- Via Ferrata - Summer 2007 -
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Via Ferrata 2007

I'm a pretty lucky man to have a wife that is willing to let her husband disappear off to foreign places without her!  In fact, I actually left her holding the baby (literally) and comforting an inconsolable almost-four-year-old daughter who didn't realize that 17 days means that her Daddy wouldn't be there to tuck her in that night, or the next, to give her a "kiss, hug, and a rub of da back."  So the real hero of this adventure was Ellie... thank you.


It All Begins With A Dream

Old Rift Pot Entrance - By Arthur VauseThe planning of this trip began in 2004 after reading a very small article in an outdoor magazine about the high level Via Ferrata routes in Italy's Dolomite mountains.  I primarily used Via Ferratas of the Italian Dolomites: Vol 1 written by John Smith and Graham Fletcher.  Back in 2004, on a trip out to South Dakota, I had asked my long time friend Iain whether he would be interested in such an adventure.  Most likely due to the beer I was plying him with and the higher-than-normal altitude in the Black Hills, he agreed!  A dream was born that night over the roar of Harley Davidson engines.  Iain and I decided that 2007 would be an ideal goal to aim for.  Money had to be saved and a plan had to be masterminded.  For three years I would fix computer problems and help out lost souls of the technological age and begin my search of the Internet for all kinds of information relating to the trip.

My caving friends are trustworthy people, but they have a "leave-it-to-the-last-minute" attitude.  So when I was booking my flight to Manchester, England and then onto Venice, Italy in November 2006 I was a little panicked to realize that it could have ended up being a team of two and not the expected five.  However, it all seemed to be falling into place after close to a year of research.  In March 2007 the trip seemed to be a go. ñ


Returning Home

The river in Ingleton under flood conditions.I landed in Manchester in late June when terrorists (NHS personnel) were attempting to blow up cars in London and literally drove an SUV into Glasgow Airport full of petroleum.  It made for some spicy security, but more of that later.

The first week of my trip was spent in Cumbria, Lancashire, and Yorkshire.  Abysmal weather prevailed;  in the eight days I was there it rained everyday.  Not only that, I never saw a peak above 2,200ft.

I decided that I needed to get out on the Cumbrian Fells and the day after my arrival in the country I headed up onto the mountain tops on the south side of Ennerdale Valley.  I went down roads that were barely able to fit my little car down (and I am from Cumbria!).  It rained consistently that first day on the mountains and I ended up summiting Steeple and Pillar along a route I must have completed years ago,  but couldn't remember.  I walked in the mist and the rain and became very wet.  My Gortex jacket of 15 years had lost its ability to keep me dry.

I spent a few days with my family and had a rather enjoyable time.  It was strange not having my normal traveling companions with me to share all the experiences with.  However, not having Ellie around meant that my mam actually spoiled me and not Ellie and Hannah : ). ñ


Of Caves and Caving

Straw Chamber - By Simon CornhillI had arranged to meet Simon Cornhill (of Cueva Alpazat infamy) in Ingleton on Monday morning.  We had planned on completing the Greater Easegill Traverse and I had lost a considerable amount of weight to make it happen as the Pippikin end of the trip is tight in sections.  The weather had other plans for us though!  The lower streamways under Easegill Beck would have been flooded or have the potential of rapid flooding.  Instead, we decided to head into the Stake Pot Series and make our way into the ancient ramifications of Cape Kennedy and Straw Chamber.  This was an area of the system that had eluded me all those years ago when I actually knew my way around the system.  It was a great trip and by the time we regained the surface the weather had backed off considerably.  The stream running down the path to Bull Pot Farm had all but disappeared.

Flood line in Old Rift - By Arthur VauseThat evening we were joined by Arthur Vause who decided it was too much to miss out on some midweek caving.  We drank into the merry hours and crossed the viaduct as a shortcut to our old haunt of the Marton Arms.  Simon had negotiated with Mrs. Moffat and managed to secure a caravan for the night.  Thank goodness he did, because the heavens opened that night and more water thundered down.  In the morning, after a tasty Caver's Breakfast in Inglesport, we headed off toward the Allotment to what should have been a dry Old Rift Pot.  Old Rift seemed to be leaking in places it shouldn't have been leaking, but we made it to the bottom.  Some of the lower pitches had a howling wind blowing up them.  Very recent flooding had occurred in Rift and there were two flood lines showing their severity.

What a cracking few days caving even though we were rained out of my pre-planned trip options.  Instead of heading directly back to Allonby, I headed to my old college town of Preston.  I had difficulty finding my way around the town.  This fact was rather odd seeing as I had lived there for 7 years, but ten years can fade a person's memory.  Arthur, Simon, and myself visited the pubs that I had spent so much money and time in during the early nineties.  Ahhh... the memories... we even ended the night with a curry in one Preston's finest curry establishments! ñ


Say Hello and Wave Goodbye

The cairns leading to the summit of Swirl Howe.The final few days in the UK were spent in Cumbria with one last fling on the mountains armed with a newly acquired waterproof jacket.  I headed onto the Coniston Fells from Tilberthwaite Gill.  By skirting around the valley I was able to avoid the main group of walkers heading up from Coniston itself.  At the junction of Levers Water I briefly met a number of people, but soon left them behind by heading straight up toward Swirl Howe from its southern arm.  It was very misty on the tops and I was happy to have the comfort of the cairns leading me ever so steadily into the mist.  Finding the path from the summit of Swirl Howe down toward Wetherlam was extremely difficult.  I was working with a compass, map, and a GPS!!

I left Cumbria content that I had given the fells a fair shot as well as spending the last night in my childhood home.  I'd also met a new niece and reacquainted myself with my family.  Of course, on my drive south the skies turned to blue. ñ


A 3-Year Dream of Italy Comes True

Day One - Of Airports and Strange Choices 

The following morning, July 7th, 2007 (07-07-07) saw both Iain Holland and I headed toward Manchester Airport ready for the main purpose of the trip.  The airport's security was tight to say the very least.  We thought we had arrived with plenty of time to spare.  We were very wrong!  By the time we were heading through security we realized that time was getting tight and queues of travelers weren't moving!  At the final screening Iain was pulled aside with his carry on baggage.  His climbing harness had been flagged and pulled out.  But to add to the problem, he had also put a Boots mega jug of sun block and an equally massive bottle of mosquito repellent in his carry on luggage... dozy bugger!  He had to check the carry on baggage onto the plane's hold.  That meant heading all the way back to the check-in counters!  I told him that I would see him at the gate... but that was the last I saw of him until much later that day.  As the flight took off without Iain I realized that I was alone and my traveling companion was missing!

During the flight out to Munich, Germany, I realized that I was at a slight disadvantage to the rest of the passengers... I didn't speak a word of German and asking for a beer wouldn't help me out!  Munich was a blur as I raced to get on the connecting flight to Venice, Italy.  As I landed in Italy I realized that yet again I was a foreigner in a foreign land... it was a humbling feeling.  Eventually, I located an English speaking Lufthansa representative who did let me know that Iain was on a connecting flight through Frankfurt scheduled to land later that day.  Now what?  Sit and wait, and wait, and wait for another five hours before a very apologetic Iain appeared in the arrivals hall.  It was ten hours since I had last seen or heard from him.  Now on with the adventure!

Driving north out of Venice was incredible.  The mountains loomed closer on the horizon as we sped north in our diesel Volkswagen Passat.  Up through the valleys we climbed until we reached the mountain town of Cortina d'Ampezzo.

Rifugio DibonaWe stayed at the Refugio Angelo Dibona at a height of 2,083 meters above sea level for the first three nights of our visit.  Out of all the accommodation we stayed in, this was by the far the best.  The staff were friendly and accommodating.  It cost approximately 40 Euro per night.  Many of the classic CORT routes can be accessed easily from this location.  It saved a 30 minute drive from Cortina.  The last section of the track was rough and unpaved, but could be traversed in all but the lowest clearance cars.  We were greeted by Degsy Freeman, Simon Cornhill, and Arthur Vause who had all been willing to commit time and money to be part of an elaborate dream.  In fact, without the assistance of Arthur, the trip would have experienced difficulties due to a language barrier while in the process of booking the refugios. ñ


Day Two - Via Ferrata Sentierio Astaldi and Sentierio Guiseppi Olivieri

Via Ferrata Sentierio Astaldi and Sentierio Guiseppi Olivieri were our first outing.  Both routes are labeled as grade 1 and they were quite easy.  The routes allowed us to try out our borrowed Zypers.  We actually joined the two routes together to form a long traverse.  Simon did try to convince us that the way on to the second route was straight up the grade five route of Punta Anna.  Silly boy.

The first row below shows pictures on the Sentierio Astaldi route.  The second row shows pictures taken on the Sentierio Guiseppi Olivieri route.  Both routes made us a little slap happy because of how easy they appeared to be.

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Once at the end of the Sentierio Guiseppi Olivieri route we found ourselves in a place where we could choose to drop down several hundred meters or climb up and over a col onto a route that appeared to take us in the direction of the Refugio Guiseppi with much less elevation loss or gain.  With confidence high, we headed up and over the col into the unknown!  The gulley we followed was pretty loose and at the top we were dodging rocks and placing our feet in what we hoped to be solid ground.  The next row of pictures show the exposure over the ridge as we descended south onto the Punta Anna col and then the trail north as it heads toward the Refugio Giussani.

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The route was well protected, but incredibly airy at times.  I don't have a head for heights, so it may not have been very exposed at all.  In fact, the worst sections of all the routes that we were on occurred on scree ledges where no protection could be placed.  There was also a precarious descent of a massive scree slope before traversing toward the Refugio Giussani.  Once at the refugio, the serious aspects of our day's hiking was done.  We celebrated with a few beers before making the long walk back to the excellent hospitality of the Refugio Angelo Dibona.  We also explored several buildings that dated back to World War I. ñ


Day Three - I'm So Glad I bought A New Raincoat

Our intent had been for us to complete the Via Ferrata Giovanni Lipella route, but using the escape route before heading headlong up onto the summit of the Tofana di Rozes.  However, the morning brought some pretty heavy rainfall that didn't seem to be breaking up.  Would this be the weather pattern for the entire week?  We sat around for a while before heading down into Cortina for a spot of souvenir shopping and lunch.  Degsy learned that a "latte" in Italy doesn't give you a cup of milky coffee, but only a warm mug of milk : ).  Early in the afternoon we came to the realization that the Italians actually close their shops from about noon until at least 4pm.  Now the five of us were becoming a little restless and decided to head back to the refugio and at least walk up to the tunnels of the Gallerie del Castelletto.

When we set off the rained had eased off, but it steadily became worse.  While traversing the base of Tofana de Rozes' southern face, we realized that the entire face becomes a waterfall.  Not to mention the ruckles of stones and debris that was being washed down from the many gullies.  We arrived at the beginning of the tunnels and cowered under the headwall as water poured down the face and out of the gallery above us.  A dodgy set of ladders led up to the mouth.  After gearing up we all made our way up through the deluge.

Once inside, the water flowed down the tunnel from above.  The tunnel led up steeply on a metal stairway (fourth picture) to an area that widened.  This was also the spot where most of the water came in (first picture).  Beyond, the tunnel led off into the distance continuing to climb steeply.  After passing a few windows and access points, the tunnel emerges high above the valley floor with a commanding view (middle picture).

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The sound of thunder in the distance allowed us to have a quick reality check and a hasty retreat was executed.  We were in a perfect lightning conductor and we were using it as a safely line.  Arriving back at the entrance we found the rain had backed of considerably, but it was too late in the day to do any further exploration.  We had experienced our first World War I tunnel and I realized that life must have been harsh when the rain came down and a war continued to take place. ñ

Day Four - Anyone Fancy A Snowball Fight?

During the previous night the rain had continued to come down.  It was accompanied by thunder, lightning, and heavenly wrath.  However, during the wee hours of the morning everything outside became silent.  In the morning we awoke to snow on the ground and flakes flying in the air.  The date was July 10th and it was the middle of summer.  This was also the day that we would be leaving Dibona for the Auronzo Hut high above Missurina.

With snow on the ground we had to abandon the route we had planned on returning to from the previous day.  So what about those Lagazuoi tunnels on the Falzarego Pass?  We packed up our gear, paid those lovely people at the Dibona refugio, and headed toward the pass.  A blizzard was raging when we reached the top.  Interestingly, the Italian Army had also converged on Falzarego.  None of us, apart from the bald Degsy Freeman, had a winter hat and we ended up buying some lovely items from the gift shop... they weren't cheap, but now I wear it in Northern Wisconsin and have fond memories of that particular day in the Dolomites.

We took the chair lift to the Lagazuoi Refugio and, after arriving at the summit, found that the conditions were particularly icy.  After a warm cup of coffee we headed down onto the ridge that leads to the upper entrance to the Lagazuoi tunnels.  As we waited for the Italian army to reach the tunnels, it became apparent as to the reasons why the Italians can't win a war.  Even the Germans commented upon it!

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We spent a considerable amount of time in the tunnels exploring every nook and cranny.  The day had begun to clear and the weather gave us sunny skies to view amazing snowy mountain vistas.  You could spend an entire day in this area discovering the Austrian and Italian war history.  It is well worth the time and effort to visit this particular site.  A brief overview of the mountain war is covered in the Cicerone guide.  ñ 

Day Five - Lights out means lights out

We spent the previous night in the Auronzo Hut and were joined by Rick and Diane.  The Auronzo Hut lies at the end of a dead end toll road and is shadowed by the magnificent Tre Cime.  Be warned that toll road does cost money, but you can gain passes to re-enter the commune if you are staying at Auronzo.  Auronzo cost in the region of 50 Euro per night. It was ran like a military youth hostel and there was very little love from the proprietors.  However, they don't suffer from empty beds, so you just have to take it as best as you can.  When they say that lights out is a 10pm, they mean it... they flick a switch on the generator and blackness prevails.

We decided to make an ascent and descent of Sentiero De Luca/Innerkofler.  Both De Luca and Innerkofler were protagonists in the Great War.  The tale goes that Innerkofler fell to his death after a skirmish with De Luca high on Mount Paterno's face.  Ironically, both would most likely have climbed the same mountains as a team during times of peace.

We were among many people heading west along path 101 toward the Rifugio Lavaredo and the Lavaredo Pass just beyond.  In fact, this is the point that most of the hordes stop and turn back.  The route to the start of the ferrata continues either on the high or low path that head toward Rifugio Cime Locatelli.  The route starts immediately in tunnels that climb dramatically inside the north ridge of Mount Paterno.  Once the tunnels end, the rest of the climb followed snowy gullies and airy ridges.  The snow from the previous day and the previous winter still held its grasp in these north facing pockets.

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There were a couple of tricky sections high on the ridge, but that was more to do with the snow underfoot opposed to the route itself.  Once on the Paterno col the views opened to the south and the Monte Paterno addition to the via ferrata begins.  Four of our team followed the "ant" line of folks heading to the summit while Arthur and myself kept our feet firmly on the col.  The col is also the start of the Sentiero della Forcella route.  We continued on with the De Luca/Innerkofler route down a heavily eroded gully (beware... stones dislodged from Paterno's face drop straight down this gully).  The path then follows wide ledges along the east and then west sides of Paterno's south ridge.  The second half of the route is much easier than the first.  A final tunnel deposits you above the Lavaredo Pass.  From there, it is a short walk to the Rifugio Lavaredo for a few beers before walking back to the Auronzo Hut for another night of beer guzzling before the lights go out : ). ñ

Day Six - A Choice of Ways and Taking The Easy Route

The Sentiero Bonacossa is more of an adventurous walk than a via ferrata.  However, there are many sections where it is comforting to clip into the cable and know that if your world suddenly drops away there will be something to arrest the fall.   We drove down into Misurina, a quiet little mountain town far from the bustle of Cortina, to start our walk.  Both Iain and Simon had been convinced into climbing the Tre Cime by Neil McCallum and his friend, Matt.  Neil and Matt had joined us the previous night and had spent the night in Matt's converted VW panel van.  Di had joined Rick for the day in a short walk that would converge with ours at the Rifugio Fonda.

We took the chair lift from the south end of Lago Misurina up to the Rifugio Col de Varda.  After some initial confusion, we realized that our path actually starts behind a little hut just to the side of the refugio.  Path 117 steadily winds its way through boulder fields before steadily climbing a scree slope to the first ferrata section at the Forcella de Misurina.

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There were several loose sections where knowing what and who was below you was important.  There were many more people on this route which posed some moments where we had to wait.  This phenomenon had been rare throughout the week.  We met up with Di and Rick at the Fonda Refugio and had a nice spot of lunch.  There was a German flavor at this refugio as there had been in the nearby Auronzo Hut.  It was hard to get motivated again after lunch, but we continued our way back to Auronzo via the high level route along the east side of Ciadin De Rinbianco and Le Bisse before following the ridgeline of Le Cianpedele.  It was a pleasant day and a nice respite from the challenges of previous days. ñ


Day Seven - A View From Below isn't Conducive to Pushing the Limits

We left Missurina and Auronzo's remote beauty after another rationed breakfast on our way to the next day's adventure.  Arabba is a much smaller town than Cortina and has a lazy sort of feel to it.  On arrival we realized that my plan to catch the gondola up to the Porto Vescovo had failed... by two days.  Be careful to check when the gondolas are open for the summer season and note that the chair lifts from the valley to south were working : (.  For us, it meant a pretty long walk along the 680 path.  I was feeling the last two weeks at this point and I struggled to keep up with my team mates who seemed to be striking a pace that was unrelenting and spirited.  I guess I wasn't as fit as I thought I was.

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The Via Della Trincee - La Mesola starts almost immediately after the Porto Vescovo station.  I had decided on approach that I was not going to be attempting the more severe section of the route.  From below, I had observed small objects traversing diagonally across a blank wall.  The blank wall looked like a mini replica of the Matterhorn!  Had I not seen these individuals, I could have been easily coaxed into attempting the route.  However, with Arthur also having an aversion to heights, we were able to support each other by convincing ourselves into traversing the ridgeline and making our way backwards toward the escape routes along the main route.

Our route to the start of the Della Trincee tunnels was almost an epic in itself when the goat path we followed pretty much petered out and left us high on the slope picking our way along a precipitous route.  Shards of shrapnel the size of dinner plates scatter the slopes in this area.  These are quite obviously the remnants of shelling carried out from the Marmolada Glacier.  The route itself was pretty easy when you removed the Matterhorn section out of the equation.  We again took time to explore the tunnels.  Many of them appeared to have been deserted in the middle of construction.  It was a good day out even though I should have pushed myself to complete the whole route.  We escaped the route directly before things got airy and met the others back at the car. ñ


Day Eight - So That's What "Divieto di Parcheggio" Means!

I guess it had to happen sooner or later.  With the late start of the previous day, we had found ourselves very much short of the refugio we were supposed to be staying at.  We had instead stopped in the little town of Canazei and found the cheapest hotel we could find that still had beds open.  This choice had been determined because we needed to eat and it was getting late.  We arrived during the opening night of a weekend long festival.  We had parked where we could.  Iain and I parked in a car park situated by a babbling brook, we cleaned up (or did I wait until the following morning?), and set out to truly experience Dolomiti village culture.  We drank beer, ate food, watched a guy dressed in drag draw a big crowd, and enjoyed one of last nights in Italy.

In the morning, I went to get the car from the idyllic car park and found the area full of traders setting out their wares for the day.  My heart leapt wondering what was going on, I raced forward wondering whether I had parked it somewhere else, there were panel vans everywhere with huge extending canopies to protect punters from the sun, and then I saw the car.  It had been rotated, literally rotated 90 degrees, from the position I had left it in the night before.  I desperately pleaded with the lady (who was not so much of a lady at all) to allow me to get the car out.  She refused.  She pointed to a sign.  I blurted out, as if it wasn't already obvious, "I can't read Italian!"  she had barely set up the table that, if moved, could allow me repatriate the car.  The van that literally pinned the car in was owned by a younger chap and I pleaded with him.  I pointed out that I had to catch a flight from Venice later that day.  It wasn't exactly true, but it seemed to be helping to appear as an inept tourist with no grasp of the Italian language.  A rather heated conversation then occurred between the young man, who had now taken pity on me, and the old lady that appeared to be a hating little women of all things English speaking.  The conversation appeared to have words in it that were most likely slamming my character.  Tables were moved, the car was started, and I was back in business.  "Divieto di parcheggio" means "no parking" and combined with "merkato" and "sabato" can only lead to a few years taken off your life due to unforeseen stress.  I still don't know how they moved the car without damaging or marking it.

The final ferrata was, in my opinion, the best of the entire trip and wrapped up everything that we had seen during the week.  The Via Ferrata Bepi Zac is easily reached after riding a chair lift from Passo San Pellegrino followed by a short slog up a path to the Rifugio Passo le Selle.  The route starts above the rifugio and climbs steeply up a ridge before beginning the ups and downs of the route itself.  This route has a bit of everything for the ferratist.  It is obvious that this was an exceedingly strategic ridge in the Great War.  The war had left its mark in the form of tunnels, lookout posts, trenches, stairways, observation posts, and debris from once habitable barracks.  The day was beautiful with the sun beating down.  In all directions the beauty of the Dolomites unfolded.  Only one section on the entire route was unprotected to the point of being dodgy.  At that point, the route follows a scree gully and is tricky to cross.  I was thankful once this section was behind me.

The final section of the ferrata included a glimpse into the horror and tragedy of the war.  Perched high in the face of a rock spire was an observation post now equipped with pictures and narratives from the Great War.  It was a somber place that evoked silent emotion.  I doubt any of us will ever forget what we saw that day.  The pictures were enough to engrain an image of war that has unfortunately repeated itself in the 90 years since its end.  Nobody seems to win in war even though we use words like freedom and liberty.  There will always be a price.

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Our last night in Italy was spent in Treviso.  Treviso is a beautiful walled city north of Venice.  Being back in the grips of civilization was a little strange to say the least.  We ventured down into the city by way of city bus and spent the night watching beautiful Italians enjoy a summer night.  The five of us reflected on what we had seen and done over the past week in each others company, we drank beer, and found a little restaurant in an alley where we ate calzones and pizza.  That night we walked the five miles back to the hotel.  That was the last I saw of Degsy, Arthur, and Simon.  They left early the next morning before Iain and I had arose from our drunken slumber.  The trip home was much less chaotic as the outward trip.  It was raining as we landed in England, but that was no surprise to me.  ñ

It All Ends The Same Way It Began

I flew back to the United States the following day and as I landed in Green Bay, Wisconsin, I felt like my travels and experiences of the last 17 days had changed me in some small, but significant way.  Maybe it made me appreciate my wife a little more or that Rhinelander is a place where I appear to be laying my hat.  There, in Green Bay airport, I was reunited with little Iain, Ellie, and a little girl.  Above all else, Hannah had missed her Daddy and was glad for his return.  It was good to be back with my family.

Was the trip successful?  In my opinion it was.  I learned a great deal more about my limits and how far I am willing to push myself at any given time.  It takes a great deal of time to put something together as big as this particular trip.  Especially when the majority of it was done via e-mails.  I thank all of those people involved with the planning and execution of the trip.

It's now late December 2007 and I have presented a PowerPoint of the trip to three different groups of people.  At one presentation I was asked "Do you think that this was the trip of a lifetime?"  What a great question I thought, but then I thought back to all the "trip of a lifetime" experiences I have had.  That first trip to Tennessee and Kentucky in 1996, Wyoming, New York, Colorado, Oregon, California, the short trips to Welsh and Yorkshire caves, the first mountain walk up Scafell and Gable with Jason Penrice and Elizabeth Wooligan, and the many trips I took as a child with my parents could all be considered trips of a lifetime.  Was this the trip of a lifetime?  Yes, it probably was, but it is one chapter within my lifetime of adventures and it certainly isn't the last.  I just have to pursue a new dream.  The only difference between now and then is the size of the dream.  ñ


Resources used in the planning of the Dolomite trip:

This page was written by Neil J. Rumney and originally published on December 24, 2007.

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