A friend taught me that when you have the feeling that everything is going wrong, an extra effort is needed: throw yourself out of bed, lace up your boots and set off without thinking too much...
...set off far away, no matter where, no matter when, set off to try to reverse the negative trend. That's how, when everything seems to be going wrong, like the sine curve in an algebra equation, the trend suddenly changes direction. Everything starts to go the right way.
I hurl myself out of my scorching bed, the torrid summer seems set on cooking us to a turn; I improvise a rucksack, a bit of water, two sandwiches and the camera. It's four in the morning and in less than half an hour I'm on the Autostrada del Sole.
To get to Campitello Matese from Rome the route is long and winding. My head is full of thoughts and the time passes quickly. At half past six I'm below Monte Miletto. Around me the ski lifts, the buildings, the big car parks, the bars, the ski schools. The place is certainly not one of the most fascinating and in any case there's a general decay that strikes the attentive eye.
The eastern side of the Miletto is exposed to the first light of the sun and the heat already has me dripping with sweat. I launch myself up the ski slopes. For this hike I have two goals: on the one hand, to put the summit of Monte Miletto in the tally of my collection of summits. On the other, to drag myself out of the house just when, against all odds, this wouldn't have been possible.
I head towards a little black dot I can make out on the top of the mountain; already at 1800 m my T-shirt is soaked with sweat. I stop again and again to drink, drink and drink some more. I have plenty of water and I'm not worried about squandering a few extra drops...
As I leave the ski slopes I manage to pick up the eastern ridge of the glacial cirque that lies right below the Miletto. I've seen views of this kind before and, as usual, sheer walls hold a strong fascination for me, both aesthetically and from a mountaineering point of view. I climb along the ridge until I come out near the little wooden hut. There are satellite dishes; in fact the hut is a repeater and isn't even the summit. The summit lies further towards the western side. When I reach the summit it's a disappointment. The summit is a heap of antennas, crosses, votive trinkets and memorial plaques which, beyond their religious and sentimental meaning, disfigure the freedom of the summit. I'm not against summit crosses. What bothers me is the arrogance of human beings in occupying every possible space, as if those summits belonged to them by right. We forget that we are guests and, while we forget it, we furnish the planet with knick-knacks representing our feelings. It's honourable to remember a friend who has passed away, it's honourable to commemorate the value that friend had for us. But I believe this should be done in the privacy of our small lives. What's the point of letting others know our feelings with so much ostentation?
I started walking in the mountains on tiptoe, without making noise, trying not to leave traces of my passage. I considered it important not to make my presence felt, because I've always thought of leaving to my children, to others, the world just as I had found it, in its most natural, wild, free state. But I see that even in the deepest religious faith certain delicacies, certain sensitivities, certain regard for others are still missing.
The summit of Monte Miletto is just a trig point on a map, it's just another summit for the collection. A disappointment from the aesthetic point of view, a disappointment about human behaviour.
Only the view over the Lago del Matese and the Gallinola is a balm for the eyes and for the soul.
In this sense the hike had its surprise. The Monte Miletto massif also includes the bulk of the Gallinola. A ridge that is not very pronounced but has a varied and interesting shape. The Gallinola lies more on the south-eastern side. From the entrance to Campitello Matese I take the Strada Provinciale 106 to head towards the locality of Capodacqua. I cross the plateau below the Gallinola, where I take some photos. The place is as wild as Monte Miletto is not. I reach the Ristoro “La Baita” and take a few more photos. I want to come back to the Gallinola with my children. It's a commitment I make to myself for the next hikes.
The Monte Miletto massif redeems itself with this long, winding ridge, fortunately leaving me, despite the first disappointments, with the desire to come back.
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