The mysteries of the full Moon

You have confused dreams at night, you sleep hot and light, you sleep with one ear pricked, waiting for something to happen... and nothing happens.
You know the Moon is out there, in the garden, peeping through the branches of the royal laurel; it hides, then reappears, it's a mischievous one, this August Moon. It keeps me awake whispering things I don't even dare to dream. Hidden away, the memory of someone who isn't there; I keep at a distance that of someone else who mustn't, can't, for whom it would make no sense to be there.

Then a distant ringtone tears me from sleep, from the sheets soaked by this summer that lingers in the heat. I almost fall out of bed to silence that nuisance, that unnatural chirring.
OK, I drag myself out of bed... to stand up, upright, holding myself up on these deaf legs that won't listen to reason.

We set off for Passo Godi; only the presence of a companion, of a friend, makes me feel responsible: “respondeo” to the call of friendship, “respondeo” only in the presence of some question or some gently expressed need.
Luck, it's just luck that once again a friend is there to follow these crazy hikes...

And we leave for a less well-known destination, a less prized summit. Monte Corvo will be for next time. Rain is forecast. So this outing in the Marsicani area will be excellent training for the body. We're off to Monte della Corte.

I feel the influence of the full Moon in the air, I feel it like the stamping of horses in the fibres of my legs. With Alessandro we try a new way, from the valley that climbs from Capo d'Acqua up to the springs of the Tasso, which even at the end of summer still quench the thirst of the lake of Scanno, and then on beyond the Serra di Ziomas.
The gravel road can be driven as far as the springs, but we decide to stop at 1225 m and walk it... after all we're here to walk, there's no reason to carry on by car. Others do it and overtake us in their big off-road vehicles.

Knowing the area is essential; we climb with a sure step up to the slopes of Monte del Campitello; there's no path, we string together paths Y7, Y1 and Y5 quite deliberately.
From the Campitello we drop down towards the Vallone della Corte to the saddle (Vado di Corte) and cross over to enter the upper part of the Coppo del Ginepro.

We pick up the line of ascent that from 2038 m climbs like a ridge to the summit of Monte della Corte. The slope looks endless and we reckon (at a glance) as much as an hour to climb it. We dig our heels in stubbornly to earn this summit. The soles of our boots pound the gravelly ridge and, to our amazement, we're on the summit in just fifteen minutes.

The fluid of the unleashed Moon pulses in our veins again... we're happy as we used to be, and the view over the Marsicano and its surrounding peaks is magnificent.
A mountain is won by the grace of a singular mixture of tropical spices, of distant needs, of hormonal effluvia, snake eyes and dragon scales. A mysterious potion which, taken knowingly or not, makes a day special, a mountain miraculous, an impossible route... become possible.

And when we get into the car the magic happens: it starts to rain.

Satisfied, amazed, and also tired and emptied of the malevolent torment, we get back to the car in just an hour and a half. With a martial step we retrace paths Y5, Y1 and Y7. Setting our feet and the soles of our shoes on fire... and our souls ready to live more exceptional moments in the mountains.