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The climb up the central gully of Monte Terminillo is a classic for Roman mountaineers. Technically not very difficult, the central gully involves about 200 metres of height gain at angles of around 35 degrees .
The instigator of the outing is Massimiliano: forced to take some days off to use up the holiday he had built up the previous year and never taken, he suggests going out midweek. I find it an excellent idea straight away. To leave no stone unturned I put the idea to the other members of the group. I know the take-up will be scarce if not nil, but hope is always the last to die. This time my hope is well rewarded, because Andrzej signs up for the outing too. Unlike Massimiliano, Andrzej has already been on the summit of the Terminillo, but always by the normal route. Neither of them has any idea what awaits them. Nothing terrifying, of course, just a little midweek funfair. As usual we get moving early and at first light we are already around Rifugio Sebastiani. The road has been cleared of the snow cover, which is by now well consolidated. Hard, in fact completely frozen.
The forecast said changeable weather but, against every forecast, there is only one great shining star in the sky: the sun.
We walk briskly to the foot of the central gully. The snowpack is rock solid; a thin sheet of ice produced by the surface melting of the snow covers everything, every surface, every hump. At the foot of the gully I remind Andrzej of the self-arrest manoeuvre. Too few notions for a climb that is, after all, a mountaineering one. The risk of falling is minimal, all the more so since the track is already there. Andrzej asks a few simple questions that make me understand his perfectly reasonable perplexity. It is his first real experience with crampons and ice axe. We begin to zigzag up the base of the gully. I wish everyone “good work” and start breaking trail. Massimiliano, as always, takes it easy and lets Andrzej go ahead, who follows confidently behind me, stepping in my every step. The sun is scorching and made even hotter by the complete lack of wind. Halfway up the heat is unbearable, so we decide to stop at the first rock sticking out of the snow. Andrzej and I secure our rucksacks and take off our jackets. The rest of the climb is pure patience, control and precise, methodical technique. Crampon, crampon, ice axe, crampon, crampon, ice axe... and so on, always keeping two points fixed on the ground so as never to lose balance. Andrzej tends to lean into the slope; I explain to him that on ice it is better to stay as upright as possible, so as to put all your weight on the crampons and improve their grip on the ice. Andrzej is as tall as I am and finds it hard to stay upright; he keeps having the feeling of falling backwards, thrown off balance by the rucksack on his back. I explain to him that it is a question of centre of gravity. We carry on.
At the end of the central gully the gully loses steepness and, opening out, ends up turning to the left. I let Andrzej go ahead; the track is still very clear, the exit through the not very pronounced cornice is intuitive and technically simple. Andrzej is overjoyed and with a final sprint comes out straight onto the summit without the slightest hesitation.
As on other occasions, the Terminillo gives us a day of splendid, generous sunshine. On the summit there is a bit of wind, nothing bothersome, if it weren't for the fact that we are soaked in sweat and the sweat is freezing on us.
Max joins us in a few minutes and at last all three of us are on the summit. A sandwich, a sip of water and we are already on the move to head home. The midweek outing leaves us little time, always worried about running into the “traffic” risk.
For the descent I decide to visit the Valle della Meta again, going round the whole summit of the Terminillo, partly so as to be able to observe and photograph it on all its sides. We start the descent into the Valle della Meta directly from the ugly summit monolith. We go down a slope of nothing but glassy ice. There are ski tracks: someone managed to ski down while the snowpack had not yet transformed, in spite of the ordinance of the Mayor of Micigliano, who in recent months had banned skiing there. The opinion among ski mountaineers is that a municipal ordinance of this kind is merely propaganda and, above all, a way of offloading any responsibility from the municipality.
We go straight down into the Valle della Meta; once almost at the bottom, Andrzej takes the opportunity to learn how to do the self-arrest manoeuvre with a few improvised slides.
The pace is good and we go round Monte Terminillo among icy humps covered by a persistent snow cover and imposing spires. Below the north face of the Terminillo I stop to take a few photos. The landscape is by now quite familiar to me; perhaps this is already the eighth time I have climbed this mountain. Over the years I have done more or less all the little gullies. All I am missing is the Chiaretti-Pietrostefani route, which should be climbed with the proper belay system, harnesses and ropes. My inexperience in this respect is total, and for years a “desire to understand the technique” has been unleashed in me, so as to come, in time, to master every aspect of it.
At the foot of the gully of the Chiaretti-Pietrostefani route we stop for ten minutes or so; I take the opportunity to draw up a mental balance sheet of the last six months. I look back and can say I have done and learned a great deal. In these last six months I have chalked up a rock course, an ice course and, “dulcis in fundo”, I learned to ski in the most spectacular of mountain settings: the San Martino di Castrozza ski area below the wonderful Pale di San Martino. I can consider myself satisfied, because never in previous years had I made so much progress in so little time. So, with humility and modesty, after taking the last photo of the Chiaretti-Pietrostefani route, I lower my gaze, which had been fixed on the very heart of this route …
From the base of the Chiaretti-Pietrostefani route the return to Rifugio Sebastiani takes us no more than half an hour. All three of us are amply repaid for having enjoyed one of the few sunny days of these last few weeks.
We go back home each with our own load of satisfactions: me with my usual load of photographs; Massimiliano has finally managed to do his first route on the Terminillo; Andrzej has done his first crampons-and-ice-axe route of a mountaineering nature.
Another great day of sun, good company, dreams and hopes, lived in the shadow (or in the light) of the Romans' Mountain...
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