Albigna

My choice as I saw it was to stay in sticky Milan and work or go to the mountains. Work was going well, very well in fact and I felt a weekends labour could be constructive. On the other hand the weather was looking fine and the Pash had a grand itinerary planned. In fact I didn't have a choice, anyway I wouldn't have anything to write about.

We met Al early Saturday morning who was looking slightly worse for wear for the better night before. Al had just bought a new car, and its very nice, like all real cars it's green, has 4 wheels, leather seats, air conditioning blah blah. We arrived comfortably in Switzerland 2 hours later and the Pashone revealed his plan.

The Pashone stood like a demigod with his pack pre-prepared and already mounted on his back. The rest of us stood in a confused mess of gear. We were underneath the mountain of Albigna. A telepheric ran up to the dam circa 1000m above us. Unfortunately we had missed the last ride of the morning so we faced a steep hike. It was hard going, the Pash had had their weetabix. It was very humid but despite the pain of ascent the path passed through wonderfully rich woodlands full of all manner of insects and succulent vegetation. A group of descending Italians marvelled at our swift though sweaty progress. We arrived a little after mid day, somewhat behind our intended schedule at the base of the crag. The scenery was stunning, there was everything that was supposed to be there. Vast granite slabs vanished into sharp peaks surrounded by the hardiest of the winter snows. Rock falls could be heard as ice yielded to the summer heat, we were in a picture book. With real mountain weather looming we took time out for lunch. We could see other parties high up, and by the time we had started our climbs others were already returning to collect their rucksacks. The sceptical amongst us expressed doubts that we would actually be able to do anything at all. We intend to do just a couple of pitches before the expected rain.

Split into two groups I started up Via Felice with Al. The first two pitches were slabby, with the crux of the climb being the end of the second pitch (6a-). Al on only his second climbing trip had no problems, annoying since I thought it was at least 'tricky'. Then came two most excellent pitches, the first followed a perfect flake before the second took a corner crack. The Pash who had by now joined our route ranted on about the quality of the pitch. By the time I had left the last belay it had gone from 5 to 6 to 7 stars, I am sure that by the time he finished savouring it it had gone up to 8 or even 9.

We were not expecting to get this far, but the weather now appeared to be clearing. Al and myself were not carrying water or shoes for the descent, we wondered if we would make it to the Fiamma; the knife blade summit of the mountain. The next pitch was easy and short, which led to another 6a pitch. A slightly diagonal traverse led to an exposed corner and then directly up the wall above. There just remained the easy last pitch to the top, but now it had started to rain and the sound of thunder warned of an impending storm. With this threat we decided on the single abseil and marked path to descend.

Unfortunately this was to prove to be a mistake as the weather cleared and we found ourselves on a horrible damp and exposed descent path in uncomfortable rock boots. At the foot of the path an annoying patch of steep snow stood between us and safety. Richard toe pointed down, my screaming toes were less easily persuaded so I started a controlled bum-slide. Lucy, thinking that I was being more than a little too cautious under the circumstances, offered an encouraging shunt and, as a single mass we quickly gained speed towards the approaching rocks. Fortunately these broke our fall and it left now only Al to come down and dislodge a rock onto Lucy's ankle to rub salt into our wounds.

Bruised but not beaten we continued down to our sacks. It was now nearly 10pm and although there was still light we had over an hours walk ahead of us, I was the only one who had a torch, fortunate, as it gets very very dark at night.

The following day we awoke under the falls of Chiavenna. The Pash departed early to join Benella for their final outing before returning to the UK. Al and myself were not up for a long route, but since we were now accompanied by the Italians felt obliged to at least go cragging. We discussed options over a bad cappuccino and then waited 30 minutes whilst the cunning Italians drove across the border to Switzerland to get cheap petrol. Finally we arrived at Rho, a real roadside crag. Despite its promise the routes were of low quality on broken rock. The Nulli found the going difficult and abandoned his first climb. Leaving his gear in place he then went off and abseiled down a slab.

This is when the rain started. The Nulli was now below us with some slightly damp rock above him. Help was at hand as Claudia belayed him from under an umbrella on his abseil rope. Other kind climbers reclaimed his abandoned gear. We left for a coffee.