I can give up a summit, but...

Even though it's hard and complicated to organise an outing, especially when you have small children, the longing for the mountains is so strong that in the end, with some sacrifice on the part of our wives, here we are on the road.
At five we meet at the Tivoli motorway toll booth. The target was Pizzo di Moscio from Ceppo, sooooo faaaar away..., so far that it takes about 3 hours by car from Rome. So we decide to fall back on a simpler Gran Sasso.
For a long time now the north-west fore-summit of Malecoste has been waiting for me to conquer it. So I suggest going up Pizzo di Camarda from San Pietro della Ienca.
Maurizio still remembers the Malecoste from our last outing. For him that's absolutely fine, so the change of plan is "a done deal".
I could talk a lot about my longings, so many endless longings. I could talk about my desire for mountaineering and about the fear that keeps me away from steep rock faces. I could talk about my desire for ski mountaineering and my complete inability to ski. I could talk about the longing for rock climbing, the touch of the rock... that's one of those atavistic longings that go back to my first climbs as a child. The pleasure of touching stone, of putting my hands on the holds, of pulling myself up, inventing routes on the rocks to reach the highest point. The mere fact of being able to rest your hands on it is an intense and inexplicable pleasure. Touching, leaning, finding the right balance, hauling yourself up onto the next hold.
There are endless longings and, especially when you make so many sacrifices day after day to keep your little family going, those longings grow sharper. You can't have everything, so you choose, and when you do you focus on the simplest things, the ones that take less commitment. That's how you end up walking towards Pizzo di Camarda. That's enough to make you feel fulfilled; you go straight up the slope to train your legs, which at forty are already an old man's legs. OK, we're here on this mountain to train.
We stay in the shade for most of the route, almost until we get to Piano di Camarda; it's pleasant because the air is still warm and autumn hasn't really taken over yet. Maurizio seems to be in tremendous shape, he moves at a brisk pace up to the first rock steps. When he climbs he looks confident, but I know from what he's told me that his relationship with rock is still full of shadows, of fears... and not without reason. He's here partly to face his own fears. And since I've known him he has already worked deeply through his relationship with anxiety and fear. His self-awareness and his down-to-earth nature make him a really curious character.
Once we come out near Piano di Camarda, all that's left is to climb Colle Quadreglio; it's a demanding and almost unbroken slog up to the summit of Pizzo di Camarda. On the hill we find herds of horses and cows roaming free. A few fine sheepdogs watch us, bark and then go back to lying on the grass. They're there to keep an eye on the horses. It's the first time I've seen a dog guarding horses. I stop often to get my breath back, my stamina is really poor; Maurizio, on the other hand, doesn't seem to feel it at all.
In three hours we climb almost 1200 metres, an average of 400 metres of height gain an hour. We're well above the average of 300 m/h, which is to say that despite the effort we're still in shape after all.
When we reach the summit the view towards Monte Corvo is tremendous. I can feel it calling me... I've wanted to go there for eight years but I still can't find the way or the courage to get near it. The Corvo is the most remote and wildest mountain of the Gran Sasso group. It's a mountain I have idealised. It stands for everything I still have to conquer inside myself. My dream has always been to conquer Monte Corvo at an important moment of my life, when all the things I'll have done by then will have taken shape as a "meaning" and a "why". The Corvo is still a long way off; perhaps it's good that I still have something left to conquer.
Maurizio tells me he's not physically in shape. His legs are shaking and he only has enough strength left to go down.

I lean out beyond Pizzo di Camarda to see where the Anticima Nord-Ovest del Malecoste lies. It looks a very long way off, or perhaps it's only the perspective and the depth of the landscape that make it look so far. It's the second time in a few weeks that I've come this close to this little triangular cusp.

It's the second time I've found myself giving it up. But I don't mind, because the principles I've always believed in come straight to mind: team spirit. I can give up a summit, but I can't give up a rope partner. I think of the new logo designed for the newborn (reborn) Gruppo Escursionistico Aria Sottile and I feel proud of having stood my ground on unpopular principles. I'm glad I can guarantee my companions the reliability of the right choices. The Anticima Nord-Ovest del Malecoste isn't going anywhere... there'll be other chances to come back. In fact, for this very summit my mind is already setting to work on a plan to climb it from Val Chiarino... why not... perhaps the most exciting part is always planning the next outing !!!
The return is very quick. We go back to Piano di Camarda, where horses and cows are lazing in the sun near the little high-altitude lake. We pick up the gravel road that serves the high stazzi (shepherds' stone enclosures). In just an hour and a half we're back at the car. Pleased at having trained our legs and got a bit of puff back. We realise that in the mountains it's essential to arrive with a trained body. Even for technically undemanding hikes it's always better to have your legs as responsive as possible. I know very well that to stay in training a few hours of training a week would be enough, and in any case always managing to get out at least a couple of times a month. Breaking the continuity is the surest way to lose fitness and find yourself ranting on the slope just because your legs are shaking uncontrollably. It's a matter of safety on the one hand, but it's also a matter of pleasure: it's clearly more enjoyable to walk without too much effort and with full control of your own muscles.
Another interesting and stimulating day in the mountains, bringing home in our pockets plenty of good reflections and a great, great deal of satisfaction.