Terminillo by the Via Chiaretti-Pietrostefani

When generosity goes hand in hand with humility, when thought and reflection are all one with the ability to “do”, then the companion who leads you into the mountains will give you more than you can give  him. Massimo doesn't boast at all about his past experiences, he tells you about them as if they were the most normal thing in the world; indeed, they are the natural fruit of his passion for the mountains. Of course, because he certainly doesn't go into the mountains to collect pennants: he goes up his mountains because he wants to have fun, maybe feel the thrill that comes from a minimum of risk, while still managing to “feel good”.

The weather of the last few days has covered the mountains of the Apennines with a layer of no more than 30-40 centimetres of snow. The  low temperatures have produced a peculiar phenomenon. The first snowfalls melted in the sun and froze again. Later, light snowfalls covered the ice without transforming, though. The snow has built up in the gullies but the mountain as a whole is still fairly bare.

We reach the foot of the Via Chiaretti Pietrostefani at 9:00 after groping about for half an hour in the thick morning fog. All of a sudden the Terminillo lets us take in the whole view. The start of the route is an enigmatic mix of snow that is icy and powdery at the same time. We go from verglas to powder all the time, we keep playing the tightrope walker with the risk of landing on our backsides at every step. I don't like getting some pointy stone in my soft parts, so there's nothing for it but to put on the crampons.

On the saddle overlooking the Bosco della Vallonina the snow cover is thicker. On this side wind-blown snow has built up. It is partly transformed, in places crunchy just right... We quickly reach the mouth of the route with an easy traverse on verglas.

What worries me most is not slipping in this place with so little exposure, but the stones sticking out all over the slope. In these cases you should never let your imagination run wild but rather try to concentrate on the “things to do”. I will repeat this exercise throughout the whole climb.
The truth is that I have done much more hiking than mountaineering. Hiking is a much more romantic practice, almost “dreamy” and meditative, much more so than mountaineering, where concentration is far more decisive for getting out at the top. An apparently subtle but essential difference, a difference  that makes hiking a completely different activity from mountaineering. Mind you, this consideration takes nothing away from either of the two mountain activities.

Already on the first pitch we realise that there is really very little snow; we find a first step, which we get over on the left of the small gully, passing over rocks covered by a layer of verglas just a few centimetres thick. Massimo leads, and has to admit straight away that these conditions on the route are really exceptional.
The “Chiaretti-Pietrostefani” is normally graded PD+ (Peu Difficile, not very difficult, upper end of the grade), but the different snow conditions, as  you can easily imagine, can change the difficulty and the physical effort to be invested in the route.

The second step is a big boulder with a big red triangle painted on it. The snow below the boulder is powdery and you keep sinking in, impossible to cut a good step to stand on. Massimo has two extremely high-performance ice axes and manages to pull himself up almost entirely on his arms alone. Not without considerable difficulty I too manage to get up by sheer strength of arms and  knees. Pulling on my right arm I press with my left foot on a smear of ice no thicker than 2-3 centimetres. The crampon wedges into the ice marvellously and I manage to plant the picks higher and higher beyond the curve of the boulder. The ice holds marvellously, I pull myself up, in the end almost on all fours, and with blows of the ice axe I manage to get onto the boulder. It is a great result.

I lead the third pitch; though not very long, it is on perfect ice. I feel the difficulty of being physically very tall, I hold an unnatural position on the slope. I manage to be fairly methodical, moving my limbs one at a time: foot-foot, axe-axe.
When Massimo follows me I see that he manages to stay upright, he moves with a lightness and a confidence that I still can't manage to have.

For the rest of the route Massimo moves with complete ease: he leads, sets up the belay and then belays me while I follow as second. The most interesting aspect is acquiring a common language: “safe”, “slack” are common calls that must be absolutely taken for granted and free of misunderstandings. At times the strong, noisy wind makes communication not always very easy. In some stretches we are even forced not to communicate at all. Our voices echo in the small gully as we look for quick confirmation and synchrony both in our movements and in the belaying operations.

Recovering the gear from the belay is perhaps the most demanding thing. You have to put the slings and cords away around your neck and shoulders so that they don't get in the way of your movements. Recover the picks and tie them to your wrists. I make a few mistakes, but when I finally understand the risks you run carrying the gear in a messy way I already know that this kind of mistake I will never make again. Never again will I let myself go on with cords dangling and messy, even if it means folding the cords with my tongue. If your fingers don't work because of the cold and the lack of feeling, I would have been prepared to fold up the gear even with my mouth.
By accident I put my tongue on a karabiner. It sticks because of the frost. I had heard about this kind of bollocks that can happen when you're at your wits' end. I tear my tongue off by force and put the karabiner back on my harness.

We come out of the gully onto an exposed saddle, the view is wonderful; Massimo points out that one of my boots is undone. I am astonished, also because on the little saddle there's barely room for the two of us and I certainly don't have much freedom of movement to lace it better than this. With some effort I manage to find a comfortable position to tighten the laces. I have double gloves and when I slip off the first pair I can already feel my hands freezing. An estimate of the temperatures lets us reckon at least -10° C with the windchill. At times Massimo's lip freezes and he has trouble speaking properly. He has a funny expression because his lip droops forward and he almost looks as if he's in the grip of a stroke. On the saddle I start to shiver convulsively, the cold is draining my strength, partly because I didn't have a really big breakfast. But never mind, at worst I'll just have to take a bit of cold. This is what happens to an untrained and inexperienced Sunday hiker.

At the saddle there are two options: climb the first shoulder (a small shoulder-gendarme) or go round it on the left. If it were up to me I would go down into the gully below the shoulder, which is very well covered with snow, and then climb back up the second one to the saddle. Massimo chooses to climb the first shoulder (rock step). Since he is “my guru” I can do nothing but put myself entirely in his hands. I know by instinct that he is right and I also know that I won't regret it.

At the second saddle the second and last shoulder, of small rocks mixed with ice, rises up in front of us. After this only the  northern ridge of the Terminillo separates us from the summit. This shoulder is the most complex passage on this route. The passage is completely exposed and hard to protect. The rocks are completely covered with ice and very little snow; the fall line would be off the line of ascent, on a very easy-angled slope full of small rocks. The verglas is no thicker than 2-3 centimetres depending on the spot. Massimo clips three quickdraws in all and when he reaches the ridge I can't see him any more.

The agreement on language, the synchrony of movements and the timing are at their peak. When I feel the rope come tight it means I can climb. I dismantle the belay and start climbing again. I also take out the first quickdraw and carry on up to the ice screw. I unscrew the ice screw easily and keep climbing. Finally I take out the third and last quickdraw. Although very exposed, the climb turns out to be fairly easy-angled and I manage to reach Massimo very quickly.

The view is exceptional, the winter light, the sun low on the horizon give the mountains a truly wonderful profile. The colours are sharply contrasted and I take a few photos of the surrounding summits. The photos: something I had tried not to take until that moment, devoting myself more to the climb, to concentration.
Not taking photographs is a real sacrifice for me; I would have liked to document the route, but in this case the choice of concentration and caution was dictated mainly by the awareness of my lack of experience. The exposure of the slope and the impossibility of resting comfortably forced us to choose a light and fast climb without even drinking or eating. I am thrilled because I have discovered that I am able to do things I didn't believe I was in the least capable of.

We decide to carry on  unroped along the ridge to the summit. By now there are no great technical difficulties to overcome and I have already walked this ridge a couple of times without any difficulty, neither technical nor psychological. I feel calm and satisfied with this wonderful climb.

On the summit I drink and eat a chocolate bar, take four photos and we set off again straight away.
I don't have the strength to go down the southern gully and I would also like to enjoy the descent calmly, in pure hiking style. So we do the descent by the normal route; caught up in one chat after another, we reach the car in just an hour and a half. Massimo has a slight pain in a right rib; he handles the pain without complaining at all. But I understand that if he says something it's because, probably, the pain is much stronger than he lets on. Thank you, Massimo.

The satisfaction of having done a technical route well, a rewarding feeling that I will have to process mentally over the coming months, an extraordinary way to end 2011 and to begin 2012 in a positive spirit.