Monte Amaro by the Rava della Giumenta Bianca

What drives a man up the mountain? What drives a human being to inflict sweat, fatigue and tension on himself just to reach the top of an arid heap of inhospitable rocks?
Since I started mountaineering I have been able to feel sensations of extraordinary intensity. But the most extraordinary thing is what happens in a man's head when he finds himself in an extreme environment like the winter mountains. During a climb countless things happen and they are all extremely revealing. To a large extent climbing a mountain is like going back over your whole existence. As doesn't happen at other moments of daily life, you manage to find the mental space to take stock; it's the moment of calm reflection and of spiritual deepening.
And so it was for me this time...
My first two attempts on Monte Amaro, between mistakes and ill-judged approaches, were the biggest failures of my mountaineering record. The size of the massif has always made me think of the western side as “my” Nanga Parbat of the Apennines.
In the face of death everything stops. Our greed stops, hatred stops, desire stops, every stupid human vanity stops... In the face of death the train of life stops, just as a man stops on the summit of a mountain.
I accompanied my grandfather René to the summit of this mountain that is so hard to reach, holding his hand until he finally had the strength to fly away beyond the summit.
I dedicate this so demanding summit to him.
For me this mountain has been an important reflection: if death is so terrible in our eyes, then we might as well commit ourselves to giving value to the good things and the beautiful things in life. What I find myself asking is why, then, in the face of this awareness, I can't manage to be wiser and instead keep cultivating the darkest sides of my character, my worst attitudes?
I left Rome at 3:45; there was no one on the roads, only solitude and my thoughts.
The feeling is strong; the darkness of the night inspires a certain fear and a deep state of inner reflection. After about 3 hours of driving I arrived at the foot of the Majella. It's 6.30; near a small clearing under the trees I leave the car. We're close to Fonte Fredda, a drinking trough at about 1260 metres. From here about 1500 metres of ascent await me.
You cross the open grassy slopes below Monte Amaro, heading towards the Rava della Giumenta Bianca. The rava (gully) is clearly visible; a long tongue of icy snow stretches down to the debris carried by the avalanches. In the wood near the rava the trees are all bent by the passage of the many avalanches.
To reach this summit I decide I want to be steady, regular, systematic; I decide to stop about every hour, every 300 metres of height gained. Already at 1500 metres I start to get rather out of breath; I stop only to drink a little water, but I'm in fairly good shape and carry on steadily up to the tongue of icy snow. I move along the right-hand edge of the tongue of ice, trying to gain height as fast as possible. At 1800 m I finally decide to put on my crampons. The snow is so icy that I don't even need to use gaiters; there's no need for them.
At every stop I drink water and eat a few pieces of chocolate. The pace is regular, so regular that I fall into a meditative trance. I feel good and I wouldn't swap this effort for any worldly entertainment of any kind.
At 2300 metres the rava has a hump and a few little rocks, where I stop to decide which way to take; from here in fact you can choose several ways: on the left and in the centre two narrow, steep little gullies are overlooked by low rock towers. On the right the normal route, which reaches a wide balcony looking out over the Vallone di Femmina Morta. It's from here that I decide to go up.
From the balcony I do the last push to the summit in the company of Fabrizio, an experienced ski mountaineer from Modena. He slept in his car and early this morning set off to enjoy the climb in the first light of the morning.
We reach the summit with a group of three young people who came up by the Rava della Vespa.
The wind is blowing hard and it's difficult just to stay on your feet. A few very quick ritual photos and we immediately take refuge in the Bivacco Pelino. Outside you can hear the wind, but inside the bivouac hut we're warm and can rest comfortably to get our strength back.
The return is quick, very quick, and I feel as happy as a child. Above all I'm happy to have got back my longing for adventure, my longing for impossible hours, for boundless mountains. I'm happy to have got back that intimate bond with the mountains that always leads me back to rediscovering my human sides.