Balzo della Chiesa

Saturday, 8 October 2011

The rules of the Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise National Park require hikers to visit the park keeping strictly within the network of authorised paths, that is, the ones that appear on, and are known from, the Park's own maps. You are not allowed in any way to leave these paths and, as a consequence, to go up the summits inside the Park's Integral Reserve Area.

To climb a summit in the Park's Integral Reserve Area you have to ask the Park Authority for special authorisation, fully explaining the reasons for the request. The committee of the Club 2000m worked tirelessly to catalogue the summits above 2000 metres along the whole of the Apennines. A piece of work that cost a dense exchange of communications, endless back-and-forth emails to agree on the principles that define a certain portion of mountain as a “summit”. The result is a list that in 2010 was  finally certified by the Società Geografica Italiana (Italian Geographical Society), through which the Club 2000m manages to give value to the research done on maps and directly in the field. To check the altitude of a single summit, numerous hiking groups are mobilised, who, on an entirely voluntary basis, put their energy into day-long expeditions on the paths of the Apennines.

The curiosity to get to know the summits inside the Integral Reserve Area could only be satisfied with the cooperation of the Park Authority and the constant commitment of the Club 2000m. After a formal request to climb to the summit of the “Balzo della Chiesa”, the Park Authority at last assigns two men to accompany a group of no more than 20 people along a set route.

Enthusiasm is sky-high. Everyone who in the past worked actively for the Club  2000m so that goals like this one could be reached is thrilled with the great opportunity offered by the park.

This article won't talk about the route; we haven't prepared any fact sheet, the route is not open every day to every hiker, and perhaps that's a good thing, and that's how we would like it to stay. Regardless of having managed to climb to the summit of the Balzo della Chiesa, in this article I'll take the opportunity to talk about some of the people who created and carried through this wonderful day.

We meet at nine in the morning at the barrier marking the entrance to the tourist area of the Camosciara. We leave some cars in the bar's car park and carry on, led by the Park Rangers' car, as far as the tarmac car park where the paths for exploring the park start.

I believe that the members of all clubs, of all hiking groups, and in any case everyone who claims to love nature, the wilderness, the mountains, should learn to call the peaks by their real name. They are not “forbidden” summits; we should speak instead of “protected” summits. It's only a matter of point of view. But we are so aggressive, we gobble up the land to such an extent that we no longer realise the devastation we are bringing everywhere. And we sulk like cross little children if someone takes a few toys out of our hands.

We were talking about the opportunity offered by the Park. Walking inside the immense rocky amphitheatre of the Camosciara, I discover how this hike has been  not only a chance to climb a “protected” summit but to learn to look at the surrounding nature through the eyes of those who have chosen to live that nature and protect it.

The Camosciara is an example of excellence in the environmental protection work of the Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise National Park; I was able to experience how important it is to protect all this, how much value there is behind certain bans.

I know that what I'm about to declare will meet a lot of disagreement, but it's only a question of choices...

If in the past I had been prepared to climb the forbidden summits too, breaking the ban, even ready to pay a fifty-euro fine, today I realise that this vanity of mine of collecting summits is just a futile sandcastle compared with the importance of protecting this nature. Even more important, from now on, is not spreading the bad habit of telling everyone “how clever we were to break such an important rule”. We have found on many websites and on YouTube stories and videos from people who show off about how clever they were at breaking the Park's rules. This is the usual, typical, grotesque Italian-style case in which we're all good at complaining that things are going badly, but when it comes to making a sacrifice, giving something up or making a real commitment, we're the first to find the shortcuts for breaking the bans.

As far as I'm concerned the case is closed: I choose not to climb the protected summits of the park. I won't extend the intrusive needs of my ego to where, for far higher reasons, today more than ever, protecting nature (as well as one's own principles) is the priority.

As well as a chance to see the unrepeatable spectacle of the Camosciara, the hike was a wonderful opportunity to get to know a few old acquaintances better, to take an indiscreet peek into the hearts of new friends...

Giuseppe Albrizio

He completed his collection of summits long ago and could quite easily have avoided coming back to the same summits. But he is the President of the Club 2000m and nobody is more enthusiastic than him about the result achieved by the working group. When Giuseppe greets you he is beaming, he has a smile that lights up his face; he already seems completely satisfied by the fact that the whole group turned up. Age has taken a few hairs off his head, but his brain is all there, and when he speaks he says sensible things, the kind of things it's hard to disagree with. He learns fast... He's no computer person, yet when I helped him build his website “Le Mie Passeggiate” (http://www.lemiepasseggiate.it) it took very little to explain how he should use it. In a few phone calls and some muddled explanations sent by email, Giuseppe managed to make full use of all the potential of the site and of the internet. Today his site is one of the best ranked for specific searches on the summits of the Apennines.

Alberto (the Park Ranger)

Alberto takes up position at the back of the hiking group, keeping an eye on who is slower and who is having some trouble on the trickier moves. The route the Park Rangers have chosen is one of a kind. The vegetation has repopulated the wood; the paths, now “forbidden” and never used, are disappearing. Here and there the signs of human presence are still visible.
Alberto has a passion you can see welling up from his eyes. As we walk he points out an old charcoal-burning site. Alberto is generous with his explanations; it's the first time anyone has told me fragments of the Park's history. They are small observations that change the way you look at the Park. When we come out of the wood he pulls out his telescope to look for some animals. Then he sets off again, keeping a careful eye on us as we toil up the path. He has worked in the Park for more than twenty years and has been a Park Ranger for three. He has seen it all, like that time he was getting close to a cave and a Bear (probably a female) came out... well, there was nothing to do but withdraw, then he laughs... because this is surely one of the many adventures that fill his memories. But he laughs with us too, at our enthusiasm at being there at that moment. And yet he has no reason to: for him this is just work. But no! He laughs because Alberto really loves this job. It's men like him who make the difference, who devote a whole life to a mission; without men like him, like Mario, the park could not exist.

Mario (the Park Ranger)

Mario is a giant among giants. He leads us with lightness and simplicity among rock steps, tangled passages, little gullies and narrow paths; he moves up and down the Camosciara as if it were nothing. It's his home; we call him "velvet step"; his pace is constant and relentless, and we follow behind him, happy to be led by such a strong character... He may be a park ranger, of course, but for us hikers he's one of us. He has the mountains in his blood.
A heartfelt thank you to him from all of us.

Claudio Carusi

Last but not least: special thanks go to him; he gave up his time to organise this day, he handled the correspondence with the Park Authority, he arranged and coordinated the time and place of the meeting. Claudio has the discreet ability of a leader; his presence is discreet, witty, amused and amusing. We're at the Park bar, sitting round a big wooden table, laughing our heads off at the jokes we throw at one another. Claudio is already thinking about the next club outing. Without him all this would have been harder, if not impossible.

Special thanks to the guys of the Gruppo ZIS, who patiently listened to me (I'm a compulsive chatterbox), and to the Cavalieri della Polvere, with whom I had the pleasure of walking and laughing, and who brought a great deal of positivity and lightness to the day.

Balzo della Chiesa

At its lower altitudes the “Camosciara” is characterised by a dense wood of very tall beeches, some of which seem to reach more than twenty-five metres. Even the most insensitive hearts are struck by the magnificence of their size, not to mention the variety of colours that autumn can offer. In the highest part of the mountain we come across wonderful specimens of Black Pine, native to this rocky amphitheatre; in some spots we see them clinging to the rock, bearing witness to the ancient vegetation that populates these places. Higher still, coming out of the wood, the northern side of the mountain is deeply eroded by deep gullies which, overlooked by tall rock towers, stand out even deeper. Although I have visited many mountains, I have to admit that the Camosciara seems to be a truly unique case in the whole of the Apennines for the type and abundance of its vegetation.
At around 2000 metres we find a very dense population of mountain pine. As rare as it is annoying, it blocks our way; we make room for ourselves almost swimming through the branches, its strong smell soaks into our clothes, it smears our hands with resin and leaves us with a few scratches too. It's a love-hate thing with mountain pine, but the mountains wouldn't be the same without it.
On the summit the view takes our breath away: unique, varied, full of new perspectives. Helped by a clear, dry sky, the sun, not too high above the horizon, casts the mountain's shadow into the depths of the valley. Just a few clouds populate the sky, creating a perfect play of contrasts and depth of field. The ritual on the summit is always the same: group photos and photos of the view.
The summit, marked by a small summit cairn (2073 m), is the right mix of rocks, mountain pines and grass; a summit that, in its appearance, can really seem an ideal summit.