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The idea to connect the 4 major peaks around Lecco first came to me a couple of years ago, but there was always an excuse not to do anything about it, or maybe I was just to lazy.

There were several unknown quantities to the challenge. Although I had done some sections of the loop on separate occasions I didn’t know how much ascent or decent the trip would involve, how much time it would take or even how far it was. To be honest I didn’t really want to know. If I had of sat down at the map and calculated the itinerary I would more than likely have been put off the idea. Ignorance was my friend.

My first attempt was back in September 2006. Knowing I would be in the UK for the whole of August I was keen to get it done. Only things didn’t turn out like that so I left without having realised the plan. I returned in September and immediately feel the nights drawing in. It was my first weekend back in Italy, I was well rested and fed from my time away. With a full moon, and clear skies promised for the weekend I decided this would be my last chance for the year.

On that occasion I failed halfway around the loop, a navigation error put me out of the game, so I took up the challenge once again the following June.

There are a few ways to approach the loop. You can try it in a day, a long day.. or you can take 2 days sleeping at 2400m on top of Grigna in rifugio Brioschi. I also had some self imposed guidelines which you may or may not wish to follow. 1. Start and finish on lake Como, for example in Piazza Cermenati. 2. No assistance by motorised transport. 3. Entirely self supported, you should carry your own food and water. Fortunately there are several springs along the way which if used wisely will mean you do not need to take several litres of water. It is worth mentioning water, because the long summer days can get very hot and humid.

1. Lecco lakeside 214m – Piani Resinelli 1200m (2hr)

06.30 I left the comfort of home. The number 52 path starts from the edge of the town and climbs steeply through the trees for 5 minutes before turning left and traversing along the hillside overlooking Lake Como. It is very scenic and weaves through steep limestone faces. There are a couple of points where you are assisted by chains but it is never difficult if you don’t mind some light scrambling. The path flattens for a while as you pass rifugio Piazza (water stop) heading for Forcellino. The path now goes up and down over crests before crossing a rocky gully indicating the start of the long climb up to Forcellino (1287m). This can seem an endless climb, especially as the fine views are hidden. Upon reaching the plateau continue along a track through the trees descending towards Piani Resinelli. Join the road for a short while taking you past the towerblock to the main carpark.

2. Piani Resinelli 1200m – Grigna Meridionale 2184m (1hr 20)

This is where most people who are attempting Grignetta start. You can feel smug that you have already done a good job, but there is still some way to go. The water fountain is on the right just before you enter the car park. It is the last for a while so make sure you fill up. Go past the bar / rifugio at the end of the car park and follow the road that climbs to rifugio Porta. You now leave the road and take the steep rocky path to the summit of Grignetta. It is pretty sustained all the way with a slight reduction in gradient once on the shoulder. A bivuoac hut on top in the shape of an igloo is a great place to refuel and take in the view. Impressively steep faces drop away in all directions and the next objective, Grigna, stands to the North.

3. Grigna Meridionale 2184m – Grigna Settentrionale 2409m (2hr 40)

If you have any sense you will have already decided to spend the night here. It is the obvious point to break the trip into two days, and what better place to enjoy and evening meal and breakfast in the morning.

4. Grigna Settentrionale 2409m – Balisio 723m (2hr 10)

I don’t usually like retracing my steps, but a short trek back to the junction is easier than the steep route from the ridge. The path descends through a pleasant green valley with interesting rocks on your left. Take time once at the rifugio to study the map. This is where on my first attempt I took the wrong path down to Pasturo. Make sure to take the path that heads directly to the campsite otherwise you will loose a lot of height, and walk a lot further than is necessary.

5. Balisio 723m – Zucco di Desio 1656m (2hr)

You have got this far so you do not want to blow it now if you are trying to do the loop in a day. Looking at the map there is a conveniently looking path marked as 31. This climbs directly up the hillside to reach the ridge. My advice is not to take it. I have tried to find this path on 2 occasions without success. I now sincerely believe it is the figment of some cartographers imagination. What you will find is a steep forested hillside with gullies of loose leaves. It is not a nice proposition after all you have done but if you decide to go for it crampons could prove useful. My only advice is to head straight up until you hit the ridge, at certain points you will cross tracks that appear to traverse the hillside, my advice is to ignore them. A better option in my opinion, and to ease back into climbing after a long decent is to follow the road for a short distance and take the well marked path. Follow this to reach the summit of the Zucco.

Reaching this point I couldn’t continue, I was exhausted. I sat down and didn’t get up again for a good 3 hours! Resegone seemed so close but I knew it was to far. As it happens sitting down perhaps wasn’t such a great idea, even getting back to Lecco was a struggle, and I had to question why I lived on the 3rd floor of an apartment block with no elevator. For completeness here is the rest of the route.

6. Zucco di Desio 1656m – Forchetta di Olino 1235m (1hr)

The path is not the 32 as indicated on the map. From what I could understand it is the 21.

7. Forchetta di Olino 1235m – Resegone 1875m (1hr 25)

A well marked path with really great views that leads you up the back side of Resegone to rifugio Azzoni on the summit.

8. Resegone 1875m – Lecco lakeside 214m (3hr)

Take sentiero 1 down the steep gully past the rifugio towards the lake. Well marked but boy your legs will be tired by now! The path eases as you enter the woods and leads to the bar at Piani d’Erna. If you have timed it well treat yourself to a well earned beer!

Springs

Rifugio Resinelli, Half way up Zucco di Desio, Several by the group of huts under Zucco di Desio, Forbetta, Small spring on sentiero 1 just on the shoulder, Crossing the river just before Rif. Stoppani.

In summary

So I had failed again! There is no doubt this is a long circular walk around the Grigne group of mountains surrounding Lecco. The walk can be made less challenging and perhaps more enjoyable by splitting it over two days! A very long day out involving a lot of ascent and descent. The terrain is often steep and rocky, especially in the first half. If you are doing the walk over two days the Brioschi rifugio on the summit of Grigna makes a convenient and beautiful stop over, or if you prefer to keep your style pure and unsupported you can find a bivvy spot in the green valley on the descent down towards the Rifugio Tedeschi.

Distance: 21.53 miles

Ascent: 13907.3 ft

We had to escape the suffocating heat of the Italian pre-alps. Somewhere high, with wind, open valley, rock, raging torrents and a festival atmosphere. Welcome to TAB2005. Now in its 15th year this regular event in the French climbing calender is organised by Francois Lombard in the village of L’Argentiere la Bessee.

TAB takes place over 4 days and is a mixture of culture, competition and chilled out bloccing. We got going Thursday evening with some performance art and an amateur video show projected against the climbing wall. Friday started early with the open climbing competition. It was going to be a long day, it was hot despite the constant wind and the final was scheduled for 8.30.

The weekend signalled a move to Ailefroide. The boulders are strung out along the length of the valley and it never felt busy. Saturday night we were treated to a night time flood lit exhibition climb with DJ on the Surprise boulders. We had all the top french guys out, Daniel Dulac, Tony Lamiche, Gerome Mayer et al, but where were the girls?

We had heard that Magic Wood was somewhere on the Swiss side of the Splugen pass. We thought this was enough to go on, it wasn’t. 3 days later we were better prepared. The guys from Arcteryx had given us directions; “follow the signs for Avers” they said, and we did.

The first thing you should know about the Magic Wood is that there is a river between you and it. Unless you want to get wet, take a harness and use the conveniently provided cables to slide across to the opposite shore. Avoid using your best karabiners, they are made from soft metal! Once established just wander around in the woods discovering the boulders. You don’t need the guide, but you can get it from the hotel further up the valley.

The woods themselves are really beautiful. The ground is covered in soft vegetation, but watch your step, you wouldn’t want to fall down some of the massive holes between rocks. A lot of the climbs are in the higher grades and there are many high-balls to go at. If that’s your thing take a big crash mat.

It stays cool even during the summer, and better still there is a free campsite. This has been provided to avoid access issues and it seems to be working well. But as the locals plead, please please please only use the campground provided. No wild camping or shitting in the woods.

For two entire days Val di Mello reverberated to the sound of a slow melodic bloc rocking beat. Snow topped mountains cut a sharp line between the clear azure sky and the lush green forests. Families and climbers nursing sore fingers lay back together and listened to the stream flow by as the days passed without the rush of modern life. Sounds too good to be true?.
Well if we hadn’t been there for ourselves we would probably agree.

Mello Blocco is an international bouldering event held over the weekend of the 7-8 May. Part competition part social event it attracted happy bloccers of all shapes and sizes. For the experts there were marked problems dotted around the valley, for the rest of us more than 250 problems at all grades. A beautiful and incredibly accurate hand drawn map by Simone Pedeferri reflected his local knowledge of the area, it is sure to become a collectors item. The attraction of Mello Blocco is its setting, hidden boulders amongst the trees, large and open kid friendly areas and of course the stunning vertical walls of Val di Mello itself.

The event was well organised and despite the large numbers seems to be embraced by locals who even make available the blocs that stand on private ground. With an estimate turn out of more than 1000 visitors their support is crucial, this surely will have been the climbing event of the year.

What do you do with a couple of spare days on the way home from the Munich ISPO show?. Well if you are headed in to Italy you couldn’t do worse than showing your face in Val Gardena – or more specifically Vallunga. It is easy to find just look out for the peak of Sassolungo (3181m) standing like a sentry over the entrance to the Dolomites. Under its gaze skiers swoosh around the famed Sella Ronda, a 26 km tour around the Sella group.

A cross country skiing piste traversing Vallunga makes access easy, although for some of the higher routes the approach could be considered long. We had two days of perfect weather. It was cold with clear skies. Walking deeper into the valley you are rewarded by the sight of slender ice falls bisecting glowing yellow walls.

For us it was eye candy, way out of our league, but we found what we were looking for at the head of the valley – easier angled 3 pitch lines we could hack away on.

Back then it was a time when a group of like minded individuals were discovering the activities and friends which would accompany them through life. Over the years this small group varied slightly but there was one whose presence remained constant, and she was made of steel. This is a short story about times shared in a blue metal box, it is a story about a van, ol’ Blue.

Blue was a Renault Traffic high-top. 6 up with kit – and kit was something we were not short of – the one thing we needed above all else was space, and space was the one thing Blue was not short of. Ok, Blue was slow and thirsty but we were in no hurry. With just 1600 horses under the bonnet she was underpowered but it wasn’t the power that interested us. Blue had to transport us the 486 miles from Cambridge to Aviemore and back again, what difference does a couple of hours make? Our needs were more than taken care of.

The trips had started when we were still in sixth form college. We were already climbing on rock and decided that we wanted to broaden our experience onto snow and ice; the new year trips began. Blue certainly looked the part; she had blackened rear and side windows, she was fitted out with racking and a false floor you could sleep under. Jim had wired up a sound system with four outputs which curiously amplified the indicators and yes, she was blue. Blue was a true utility vehicle before MPV became fashionable, she was the key to living some dreams, a blank book in which we could write our own little piece of history. That first night Ol’ Blue rolled triumphantly out onto Grange Road, and the six pairs of eyes peering out through the giant window screen, turned to face the north star.

We usually made the journey over night because the roads were clear and it just seemed more magical that way. With four drivers we could split the journey into manageable shifts. Adam, who had somehow missed driving school found his space between one of several large duffle bags. With a book in one hand, a personal stereo in the other whilst sound asleep he quickly mastered long distance travel. Did Adam pass these journeys in suspended animation? we wouldn’t have put it past him. The rest of us took it in turns to drive, control the heating and change the stereo. Dad was the long distance driver, he would take over when the rest of us had run out of Pringles and joined Adam in the land of nod. It would happen just south of Perth, without fail, however hard we tried to resist. We would regain consciousness rolling past Blair Atholl. The sunrise always looked good, I swear it even gave ol’ Blue joy. Since watching Roland Polanskis Macbeth I have been convinced there are some strange spirits hanging out over these hills.

If the journey had been that smooth then ol’ Blue would have just been another blue van and there would have been nothing to write about. But Blue was not exactly a team player. Blue was stubborn, like she had mule blood flowing through her veins or something.

The first time she dug her shoes in was somewhere north of the Scotch Corner. It was a good winter and snow was already piled up high along the side of the road. It was cold, but we were half way to the mountains, happy and warm in blues belly. It wasn’t long after that we were on the side of the M6, cold with our heads craned under her bonnet. Blue had stopped. Fuel, check. Current, check. But we weren’t moving. Waiting, listening for a beat, some sign of life, six pairs of eyes peered towards the north star.

“I don’t know when I am coming back, it depends on how I am feeling.” We started to resent her. “Oh sad eyes, the night is long. Are you cold and tired now?” She did start again, but I doubt it had little to do with our interventions. We tried to fool her, we drove her slow, we drove her fast. We revved the accelerator, but all in vain. There was just no predicting when Blue would stop. No sense and no order. We didn’t know it then but the pattern had been set for the subsequent years. We were at the mercy of a machine and a long way from anywhere we wanted to be.

Little by little our relationship with Blues internals became more intimate. Over the years many skilled and not so skilled hands tried to locate her cancer. For a long time the finger of doubt was firmly pressed upon the alternator. I think it was the RAC who first suggested this shortly after the A74 fuel filter conspiracy.

I am sure Blue enjoyed being the centre of attention, the bigger the drama the better. Nick would get quite excited at times, like the time the police escorted us the wrong way up a fly over. We shot more minutes of video in ol’ Blue than we ever did on the hill. It was dark, smelly and moody. The sound track remained consistent from year to year. REM, Big Pig, Pink Floyd, Gary Moore and Midnight Oil all had a regular spot. On one occasion whilst waiting for the brave knights of the road it was Jim who chanced upon Blues own musical potential. The air duct, he discovered, formed an effective trumpet and her shell was a good tin drum. The accompaniments were provided by the other instruments we carried on the road, harmonica and castanets, and we would jam to raise spirits and to keep warm. It was part of the deal.

On one short lived trip we got as far as Huntingdon before ol’ Blue pulled up lame. With just 15 miles covered Scotland remained a distant dream. If the RAC had bought us a new van they could have saved themselves some dough. We were lost in time and riding on the back of a break down truck again. Doc Evans resolved to transplant ol’ Blues alternator with the one out of Nicks little Citroen AX. Standing side by side they looked like chalk and cheese but Jim didn’t waste an excuse to get his tools out and slide under the hood. He was there a long time but couldn’t swing it, we were house bound for another night.

98′ was one cold old winter and poor ol’ Blue actually froze. On this occasion we actually felt some sympathy for her. She had been sitting just outside Johns place freezing to death right under our noses; there must have been a solid block of ice running through her heart. Despite Adams sweet talking and repeated push start attempts to try and grind away the ice she wasn’t going anywhere. We pre-booked our rescue truck and got on with the holiday.

We thought that was the end of Blue, we really did. Blue was gutted, her flesh and bones lay in the yard. It looked pretty terminal, her chances a million to one. The trips came to an end, but not entirely attributed to Blues demise, we were just going our separate ways. Blue was still in the family and in fact she did get back on the road. I guess dad had more faith in her than we did, but her days were numbered, she took up space in the drive.

And so that was Blue.

I had been climbing for 12 years but had never set foot on a single Via Ferrata until one lazy Saturday morning, supping on a cappucino I was persuaded into it. We were in Arco, and the nearest was just a short walk down the road above the camp site; the Ferrata dei Colodri. For the uninitiated a Via Ferrata is a climb that ascends a cliff with the help of ladders or steps. Don’t worry, you don’t have to provide these yourself, they are already bolted to the rock. In addition for most of the route a metal cable runs along by your side. This is your lifeline, you attach yourself to it. All this iron removes much of the difficulty of the climbing and allows people with little climbing experience to get into some impressive territory moderately safely.

One thing we were missing was the proper Via Ferrata equipment. This is a special shock absorbing device that connects your harness to the cable. Without this, and if you were to fall, your body would experience an enormous shock loading and most likely break. Fortunately we had been kindly lent some feratta equipment by Vertical – the local climbing shop. So with the weather still just holding out (it was a bit sticky and humid) we were all set.

We were in fact a party of ferrata virgins. Whilst I had my 12 years climbing under my belt and Adam had done a bit, both Simon and Kate had no experience of climbing at all. Actually Kate was afraid of heights and warned us that she might feel like jumping off!. Footwear? oh nothing special, just normal lightweight walking boots or approach shoes. One thing that could have been useful was a helmet. There were quite a number of people on the route above us, and when you consider that most of them were beginners the risk of stone fall was quite high.

The route was easy to get to (5 minutes from the road) and a good first ferrata. It was really nothing more than a steep path with a couple of rock sections well protected by the wire cables. The route, or in some cases the path, zig-zagged up the slope. Set between steep sided cliffs it is the only line of weakness which gives the route a slight taste of exposure. The ascent didn’t pose any problems for any of our party and no one jumped. I’m not sure I have been converted into a true ferratist, but did find the experience enjoyable, relaxing and a safe way for non climbers to experience a different side of the mountains. The next step would be to take on a steeper route, and with a helmet.

July 22-25 an event.. an event more inflated than the Zeppelin sent ripples out across the shores of lake Constance, Friedrichshafen 2004 – The Outdoor Show.

The MJ blimp dropped anchor and we slid down to infiltrate one of the key trade shows of the year. Our boys aren’t the most experienced players on the block, but that’s all right; MJ breathing life into the industry.

Friedrichshafen is where all the people who design and manufacture outdoor gear come together and try to outdo each other under a white flag. This truce works well. It’s a small world, most people know each other and more or less people are in it because they enjoy it.

Products are the thing here, what you see here is what will be in your shop next season. It is of course closed to the public. Some stands are like mini fortresses where you have to sign in and have someone hold your hand as you look at their stuff. Yup, they are out to impress big time. Big stands, big music, bella babes.

Those with the deepest pockets put on the biggest shows. Gore-tex® took the opportunity to tell us wonderful things about their paclite® fabric, heck they even had Ines Papert® to prove it. Pulling on a jacket she proceeded to climb some wooden poles. She looked somewhat warm up there, but credit where credit is due she didn’t give up. Treating us to her full repertoire of body contortions, and a good measure of courage she topped out. And was the jacket still dry® inside? Yes, according to one independent witness who examined her afterwards.

But just how does this stuff get in the shops? and how long do you have to wait before you can be like Ines?. Like we said already, next season! Good things come to those who wait don’t they? Thank all those guys and gals making like mules weighed down by trade brochures, colour charts and order forms. These are the retailers, distributors and journalists. They choose what you can choose to buy. Then there are also the sponsor hunters, those with their feet under the table smoothing it up or those trying to get there. Make no mistake, it’s not easy, there is a lot of competition out there.

The American contingent are all buddies, so much so that they build their own village inside the show. Black Diamond, Arcteryx, Franklin, Prana and 5 Ten blur the territory so much you have to check yourself to remember who’s stuff you are looking at. A cheeky micro boulder no more than 6ft high and holdless became, for a short time, centre of attention. Presided over by J.B. Tribout the young pretenders received a lesson in the art of boulder. Very neat.

And who pays for it? Well ultimately the consumers. But hey it’s great. Vaude throw open their doors to a party. 5 euro and as much spätzle, beer and german rock as you can keep down: just one of the perks of being in the biz. The party went on as the heavens opened. Normally well equipped folk rushed for cover, slipped from tables, bounced, and got up to do it all over again.

The true heroes are those at their stands 9 sharp the next morning. The press have it easier. Entry is free, the press centre is kitted out with internet access and telecommunications, free coffee, biscuits and yes the free lunch. They look after us. Taking time out in the press room, lots of serious looking people walk around, thumbing through press packs finding out what’s new, the latest more breathable fabric and the newest water shedding sole design. These are real journalists, they read it all and then we read what they write.

And things go like this. Grams get shaved off hiking boots, sleeping mats get more refined, new ‘tex’ names get introduced. And is it important? Yes probably it is. Ok it doesn’t make walking up Ben Nevis that much easier, but little by little our stuff gets better and better.

I guess it is no different to any other industry, any other industry show. Don’t get us wrong, MJ loves gear, you have to believe us we really do. The brands spend a fair bit of money telling the shops what’s what so that they can pass it on to you second hand. If you want to sell your stuff you have to tell people about it.

I am early, but it gives me a chance to sip lemon tea and take a stroll around town. I like Arco, it is clean, it is ordered and it is surrounded by just the best countryside. With very little to do until the afternoon I am just going to kick back and watch the final preparations for the show.

The route setters; Leonardo Di Marino and Donato Lella are putting the finishing touches to their creations. I have no doubt that they will push the competitors to the limit, whilst at the same time providing a spectacle for the crowd. Having seen them at work in Lecco I know something of the amount of work involved. The Russians are hanging around at the base of the speed wall, fooling around with the foot pad that registers the start of their sprint. Jacky Godoffe has just sat down under the shade of the overhang, and is munching a sandwich whilst the sound man is unloading some large speakers from his van. It is very tranquil and I am bronzing slowly in the sun.

I find the athletes chatting, slightly pensive, there is obviously a lot of tension. It’s hot and everyone is sitting in the shade. Faithless plays in the background, no rock yet: it’s not time for that.

High on the rocks above, the sun-drenched rocks, people climb. It seems improbable in this heat but there they are, climbing. The competitors look at them through their binoculars, they all have them for studying the routes they must climb. They seem happy to be distracted and I wonder if they would rather be up there.

The crowd is arriving now. Carrying blankets, sleeping mats, sun-cream and hats they seek sun and shade, pausing only to applaud the competitors as they are brought forward to study the wall. They have just 5 minutes to work out the best way to climb it. The Rockmaster event features many disciplines, but the first is the on-sight difficulty event. Each competitor must climb a route without having practised it or having seen anyone else try it. But enough explanation, the women have already started and going strong. Having already reached 20m on this 30m overhanging wall I must admit they are making it look too easy, someone is bound to get to the top. Vidmar has slipped low down, I guess it’s not quite a path after all. Jenny Lavarda steps out to loud applause, she is Italian, she will do well, but not well enough.

Angela Eiter; last years winner. She is up there now. Last year she took the event by storm, she won everything and at just 16 years of age. It puts her up there with the greats, the Hills, the Erbesfields and the Patissiers. She does not need to prove that last years victory wasn’t a fluke, she is from a new generation. A particularly strange and one assumes incorrect series of movements have just taken her through the overhangs, her resistance is incredible. Pausing on the final headwall below the final hold you can see she is at the very limit, but she wants that hold so very bad. She lunges but her hand just brushes against it. What a fine effort, Levet is left in the shade, the only other competitor to climb past the roof.

The crowd is expecting much from the men, with 3 Italians in contention hopes are high and spirited. But, it’s not to be. Gnerro and Brenna have both fallen, same place same time. At just 7 metres the absence of chalk signals the end of the route for now. The disappointment of the crowd is noticeable, have the route setters made an error? Is the route too difficult? No, these guys are pros and the next competitor Eugene Ovtchinikov climbs beyond. But now what’s he doing?, he’s off! He was going well until he forgot to clip, and now he’s off!

At this point I should tell you about the commentators. One is excellent; the unstoppable Andrea Gennario Dennario, never short of a word or two, and he knows what he is talking about. The other, his sidekick and english translator is less impressive. She obviously knows little about climbing. Literally translating what Dennario is saying she just doesn’t make sense. She is like a rather bad parrot.

Athletes come and athletes fall, but the tendency is that the chalky marks are getting higher. Now Chabot, Chabot who this year has not had things all his own way. Mr smooth climbs his way ahead of the field, he has been here many times before. A top out looks assured as he shows no signs of weakness. It’s almost as if he expects to win and who could argue. A gust of wind catches him as he moves up under the final headwall and he is hanging in space. Perhaps he knew he had done enough. Victory goes to Chabot, the attempt of Mrazek ending as his trousers got stuck in a karabiner.

The night is clear and filled with stars. Attention has turned from controlled burning to speed. Dennario is bigging up Tomaz Olesky for a new record, he set it last year and he is the man to beat. The Russians are also strong and there are a lot of them. But superior numbers are no match for fleet footedness as Soubbotine trails behind Olesky in first, fast, but no new record. Whilst I reflect on the strangeness of the speed event I realise that the music is just so disappointing. It’s loud, there is no disputing that but it could do so much more if it was orchestrated.

It is 10pm and the crowd migrates to the start of the womens bouldering final. I was here first, and I have a front row view. The blocs are set once again by Jacky Godoffe, they look both improbable and impressive. A slab stands like a monolith, it wouldn’t look out of place in Kubricks Space Odyssey. A hanging wall is decorated with symmetrically arranged holds, and the two overhangs they are just plain overhanging. Perhaps it is just all too much for Olga Bibik who has just been eliminated from the first round. She is one of the strongest competitors in this discipline but to be honest tonight she just didn’t get it. She is still sat there now silently, looking up at the holds with a mixture of anger and confusion.

The rest of the girls seem in form this evening, is it possible Jacky has under estimated the fairer sex?

Possible yes, Melanie Son looks rightly chuffed with a perfect score, four attempts, four tops, snatching victory from a beaming Anna Stöhr. From behind me the screams of a maniac break the post-comp analysis, T-shirts fill the air as the local radio station turns on its disco machine. They seem enthusiastic but perhaps too enthusiastic. It is late, and after a day under the sun it is too much to face. I’m going now, leaving the arena to set up camp amongst the boulders. It’s a nice spot, I love sleeping outdoors. That disco is loud.

The morning is clear, warm and I am immediately at the foot of a boulder, how perfect is that? I bag a couple of routes before breakfast, it stretches out my limbs. I am a bit smelly, that’s the problem with bivouacs.

Craning my neck back I check out the route for the mens worked difficulty competition. Graded 8C+ it will surely be a stiff test. The competitors have attempted the route once already, this is their second and final attempt. The height from this and yesterdays route will be combined to give a total height. The crowd is already excited from some early and impressive falls, they just love that sort of thing. Bindhammer however didn’t want any of that and has taken the initiative, climbing through the technical roof far exceeding all other efforts. Now Sylvian Millet is at it. He should have been off by now, he looks like he is going to fall at any moment but he is getting higher. The crowd love it, it’s like rooting for the underdog. Oh the uncertainty of it all. But in reality there are just two guys who are going to count; Chabot and Mrazek. Chabot in contrast to yesterday looks tired, his movements are laboured and I am not surprised to see him fall way below the line drawn by Bindhammer. Mrazek looks more the champion, he is fired up and explodes on to the route. There is no one stronger, he’s going to pull the god damn wall down. Unfortunately for him the gods must have been taking a coffee break. An invisible hand reaches out and plucks him from the wall, his efforts ending a few centimetres below Chabot, perhaps sat with a voodoo doll in hand.

The women also play this game albeit on a different route. A roof at mid height is stopping all, all but the incredible Eiter who just won’t let go. How does she hold on for so long, just where is she resting? It is hard to appreciate the difficulty, she seems impossibly slow. Whilst I am sitting here looking at the sky and trying to work it out she continues on her vertical pilgrimage. Some clouds drift past, it is quite breathtaking. She has turned the final overhang, can she really do it? Yes, yes she can. The crowd is euphoric, hundreds of sweaty palms are brought together in celebration. We wanted to see a top and now we have one.

Attention turns once more to Jackys boulders. He loves it and the crowd love what he has done. The atheletes could be seen earlier, working the routes. It was very interesting to watch because these are desperate routes. It is high tension and narrow margins that separate success from failure; this is bouldering and there is no mercy for the Italians knocked out in the very first round. Matthias Müller is really hyped up, he takes the prize for the biggest ‘I can’t believe it, I’ve got the top hold’ expression, he really looked like the cat who got the cream. But to back track slightly, I was saying that the atheletes have had a chance to practice these problems, they have had the opportunity to watch each other, try different things and help each other. In the competition proper they each attempt to climb the first problem, he who does least well is eliminated, and we move onto the next problem. But hold on, the Kubrick monolith is creating some amusing moments. The second hold is proving illusive, one by one each competitor slides down to the first to try again. Another two bite the dust. The final problems are impressive exercises in strength, no one can do them. Rakhmetov laughs at the futility of it all, Jacky has raised the game again.

There is no time for the Italians to lament, it’s back over to the main wall for the duel: two climbers climbing side by side on identical routes. Unlike the speed competition this is not all about speed, the routes are difficult and require care. This leads to an interesting gamble between climbing fast to reach the top first, or climbing slower and hoping your competitor will fall. First the women, and the difference between Eiter and Eyer is easier to see in their climbing than in their names. Eiter scurries like a little mouse, making twice the number of moves needed by Eyer who is smooth and deliberate; but it is Eiter who goes through to the final. Eiter and Saurwein have pulled off an Austrian clean sweep, both are in the final, both are fast but it is the turn of Eiter to fumble a clip leaving the podium vacant for Saurwein.

Alexander Chabot not normally know for taking risks took one to qualify for the mens final. He’s up against big Tomaz Mrazek, the strongest from the heats. There they go and once again Chabot is in trouble. He checks the progress of Mrazek, seems indecisive and jumps again. The race is still on but Mrazek still looks the man to beat. It’s neck and neck, first Chabot then Mrazek. Chabot steals the lead passing the roof in one very sweet move, but the height of Mrazek comes to his rescue and baam! they clip together. No one knows who has won, the crowd call for a tie, the judges say they want to review the video, the crowd demands a tie. It’s inseparable, the spirit, the competition and the passion of the crowd.

And finally, as the sun sets over the Rockmaster arena for another year our translator is catching on. Someone has told her that the ‘trackers’ are in fact ‘route setters’. We are making grand progress.

I was supposed to be going to the Brock Master boulder comp but it meant clashing with Milan rush hour traffic, a desperate urban drive potential of 1.5 hours. That wasn’t my idea of fun so I dropped that idea. The evening was fine so I fell into line behind the couples promenading along the lakeside. It was nearly 8pm and the sun had just begun to cast orange light over Resegone and the walls of San Martino.

I ended up picking out a dvd from Blockbusters and was heading home when I passed the Sala Ticozzi. It just happened that the Gammese were hosting an evening of climbing, bonus! In fact I had known about it but had forgotten. It was the presentation of the 8th Carlo Mauri award, an annual literary award named in honour of the Italian climber and explorer who died in 1982.

The theatre was well attended, a lot of the regular faces were there, mostly middle aged and above. These kind of things never seem to attract younger people.

The award was preceded by a film directed by Fulvio Mariani of the recent Swiss/Italian attempt on Gasherbrum 4. First climbed in 1958 by a team including Riccardo Cassin, Walter Bonatti and Carlo Mauri the mountain continues to repel ascents. Kurt Diemburger has described it as “the most difficult mountain on Earth”. This attempt was unsuccessful but the film, ‘A Ridge between Past and War (Una cresta tra passato e guerra)’, describes well what constitutes failure or success for the alpinists at a time when India and Pakistan were on the verge of nuclear war. Following the film an attractive girl introduced the awards which were dished out with uncharacteristic speed. The winners were invited to smooch it up a bit but to be honest I have no idea what their submissions had been. Nobody else seemed especially worried about this so I assume it was just me. It is quite strange to sit through an entire prize giving without knowing what it was all about.

Anyway, leaving that behind I headed off to my old apartment with the dvd. It was titled ‘Kitchen Stories’. Even from the cover image I could tell it would be the kind of film I get off on. Nothing happens. It’s just stuff, real stuff, you have to watch out for the nuances otherwise the films a bore. It’s Swedish, or was it Norwegian? and about observation. This guy, as part of a Swedish research team is sent to observe the movements of a ‘volunteer’ who in this case was a solitary Norwegian farmer. The aim of the observation, (carried out from the vantage point of a high chair) was to scientifically monitor movements in the kitchen and discover how to improve efficiency. The volunteer is far from obliging and as a result just pouring a coffee becomes an event.

Sometimes things end without conclusion or punch line.