With all the great trad climbing right on my doorstep in the UK and Ireland there was little that appealed to me in making the trip across the channel into Europe. I must admit the idea of climbing somewhere like the high peaks of the Dolomites and possible the Alps did draw my attention but it never happened. I’d heard plenty about cragging in Europe and while sport climbing just wasn’t on my radar when an opportunity came up I took it with an open mind to see what all the fuss was about. This occurred through keeping in contact with Matthaeus, a Bavarian, who I met in Alice Springs when I had a three month holiday in Australia. We did a little bouldering and climbing together at one of the nearby crags for a day. He asked sometime after my return to the UK if I fancied meeting him and a couple of others in Italy for a week. So before I knew it my bag was packed and I was flying to Nice in the south of France, from there I caught a train that took me along the scenic coast across into Italy and to a small coastal town called Finale:
Finale is well known for climbing, mountain biking and many other outdoor pursuits. It’s a beautiful place that has the ocean setting with valleys that stretch inland with steep sides and the occasional brilliant white limestone outcrops. Limestone was the order of the week, it was all we climbed on. The pocket limestone climbing in Europe is quite renowned, it is usually steep and fingery and much of the climbing we did was exactly that. There were some other features such as this flake and crack roof that Fred is tackling, a route called Polvere Di Sole (Dust In The Sun) at Caprazoppa. Fred was French and Matthaeus had like me met him while travelling. The fourth partner in crime was Kashi another Bavarian who got a mention in my tale of the Wye Valley. Before any exploring or climbing started, and after being picked up from the station, the four of us crammed into the car and headed out to the hills to set up camp:
Matthaeus and Kashi has been here before, numerous times was my guess. They knew the area well and Fred and myself were happy to be led round to the best spots. They also had a prime camp spot, we drove round hairpin bends high up one of the valley sides and parked opposite a ramshackle house. A farmer, bent with age and hard work, came out to greet us and there was an exchange of handshakes, words and wine bottles. He smiled and waved as he went back in. He owned the land either side of the road and the deal was done. We wandered down the bank to a wide clear ledge surrounding by trees to set up tent city, our home for the next week. Through the trees was an amazing sight down the valley and across from where we were, on terraced slopes, was an old church. We heard the bells toll on the hour every hour and during our stay here it became a soothing sound. We arrived in cloudy weather and within a day snow started to fall, one morning the valley had turned white and in the short week we stayed here we had all sorts of weather:
The boys were prepared for this and I had my trusty buffalo and beanie. On really cold days when it also threatened to rain we would find caves to climb in. The steep walls were mostly dry but the rock could be bitterly cold, we’d seek a place that was also out of the wind. Despite all these considerations to avoid getting cold we also at times had to light a fire at the base of the crag to huddle around to keep warm (like below). I was amazed at how many people were out in these wintery conditions, the majority didn’t climb in fact I don’t recall seeing many people on rock other than us in all the places we went. But I did see lots of people outdoors, and a good number would stop when they saw us and sit for a while to chat and watch. The climbing was hard, it felt like all the lines we jumped on were overhung. Below Fred is climbing Blob at Il Vascello, I belayed Kashi on this line and high up at the crux he jumped for it, missed and as he came down I went up and we met half way up the crag swinging about. While the climbing was hard we also had a lot of fun, none of us we’re super serious about what we climbed which was good:
At tent city we had three sleeping tents and one large cooking tent. Being winter there was no use in trying to cook outside and so the big tent was set up for us to all cram in have a feast and then before bed each night we would put on a pot of Gluhwein. This is a German/Austrian winter-holiday drink that is supposed to make you glow with warmth, and literally translates into glow wine. One particular night the wind ripped through the valley and howled above us. I didn’t have my Wendy tent anymore and instead had a small lightweight hiking tent (second from the back) and this was the first real test for it, which it passed with flying colours. The kitchen tent didn’t fare so well and the poles snapped, so we picked the biggest of the three remaining tents and made that our new kitchen tent. It was pretty important as on those cold bitter nights the tent would heat up a treat as we cooked, ate and of course drank our Gluhwein:
The intense climbing was hard on our bodies and fingers, and on this trip I was thankful for a rest day. Unlike my trip to Cornwall with Gareth, when our rest day included climbing. It also happen to coincide with New Year’s Eve, it is only as I write this that I remembered that. As we walked through Finale on this special night the town was quiet and still, and even the bars and restaurants closed early. This night in Italy and more so in these regional towns was a family night, not one to go out partying on. That didn’t bother us too much as during the day we feasted in bakeries and other delights and by night time were ready to head off. I have to admit to having felt quite ignorant on this trip, the other three not only spoke their own language and Italian but also English. I’d always known from my experiences in Holland that the Europeans tend to learn several languages and learn them well, that was not so much the case in England. During our day off we also explored the coastline walking about the limestone cliffs finding caves and beautiful formations. At one cave Fred for some strange reason decided that he wanted to climb over the arch. So he pulled his shoes on and started. When he got to the apex some 5m plus above the water, he got into trouble faltered and slipped. In the sink he went, and no one was offering to jump in after him. It was freezing cold and besides he popped back up and swam quickly to the rocks, shivering and keen to warm up:
We visited a good number of crags, most were chosen based on conditions and this meant usually steep short powerful climbing. However, on one day the sky looked to be clearing and we headed to the area of Monte Cluco, which is a more open and exposed vertical crag that can be seen below. This was very much steep pocket limestone climbing, finger holds that would stretch your joints, tendons and ligaments one finger at a time. It felt good to be on steep stuff rather than the overhanging climbing that pulled your back and shoulders into an arch and made you walk like a humpback at the end of the day. I preferred this steep stuff, it was more my style, technical hand and foot work was required. There really was very little easy stuff around, it was almost as if the easy stuff was not worth equipping with bolts. I still wonder how people ever got started, as they surely couldn’t jump on these sort of routes from day one:
At this crag the sun did come out and it was a huge transformation. The rock felt more inviting and you didn’t come down shivering cold and thrusting your hands under your armpits. The white rock reflected the sun back at us and helped keep us warm, resulting in a few layers being shed. Below Matthaeus is leading Panino Al Prosciutto (Ham sandwich) at Setture Della Torre. No one followed him as this line was way beyond any of us at a lofty 8a+. He was a hard climber, having established up a number of routes at this grade and harder at his local Black Forrest crags. But he was also equally happy to have a bash at any climb and encouraged us to have a go, when he could see we were keen to push it a bit. When I climbed with him in Alice there was one boulder that we played on that required us to crank hard on a sharp finger lock, I backed off wincing while he pushed through the pain barrier and made it up. He told me he had met and did a little climbing with Wolfgang Güllich, and it was him who had instilled this approach of blocking out the pain and pushing through. At the time I had no idea of who he was talking about:
I reckon I was the weak link on this trip but kept a steady grade, knowing when to say no and when to have a crack (just like the gambler!). I have to admit to having had fun even though it wasn’t the usual type of climbing I had done, so for a change it was good. I reckon I would have got bored with the same rock type if that was all I had in close proximity, despite the angles and some features giving it variability. That said we were restricted on this trip by the time of year and weather. The one thing I loved about climbing in the UK was the massive variation in climbing styles required to tackle the many, many different rock types available. Below I found a more trad style rest on Mantra of Casualness at Settore Della Torre. My fingers (and shoulders) were starting to feel the daily hammering, but it was Fred’s last day with us so we soldiered on until he too said he could take no more:
To end this day we walked up through gully’s at the back of the limestone cliffs and popped out in Grotta dei Balconi (just in case you didn’t get that this translates into balconies cave). The sun was going down and the light was specky, as we lounged in this impress low cave. There are a number of long hard roof boulder problems here but I was happy, as was Kashi in the back ground to laze about and soak the views in. Fred however like a wind-up toy jumped on and had a bash at a number of problems. From this cave we watched the sun set and made our way down in darkness back to the tents. Next morning Matthaeus took Fred to the station and Kashi and I packed up the camp, we still had one day left as my train back to Nice didn’t leave till late that night:
For the last climb we went to Placconata Settore Sinistro, a short pumpy crag in amongst the trees. Despite being January it was full blue sky and the sun turned up the heat, so much so that the shirts also came off. It really had been a trip of four seasons, with snow, hail, rain, high winds and of course blazing sun. There wasn’t much gas left in my tank so after a few climbs including Aldo Avanzini, below, I sat and watched the others and occasionally jumped on second dogging my way up the lines. Eventually it was time for me to be dropped off at the station and Matthaeus and Kashi drove north back to Bavaria. So my first real taste of sport climbing hadn’t completely put me off, although unlike my approach to trad climbing it was far more punishing and demanding and I got home pretty stuffed. I kept in touch with Kashi more than Matthaeus and Fred, and later that year I had a chance for a second trip out:
At a more settled time of the year I returned, flying this time into Munich where Kashi’s lived. For a day at least we stayed in Munich, not to climb but to experience the Oktoberfest. It was pretty incredible, a whole great long street with massive marquees. Inside each there were rows upon rows of wooden benches and tables and the noise was deafening. Beer flowed everywhere and that included the floors and tables. Kashi had worked in these crazy places and took me behind the scenes to where the litre sized glasses were, once washed, placed on a conveyor belt and drawn under a system that continuously flowed beer. We stayed for a awhile but I only managed one litre sized glass of strong beer before I had had enough. As we left the halls later that evening people in a drunken stupor were trying to walk, many crashed out on the side and some were vomiting uncontrollably. Not a sight I would want to see again and I was a bit amazed that it was so popular and considered OK. The next day we were on our way south back to Italy on a road that would take us through Innsbruck in Austria and the amazing Alpine views:
We got to Italy in the evening and found a lonely road up on a hillside to camp. In the morning we woke to a blue sky and amazing vista across the valley. The mist was lifting and the sound of the town below indicated that many had woken well before us, so we went down to find some breakfast but not before Kasi had struck the stove to make a coffee. We had stopped in a place called Lumignano. I didn’t know it at the time but Lumignano is regarded as one of the most important crags in northern Italy, and the first recorded routes here date back to the 1920s. It is claimed that at the start of modern sports climbing (the 1980s) the red and orange streaked “Lumignano classica” was the focal point for many of the best climbers in the world. As such many of the lines on this particular crag hold historical value. We however didn’t climb on that particular crag:
Our first destination was instead Rocca Pendice, a fine grained granite (yes not limestone) outcrop that stands proudly on a hilltop that is high relative the local landscape. The granite provided a different style of climbing and one I wasn’t excepting, smoother holds, smearing and good friction. We started slowly and built up momentum, and the route that sticks in my mind the most was La Libidine Dell Irrazionale (The Lust Dell Irrational) but not for the right reason. Below I have tackled the easy ramp to the base of the steep wall, from here it got pretty tough and I managed to get established above but the sight of homemade bolts, created from angle iron with rough holes drilled in them put me on edge. I clipped a couple and made my way up but they just didn’t look good enough to hold a fall and so I faltered and we backed off this line. Kashi had said from the start he didn’t fancy it because of the bolts, I guess I should have listened to him:
We didn’t stay there long and moved to another area this time returning to limestone. Vaccarese is a long crag set on a hillside with the base nestled in the trees and as you get up the routes the views out across the valley hit you. It’s a very beautiful setting and proved good fun in many ways. The walk in was calm and tranquil, making our way through the forest and crossing creeks on long bridges. The crag was steep and clean, long fun climbs a bit different to the pocket limestone and more featured with flakes and cracks. On occasion the holds ran out and this is where I first came across manufactured routes. On a number of lines the holds were far from natural and were formed by gluing on small rocks onto the blank face. It was literally like an outdoor climbing wall, but if you wanted to finish the climb you had to use the holds! One day here was enough and Kashi had kinda planned where we would head each day, it involved a fair bit of driving but he didn’t mind that. In fact at night he would race along the narrow mountain roads at a fair pace, confident that he could tell by the lights if anything was coming. Often with a steep drop by the side of the road and nothing but a rock wall to stop us going over it. At times the journeys felt a tad unnerving:
This did however mean that we jumped from one epic landscape to another and this included the Alps proper. I’d been to the Alps a number of times before, always on hiking holidays and I loved them. This time we may have seen them but we didn’t get to ascend any of the big peaks and stayed in the valleys. Not equipped for those lofty spires we did climb a few big boulders that towered several stories high. Much as I was itching to hike up at least one there was no time in our schedule, so we kept rolling. The striking view below was at Val De Mello:
While it felt like a crazy rat race round the northern crags of Italy we did stay in one spot for several days and that was the magnificent Arco. High above the town is a very prominent spur of limestone, it’s the last peak at the back of the image below. Atop this spur sits Arco Castle that is steeped in history and intrigue, built over a thousand years ago and inhabited by various groups during the many feuds and battles of the area. Climbing on that spur is not surprisingly forbidden, but there are plenty of other crags not far off and better still some providing fine multi-pitch routes such as the one we are on below called Tredicesima Luna (Thirteen Moon). Being spring time the weather was perfect and we happily ascended a few of the bigger lines in this area. With hanging belays, great long pitches and awesome exposure I almost forgot that I was clipping bolts:
There were also many great long single pitch lines too, so when the day was closing to an end it was easy to find a route or two to bag before we headed back to our campsite. Kashi is climbing in the evening light on the fine Il Poeta a Il Contadino (The Poet at The Farmer). At many of these single pitch crags we found lots and lots of other people. Sport climbing is a national sport in Italy and we would see whole families out, this included babies in strollers and prams. The more popular cliffs were well equipped with good bolts, metal plaques at the base of each climb with their name engraved, and well maintained access paths. However, on the bigger multi-pitch walls there were far fewer people and it was easy to get away:
I took the image below of another party as they climbed a route I led earlier that day. Vento Caldo Del Sud (Warm South Wind) was a fun direct line with a great steep finish over the bulge and headwall above the climber. As I got my hands established on the bulge not surprisingly there was a bolt just above. I found the bolting was relatively well done and safe, it didn’t feel like the bolting broke the flow of the climbs and at times they even added some spice by giving a good runout. At this point on the climb however I noticed that the nut holding the plate on was almost at the end of the threaded bolt, so I had to gingerly tighten the bolt up while hanging off one hand. I then clipped it and moved through quickly to top out. It was at one of the crags here that the local walking guidebook, who had climbed everything and knew every route watched us. I had just led a fun route that was close to the top of my grade, he came over to have a chat and said we were climbing well and with good style. Nice I thought, and then he added but you used that hold out left and by using that hold the grade of the route drops (noting the hold is right on line with the bolts). The cheeky bugger:
I couldn’t resist this image of Arco from above, we stopped in a small but cosy campsite just out of town and each night would wander to a local’s bar to drink some wine. The local’s bar had wine straight out of the barrel, no preservatives or added nasties and I was amazed that it never once gave me a fuzzy head in the morning. In the town bars, for the tourists, the wine was bottled and as such I reckon that stuff would have given me a sore head. It was a good spot to stay and we climbed on a number of quality crags, big and small and I really started to enjoy it. I spied plenty of climbs that it would have been fun to play on but time caught up with us and eventually we needed to head back:
Kashi had in mind for one last crag, and that was on the road home so we left the campsite early (after he had made and drank his coffee) and drove to Placche Zebrate. This monstrous eight hundred meter buttress was stunning, the lower portions was slabby and the higher you looked the steeper it got. We however only had today to play, as I had a plane to catch the next morning and it was still a long drive to get back. So we picked a 300m line up the lower slab where the best quality rock was supposed to be. We had a topo but as we got closer to the base it became very hard to determine which line was which, there were no plaques here. Eventually we found the route and set off, it felt harder than we expected but that may have been from all the climbing we had done. Then on a pitch that Kashi was leading the bolts got closer and closer and he shouted out in joy. I couldn’t catch what he said but soon found out:
He got to the top of the, quite literally, bolt ladder and then asked to be lowered down. He then started to pendulum by running along the rock and when he had enough momentum made a lunge for a hold way out to the left, and into the next line of bolts. On following up I tried as best I could to free climb the section but despite my love for slabs and a rope above me I failed. At least with the pendulum we knew exactly which climb we were on and it was not the one we were aiming for. No problem Via Gabri Camila at a staggering 300m of slab climbing was brilliant and we loved it, some nine pitches later we were on the horizontal rock band and not even half way up the entire crag. From here we accessed a Vie Ferrate out left and then back down to the base, what a great way to end my second trip to Italy:
So ends the recount of my climbing days in the UK, I hope you’ve enjoyed seeing the places and hearing some of my tales. It’s been good fun for me and as I have sat here going through images, researching areas, and writing up what I could remember there have been lots of aspects that came to mind bringing back great memories. So much so that I’m contemplating documenting at least some of my Alice Springs adventures in a similar fashion…
Sandbagged 