roads are quite common, but this one was just “good”.
Finally, in Rocci, the side valley that interested me began. I thought of reaching the Lake Teleccio dam and then walking near the other lake on the right. Nobody had to give me a medal for achieving the goal, so the idea was to get to where I could physically arrive in the other lake's direction.
BUT. The road was closed at 1400 m. Point. About 5 kilometers from the dam. There was no place to park the car and I had to renounce on the walk.
I still had great joy: I love laburnum, and many flowering plants were there.
On the way back, I stopped to take a couple of photos of an abandoned village. I noticed that immediately, some locals had arrived in their cars to check out what this who-knows-who was doing.
Seeing an old lady taking pictures with her mouth open, they retreated, reassured. The paradox is that these houses are not abandoned: there are working meters on the walls.
On the descent, I prayed not to meet anyone. My poor old Mitsubishi saved me this time, too. Not all cars are that good. Next time, it will be Colle del Nivolet. The marmots are waiting for me.
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